“What is it?” Gudon asked. “What are you doing?”
“Saving Lynan’s life.” She looked up at them and they could see how desperate, and how afraid, she was. “Blood for blood, ” she said.
She put her thumb over the mouth and shook the flask vigorously. The contents turned a deep ruby red. She edged over to Lynan, parted his lips, and slowly let the contents of the flask trickle down his throat.
When the flask was empty, she sat back, and the others watched expectantly.
“If this works, it may take a while,” Jenrosa told them. Even as she finished the sentence, Lynan made a strange whining sound. His muscles went rigid, his back arched. His mouth opened and he screamed. Jenrosa and the others looked on in shock.
Lynan collapsed back on the hides, still again.
“Oh, please, God, don’t let me have killed him,” Jenrosa whimpered.
Ager leaned over and put his ear against Lynan’s chest. “He is still alive.” His eyes widened. “The heart is beating stronger!” He stared at Jenrosa. “What have you done?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Saved his life!” Kumul said enthusiastically, and picked the magicker up in his arms and swung her around. When he put her down he kissed her, suddenly and unexpectedly. For a moment their eyes met and they both blushed. “You have saved his life,” Kumul repeated.
Or taken his soul, Jenrosa thought to herself, her feelings more confused than they had ever been before.
Chapter 29
Areava found solitude in her chambers. She had chased out her ladies-in-waiting and their chattering formality, her secretary and his obsequious formality, and the guards and their solemn formality. She was by herself and awake, completely and blissfully, for the first time since… she could not remember for how long. Her lover was with the ambassador from Aman, giving him letters for his father, King Marin. Olio had disappeared from the palace again; she decided she would have to look into that; she did not want anything happening to him.
Most of the guests from the provinces who had come for the coronation had now departed Kendra, and life in the city, after days of celebrations, was returning to normal. The members of the Twenty Houses, all her uncles and aunts and cousins to the sixth degree, had behaved themselves admirably during the coronation, and even took her announced engagement to Sendarus with equanimity. The provincials had been overjoyed at the news, of course. One of their own, in a manner of speaking, was marrying into the royal family. They probably all left the capital thinking if King Marin could pull off such a coup, maybe their children or grandchildren could marry into the next generation of Rosethemes. The thought amused and excited her. It was about time Grenda Lear became a kingdom in fact as well as in name, rather than simply the means of benefiting a select few in Kendra.
She patted her belly. She was sure she was not pregnant yet but was confident she would be sometime in the next year. She wanted a daughter. She would be happy with a son, but most of all she wanted a daughter. What would she call her? Usharna, of course. And if it was a boy? Berayma? Olio? Sendarus or Marin? She grimaced. Never, never, Lynan. That name would be expunged from the royal family for all time.
She went out on her balcony. The white stone of the palace turned gold in the setting sun. A beacon for the most distant ships, she thought. A symbol for the most distant lands. An onshore breeze picked up the Rosetheme pennant on every flagpole and the black kestrel on each one seemed to take flight.
She heard a scuffle in the corridor outside. The guards had detained someone. Then she heard Harnan’s voice explaining that the queen was busy with other duties and could see no one. A man’s voice spoke out: he had urgent news. His name was Prado and he had urgent news.
Probably about Haxus, Areava thought, and smiled to herself. Harnan had been right all those weeks ago. The work never finished, not really. And then she remembered Olio’s words as well, and felt proud that perhaps she was becoming more and more like her mother.
She walked with confidence to the great door of her chamber and pushed it open. Harnan looked up surprised. Next to him, still held by a guard, was the scruffiest, dirtiest man Areava had ever seen. His eyes met hers and she read something in them, but something she could not yet decipher.
She smiled at Harnan. “I am queen to all my people, good Secretary. I will be pleased to listen to this man’s news.”
“Mainly children this week, Your Highness,” Father Lukaz said.
Olio parted the curtain with one finger and looked out over the ward. All seven beds were occupied, only two with adults in them.
“Your Highness,” said the magicker behind him, “none of them is seriously ill. These do not need your attention.” He was under strict instructions from Edaytor Fanhow not to let Prince Olio exhaust himself on cases that were not a matter of rife and death.
Olio tried to rub the tiredness from his eyes. “I cannot let the children suffer,” he said. “We will wait until they are asleep and then I will treat them.”
Father Lukaz and the magicker exchanged worried glances, then the priest led the prince back to the kitchen. He put fresh bread and wine on the table, and a platter of ham, cheese, and onions. Olio looked at the food but decided he was not hungry. The wine would help, though. He filled a goblet and drank it quickly. The alcohol burned in his thin frame, and he felt better. He could feel the Key of Healing resting warm against his chest.
Soon, he promised it. The children are still awake. We can do our duty soon.
Gudon held him by the hand and led him from the tent. Lynan closed his eyes against the bright light until someone placed one of the broad-rimmed Chett hats on his head. The light still hurt a little, but if he squinted, the pain was bearable. There was a cooking fire nearby and he had to fight the temptation to flee the yellow flames. It was something he would have to get used to.
He looked around him. He saw Kumul, Jenrosa, and Ager with his bandaged head, standing nearby, smiling and concerned, and he felt so much affection for them it almost brought him to tears. Then he saw the Chetts. Hundreds of them, all bowing to him, their heads tilted up so they could see him. There was one Chett, however, who did not bow so low. She regarded him with a strange mixture of fear and what he thought might be hope. She smiled slightly, bowed a little deeper, and Lynan nodded to her. Gudon had told him her name, but he could not remember it. Indeed, he could remember little of anything since waking from his terrible dream.
Gudon let go of his hand. Lynan held it up for a moment, wondering at its hard paleness, like ivory. He walked forward a dozen paces, taking it slowly, getting used to the heat of the sun high overhead. He surveyed the land around him, and found the sight of the plains filled him with a joy he could not explain. I am home, he thought, and then: It is time.
“My name is Lynan Rosetheme,” he said, his voice weak, but in the still air his words carried to everyone. “I am the son of Queen Usharna Rosetheme and General Elynd Chisal. I possess the Key of Union. I am come to you.”
All at once the Chetts started calling his name. The sound—a great ululation—rose into the sky and spread across the Oceans of Grass. Its faintest echoes reached every city and town and village on the continent of Theare, and reached the ear of every king and every queen of Grenda Lear, and to them it sounded at the same time like the whisper of a lover’s promise and the hissing of an enemy’s curse.
Lynan was alive.