Энтони Райан - Queen of Fire

“He meant…” Weaver frowned, struggling to find the right words. “He meant thereʼs a reason why youʼre willing to let me go. He meant that we are all, regardless of what gifts we may possess, very small and brief lights upon this earth. The difference is I am happy to accept it, he never was.”

He got to his feet and started back towards the house he shared with the Politai. “Please give my regards to the queen,” he said, pausing at the door, “and, when she sends assassins to follow my trail, tell her to be sure to choose well.”

He watched Reva from the bow of the ship, needing no song to discern what passed between her and Lady Lieza as they embraced on the quay. The girl drew back, head bowed and fighting tears as she moved to the queenʼs side. Reva made her final bows and ascended to the ship with her tall guardsman at her back, the assembled Realm Guard lifting their weapons in salute and voicing a shout that echoed across the harbour.

“Louder than the one you got, brother,” Nortah observed with a grin.

“I think she earned it.”

“My lot didnʼt even come to see me off. Probably still squabbling over their list of rightful demands for the queen.”

“Rightful demands?”

“Yes, they want to choose their own officers, an end to land ownership and the right to appoint the queenʼs councillors. Can you imagine? Faith save us from the newly freed.”

Vaelin joined Reva at the stern as the ship made its way through the narrow harbour mouth, the walled moles thick with cheering people, their words meaningless to him but she was able to discern a few. “Livella is reborn,” she murmured, watching the torrent of flowers arc into their wake. “Perhaps Varulek will get his gods back after all.”

“Varulek?” he asked.

“A dead man, and servant to dead gods.” She surveyed the cheering throng as they drew away, the helmsman taking them into the Cut as the captain ordered the sails for a westward tack, towards the distant ocean. “Not long ago many of these would have been screaming for my death in the arena. Now they rejoice at my survival.”

“They are not alone.” Vaelin glanced at the young guardsman, standing at a respectful distance, his gaze rarely straying from the Blessed Lady. “It seems you have your own Iltis.”

“I offered Guardsman Varesh a boon for his service.” Reva gave the youth a somewhat strained smile. “All he asked was to stay at my side. Iʼm minded to find other employment for him when we get home.”

Vaelin turned to regard the three hulking troop-ships now pulling away from the quayside, each laden with Cumbraelins. A few had elected to stay, lured by the generous pay the queen offered for experienced archers, but most chose to follow the Blessed Lady home. “Lord Antesh has already begun to quote from the Eleventh Book I hear.”

“He has recovered much of his fervour since Alltor,” she said. “And more since coming here. I think I preferred him jaded. The world might be a better place were it ruled by disappointed souls.”

“Shouldnʼt you write that down? The Blessed Ladyʼs wisdom should not be wasted on a heretic.”

She gave short laugh then lowered her gaze, her voice taking on a sorrowful pitch. “I told Antesh it had all been a great lie. Never once in my life have I heard the Fatherʼs voice. Not during the siege and not here. He said, ‘You are the Fatherʼs voice, my lady.ʼ”

Her eyes went to Alornis, busy tending to the engine on the starboard rail. Apparently it could spit flame, with fearsome results if the accounts Vaelin had heard were true. Alornis seemed incapable of leaving it alone, her deft hands removing the various plates to explore its mysterious insides, her face rapt, uncaring of anything else.

“Iʼd happily tip that thing into the sea,” he said. “But these devices of hers are the only thing that brings any life to her eyes.”

“Then letʼs discover why.” Reva went to crouch at Alornisʼs side, watching her work for a moment before asking a question. Vaelin expected his sister to ignore her, as she often ignored him, but instead she seemed to become enthused, hands moving with passionate animation as she pointed to the machineʼs innards, explaining each pipe and spigot in detail as Reva nodded encouragement.

He watched them for a time, seeing his sister relax, even voicing a laugh or two, then found his gaze drawn inexorably to the canvas-wrapped bulk lashed to the mainmast. The queenʼs instructions had been clear, lacking any ambiguity, but still he found the questions plagued him. What do we do with it?

“I couldnʼt save him, brother!”

He had been called from his cabin by the third mate to find Nortah reeling about the deck, wine bottle in hand. The swell had increased as night fell and they drew into what the sailors called “the Boraelin mountains,” a region renowned for tall waves and vicious storms. The wind was certainly harsh tonight, though not quite a gale it still managed to lash the deck with hard, driving rain.

“Killed a dozen of those red bastards,” Nortah railed, “fought the Aspect himself, and still I couldnʼt save him!”

He stumbled as the deck lurched anew, staggering towards the port rail and nearly tipping over. “Stop this!” Vaelin caught hold of him, drawing him back and catching hold of the rigging.

“Killing.” Nortah laughed, lifting his arms and shouting to the rain-filled sky. “Only thing I was ever good for. Just cos you hate a thing doesnʼt mean you arenʼt good at it. Wasnʼt enough though. He still died.”

“He died saving you,” Vaelin told him, holding him tight as he sought to break free. “So you could see your wife again. So you could hold your children again.”

Nortah subsided at the mention of his family, head slumping as the wine bottle fell from his limp hand and rolled away. “They killed my cat,” he mumbled. “Have to go home without my cat.”

“I know, brother.” Vaelin patted his soaked head and tried to pull him upright. A cloaked figure emerged from belowdecks, coming to his side to assist in lifting the now-passed-out Lord Marshal. Together they took him below, laying him in his cabin.

“My thanks,” Vaelin offered to the cloaked figure.

“From what I gather,” Erlin said, drawing back his hood, “this man deserves a better end than falling drunk from a shipʼs deck.”

“That he does.”

They left Nortah snoring and sat together in a corner of the hold, Vaelin knowing he would gain scant rest tonight with the wind howling at such a pitch. He watched as Erlin rubbed at the small of his back, groaning a little. “This will take quite a bit of getting used to,” he said.

“Your first back-ache?”

“No doubt the first of many.” Erlin smiled and Vaelin concealed a wince at the changes in his face. The beating had left him with a crooked nose and somewhat misshapen jaw, though his eyes seemed to shine brighter, like a young man in fact.

“Have you decided?” Vaelin asked.

“Cara invited me to live with them when we get to the Reaches,” Erlin said. “Though Iʼm not sure Lorkan appreciated the gesture. Newlyweds need privacy after all. I do hear tell of a hut on the beach in need of an occupant though.”

“After all your travelling, you will be content with a hut on the beach?”

“For a time. I find I have a lot to think on.”

“Do you remember? When he… took you. Were you aware?”

Erlin remained silent for some time, his newly bright eyes dimmed somewhat, and when he spoke Vaelin knew he voiced a lie. “No. Itʼs all just a fog, like a bad dream best forgotten.”

“So you have no notion why it spared you? Why the stone didnʼt take you when it took the Ally?”