Ken Scholes - Canticle

Now he realized that they might never move past that shadow, that if anything, those shadows might lead to even darker times ahead. Slowly, he took up the ring his mother had worn all the days of her womanhood and extended it to Jin Li Tam. Their eyes met, and he saw that there were tears in hers. She extended her hand, and he placed the ring upon her third finger, pleased that it fit. “Now,” he said in a quiet voice, “you do the same.”

Her fingers shook slightly as she took the larger ring and placed it upon his finger. “Rudolfo, Lord of the Ninefold Forest Houses, son of Jakob and father of Jakob,” she said, “I pledge my heart and hand to you and offer you this ring as a token of our marriage.” Their eyes met again. “Wear it and show the world that you of all souls bear my grace.”

Rudolfo inclined his head toward his wife. His wife did the same, and between them, Lord Jakob stirred and cried.

Rudolfo raised his hand and held it so that the light caught the simple silver band. He’d not seen it worn since the day they took it off his father’s cold finger. “For now,” he said, “this will be binding.” He smiled. “When I return, we will have a proper Gypsy wedding.”

She nodded. “When will you go?”

Rudolfo sighed. “Tomorrow. I will take a squad of Gypsy Scouts and make for Caldus Bay. I’ve already sent word to Petronus. He and Tam worked closely together during the war. He may know something.” He thought for a moment. “From there, I will hire a vessel.”

Suddenly, the magnitude of his impending journey settled over him. There were letters of authority to be signed and witnesses to gather for the marriage proclamation that would establish her powers as his queen. Scouts to select for the journey and clothing to pack. He’d not been to sea in a goodly while-he’d been young the last time, with Gregoric by his side. He looked down again at the pallid face of his son, the veins soft blue beneath the skin, and knew that nothing would keep him from this task, that he would move the moon to save his child’s life.

Rudolfo shifted and passed the baby back to Jin Li Tam. “I should go. There is much to do.”

Jin Li Tam cast her eyes away, and he could tell that she wished something that she thought foolish. She blushed at it before she asked. “Join us tonight,” she whispered. “Join Jakob and me. It’s not fitting that husband and wife spend their first night apart, regardless the circumstances.”

Rudolfo nodded. When he finished the multitude of tasks required to make her voice resonate as his own among his people and among the Named Lands, and when he finished preparing for a journey that was impossible to prepare for, he would return. He would take his dinner in her bedchambers and sip chilled peach wine while watching his family.

My family. He’d not used those words since he was a boy. He’d not considered himself as having a family for far too long, and the notion of it now stopped him. I have a family, he thought, beyond my Gypsy Scouts and my Forest people. Tonight, he would pull off his silk slippers and climb into bed with the two of them and memorize that moment for the long days ahead of him.

Then, in the morning, he would begin his search for Vlad Li Tam.

Rudolfo stood. “I will return shortly,” he said. Bending, he kissed her, and he was surprised to find her mouth soft and hungry for his own. Bending further, his kissed his infant son upon his clammy brow.

As Rudolfo straightened, he saw the three of them reflected back in the dressing mirror in the corner of the room. For a moment, he thought he saw his father until he realized it was himself.

He left the room quickly, barking orders to the aides and servants that gathered around him as he went. But he was going through the act of preparation without any heart in it.

For Rudolfo’s heart was not within him any longer.

Instead, it lay swaddled in blankets, nursing in the arms of a glorious sunrise.

Vlad Li Tam

Vlad Li Tam stood at the rail and watched the sun fall below the horizon. Below him, the high iron bow cut the waves as his flagship, The Serendipitous Wind , steamed south. They’d steamed straight on for two days and two nights now, and sometime tomorrow he expected to rendezvous with his First Son’s vessel to see whatever it was he had encountered. They’d heard no further news, but with the vessel constantly moving, he had not expected to hear anything.

His grandson slipped up behind him, but Vlad Li Tam heard his soft footfalls. “Good evening, Mal,” he said, turning as the young man approached.

Mal Li Tam grinned. “I’ve never been able to trick you.”

Vlad Li Tam chuckled. “No, but you continue to try.” When he was a young boy, Mal had even carefully rehearsed the strides of those others in his life that he could observe, imitating the walk of several of his siblings, his father, and even Vlad himself on occasion. It had become something of a game.

“But now you’ve found your own stride,” Vlad said.

The young man nodded. “Yes, Grandfather.” He stepped to the bow alongside the old man. “What do you think Father found?” he asked, staring south.

Vlad Li Tam glanced over at him, then back to the horizon. “It is impossible to guess. Somewhere out here, someone is working against us.” He’d been quiet about this, giving out as little information as he could get away with. Enough to keep them engaged in the search. The close network that House Li Tam had built over twenty centuries had somehow been infiltrated and bent, though whoever had done so was a master of spycraft, leaving no real evidence behind. Not even the golden bird had borne any useful clues. The small mechanical had been a fixture in his family library for generations, and its sudden disappearance, just months before the destruction of Windwir, had been perplexing. Its sudden return was even more so. Vlad had torn it apart and restored it to its damaged condition personally before donating it to the new library. Yet someone had rescripted it, ordered it out to view Windwir’s fall, and used it to bear gods-knew-what messages gods-knew-where during the time that it was missing.

His grandson’s brow furrowed. “And you’re certain that the threat is beyond the Named Lands?”

He nodded. “I believe it is.” He paused, then added, “It’s certainly what the Order believed.” His mind played out the contents of the pouch he had delivered to Petronus on the day of the trial, with their maps and coordinates, their carefully crafted strategy to deploy the Seven Cacophonic Deaths through a choir of mechoservitors to protect the most vulnerable trade coastlines of the Named Lands. “They feared an invasion,” he said quietly.

“But what,” his grandson asked, “if it was simply a ruse?”

“I’ve wondered that myself,” Vlad Li Tam admitted. “All I know for certain is that they were frightened enough of something to bring back Xhum Y’Zir’s spell.”

Mal Li Tam nodded. “If it is out there,” he said, “I’m certain we will find it.” His face brightened in the purple light of evening. “Oh, I have something for you, Grandfather.” He reached into his pocket and drew a small pouch. “Rae Li Tam found these just before the feast and asked me to bring them to you. I wanted to dry them first,” he said with a chuckle. “Not an easy task when you’re at sea.” He passed the pouch over and Vlad Li Tam took it, tipping the contents into his hand.

He held the kallaberries to his nose and inhaled their pungent scent, feeling his heart quicken at the sight and smell of them. How long had it been? Four months or maybe five? He’d given up the pipe first by necessity, knowing the dried berries would be harder and harder to come by the farther out they sailed. But later, it had become a choice. The forgetfulness and calm were luxuries he could no longer afford to steep himself in with the work he was presently about, despite the occasional flashes of brilliance the berries offered him. Still, he’d asked his daughter, each time they made landfall, to watch out for the rare kallabush and its small crimson berries. And now that they were in his hand, he knew that he would return to his room and smoke them in the long-stemmed pipe he kept there. He smiled at his grandson. “Thank you,” he said.