Warlord Page 4
“Yes.”
“Why, Akalia?”
“You must answer that for yourself. Will you do as I have asked?”
“He will not be pleased.”
“No, but he will accept it. I have already seen to that.”
* * *
Teaching was a type of service; Ellerson acknowledged this in one corner of his mind. One corner was all he had left for it. The Terafin manse—the manse upon the Holy Isle itself—was not to his liking, and setting it straight, with the required frosty tact, had taken concentration, energy, and speed.
But he was up to a task of that nature, and when his new master arrived, he was ready for her. Ready, and not ready, prepared and unprepared. She was as Morretz had said, a girl not quite fifteen by the look of her, but beneath the wild fringe of humidity-curled hair, and above the bruised circles that ringed them, her eyes were bright and sharp; free from the hard edge that the street often put there.
He bowed formally, and she stared at him as if he were a different form of life. He was. “I am Ellerson,” he said. He waited a moment, and then added, “I am the domicis.” Pride was such folly; it was clear that she had no idea of what the word meant. And he was heartily tired, at that moment, of attempting to explain it. When one of the unruly young men at her back called for food with manners that would have embarrassed soldiers on the field, he led the way. Time to teach them all that they needed to know later. For now, food, shelter, the hint of home.
What had this to do with Avandar?
Nothing. Ellerson was here as domicis, and it was almost a pleasure to let the responsibility of Avandar recede. He had this one, this Jewel Markess, and she was a child in which he could see possibility.
* * *
A day later, a day, and he had the answer to a question he wished he had not asked.
A day, the girl with her den, her den in the silence of shock that magic often leaves in its wake, the word demon whispered but never spoken aloud. He sat with them in the darkness of an evening around, of all things, a kitchen table. And he knew, when they spoke, that what he had to offer them would not be enough.
But he watched this girl, this Jewel, speak. He watched her speak to the white-haired boy, Angel, the dark-haired boy, Carver—children who were not quite children. Watched her struggle with her own fear in order to calm theirs.
You are a leader, he thought, as a face framed by the lamplight he would come to understand she best loved sank toward the tabletop, and you will be a person of power.
* * *
The Henden that year was dark; the darkest month that Ellerson had ever known, and he had known many. He had not had word from Avandar Gallais in the three months leading up to it, and wondered, as he advised and guided the young Jewel Markess, if Avandar Gallais and the Guild of the Domicis were still together.
He was fond of the girl, but more than that, he could see that the power that she would take was fast coming, faster than he would have liked. I have never served a man or woman of power, he thought, but you Jewel Markess, are the first one that I will regret walking away from. Almost, he did not. He was fond of her, as he had never been fond of a master; her sharp temper and salty language aside, she was a mistress worthy of service, one not aiming for power, but destined for it nonetheless. And when she had it, would she even understand what it meant? Would she know how to protect it, how to nurture it, how to remain true to herself while wearing it?
Those things, he could teach her. But he had come to understand that he could not keep her alive in the deadly world of House Politics for long enough that she might learn.
This is why you sent me, Akalia, he thought. And returned in secret to the Domicis Guild. Akalia was waiting for him.
“Well?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” he replied.
“She is, I hear, a young girl.”
“Yes. Young for her station, old for her age.”
“Would you give her to Avandar?”
The old man laughed. “Not easily, no. But I would say that they will be evenly matched in their fashion. She is not a girl, Akalia, she is—”
The door swung open. Avandar Gallais strode into the room. It was expected, at least by Ellerson. “You have found me a master,” he said, with a terrible confidence.
“I told you,” Ellerson said, “Never to do that again.”
“And I might play at apologies, Ellerson, but I have waited many lifetimes. I do not wish to wait another. Come. You have found me a master, and she is a master of power; I will take what I am offered. Now.”
Ellerson and Akalia exchanged a single glance, and the glance spoke volumes. But the old man remembered how that imperious voice could break, and he saw the young woman who he thought might not survive the House itself without the aid of a powerful and completely trusted domicis; he rose.
Jewel was going to hate him. To hate them both.
“Very well, Avandar Gallais,” he said softly. “But I must warn you now to be careful; she is not what you expect, and she will judge you for the next decade by what you do when you first meet.”
* * *
When Avandar left the Domicis guild hall for what he hoped was the final time, he carried very little with him. But he carried history, and history was heavy.
The old man walked beside him almost stiffly.
“You are worried.” he said, because he understood Ellerson that well.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“This girl—she’s not what you expect.”
“I have seen many women, and many girls, in my time. You have already said that she is a master who requires my service. What else should I know?”
“You are not ready to serve, Avandar. I do this with misgivings, but I feel that—for reasons I cannot explain, either to myself or to you—you will be of aid to each other in the years to follow.
