Dreams of Fire and Gods 2: Fire (18 page)

I
T HAD
taken dinner and a few hours of further discussion for Sael and Koreh to finally shake off their irritation with one another. Sael managed to escape from his father at last and call it an early night, asking Koreh to turn in with him. Fortunately Koreh had been willing to follow, and their lovemaking shortly afterward managed to restore a feeling of affection between them.

To Sael’s annoyance, however, Jekh knocked on the bedroom door a short time later.

“I’m completely hidden by the blanket,” Koreh said when Sael gave him a sharp look.

“All right. Just ask for a robe, please, if you need to get up.”

“I promise.”
Sael sat up and shouted, “Enter.”

Jekh slipped inside and closed the door behind him. Sael and Koreh were still in the bed together, and Jekh could certainly tell they hadn’t been discussing politics. But he gave no indication that he noticed. “Your Lordship, Lady Tanum has requested an audience with you.”

Sael instinctively pulled the blankets closer to his stomach, as if that would actually hide more. “By the gods! She’s not outside the door, is she?”

Jekh smiled. “Don’t panic, sir. I’ve asked her to wait in your drawing room.”

“Bless you, Jekh. Tell her I’ll be in shortly. Don’t worry about dressing me. I’ll find something.”

“Yes, sir.” Jekh bowed to Sael and then gave a slightly less formal bow to Koreh as well. “Sir.”

Then the valet let himself out. Sael scrambled out of the bed and began rummaging through his wardrobe. Tanum couldn’t expect him to dress too formally for an unexpected visit at this late hour.

“Should I stay here, then?” Koreh asked from the bed.

Sael paused. He hadn’t thought about it yet, but now that he considered it, he said, “I suppose you’d better. I have no idea if this is something private or not.”

He found Tanum seated by the fireplace in his study just a few moments later. She rose when he entered, and he greeted her with a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek before saying, “Please.” He indicated the chair she’d been sitting in.

He took the seat opposite her, reflecting on how long it had been since they’d last spoken in private. It had to have been before he left for the capital, when he was just a boy. The years hadn’t seemed to age her, though the mourning blacks she still wore for Seffni weren’t suited to her. The black was a nice contrast to her bright-red hair, but her personality was far removed from that dreary attire. Sael remembered her in shades of green and light blue with silver highlights. At least she was allowed to forego the veil inside private quarters.

“It’s so good to see you alone,”

Tanum said, echoing his sentiment. “Everything has been so chaotic since you arrived.”

“Yes.”

“I won’t keep you long,” she said. “I think you already know why I’ve come.”

Sael smiled and poured each of them a glass of wine from the decanter on the table between them. “You want me to convince Father to allow you to become a mage.”

“Not just
any
mage,” Tanum said, her green eyes flashing with excitement. “A type of mage never seen before—or perhaps they existed thousands of years ago. But for this century, this millennium, Master Geilin is the first of a new breed.”

The thought of Master Geilin
breeding
was something Sael definitely didn’t want to contemplate. “Yes, I can see that. But we don’t yet know what he’ll be capable of.”

“That’s why it’s so exciting!” Tanum stood abruptly and gathered her wide skirt in both hands to allow her to pace behind her chair without tripping. “Oh Sael, don’t you see? My days are unimaginably tedious now that Seffni’s gone. I do miss him, every moment. But it’s more than that.” She stopped and turned to face him. “I’ve begun to look at my future, and I don’t like what I’m seeing. I thought I would have a husband and children to look after, royal dinners and parties to host…. I’m sure it doesn’t sound appealing to you, but it would have been a very busy, rewarding life for me.”

“And now that’s all changed,” Sael said, giving her a sad, sympathetic smile.

“I’ve been put on a shelf,” Tanum said. “My sole function is to look sad and ethereal in mourning blacks.”

“Which you do quite well,” Sael couldn’t resist saying.

As he knew it would, the comment made her laugh. Tanum came around to perch on the edge of her chair again. “Do you intend to have children?” she asked him point-blank.

The question made him uncomfortable, as always. He’d avoided it as much as possible over the past weeks, and all the confusion surrounding the Taaweh and the emperor’s army had made that fairly easy. “Honestly, Tanum, I don’t even know if I’ll survive tomorrow night.”

