Patricia Briggs - Raven's Shadow

The last time Phoran had visited, a few days ago, Gerant had sent word that he was on his way. It couldn’t be too soon for Tier’s comfort: the Masters weren’t going to wait forever while Tier wrested control of the Passerines from them.

He woke for lunch and spent the rest of the day in his usual manner, talking and socializing in the Eyrie. In the evening he played for them, mostly raunchy army songs—but he feathered in others, songs of glory in battle and the sweetness of home.

Looking over the faces of the men who listened to his music he knew triumph because, given a chance, most of them would grow into fine men. Men who would serve their emperor, a boy who was showing signs of being the kind of ruler a man could take pride in serving: shrewd and clever with a streak of kindness he tried hard to hide.

When he returned to his room for the night, Myrceria tucked her arm flirtatiously in his and accompanied him.

When they were inside his room, she dropped her flirtation and his arm and settled on his bed. Stroking the coverlet absently she said, “I swore I was done talking to you. I have survived here a long time—and I did it by keeping my mouth shut. How dare you demand more of me?” She said it without heat. “I have no power to affect the men who rule here. I am just a whore.”

Tier leaned against the wall opposite the bed, crossed his feet at the ankles and did his best to look neutral.

“I haven’t seen the sun since I was fifteen,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Sometimes I wonder if it still rises and sets.”

“It does,” said Tier. “It does.”

“Telleridge is planning a Disciplining.” She flattened her hand and stared at it as though she’d never seen it before.

“What is a Disciplining?” asked Tier, not liking the sound of it at all.

“When a Passerine disobeys a Raptor, they hold a meeting to decide what his punishment will be. Then they are punished in the Eyrie with all the Passerines in attendance. They usually do one every year, just as a reminder.”

“Who is being disciplined?” asked Tier. They wouldn’t pick him, he thought; they were too smart for that. They didn’t need a martyr, they needed an example.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Collarn,” he said. “Or maybe Kissel or Toarsen. But Collarn if they’re smart. If they hurt Toarsen, Kissel won’t stand for it. If they hurt Kissel, Toarsen will go to his brother—and Avar has enough friends, including the Emperor, to hurt the Path. Collarn has no close friends except for me, and he’s the kind of person that people expect bad things to happen to. When it does, it won’t disturb the Passerines much.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Myrceria softly. “I like Collarn. He has a vicious tongue when he wants to, but he’s always polite to the people who can’t defend themselves.”

Tier heard the grief in her voice. “This is more than a caning or a beating,” he said.

“All of the boys are forced to participate in the Disciplining in some way—and the punishment can be anything,” she said. “Telleridge is very creative. Whipping is the most common, but some of the others are worse. One boy they forced to drink water… he passed out, and I think he died. They poured water on his face while he choked and gagged. And when he stopped, they just kept pouring.”

“Can you make sure I know about it before it happens?” he asked.

She kept her eyes averted, but nodded quickly. “If I know in advance. I don’t always.”

“Can you get word to Collarn?” If they could warn him…

“Tomorrow,” she said after a moment. “I have to do it myself—I can’t trust any of the girls with a message like that. And I can’t leave the Path’s rooms anymore than you can. Tomorrow should be soon enough.” She spoke those words quickly, as if she could make it true just by saying so. “It should take a day or two for them to arrange to get word to everyone anyway.”

“Right,” he said. “Tell him to find a reason to leave town for a week.”

She nodded, started to get up to leave, but then settled back, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Would you play something for me? Something cheerful so I can sleep?”

He was tired, but she was tired, too, and no more than she could he have slept—not with the knowledge that the Masters had decreed that one of his boys was going to suffer for what Tier had done.

“I’m not going to sleep anytime soon either,” he said. “Music would be nice.”

He sat on the other end of his bed and started to tune his lute again. He’d just finished bringing the second course of strings in accord with the rest, when the door opened unexpectedly.

Tier’d grown used to the respectful knocks of his captors—even Phoran knocked. It was too early for a visit from Phoran. Tier opened his mouth for a reproval but stopped, shocked dumb when Lehr entered the room wearing Tier’s own sword.

Joy lit Lehr’s face, then dimmed a bit when he looked past Tier and saw Myrceria. He made a move to block the door—perhaps Tier thought with a touch of amusement that threaded past his astonishment, to allow Tier to assume a less compromising position. Did Lehr actually think that his father would take a leman?

But the door popped open wider before Lehr could reach it, and Jes took two full strides into the room. The comfortable temperature of the room plummeted until Tier could see his own breath, and Myrceria let out an abortive squeak.

Tier got to his feet slowly, because it was never smart to move too quickly around Jes in this mode, and opened his arms. Jes’s glance swept the room comprehensively. But he apparently didn’t see anything too threatening in Myrceria because he took two steps forward and wrapped his arms around Tier.

“Papa,” he breathed as the room warmed. “Oh, Papa, we thought we’d never find you.”

“Of course you did.” A woman’s voice, deep, rich, and beloved filled the room like the sound of a cello. Tier looked over Jes’s shoulder to see his wife enter. “Ever since Hennea told us that he’d been taken alive. Are you well?”

Seraph looked so much like the empress-child he’d first met that it made him smile. An ice princess, his sister had called her with contempt. Being a straightforward person herself, Alinath had never seen that the cool facade could hide all manner of emotions that Seraph chose not to share.

“I’m fine,” Tier said, and seeing that she was not going to run into his arms immediately, he continued speaking, “and much happier than I was a few minutes ago. Lehr, come here.”

Lehr had grown in the months since he’d seen him last, Tier thought, hugging him tightly. So had Jes for that matter; his oldest son was a little taller than Tier now.

“We missed you,” said Lehr, returning his hug.

“I missed you, too.” He held him for a moment more.

“Lehr killed some people,” said Jes. “He saved Mother.”

Lehr stiffened in his arms, but Tier merely hugged him tighter. “I’m sorry, son,” he said. “Killing another man is not something that should rest easily on your shoulders.”

When he stepped back at last, he looked at Seraph, who’d stayed by the open door. “Is Rinnie out there, too?”

As was her habit with him, she answered the real question he asked. “She’s safe with your sister. Frost, it seems, was the only family casualty of this mess—though we were quite worried about you until just now.”

“They killed Frost?”

She nodded, “To make it look as if the both of you had walked into one of the Blighted Places. We might have believed it if a cousin of mine hadn’t straightened us out.”

She hadn’t looked at Myrceria, but he knew that she didn’t have any cousins. She must have met another Traveler.