“She is…young. She is not—” Ellerson fell silent. “Avandar, remember: first impressions.” He paused. “It is not our way to discuss our masters. I feel, however, that I should warn you—”
But the words were like gnats; he brushed them aside. The sea wind carried the tang, the taste of freedom. He walked quickly, and Ellerson walked slowly, and together, by dint of ruffled compromise, they reached the Terafin Manse at more or less the same time.
* * *
Avandar Gallais was shocked.
To see the girl—for she was a girl, no more—seated uncomfortably before Ellerson, her eyes half-filled with defiant tears, was perhaps the most disappointing event in his life. To hear Ellerson speak to her, as if she were somehow a weak child, was worse. But to know, to know that this was to be his fate—to serve this—was almost more than he could bear.
He would have left the room, but The Terafin’s domicis, Morretz, was present. They had met before; clashed before. The younger man had, of course, lost. He was an enemy, if one beneath notice, and Avandar did not show defeat or weakness in the face of an enemy. He stood his ground.
But he could not believe that this…urchin…was to be his master. He rebelled against it, until the power within him made more noise than the speech of the people around him.
No. Wait. Think. He took a breath. The power sometimes drove him, and he was its master, not the other way around. Ellerson had tried to tell him something about this girl; he had not listened. He listened now, trying to sort out the buzz of half-remembered words. Minutes passed before the right ones returned to him.
She has the sight. It had been centuries, longer, since he had encountered that power, but it had always intrigued him. Perhaps something could be salvaged from the ruin of his plan.
Turning to The Terafin, he said coldly, “This is the one?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He let the power go; it jumped from the skin of his gently pointed fingertips in a fan of light and fire toward the girl.
Who was not there to greet it. He heard drawn sword; heard the crackle of Morretz’ magic, saw the stiffening
of The Terafin’s fine features. And he smiled.
“That,” The Terafin said icily, “was unnecessary.”
“For you, yes,” Avandar replied, turning to the only person in the room who would normally be worthy of his attention. “But it is not you who will devote your life to the services of this one.”
She was close to refusing him that opportunity; he saw it clearly in the frost of her unchanged face. He was not used to explaining any of his actions. But he swallowed his pride. Turned to the girl who was even now lifting herself from the carpets beneath the large, expensive table that graced this library. “My apologies.” He turned back to The Terafin, gauging her reaction.
Morretz spoke; he replied. It was an insignificant exchange; The Terafin’s reaction was the only one that counted.
He was therefore extremely surprised when something struck his shoulder. Something sharp, hard, with enough of an edge to bruise, although not enough to draw blood. Eyes widening, he turned in the direction of the missile, his gaze sweeping groundward for just long enough to note that what had hit him was, in fact, a simple book.
She stood there, defiant, bristling, her cheeks flushed with anger and just a hint of triumph. He saw her age, and he saw beyond her age, and he thought: No, I have been here before, and I will not do this. For her eyes were dark and of fire, and he had thought her unworthy of notice until that moment. Now, he thought her beautiful.
It hurt him.
“It seems,” The Terafin said, her voice as smooth and neutral as his would have been under similar circumstance, “that you are not the only one to test, Avandar.”
“No,” he said softly, seeing now some of what Ellerson must have seen in this young woman, this Jewel Markess ATerafin. “Just the only one to fail. Your pardon, little one.” He was only slightly surprised when she bristled at the term of almost affection. “Terafin, I accept your contract. I will serve this one.”
The Terafin raised a brow slightly, and then nodded. “Jewel, this is Avandar Gallais. He is of the Domicis and has come to fulfill the obligation that Ellerson felt he could not.”
“W-what?”
“I am,” Avandar said gravely, “your domicis.”
“I won’t have him!”
The Terafin’s voice chilled several degrees. “You will. This interview is at an end.” She turned, sweeping out of the room, followed by Morretz and the Chosen who attended her always.
Jewel was left in her wake, flat-footed, deflated. He had seen that before. Knew that in her, it wouldn’t last long.
What am I doing? He almost turned and followed The Terafin out. Because he recognized in Jewel something that, in time, he might come to love. And he loathed the loving because it was the source of all grief, all loss, all damage.
She turned to him. Mutinous. Certain—as he was certain—that she had no choice but to follow her Lord’s dictate. “You serve me, is that clear?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he replied, speaking through slightly clenched teeth, as was his habit when someone attempted to give him an order. Something he would have to change; one of many things. He would try. That was all he could do.
Perhaps this would be the lifetime. Perhaps this would be his salvation. And perhaps it would be a waste of his time. He had time. He told himself that, staring down at her face. He had time. She, on the other hand, willful, defiant, foolish in the certainty age lent her, might not. He understood why power was needed; what he didn’t understand, given her outburst, was how Ellerson thought she would survive to attain any rank or stature. She stank of the sincerity that led most easily to death.
And that, perversely, was what he would like best in her.
“You will listen to me in emergencies; you will do as I say and you will allow me to protect you as I see fit.”
“Don’t even start,” she replied, her teeth on edge.
The magic came, rose at the tone of her arrogant little voice.
