Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

"Matrinka," she corrected, her features stern. "No formality between old friends."

At nineteen, Subikahn found it difficult to say he had any friendships he could consider long-standing. But he had known Matrinka nearly since birth. "I-I've heard a rumor."

"Yes?"

"That his injuries…" Subikahn wanted Matrinka to finish.

Matrinka did not oblige, but she did answer his actual question. "The other healers don't understand. They see a wound and pronounce it fatal for any man." She turned him a grin, lopsided from weariness and discomfort. "Your father, Subikahn, is not 'any man.' "

Subikahn held his breath, afraid of what he might hear. It would not surprise him to find out that animal blood ran through the veins of his paternal ancestors. Are we demons? Sorcerers? We can't be god-blooded. "What do you mean?"

Matrinka took Subikahn's other hand. "I mean, your father… he survived… what he survived in childhood, you know. And I don't know if he was born with an iron nature or acquired it through what happened when he was simply too young to know he should be dead; but I've seen him wounded worse than this before. I've pronounced him dead on at least one other occasion, yet he's still with us: then… and now."

Subikahn blinked. He had no idea what she was talking about. "Your Maj…" he started; then, remembering her admonishment, changed in mid word, "… trinka. What happened?"

"Sword cut and arrow shot," Matrinka explained, "a bad fall, a long float in the ocean, and a shark attack."

Subikahn went even stiller, if possible. He had meant his question to refer to the childhood incident, but the current information stunned him. "All of that?"

"I'm afraid so."

Subikahn swallowed hard. How could anyone survive that? The idea of walking through the door became even more difficult. "When you mentioned what he survived in childhood, is that where the scars came from?"

Matrinka was visibly startled. "You don't know? He's never told you?"

Subikahn hesitated, worried Matrinka would keep the confidences of her longtime friend she considered a brother. He thought about lying but doubted he could successfully pull it off and get the answers he had sought for as long as he could remember. "He always dodges the question. I want to know. Tell me."

Matrinka looked from the door to Subikahn, as if weighing her loyalties to father and to son. Finally, she sighed. "Enemies of your grandfather tortured and slaughtered your grandmother, stabbed your father at least a dozen times, and left him for dead. My understanding is that there was more blood on the floor than inside Tae when Weile found him."

Subikahn did not allow himself to cringe. He did not want to discourage Matrinka. The scars riddled Tae's chest; the assassins had clearly intended to kill him. Surely, Matrinka had nothing to add.

But the queen of Bearn continued talking. "And before he turned your age, Weile sent Tae out alone, experienced killers at his heels, to 'toughen him up.' " She snorted. "Toughen him up? He's the toughest son of a bastard in the kingdom, I'd guess. Maybe in the world. He hated his father for doing that to him, despised the entire world for a while, and vowed that he would keep his own child safe and close. Which is why, Subikahn, he's always been so sweet and loving with you."

Has he? Clearly, Tae had not told Matrinka of their falling out, how the king had exiled the son he had promised to keep safe and close. "So," Subikahn said without a hint of emotion. "He's going to recover?"

Matrinka heaved another, deeper sigh. "It's up to him, now, Subikahn. The salt water cleansed his wounds nicely, and I've given him potent herbs to keep infection at bay." She shrugged. "He's living from event to event, which is never a good thing. First, he was just going to drag on long enough to get Imorelda safely to me. Then, it was until he described his scouting mission to someone in authority. Now, he's waiting to settle things up with you."

Icy prickles passed along Subikahn's shoulders to his fingers. He could not help wondering how much Matrinka knew. "Settle things up?"

"You know, the father/son deathbed speech. Half promises, half pep talk. I've seen a number of them. Very inspiring, but also a perfect excuse to… surrender."

Subikahn guessed her point. "Surrender… to death, you mean?"

"Yes."

Subikahn stepped back, relieved. "So, the longer I delay this meeting, the longer he lives?"

"No." Matrinka would not let him off that easily. "Subikahn, you have to see him. No matter what I think, his wounds are serious.You may not get another chance, and we will both hate ourselves forever if you don't see him before he dies."

Or I die. Subikahn realized Tae's fate might prove less tenuous than his own once the battle began in earnest.

"Just… be sure you leave something undone or unsaid. Something significant that will obsess him until the wounds have more time to heal. Give him a new short-term goal to live toward."

Subikahn tried to ask casually, "And I suppose you don't want me to give him any… stress."

"Stress," Matrinka repeated thoughtfully. "A child in his second decade not giving his father stress?" She snorted. "If you start getting all sweet and sappy on him, he'll think he's dying for sure."

Subikahn could not help smiling. "All right, then." He took his hands from Matrinka and put one on the latch again. "If I can just remember how to open a door."

Without warning, Matrinka put her hand over Subikahn's, tripped the latch, and eased the panel open. She nudged him forward, and Subikahn stumbled just enough to allow her to close it gently behind him.

Thanks. Subikahn found himself in a large room furnished with enough chairs and benches to hold a small meeting. The bed took up the far corner, across from an open window that admitted flower-scented air in the occasional huffs of wind. Across from it, Tae leaned on a bunched and colorful blanket, two others spread across his legs and abdomen. His bare chest looked thin, sallow instead of its usual healthy olive, and the scars stood out in mute testimony to past hardships. Remembering the story Matrinka had told him, Subikahn could not help wincing at the sight of them.

Apparently noticing the direction of Subikahn's gaze, Tae pulled up one of the blankets.

Imorelda strolled across Tae from legs to abdomen, as if he were nothing more than furniture. She yawned and stretched each paw delicately.

"Hello there, Papa," Subikahn said cheerily, as if they had seen one another mere hours ago. "How's your life going?"

Using Tae as a launch site, Imorelda sprang at Subikahn. Suppressing the urge to dodge, Subikahn managed to catch the large cat, holding her as she rubbed her head all over his face in greeting.

"Bit tenuous at the moment, I'm afraid." Despite the warning in his words, Tae managed a smile. His features looked wan, older; but his dark eyes remained clear. His usually tangled hair had been combed to an ebon sheen.

Subikahn did not know what to say. "Papa, I know I wasn't supposed to see you for another year, and you told me not to run to Erythane. But under the circumstances-"

Tae nodded. "You did the right thing, Subikahn. Bearn needs everyone. Everyone. Especially talented swordsmen like you."

Subikahn saw no need to respond to the compliment. No Renshai would.

"I love you, Subikahn." The words seemed to come from nowhere. No thread of the conversation had brought Tae there.

Subikahn set the cat back down on the bed, absently stroking her head and back while she stretched and turned to bring the right places under his hand. Her purr filled the room. "Stop it, Papa. I talked to Matrinka. I know you're not dying."

Tae grimaced. "Matrinka's words do not determine the fate of the universe."