She leaned forward and regarded him intently. “What are you talking about, Sael? Is something happening tomorrow?”

Seeing no reason to keep it from her, but still reluctant to reveal the Taaweh plan to any more people, Sael simply said, “Koreh and I have a task to perform tomorrow. All I can say about it is, it’s extremely dangerous and the odds of us surviving are… poor.”

Tanum looked alarmed. “Then don’t go!”

“We’ve discussed it from all angles with Father and… our advisors. There really isn’t a choice.”

“Sael,” Tanum said earnestly, “you have to survive. I can’t bear to lose you so soon after losing Seffni!”

“It probably wouldn’t do Harleh much good either.”

Tanum blushed slightly. “No, of course not. I apologize for being selfish. It’s just that… you’re the only family I have left.”

“I know,” Sael replied, remembering his childhood in Harleh Keep before Master Geilin had taken him to the Capital. The age difference between him and Seffni had been over a decade, but they had always been close. Seffni had watched out for Sael as a father for a son, while the recently widowed
vek
had had little time for a young boy underfoot. And when Seffni married, Tanum had immediately adopted Sael as a surrogate son of her own.

Everything had been wonderful for a couple of years, until the emperor demanded that Sael come to gü-Khemed for his training—a political gambit, Sael now realized, to keep the
vek
under control by essentially holding one of his sons hostage.

Tanum wasted no more time protesting. She had been a member of the royal court for her entire life and she knew she had little say in these matters. But she placed a hand on Sael’s knee and said, “Promise me that you’ll come back—and Koreh with you.”

It was one thing to counter Koreh and his father when they were arguing, but this simple affectionate gesture gave Sael little to fight back against. He gave her a weak smile, and though they both knew the words were empty, he said, “I promise.”

“Then it’s done,” Tanum said, as if fate wouldn’t
dare
contradict her. “And when you come back, we must begin planning for your wedding.”

Sael almost choked on his wine. “My what?”

 

“You do intend to marry Koreh, don’t you?”

Sael blinked at her for a moment, bewildered by the rapid change in subject. “I want to, certainly. And I believe Koreh wants to. But Father will never allow it.”

Tanum waved a hand dismissively. “You can handle him.”

 

“Nobody ‘handles’ the Vek of Worlen.”

 

“You have far more sway over him than I think you realize, Sael.”

Sael had a hard time believing that. “Me? Sway over my father? The man doesn’t listen to anybody. Well, maybe Snidmot and the generals; occasionally Master Geilin. But certainly not me.”

“He does,” Tanum replied. “He won’t admit it, and he’ll always make it sound as if it were his idea when he changes his mind, but you’ve adapted to being the Dekan of Harleh far more quickly than anyone expected. Your father knows that and he’s beginning to take you seriously.”

“Not seriously enough for him to entertain the idea of Koreh as my
nimen
.” Sael decided to change the subject to something less uncomfortable. “And if what you’re leading up to is that I’ll somehow be able to persuade Father to let you become a mage… I have to confess I’m skeptical about you joining this ‘new breed’ of sorcerer, Tanum. Have you really given it that much thought? Boredom seems a poor excuse for upsetting the social order.”

Tanum laughed. “Yes, I suppose so. But it’s more than that. I want to do something
useful
. If Seffni and I had had children, then I would have considered raising them to be my purpose. If you and Koreh somehow had children— adopted or found a surrogate mother— then I could at least find purpose in assisting with their upbringing. But I can’t simply sit around looking like an attractive centerpiece at social gatherings.”

“But a
mage
, Tanum! You have no idea what that entails.”

“What harm is there in letting me learn? Master Geilin can teach me in secret, if you and Father find it embarrassing.”

In the end, the best Sael could do was to promise to ask Master Geilin about it in the morning. The old wizard had heard her talking about it at dinner, of course, but he had yet to weigh in with an opinion. That seemed to appease Tanum for the present. She kissed Sael tenderly on the cheek and bid him good night.

When he returned to his bedroom, Koreh asked, “What was all that about?”

“She wants to help us raise our children,” Sael responded as he began to undress.

“Our children? It’s a bit early to be talking about that, isn’t it?”

 

Sael merely groaned and shook his head.
“W
HY
are they allowing this?” Koreh
asked.

