Lord holds dear. I have tended the injured, the dying; I have returned broken the men who came with youth and weapons under the service of flags and commanders who cared little for their loss. I have carried the news of their loss to their wives and their sons, and in those cases where the families were too poor, or too base, to uphold the responsibilities of the dead, I have seen women and children sold into slavery because they are not beloved of the Lord.
“What is there, in this
work,
to admire?”
“Nothing at all,” Jevri said gravely, and with just the hint of a nod. “But let me ask a different question. If you were to change this, how would you start? By destroying the Radann? By burning their temples? By the acts of a war which would repeat, in an endless cycle, that which you have justly decried?”
Marakas stared at this seraf, this man who continued to serve.
“Is that the reason that you joined the Radann?”
“That,” Marakas looked away, “and one other. I desired freedom from the dictates of the Tor’agnate, and service to the Lord was the one way in which I might find it. I have no wife, no children,” he added, “to hinder me.”
“And you intend to take no other.”
“No. I have already failed the only woman I cared to offer my name.”
Jevri nodded. He walked, and Marakas followed, but the lesson was not yet finished. “I ask you to observe the kai el’Sol. He will invite you to travel in his company; it is an honor that you may, perhaps, be worthy of. Accept that invitation.”
“An invitation offered by a man of power is seldom open to refusal.”
“Do not insult us,” Jevri said curtly.
Marakas had the grace to feel shame. But he also felt curiosity, and something else that he did not care to name, and when he at last met the kai el’Sol, he forgot both. For Jevri el’Sol did not lead him to the kai’s austere rooms; did not take him to the gardens or the platforms that the kai’s position made his by right. He led him instead from the splendor of the ancient stone building into the grounds of the Tor Leonne proper, through the winding paths of tall trees that offered the illusion of privacy.
The light was upon the Lady’s Lake, and in the distance, the wavering reflection of the palace of the Tyr stretched out, and out again, broken by floating lilies and the movement of summer insects. Gold leaf caught light, warming it; the rays of the sun, embroidered upon a field of azure, flew in the winds.
Amelia would have been reduced to the silence of awe and wonder, but their son would have known no such dignity. He felt her presence, for the first time in years, at the side of this solemn man, and it cut him deeply.
So deeply that he did not, at first, recognize the standing stones, the carved statuary, that Jevri led him to. There were open bowls at the feet of that stone monument, hidden from view by the low-lying leaves and petals of delicate flowers. But they were full, these bowls, and tended by birds with no necks, who wisely took flight at the passing shadows of men.
“I will leave you now,” Jevri said quietly.
Marakas nodded.
Because men did not come, in daylight, to this place, they did not gather here. Certainly not the Radann; this was the Lady’s shrine.
But it was here, in the hollows of the carefully tended shrine, that Marakas el’Sol met Fredero kai el’Sol.
He did not see him at first, for he had not made peace with the Lady, and not since the rites that the deaths of his family demanded had he sought her shrine. He came as stranger to this place; he carried no water, no wine; brought no incense, and no candles. But he had girded himself with no weapon either, and he stared a long time at the words that time, wind, and sun had not defaced upon the standing stones.
A man did not bow at the Lady’s shrine when the Lord’s face was turned upon him; such obeisance, if offered, was offered when night had fallen and night thoughts were allowed
“What is there, in this
work,
to admire?”
“Nothing at all,” Jevri said gravely, and with just the hint of a nod. “But let me ask a different question. If you were to change this, how would you start? By destroying the Radann? By burning their temples? By the acts of a war which would repeat, in an endless cycle, that which you have justly decried?”
Marakas stared at this seraf, this man who continued to serve.
“Is that the reason that you joined the Radann?”
“That,” Marakas looked away, “and one other. I desired freedom from the dictates of the Tor’agnate, and service to the Lord was the one way in which I might find it. I have no wife, no children,” he added, “to hinder me.”
“And you intend to take no other.”
“No. I have already failed the only woman I cared to offer my name.”
Jevri nodded. He walked, and Marakas followed, but the lesson was not yet finished. “I ask you to observe the kai el’Sol. He will invite you to travel in his company; it is an honor that you may, perhaps, be worthy of. Accept that invitation.”
“An invitation offered by a man of power is seldom open to refusal.”
“Do not insult us,” Jevri said curtly.
Marakas had the grace to feel shame. But he also felt curiosity, and something else that he did not care to name, and when he at last met the kai el’Sol, he forgot both. For Jevri el’Sol did not lead him to the kai’s austere rooms; did not take him to the gardens or the platforms that the kai’s position made his by right. He led him instead from the splendor of the ancient stone building into the grounds of the Tor Leonne proper, through the winding paths of tall trees that offered the illusion of privacy.
The light was upon the Lady’s Lake, and in the distance, the wavering reflection of the palace of the Tyr stretched out, and out again, broken by floating lilies and the movement of summer insects. Gold leaf caught light, warming it; the rays of the sun, embroidered upon a field of azure, flew in the winds.
Amelia would have been reduced to the silence of awe and wonder, but their son would have known no such dignity. He felt her presence, for the first time in years, at the side of this solemn man, and it cut him deeply.
So deeply that he did not, at first, recognize the standing stones, the carved statuary, that Jevri led him to. There were open bowls at the feet of that stone monument, hidden from view by the low-lying leaves and petals of delicate flowers. But they were full, these bowls, and tended by birds with no necks, who wisely took flight at the passing shadows of men.
“I will leave you now,” Jevri said quietly.
Marakas nodded.
Because men did not come, in daylight, to this place, they did not gather here. Certainly not the Radann; this was the Lady’s shrine.
But it was here, in the hollows of the carefully tended shrine, that Marakas el’Sol met Fredero kai el’Sol.
He did not see him at first, for he had not made peace with the Lady, and not since the rites that the deaths of his family demanded had he sought her shrine. He came as stranger to this place; he carried no water, no wine; brought no incense, and no candles. But he had girded himself with no weapon either, and he stared a long time at the words that time, wind, and sun had not defaced upon the standing stones.
A man did not bow at the Lady’s shrine when the Lord’s face was turned upon him; such obeisance, if offered, was offered when night had fallen and night thoughts were allowed
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