“I think Damin would agree with you. He's finding some of the decisions required of a High Prince a bit more than he bargained for.” For a moment she recalled Damin's unforgiving eyes as he sentenced Mikel to death. Tarja would be confronted with similar dilemmas, she was certain. She envied neither of them. Then she smiled, as something else occurred to her. “He has Adrina with him.”
“Oh, wonderful,” he groaned.
“Don't worry, Tarja,” she assured him, laughing softly at the expression on his face. “You'll be safe. She only has eyes for Damin, these days. Besides, she's due to give birth soon. You never know... she might have the child here in the Citadel and decide to name it after you. But I think you'll find her too preoccupied to worry about flirting with you.”
He looked very relieved. “I like Adrina, but she can be very... trying.”
With a sympathetic smile, R'shiel turned her back on the Kariens and leaned against the softly glowing wall. She folded her arms across her body and studied the pattern in the stonework beneath her feet for a moment, working up the courage to say what she had brought him up here tell him.
“Tarja, when this is over, I'm leaving.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Where are you going?”
“I have some things to take care of. Loclon is still out there somewhere, for one thing. I won't rest until I've dealt with him.”
“I'm sorry we didn't find him. No, worse than that, I'm sorry I didn't kill him. You were right. You warned me years ago that I should have put an end to him that evening in the arena when he killed Georj. Do you know how often I wish I had?”
“Probably nearly as often as I do.”
For a moment, he could not meet her eyes. The memory of what Loclon had done to her was too dreadful to confront. He glanced back over the plain before he answered.
“We didn't see any sign of him when we let the Kariens out. He may still be in the Citadel.”
“No, Tarja. He's long gone. But it doesn't matter. I'm half Harshini. I have several lifetimes to fill. I don't mind using one of them to find Loclon.”
He nodded silently, needing no further explanation.
“I have to get Mikel back, too.”
“Mikel? That Karien boy who crossed the border with Adrina? What happened to him?”
“The God of Music is minding him for a time. I have to go and get him back.”
“A god is minding him?” Tarja repeated doubtfully. “I don't really want to know what that means, do I?”
She laughed softly. “No.”
“Will you come back when you've finished?”
“I don't know,” she shrugged. “There's something else I have to do, but I don't think it's going to be that easy, and I don't know how long it will take. You can keep a lantern burning for me, Tarja, but don't wait up.”
He smiled then, perhaps even a little relieved that she would not be around to remind him of a past he thought better forgotten. Kalianah's geas was not yet a distant memory. Time would make the past easier to come to terms with. He was no longer her brother and would never again be her lover, but she could count him a friend.
“I'll miss you.”
“No you won't. You'll be glad to see the back of me. So will Garet. And Mandah.” He turned from her, and it took R'shiel a moment to realise that it wasn't anger that turned him away, but embarrassment. “Oh, Tarja, don't be so foolish. I know I've never been friendly with her, but Mandah adores you. I worked that out when we first met in Reddingdale. I suppose that's why I never liked her. That, and the fact that she's so insufferably nice. She's probably one of those Novices who grew up in the Citadel lusting after you and Georj. It doesn't bother me, and you shouldn't let it bother you.”
Tarja suddenly grinned at his own foolishness. “That's very noble of you, R'shiel.”
“Actually, Brak said the same thing.”
Tarja's grin faded at the mention of Brak. There was still a degree of residual distrust between them, R'shiel knew. Brak had done a great deal that Tarja found hard to forgive. “Is he going with you when you leave?”
She shook her head sadly. “No, Tarja. Where Brak is going, I can't follow.”
He was silent for a moment then looked at her strangely. “Do you love him, R'shiel?”
“Not in the way you think. It's something else. You wouldn't understand. The Harshini would.”
“The Harshini,” he sighed heavily. “I don't suppose there's any chance the Harshini will want to leave the Citadel too, once this is all over and done with?”
“Not much,” she agreed with a grin.
He shook his head ruefully. “Well, wherever you go and whatever you do, R'shiel, spare a thought for me every now and then. Things are going to get a lot worse before they get better, I fear.”
R'shiel smiled sympathetically, but did not answer him. They stayed on top of the wall for a while longer, until the discordant notes of the distant musicians ceased. Then the air was filled with the strains of a cheerful melody as the party in the amphitheatre got under way. By unspoken agreement, they turned and walked back down the spiral staircase in the gatehouse to the street and headed towards the music.
CHAPTER 59
R'shiel had feared that allowing the Harshini to mingle with the people of the Citadel in the amphitheatre would be inviting trouble, but she need not have worried. Although the Medalonians had spent two hundred years reviling their race, when confronted with one in person, the Harshini were almost impossible to dislike. They did not share the human frailties of shyness or self-doubt, and assumed everyone was as happy to meet them as they were to meet others. Their wide-eyed joy at being invited to share the celebration was infectious. After a moment's awkward silence when the Harshini first arrived, the party settled down again and the citizens of the Citadel set about enjoying themselves as if the Karien army outside did not exist.
“Isn't it amazing what a bit of free food and alcohol will do for a city's morale,” Brak remarked as he found R'shiel sitting high up in the tiered seating of the amphitheatre watching the party.
“You think that's going to help morale? Just wait till they find out that the court'esa have been laid on free of charge for the evening.”
“How did you get Tarja to agree to that?”
“Ah, well... come to think of it, I didn't actually mention it to him. He's pretty busy at the moment. I didn't want to burden him with details.”
“I'm sure he'll appreciate your consideration when the court'esa houses send him their bills for this evening's entertainment.”
“He'll get over it.”
“You spoke to him, then?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And what? There's nothing much to tell, Brak.”
“No more guilt? No more pain?” he asked gently.
“No.”
“Then all that is left to do is wait, demon child.”
She nodded silently. Brak slipped his arm around her shoulder against the cold and she leaned against him as they watched the party in silence, waiting for the dawn.
The party was still well under way when R'shiel and Brak rose from their seats high in the amphitheatre and made their way to the Temple of the Gods. The sky was still dark, but R'shiel could feel the morning approaching. The Citadel was ablaze with light, adding its own unique essence to the celebrations. They walked through the almost-deserted streets in silence, aware that the overwhelming atmosphere in the Citadel was not one of fear or tension, but - temporarily at least - one of joy.