“Thank you, no,” I said. “Though I appreciate the offer. I also appreciate your warning, Cousin, the night before last.” I stroked Sieh’s hair.
Relad wrestled for an appropriate response for a full three seconds before finally muttering, “It was nothing.”
“Why did you invite me here?”
“I have an offer to make.” He gestured vaguely at the floor.
I looked down at the world map in the floor, my eyes automatically finding High North and the tiny corner of it that was Darr. Four polished, flattened white stones sat ranged around Darr’s borders—one in each of the three kingdoms that I’d suspected were part of the alliance, plus a second stone in Menchey. At Darr’s heart sat a single marbled-gray stone, probably representing our pathetic troop strength. But just south of Menchey, along the coast where the continent met the Repentance Sea, were three pale yellow stones. I could not guess what those were.
I looked up at Relad. “Darr is all I care about right now. Scimina has offered me my people’s lives. Is that what you’re offering?”
“Potentially more than that.” Relad stepped down into the map-depression, walking over to stand just below High North. His feet were in the middle of the Repentance Sea, which struck me as irrationally amusing for a moment.
“The white are your enemies, as I’m certain you’ve guessed; Scimina’s pawns. These”—he pointed at the yellow stones—“are mine.”
I frowned, but before I could speak, Sieh snorted. “You have no allies in High North, Relad. You’ve ignored the whole continent for years. Scimina’s victory is the result of your own neglect.”
“I know that,” Relad snapped, but then he turned to face me. “It’s true I have no friends in High North. Even if I did, the kingdoms there all hate your land, Cousin. Scimina’s simply facilitating what they’ve been itching to do for generations.”
I shrugged. “High North was a land of barbarians once, and we Darre were among the most barbaric. The priests may have civilized us since, but no one can erase the past.”
Relad nodded dismissively; he didn’t care and it showed. He really was terrible at being charming. He pointed at the yellow stones again. “Mercenaries,” he said. “Mostly Ken and Min pirates, some Ghor nightfighters, and a contingent of Zhurem City strikemen. I can order them to fight for you, Cousin.”
I stared at the yellow stones and was reminded of my earlier thought about mortals and the power of hope.
Sieh hopped down into the map-depression and peered at the yellow stones as if he could see the actual forces they represented. He whistled. “You must’ve bankrupted yourself to hire so many and get them to High North in time, Relad. I didn’t realize you’d acquired that much capital over the years.” He glanced back at Relad and me over his shoulder. “But these are too far away to get to Darr by tomorrow. Scimina’s friends are already on their way.”
Relad nodded, watching me. “My forces are close enough to attack Menchey’s capital tonight, and even stage a strike on Tokland the day after. They’re fully equipped, rested, and well supplied. Their battle plans were drawn up by Zhakkarn herself.” He folded his arms, a bit defensively. “With Menchey under attack, half your enemies will turn back from the assault on Darr. That will leave the Zarenne and the Atir rebels for your people to contend with, and they’ll still be outnumbered two to one. But it will give the Darre a fighting chance.”
I threw Relad a sharp look. He had gauged me well on this—surprisingly well. Somehow he had realized that it was not the prospect of war that frightened me; I was a warrior, after all. But an unwinnable war, against enemies who would not only take spoils but destroy our spirits, if not our lives… that I could not stomach.
Two-to-one odds were winnable. Hard, but winnable.
I glanced at Sieh, who nodded. My instincts told me Relad’s offer was legitimate, but he knew Relad’s capabilities and would warn me of any trickery. I think we were both surprised that Relad had managed this at all.
“You should abstain from drinking more often, Cousin,” I said softly.
Relad smiled, utterly without humor. “It wasn’t intentional, I assure you. It’s just that impending death tends to sour even the best wine.”
I understood completely.
There was another of those awkward silences, and then Relad stepped forward, proferring his hand. Surprised, I took it. We were agreed.
Later, Sieh and I walked slowly back to my room. He took me on a new route this time, passing through parts of Sky that I had not seen in the two weeks since my arrival. Among other wonders, he showed me a high, narrow chamber—not a dead space, but still sealed off and forgotten for some reason—whose ceiling looked like an accident in the gods’ construction design. The pale Skystuff hung in attenuated extrusions like cave stalactites, though far more delicate and graceful. A few were close enough to touch; some ended barely inches below the ceiling. I could not fathom the purpose of the chamber until Sieh led me to a panel on the wall.
When I touched it, a slot opened on the ceiling, letting in a sharp, startling gust of ice-cold air. I shivered, but forgot my discomfort when the ceiling extrusions began to sing, stroked into vibration by the wind. It was like no music I’d ever heard, wavering and alien, a cacophony too beautiful to call merely noise. I didn’t let Sieh touch the panel to shut off the air until I began to lose the feeling in my fingers.
In the silence that fell, during which I crouched against the wall and blew on my hands to warm them, Sieh crouched in front of me, staring at me intently. I was too cold to notice at first, but then he suddenly leaned forward and kissed me. Startled, I froze, but there was nothing unpleasant about it. It was the kiss of a child, spontaneous and unconditional. Only the fact that he was not a child made me uncomfortable.
Sieh pulled back, and sighed ruefully at the expression on my face. “Sorry,” he said, and settled down beside me.
“Don’t apologize,” I said. “Just tell me what that was for.” I realized that was an inadvertent command and added, “Will you?”
He shook his head, playing shy, and pressed his face into my arm. I liked having his warmth there, but I didn’t like his silence. I pulled away, forcing him to sit up or risk falling over.
“Yeine!”
“Sieh.”
He sighed, looking annoyed, and shifted to sit cross-legged. For a moment I thought he’d just sit there and sulk, but finally he said, “I just don’t think it’s fair, that’s all. Naha got to taste you, but I didn’t.”
That did make me uncomfortable. “Even in my barbarian land, women do not take children as lovers.”
The annoyance grew in his expression. “I told you before, I don’t want that from you. I’m talking about this.” He sat up on his knees abruptly and leaned toward me. I flinched away, and he stopped, waiting. It occurred to me that I loved him, trusted him with my very soul. Shouldn’t I trust him with a kiss? So after a deep breath, I relaxed. Sieh waited until I gave him a minute nod, and a moment longer than that—making sure. Then he leaned in and kissed me again.
And this time it was different, because I could taste him—not Sieh the sweaty, slightly dirty child, but the Sieh beneath the human mask. It is… difficult to describe. A sudden burst of something refreshing, like ripe melon, or maybe a waterfall. A torrent, a current; it rushed into me and through me and back into him so swiftly that I barely had time to draw breath. Salt. Lightning. That hurt enough that I almost pulled away, but distantly I felt Sieh’s hands tighten painfully on my arms. Before I could yelp, cold wind shot through me, soothing both the jolt and my bruises.