Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

"Pardon me for overhearing the end of your conversation, Father, but did you just invite Saviar to the Council meeting?"

Kedrin sat up. "Indeed I did. Is that a problem?"

Saviar closed his eyes. He seemed to be the cause of a lot of friction between his father and grandfather these days. Nothing he could say would seem anything but rude, so he remained utterly silent and chased sleep.

"Not per se." Ra-khir's tone remained neutral, with just an edge of discomfort. He did not seem angry. "I think everyone should have an idea of how a kingdom operates, and Saviar is lucky to have some of the same opportunities I did to learn. However, under the circumstances…"

Saviar assumed his own curiosity seemed to lengthen Ra-khir's pause until Kedrin spoke to fill the gap.

"Yes, Ra-khir? What about the current circumstances bothers you?"

"It's just that Thialnir arrived last night." Ra-khir referred to the Renshai's representative at the conference table. "A Nordmirian captain and a hardheaded Renshai in the same small room? Why not just hand my son a burning brand to snuff in a barrel of oil? The king's guards will have enough to worry about without an extra Renshai."

Kedrin sounded affronted. "My grandson wouldn't engage in any violence that might endanger the high king."

"Your grandson," Ra-khir replied stiffly, "is Renshai."

Saviar was speaking before he could stop himself, "His grandson is in the damned room!"

Both men fell silent and turned toward the boy.

"First, I'm highly offended that you think because I'm Renshai I can't control myself."

Ra-khir recoiled, his tone turning defensive. "That's not what I meant, Savi."

Saviar continued, "I can't say for sure how I'll react in a situation I've never been in before." He sat up, now fully awake. "I certainly hope I would never engage in any behavior that might put King Griff in danger. But you're right about one thing." Saviar made a vague gesture toward Ra-khir in acknowledgment. "Regardless of what I would or wouldn't do, having a second Renshai in the room will alarm the guards and make their job harder. I don't want to be responsible for that."

Kedrin's voice seemed soft in comparison. "A good point well made. I concur and surrender to you both." He addressed Saviar directly. "Perhaps another time?"

Saviar liked that his grandfather could admit defeat with extraordinary grace. It was an important lesson his torke would never teach him. "I would like that very much, Grandpapa. One day very soon, it will happen."

Talamir awakened to a deep inner pain that seemed to stretch through his skin, and a throbbing headache. He rolled to his stomach. The biting cold of this new portion of the stone floor seeped through him. An odd, bitter taste filled his mouth. He forced himself to hands and knees, the movement telling him two things. First, he was unarmed; and, second, he had to vomit. He did so in a mu cousy pile, then recoiled from it, wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve.

"You're up," a voice purred behind him.

Talamir whirled with a speed that stole his balance and sent him retching again. He vomited for a long time, unable to gain control of his heaving gut until well after the last watery contents of his stomach trickled onto the floor. Two more things entered his consciousness in that time: he lay in a barred cell, and the man who had addressed him was the same one who had whispered to him in the court. Again, the Shadow Leader wore the black swirl of garments, silver around his covered face.

Talamir wanted to turn his back but worried about his self-control and balance. "You poisoned me, you ignoble bastard. You poisoned me."

"I didn't poison you."

The composure of the response incited Talamir. "You did! You poisoned me."

"If I poisoned you, you would be dead."

Talamir sank to the floor again, taking care to miss the disgorged contents of his stomach. He clamped his hands to his head. "I wish I were dead."

"If you really mean it, Talamir, that can be arranged. You are under order of execution."

The words only angered the Renshai. At least, if the poison had finished him, he might have died in battle. He had had a chance to find Valhalla. Now, he would die a craven, a coward executed by a king who claimed to love his son but had chosen to torture him in the worst possible way. "You should have killed me in the courtroom. I could have died a-" He made the most vigorous hand gesture he dared. "You wouldn't understand."

"To the contrary, I understand completely." The elite guardsman unwound the material from his face to reveal the familiar features of Weile Kahn. He bore a striking resemblance to Subikahn, more so than Tae, and Talamir found those features breathlessly handsome. Weile's eyes were dark and depthless, his hair like midnight with patches of gray at the temples and gently distributed throughout. Though coarsened by maturity, his face bore no notable wrinkles. His stance completed the picture, commanding respect. "My grandson is Renshai. I know what it means to die in battle."

"Sire."Though already on his hands and knees,Talamir attempted to stoop lower.

Weile followed the movement, though slight. "None of that formal crap. I'm untitled by choice." Though true, he had been king only seventeen years earlier, when he gave the crown to Tae and slipped into relative obscurity.

"You told me you would help spare me."

"And I kept my promise." Weile glared at Talamir with an intensity that cowed him, despite being Renshai. "You were on your honor not to bare steel in the court."

"But I had to-"

"And I told you not to fight." Weile's expression became stonier, and Talamir found himself unable to talk, unwilling to further defend his actions. "You scarred two of the best men in the world, bodyguards I've trusted for over forty years. Men who would gladly give their lives for me and have forsaken all other pleasures, including those of women, to remain at my side when I need them."

Talamir lowered his head, suddenly awash with guilt for resorting to unnecessary violence. The remorse seemed wrong, out of place in the repertoire of a man trained lifelong to react to threats with a sword; yet it remained no less powerful and real. He could not understand why Weile's words had such a profound effect upon him. Yet, as he sat in the deep and meaningful silence that followed Weile Kahn's pronouncement, Talamir's mind focused on a single phrase: "forsaken all other pleasures, including women."Weile's bodyguards, men feared and respected throughout the Eastern kingdom. Could those two be lovers? Only that, as well as a vast love for his grandson, might explain why Weile had taken a personal interest in Talamir's situation.

"If you want my help, you have to do as I tell you."

Talamir forced himself to raise his head. He could not quite manage his usual wary crouch, but he did clamber to his haunches without vomiting. "You can… you can still… lighten my sentence."

Weile blinked deliberately but otherwise did not change his expression. "Talamir, I believe I could have gotten you off just by talking to my son had you not compounded your simple offense with…" He added with significance, "… high treason."

Again, Talamir suffered the intense regret that had assailed him earlier. He understood its source better now; he had discarded honor and common sense. He had attacked his lover's beloved father after vowing to himself that he never would. "I made a huge mistake." He looked up at Weile, eyes welling with tears beyond his control. "I'm a Renshai torke, I'm supposed to shape young sinews and minds.Yet, when it came to saving myself and the one I love most in the world, I did everything wrong."

"Not everything."

Awash in anguish, Talamir barely heard. "Why didn't you kill me in battle?" The prison cell blurred to bars and granite, an endless gray reeking of sweat, urine, and sickness.