“Allowing it!” Sael looked at him in irritation, but he was still gasping for breath and apparently unable to muster more than that single expression of disgust.

They were laying on a hillside, the two of them and Master Geilin, as they recovered from Sael’s latest attempt to perform the ritual of
Cabbon
in full view of the Eye of Atnu. It had been somewhat successful, in that it had gained Sael a bit more power. But the three of them had barely managed to avoid the white-hot fireball that struck the ground where Sael had been standing.

Master Geilin said more calmly, “Stronni magic is extremely orderly and works according to strict rules. They can try to kill Sael before completing the ritual, but they cannot prevent him from gaining power from the ritual itself.”

Koreh sat up and looked around at the lush forest surrounding them. They were safely underneath the blue cloud cover of the Taaweh again, hidden from the Eye once more. But that wouldn’t last long. They still needed to pop out into the light again in order for Sael to perform the ritual. “If we keep doing this,” he said, “they’re going to succeed in killing Sael and both of us along with him.”

“How romantic,” Sael muttered.

“Not for me,” Geilin said. “At any rate, I don’t think we have much more time left. The hour of
Cabbon
will be over soon.”

Sael sat up and helped his old tutor sit up as well. “I think I’m nearly there,” he said. “One more time should do it.”

“Or get us cooked,” Koreh said. But he stood up. They might as well get it over with. “You’re sure we won’t need to do this again at
Nemom
?”

“No,” Sael assured him. “Not if I can get enough of a charge this time.”

They popped out of the earth on a grassy hillside a couple leagues to the west of the last hill they’d been on. Moving from place to place at random had granted them a few moments longer than they might otherwise have had if the Stronni had been able to predict their next location.

The sky had few clouds in it, and Koreh had to admit he found the warm light of the Eye on his face and skin a welcome sensation after weeks of living in the cool darkness of Gyishya and Harleh Valley. But he knew they’d only have a few moments.

Sael quickly oriented himself to face the Eye and began chanting. The ritual of
Cabbon
was meant to draw energy from the Eye at its zenith, energy a
vönan
could then use in spellcasting.

Unfortunately, the old
caedan
who’d arrived at the keep yesterday had confirmed the Stronni were growing increasingly suspicious of Sael and the
vek
. The moment Geilin and Koreh had appeared on a hill with Sael standing between them, and Sael had begun chanting, the Stronni had apparently decided he was up to something. Within moments, Koreh had seen a ball of fire falling from the sky toward them, and he was able to pull the three of them down into the ground only a heartbeat before it exploded where they’d been standing.

But Sael claimed to have had enough time to draw some energy. Not enough for what he needed to do that night, but some. So they tried it again.

This was their third attempt, and likely it would be their last.

While Sael chanted and went through the ritual motions—drawing the circle of the Eye with its eight-pointed cross on his forehead and his chest— Koreh shielded his eyes with one hand while he searched the heavens for a second ball of light, one he knew would be hurtling at them very soon.

There it was, just to the right of Atnu. Koreh couldn’t look directly at it, but he wouldn’t have been able to judge its distance anyway. They needed Master Geilin for that. Instead Koreh squatted down and tightly gripped both Sael’s and Geilin’s legs in his hands.

Geilin extended his arms, though the Taaweh magic he’d learned didn’t require him to chant, and Koreh saw the light on the ground change subtly. As Geilin’s ward strengthened, the golden light of day that fell on the grassy slope began to dim.

But though the ward would give them a few moments longer, protecting them from the searing heat, it wasn’t strong enough to withstand the full brunt of the explosion. As the sound of the fireball reached them, like the whistling sound of an enormous holiday fire rocket but loud enough to hurt the ears, Geilin screamed, “Now!”

Koreh dropped and pulled his companions with him just as the hilltop exploded into a ball of white-hot flame, incinerating every shrub and blade of grass on it.

The three of them popped out of the ground leagues away, safely inside the protection of the valley. They lay on the cool, soothing grass, panting and catching their breath. Koreh smelled something burning and sat up quickly to check Sael and Geilin. The end of Sael’s wool cloak was singed and putting off a faint wisp of smoke, as if it hadn’t quite made it into the ground in time. Koreh patted it with his hand to make sure it was completely snuffed out.