for this accursed fight! ' Kharadmon said. This time sorrow scalded. ' You were never the fool, Mearn! You snarl in the pit for no cause but display. This stand in defiance is going to sow all manner of wrong-headed principles. '
' I know. ' Mearn ' s admission came without pride. ' Prince Arithon spoke with a prophet ' s conviction. I never was deaf to wisdom. Yet these are my brothers. I would run this dagger through my own heart before I desert my blood-kin. '
' And Fianzia? ' Kharadmon ventured at last, the lady ' s full name spoken with tenderness. ' You ' d risk her to the rampage of Lysaer ' s crazed following? '
Mearn ' s level stare never faltered. ' She carries our child. Whatever she thinks now, that babe is our life, made in wedded union between us. Be sure I will sacrifice all that I have to ensure she survives to give birth. '
No more could be given; nothing more said. Kharadmon would have bowed, had he still possessed flesh. No such parting salute was left to a shade. Just regretful silence, followed by a retreat to visit the comfortless news on Dame Dawr.
* * *
Three days later, still held in close seclusion within the rock caves of Sanpashir, Arithon Teir ' sTfalenn paused where he knelt. He remained oblivious to Lysaer ' s bold claim at Tirans; was yet unaware of Jeynsa s ' Valerient ' s resolve to question his royal character. The hands that secured the hide covering over his heirloom lyranthe poised with the laces half-tightened when the soft, barefoot step he expected intruded upon his kept solitude.
He finished the last knot. Turned his raised head, aware who approached well before the arrival emerged from the underground corridor. He arose with respect. Flawless in courtesy, he offered a seat on the folded blanket that had lately served as his bed. No fool, he did not make the outsider ' s mistake and try to lend an elder assistance.
The aged matriarch of the Biedar therefore took her imperious time to make herself comfortable. She circled the rock-chamber. Her fathomless interest peered into the dim corners; stared everywhere else but at the royal guest standing at her attendance.
Arithon waited. He might have been stone, so deep was his courteous stillness. The overhead crack that admitted the day ' s failing light dropped a shaft of hazed gold through the gloom. The mote shifted slowly from citrine to rose, then faded into still twilight.
The crone settled at last. A young woman arrived with a fire-pot, then a man bearing strips of raw meat on peeled sticks.
Arithon stayed on his feet, while the revered one roasted her meal. She watched him with bright, bead-black eyes, and as thoroughly chewed each steaming bite.
' You would not have answered my summons, ' she revealed at length, though not before the evening wind moaned its chill serenade through the gap.
Arithon suppressed his most combative smile. Empty hands remained clasped at his waist. ' You would not take my gift for your tribe ' s hospitality. Therefore, we both suffer hardship. '
The grandame ' s cackling laughter bounced off the rough walls, waking a thrum of muffled resonance from his wrapped instrument. ' One might knap a flint knife with your tongue. Dare you leave? I have not released you with the tribe ' s blessing. '
The threatened curve turned Arithon ' s lips. ' And do you bless prisoners who should be set free? ' Regarding her, serious, he added, "The one who came armed was dispatched to his ship with no such presumptuous ceremony. ' He considered with care, then selected the term that meant ' unwitting, ignorant stripling. ' ' Do you halter the m ' a ' hia who comes to you naked? '
' You are not healed! ' the grandame said, angered. ' A warrior not in fit state does not travel. '
Arithon resisted the need to lash back. ' Yet I bear no arms '
Bone trinkets and fetishes clinked: one deft, ancient hand clapped the clay lid on the fire-pot, and night swallowed the blood glare of the coals. ' M ' a ' hi! Grown but
' I know. ' Mearn ' s admission came without pride. ' Prince Arithon spoke with a prophet ' s conviction. I never was deaf to wisdom. Yet these are my brothers. I would run this dagger through my own heart before I desert my blood-kin. '
' And Fianzia? ' Kharadmon ventured at last, the lady ' s full name spoken with tenderness. ' You ' d risk her to the rampage of Lysaer ' s crazed following? '
Mearn ' s level stare never faltered. ' She carries our child. Whatever she thinks now, that babe is our life, made in wedded union between us. Be sure I will sacrifice all that I have to ensure she survives to give birth. '
No more could be given; nothing more said. Kharadmon would have bowed, had he still possessed flesh. No such parting salute was left to a shade. Just regretful silence, followed by a retreat to visit the comfortless news on Dame Dawr.
* * *
Three days later, still held in close seclusion within the rock caves of Sanpashir, Arithon Teir ' sTfalenn paused where he knelt. He remained oblivious to Lysaer ' s bold claim at Tirans; was yet unaware of Jeynsa s ' Valerient ' s resolve to question his royal character. The hands that secured the hide covering over his heirloom lyranthe poised with the laces half-tightened when the soft, barefoot step he expected intruded upon his kept solitude.
He finished the last knot. Turned his raised head, aware who approached well before the arrival emerged from the underground corridor. He arose with respect. Flawless in courtesy, he offered a seat on the folded blanket that had lately served as his bed. No fool, he did not make the outsider ' s mistake and try to lend an elder assistance.
The aged matriarch of the Biedar therefore took her imperious time to make herself comfortable. She circled the rock-chamber. Her fathomless interest peered into the dim corners; stared everywhere else but at the royal guest standing at her attendance.
Arithon waited. He might have been stone, so deep was his courteous stillness. The overhead crack that admitted the day ' s failing light dropped a shaft of hazed gold through the gloom. The mote shifted slowly from citrine to rose, then faded into still twilight.
The crone settled at last. A young woman arrived with a fire-pot, then a man bearing strips of raw meat on peeled sticks.
Arithon stayed on his feet, while the revered one roasted her meal. She watched him with bright, bead-black eyes, and as thoroughly chewed each steaming bite.
' You would not have answered my summons, ' she revealed at length, though not before the evening wind moaned its chill serenade through the gap.
Arithon suppressed his most combative smile. Empty hands remained clasped at his waist. ' You would not take my gift for your tribe ' s hospitality. Therefore, we both suffer hardship. '
The grandame ' s cackling laughter bounced off the rough walls, waking a thrum of muffled resonance from his wrapped instrument. ' One might knap a flint knife with your tongue. Dare you leave? I have not released you with the tribe ' s blessing. '
The threatened curve turned Arithon ' s lips. ' And do you bless prisoners who should be set free? ' Regarding her, serious, he added, "The one who came armed was dispatched to his ship with no such presumptuous ceremony. ' He considered with care, then selected the term that meant ' unwitting, ignorant stripling. ' ' Do you halter the m ' a ' hia who comes to you naked? '
' You are not healed! ' the grandame said, angered. ' A warrior not in fit state does not travel. '
Arithon resisted the need to lash back. ' Yet I bear no arms '
Bone trinkets and fetishes clinked: one deft, ancient hand clapped the clay lid on the fire-pot, and night swallowed the blood glare of the coals. ' M ' a ' hi! Grown but
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