Carol Berg - Son of Avonar

My eyes cast down, I curtsied deeply and backed away into the murmuring crowd. I felt like flying to the ceiling with the pigeons, like leaping atop the long, curved Council tables and crowing like the gold and russet hawks who soared above the roofs at Comigor. I dared not look at Martin or Tennice, lest I burst out laughing or fling myself into their arms and bless them for their gifts. After a suitable time of humble attention to the proceedings—of which I heard not a single word—I worked my way to the back of the crowd and slipped out one of the many side doors to the hall. People were jammed up to every door, willing to suffer crushed toes and bruised elbows to provide themselves with a glimpse of history to carry though their lives— or at least through the next dinner party. I had scarcely made my way through the door when I felt a firm hand on my elbow. “Darzid!”

“Your brother requires your presence, my lady.” To my surprise, the dark, deep-set eyes of Tomas’s aide glittered with amusement. Did Tomas know his aide took so light a view of my rebellion?

“I’d have thought Tomas would be too busy with his new duties to have time for family visits.”

“Oh, no. He’s asked me especially to bring you to him. Need I say that he has a most ah… pressing… desire to have a word with you? Would this be a good time for us to run away together, do you think? You will reap his wrath for an hour, but I have to fight beside the man!”

Despite his smiles and mischievous humor, Darzid’s gentlemanly touch brought me back to earth. My visions fled. My wings felt ripped away, my hawk’s feathers plucked. I jerked loose from him and smoothed my gown, disheveled by the press of the crowd. “If Tomas thinks to change my mind, he’s mistaken.”

“I make no estimates of his expectations, my lady. I’ll confess that after this day’s events, I would not set myself up to predict any action of yours. You’re even more interesting than the young woman I’ve come to admire so deeply over the past years.” He swept his hand indicating a path down a broad corridor to the left, and then offered me his arm.

Somehow, I could not bear the thought of touching him again, and so I shoved past him. “Remember your place, Captain.”

Darzid bowed and led me to a small, luxuriously furnished sitting room. “I’d recommend you remain here until the duke is able to attend to you.” His expression did not register my rudeness. His smile did not change, nor the amused glint in his eyes. He bowed again and closed the door behind him.

I was left to occupy myself with an ivory and jade chessboard. Fingering the exquisite pieces, lost in thoughts of Windham and those who played there, I wondered what I might have to do to keep my friends out of harm’s way. If naught else, Darzid had wakened caution. No attention must be directed anywhere near Karon.

An hour later, Tomas burst through the gilded door. “There you are.” His face convulsed with fury. “What damnable perversity has made you do this to me?”

I was prepared to hold my tongue, to do whatever I could to mend the rift I’d caused or at least do nothing to make it unmendable. Tomas and I had no family but each other, no aunts or uncles, no one any closer than distant cousins like Martin. But my brother was not to be placated.

“Have I not let you have your way all these years? Have I been extraordinarily cruel or brutal, that you should humiliate me so despicably? Our father must be crying out from the grave at the disgrace you’ve brought on our house this day.” He strode to the center of the room, spun on his heel, and glared at me. “It’s Martin, isn’t it? He’s put you up to it. The Westover Codex… faugh! The self-righteous prig, thinking he’s got the only mote of intelligence in the universe. This is how he takes his pitiful revenge, befouling all of us because the better man won. He’s not strong enough or brave enough to face Evard on his own, so he manipulates a fool of a girl to do his dirty work for him.”

I thought he would never leave off.

“You meant to do it this way. The culminating day of my life—everything I’ve worked for, fought for, bled for— and what have you done? Turned it into a hill of dung!”

“Tomas! Listen to yourself,” I broke in at last. “All I hear is how you are humiliated, how you will have to wallow in dishonor, how your triumph has been turned to dung. Did you ever consider me for even a moment? Did you ever think what it is to be deemed of no more value than a plot of land or a chest of gold to be paid out because your brother is loyal? You would pledge your sister to a man she despises. For what?”

“For everything. I would have made you queen, you little fool! We would have been the most powerful family in the Four Realms.”

Blast all stupidity, I thought, as Tomas trembled with rage. It was not just for loyalty and friendship. I’d not given Tomas enough credit. It had never crossed my mind that his ambitions stretched beyond Evard.

I tried to soothe him. “You’ll have all the power you wish, Tomas. You’ve been Evard’s most devoted friend; you’ve fought beside him since you were boys. You are the Champion of Leire, and not just because you’re his friend. You’re the finest swordsman in the Four Realms and none in any realm will dispute it. But I don’t want to be queen, Tomas, not if it means being Evard’s chattel or even yours.”

Tomas threw up his hands. “You prefer Martin’s endless Long Night follies and juggling shows. Are you his whore, too?”

So much for unmendable rifts. I slapped him, leaving a darker red mark on his red face. “Your tongue is as foul as your choice of friends, Tomas, and just as unimaginative. The only foolish thing I’ve done this day is think that somehow, given time, you might understand.”

My brother answered with cold hatred that was far more terrible than his anger. “I will never understand, Sen.” He opened the door and flung his last words over his shoulder. “Don’t bother returning to Comigor. I’ll have your things sent to the townhouse and set up a means to keep you respectably. I trust you’ll return to some semblance of decorum after this despicable performance.” He slammed the door, leaving me alone in the gilded room.

The anger I had expected. Tomas had been indulged from his first breath, deprived of nothing save the remotest inkling that there were others in the universe besides himself. But the unyielding hatred—that I had not expected. I would have to tread carefully. In one day I had made enemies of the two most powerful men in the land.

Well, I had made my choice and I had no intention of regretting it, though I could see now the painful consequences that must follow. An ornate little desk in the corner of the anteroom housed paper, pens, and ink, so the first thing I did was to write a message to the housekeeper at our townhouse, saying the house must be opened that night, rather than later in the fall as had been the family custom. And then I wrote a letter to Martin.

My dear cousin,

As you have seen, it is done. My fate, at least in the realm of marriage, is in my own hands, and I do not regret my choice. But as with all choices of any significance, especially those which tread on the pride of kings and brothers, certain consequences must temper any celebration of success in my endeavor.

I cannot express too deeply my gratitude for the education and friendship you have given me in the past four years. My view of the world has been irrevocably changed by the enlightened company at Windham, but for now my participation in those pleasant activities must end. Though not my desire, this too, is my own choice.

My brother and I have agreed that I will take up residence here in the city. I am well provided for.