Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

"Are you ready for your audience?" the younger one asked politely. "Or do you need more time?"

Sarcastic replies about finishing perfumed baths and changing into suitable silks came to mind, but Talamir discarded them. So far, the guards seemed kind enough, and it would be foolish to antagonize them. "I'm not sure I'll ever be ready to face King Tae Kahn."

"Then you're in luck," the older man said. "The king is away on business.You're meeting with his regent, Lord Weile Kahn."

Talamir relaxed a bit. So far, the king's father had shown him significantly more leniency. Whether it would hold up given that he had not fulfilled his promises remained to be seen. "Oh. I… suppose… I'm ready, then. Thanks for asking."

The middle-aged guard jiggled a ring of keys until he separated out the one he wanted. He jabbed it into the lock, studying Talamir as he did so. "You are going to come peacefully, right? Because that would definitely be in your best interests."

Talamir gave no answer. Currently, he had no reason to fight. But, if circumstances changed, he would not hesitate to do so, at the expense of almost anyone's life. Their lack of swords further irked him because it meant he could not arm himself from their lapses.

Apparently, they did not require an answer.The one guard opened the lock with a deft twist, then pocketed the keys in a motion so swift Talamir did not see exactly where he put them. The other watched him, hawklike. Whatever their reasons for remaining weaponless, it clearly had nothing to do with a lack of agility or competence.

Talamir glided cautiously from his cell, uncertain what to expect. The taller, thinner Easterner led the way, while the other fell into step behind Talamir.

They led him past other prisoners, who watched them curiously but remained silent in the gloom. They also walked past other guards who gave the procession acknowledging nods. To Talamir's surprise, his escort did not lead him toward the stairs that opened onto the castle proper. Instead, they took him to a small room that he suspected they used for interrogation. Talamir's heart pounded, and his mind raced. He had no specific information they needed, and he expected any brutal death they chose to inflict upon him to wait for Tae's return. Surely, the king would not want to miss it.

The leading guard opened the door to reveal a small room, its bare walls speckled with dark brown stains that could represent blood as easily as dirt. The only furnishings were four rickety chairs, though all three of the men inside remained standing. Two were swathed in elite guard black with silver veils, no weapons evident. Weile Kahn stood in the back, a strangely looming and unreadable presence.

It seemed odd to Talamir that a man so average in height, build, and coloring could radiate so much power. He seemed strangely massive, stunningly handsome, the very definition of charisma even standing perfectly still. Talamir was a Renshai torke, trained to face the biggest dangers of the universe without a moment's hesitation. Nevertheless, he felt intimidated, barely able to meet the older man's gaze as his escort departed, closing the door behind them.

Weile spoke first, "How is my grandson, Talamir?"

Talamir swallowed hard. He could lie, but he felt certain it would backfire. A man like Weile did not ask a question to which he did not already know the answer. "I hear he's doing very well. The innkeepers treat him like a star, and the women…" He swallowed hard. "The women seem to find him irresistible."

"Yes, well. He is the prince of Stalmize."

"Unfortunately," Talamir mumbled before he could think.

Weile studied the Renshai. "You'd best get used to that, Talamir. Because the populace tends to consider itself prime owners of the king's offspring. Our prince. Our princess. And as Subikahn is Tae's only child, it's presumed he will become the king someday."

Talamir went on the defensive. "That's not why I love him, if that's what you mean." He turned his gaze toward the other men in the room, assuming Weile trusted them with any words that might pass between them. "I have no designs on any throne. I would love Subikahn were he the meanest beggar in Erythane."

Weile Kahn grinned indulgently. "Talamir, I'm not concerned about any designs you might have on the throne. I gained it, stole it most would say, from its previous owner who proved incapable of protecting it against me. If we can't keep the kingship in our family, then we don't deserve to have it either."

Talamir cocked his head, trying to anticipate the Easterner's point.

Weile did not wait for his guest to puzzle out the answer. "I'm just saying even rough-edged kings have responsibilities. Despite what most people believe, they cannot simply do as they please. Those royal duties did not suit me, so I passed them to my son. Tae handles the position far better than I did, but even he is beginning to realize that his subjects want a queen." His dark eyes, so like Subikahn's at first glance, held a stony edge his grandson did not share. "They will have it from Tae or from Subikahn. More likely, from both. You, Talamir, can never be queen."

The words startled the Renshai, who had never considered such a thing. "Queen?! Of course I can't be queen. Who said I wanted to be queen? I'm a man."

"And men aren't known for sharing the things that matter most to them."

Now, Talamir understood. Subikahn would likely have a wife in addition to his lover, and the populace would demand children as well. Talamir had not yet considered the future in such detail. "I will deal with whatever it takes to keep Subikahn. He is my love, my life, my very happiness." Anger suffused him at the unfairness of it all. He had finally found a kindred soul mate, and he had no choice but to picture his beloved cradling a beautiful, young bride. There was no positive way to view the situation, but he would not allow it to stop him.

"Ah, in the heat of young passion, you could give no other answer. But love matures, Talamir, and you need to think not about what you can suffer now, but how you will suffer in the future."

This was not the conversation Talamir had expected. "Future, Sire? I have no future. I'm sentenced to die by slow torture for high treason and rape."

Weile Kahn made a thoughtful noise, as if he had fully forgotten those details. "Yes. So, what should I do with you, Talamir?"

The question caught Talamir even more off guard, if possible. "Let me go?" he suggested.

"I tried that." Weile glanced at his veiled companions. "I even gave you my sword. By the way, it's never looked better. Thanks for taking such good care of it."

As a Renshai,Talamir could have done nothing else, but it seemed distantly possible Weile might not know that. "You're welcome, Sire."

"You made me a lot of promises when you left, Talamir."

The reminder further irritated Talamir. His fists curled around empty air. He was hiltless, naked, before his accuser. "You made promises, too," he reminded with cautious venom. "You said you would hold your men back, but they hounded me relentlessly. I agreed not to kill them, but they made it impossible."

"Those," Weile said crisply, "were the king's men, not mine." A smile haunted his lips but did not quite show through.

Talamir got the idea that something other than his own decisions and prowess impressed Weile Kahn. It took him several moments of silent thought to realize Weile had underestimated, and now appreciated, Tae's resourcefulness. "Whosever they were, I had to kill them to survive. And I had to survive to keep my promise to protect Subikahn."

"Which you didn't."

"I didn't fail," Talamir pointed out. "He's alive and well, thank the gods."

"Is he?"

The simple question cut like a knife. Talamir's heart skipped a beat. "What-what do you mean?" He studied the veiled figures for some outline of weapons. If Subikahn was in danger, he would do whatever it took to rescue him.