She snorted, as if she could see it, and see what lay beneath it. She probably could.
A guard came to lead her away, and she allowed it; they had their battles laid out before him in a gridwork that he could see more clearly than she.
He thought about his conversations with Ellerson; he could not see a clear path from them to this girl. But there was something here; he was almost afraid to touch it. Love? Perhaps. Or perhaps something more precious still.
* * *
That night, the mountains rose in the distance of dreams. He rose with them, taking to air as he seldom did in these latter centuries.
The woman who had sent him from the mountain paths met him halfway up, her robes a billowing darkness that might be mistaken for cloud if seen from below. “Avandar Gallais,” she said quietly.
“You have the advantage.”
“I will not always have it, and you have advantage enough. Forgive me if I wait before making my formal introduction. You have come farther than I thought you would.”
“Do you think,” he said, because it was a dream, and it was not a nightmare, and the ghosts were miraculously silent in the shadowed night, “that I will walk far enough?”
“Who can say? You are a warrior, and in service, you are still a warrior.” She bowed her head. “I have served my life under the geas of a god, and it is only to end the geas that I continue the service.”
“My god is a dead god.”
“Mine is not.”
“I see.” He turned away from her. “Do they stop screaming, the dead? Do they rest in peace, do they slumber? Do they…forgive?”
When he turned, she was gone; he was alone in the night air.
But her voice at the distance of dream’s edge, of waking, said, You will have the opportunity to ask that question yourself.
And for a moment, before the day broke, before life called him back to its endless demands, he felt a tremulous peace.
THE END
Short Stories by Michelle West and Michelle Sagara
The first six stories released are connected to the Essalieyan Universe of the novels I write for DAW as Michelle West. Since those are my most asked-for short stories, those are the stories I wanted to make available first. The rest of the stories will be released in chronological order from the date of their first appearance, which are listed in brackets beside the titles, along with the anthology in which they first appeared. All of the stories have new introductions (which will probably come through in the samples if you’ve already read the stories but want to read those.)
In the Essalieyan universe:
Echoes (2001, Assassin Fantastic)
Huntbrother (2004, Sirius, the Dog Star)
The Black Ospreys (2005, Women of War)
The Weapon (2005, Shadow of Evil)
Warlord (1998, Battle Magic)
The Memory of Stone (2002, 30th Anniversary DAW Fantasy)
* * *
Birthnight (1992, Christmas Bestiary)
Gifted (1992, Aladdin, Master of the Lamp)
Shadow of a Change (1993, Dinosaur Fantastic)
For Love of God (1993, Alternate Warriors)
Hunger (1993, Christmas Ghosts)
Four Attempts at a Letter (1994, By Any Other Fame)
Winter (1994, Deals with the Devil)
What She Won’t Remember (1994, Alternate Outlaws)
The Hidden Grove (1995, Witch Fantastic)
Ghostwood (1995, Enchanted Forests)
When a Child Cries (1996, Phantoms of the Night)
The Sword in the Stone (1997, Alternate Tyrants)
Choice* (1997, Sword of Ice: Friends of Valdemar)
Turn of the Card (1997, Tarot Fantastic)
The Law of Man (1997, Elf Fantastic)
Flight (1997, Return of the Dinosaurs)
The Vision of Men (1997, The Fortune Teller)
By the Work, One Knows (1997, Zodiac Fantastic)
Under the Skin (1997, Elf Magic)
The Dead that Sow (1997, Wizard Fantastic)
Kin (1998, Olympu
s)
Step on the Crack (1998, Black Cats and Broken Mirrors)
Diamonds (1998, Alien Pets)
Sunrise (1999, A Dangerous Magic)
Elegy (1999, Moon Shots)
Return of the King (1999, Merlin)
Work in Progress (1999, Alien Abductions)
Water Baby (1999, Earth, Air, Fire and Water)
Faces Made of Clay (2000, Mardi Gras Madness)
Sacrifice (2000, Spell Fantastic)
Shelter (2000, Perchance to Dream)
Pas de Deux (2000, Guardian Angels)
Déjà Vu (2001, Single White Vampire Seeks Same)
To Speak With Angels (2001, Villains Victorious)
Lady of the Lake (2001, Out of Avalon)
Truth (2001, The Mutant Files)
The Last Flight (2001, Creature Fantastic)
The Knight of the Hydan Athe (2002, Knight Fantastic)
Legacy (2002, Familiars)
The Nightingale (2002, Once Upon a Galaxy)
A Quiet Justice (2002, Vengeance Fantastic)
The Augustine Painters (2002, Apprentice Fantastic)
How to Kill an Immortal (2002, The Bakka Anthology)
Fat Girl (2002, Oceans of the Mind VI, ezine)
Winter Death* (2003, The Sun in Glory: Friends of Valdemar)
Diary (2003, The Sorcerer’s Academy)
Dime Store Rings (2004, The Magic Shop)
To The Gods Their Due (2004, Conqueror Fantastic)