Heritage of Cyador

IV

Dinner goes exactly as Lerial has expected-formal, with underlying tension, and with Kiedron, Lerial, and Emerya being as warm and cheerful as possible. When it is over, Emerya ushers the girls off to bed, and Lerial escorts Maeroja back to her quarters in the south wing of the palace. He can sense Maeroja’s relief as soon as they are away from the dining chamber and walking along the main front corridor.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“It’s not your fault. There are some things that must be, and it’s a small price to pay for years of happiness.”

“But it’s hard to pay after a loss.”

“That’s when it’s most important,” Maeroja murmurs softly. “Wasn’t it hard for you to talk to Elder Klerryt?”

Lerial is momentarily surprised, but realizes that the majer would certainly have told his consort. “Yes … but I wasn’t in love with Alaynara.”

“You knew exactly what I meant about what happened in Verdheln five years ago, Lerial. That should tell you something.”

He laughs softly, barely above a murmur. “I should never dispute you, Lady.”

“Do not make me more than I am. Do not do that to anyone … but do not make them less, either.”

Those were the majer’s words. He is still considering that when Maeroja speaks again.

“I will be leaving before sunrise tomorrow so that we can make Teilyn in a single day. I cannot keep Captain Shastan’s lancers any longer.”

“Nor would you, knowing what you know.”

“I do not know exactly what he wrote, Lerial, but I will add my own words. Do not make foolish sacrifices for others. Very few sacrifices of self are worth that price, because one who lives and strives can keep making the land a better place. Accomplishments end with death.”

“The majer said that it was better to have the enemy make the gallant sacrifices.”

“Sometimes, one must let friends or others close to one make the sacrifices.” She smiles wryly. “That can also become a rationalization for using others without care. It is far better to avoid useless sacrifices or those which gain little or sacrificing others in the same fashion. Most sacrifices are unnecessary and can be avoided. Too often those who send others into avoidable danger call their deaths necessary sacrifices. They usually are not. In the end, you will do what you feel you must.” She stops outside the door. “Thank you for walking with me.”

“Thank you for letting me. Do take care on the ride back … and give my best to your daughters.”

Maeroja offers the smile he has found so enigmatic. “I will.” Then she opens the chamber door and slips inside, closing it behind her.

Lerial can hear the latch bolt click into place. He turns and begins to walk back toward Emerya’s chambers-her new chambers, a sitting room with two bedrooms off it, reflecting how Amaira has grown.

When he reaches his aunt’s second-level quarters, he raps gently.

“You can come in, Lerial.”

Lerial does, closing the door quietly. He does not see anyone, nor does he order-sense anyone. Then, abruptly, Emerya is seated before a small hearth in which a low fire burns. “I’ve never been able to detect your concealments.”

“One of my few magely talents. And a vanity.”

He takes the chair across from her. “Is Amaira asleep?”

“She’s likely reading, but the door is solid. How are you doing?” she asks.

“Better … now.” He shakes his head. “How can Mother be so cold, so hostile to Maeroja? She just lost her consort, and he was a man who gave everything for us, especially for Father and for me.”

“Don’t you think she must have her reasons?”

“I suppose she must, but what did Maeroja ever do to her? Maeroja consorted Altyrn, and they were happy together. I can’t imagine that Mother’s sister would have been happy with Altyrn. She wasn’t even happy in Cigoerne, from what you told me.”

“Lerial … there’s more that I haven’t told you. Your mother believes she lost her sister because Altyrn spurned Zanobya. Zanobya would have consorted Altyrn. She was taken with him, but she couldn’t bear staying in Cigoerne when he turned her down. He was gentle about it, but…”

Lerial can’t help but think about Altyrn’s reaction when Lerial had distanced himself from Rojana.

“So … Zanobya fled to Swartheld. She died there in childbirth three years later. She might have lived had she given birth here. Xeranya never saw her again. Your mother blames Maeroja.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Your mother asked me never to mention it. Your father asked that I honor that request. I would ask that you never reveal that I have told you … but you should know. Your mother loved Zanobya dearly.”

Lerial conceals a wince. What else could Emerya do? Then he frowns. “But the majer couldn’t have met Maeroja until after Zanobya fled, could he?”

“No, he didn’t, but that doesn’t matter. Altyrn did so much for your father that Xeranya dared not blame him. And then, after he helped you so much … Blaming Maeroja was so much easier.”

Lerial can understand his mother’s feelings of loss and grief, but not why she feels she must blame Maeroja. Yet it is more than clear what she feels and that those feelings will never change. “You’ve been writing Rhamuel for years, haven’t you?”

“You’ve just come to that conclusion?” Emerya offers an amused smile.

“I’ve thought so ever since I left for Verdheln, but I never said anything. Is Atroyan … not particularly stable?”

“That’s one way of saying it. He is always charming and witty, but he thinks that everyone is plotting against him.”

“Including his brothers?”

“Especially Mykel, his youngest brother … and that is absurd.”

“Why?”

“I’d prefer to leave it at that, Lerial.”

“So Rhamuel has been keeping Atroyan out of trouble … mostly?”

“He tries. He’s not always successful. Every so often there’s some field-grade officer who gets to the duke when Rhamuel isn’t around and persuades the duke to do something unwise. Then, too, Rhamuel isn’t as wise as he could be. He’s balanced and has common sense, but not too much imagination.”

“But he’s charming and gentle with women?”

“Of course.”

Lerial waits.

“I did what I had to … Kiedron and your mother needed all the help they could get.”

Lerial can sense something behind the black mist of order. Sadness … or something even more painful? “And it was unlikely that Rhamuel would ever be allowed a consort in Swartheld?”

Emerya nods.

“Does Amaira…?”

“She knows. She also knows that she can say nothing. I write him, always about my daughter, should others read the letters, and convey what other information he needs to know. In a veiled and fluttering feminine fashion…”

Lerial doubts that Emerya has ever been a fluttery female.

“… and your father and I discuss that. In turn, he sends me cheerful letters with gossip and odd bits of information.”

“Enough that you can learn what you and father need to know.”

“Not always … but usually.”

“Do you think that Khesyn is really planning to attack Afrit … somewhere?”

“I’m afraid I do, Lerial. He’s made far more raids on Afrit than on Cigoerne. We don’t talk about it, but it’s clear from what I hear and from what the traders report.”

“And we can’t afford to have Afrit fall?”

“What do you think?”

“About the same as you and Father feel, I suspect. Khesyn holding even Luba would destroy us both in time.” Lerial pauses. “But how much can we trust Atroyan … or Rhamuel?”

“Atroyan not at all, and Rhamuel only to the extent that something benefits him and he cannot hurt you.”

Lerial is tempted to ask again how she could have done what she did … but she has already answered him.

Her eyes fix on him. “You have already done things that are necessary … I can see that. Destiny exacts a heavy price. What else do you want to know?”

“You’ve told me all I need to know.”

She shakes her head. “All you want to know, and all I can tell you, perhaps, but not all you need to know.”

He smiles in return. “You’re right.”

“If there’s nothing else…”

“Not now.”

Emerya rises. “Then … good night, Lerial.”

He stands. “Good night.”

As he walks along the corridor toward the steps up to his chambers, he thinks over what she has said. Some of what he has learned are things he has long suspected, but what he has not fully realized is the various prices so many have paid to create and strengthen the duchy … to continue the good traditions of the Malachite Throne, as Maeroja and Altyrn might have put it. Given all that, Altyrn’s use of the Verdyn war-and Lerial himself-to strengthen the duchy in the west, the cold-blooded poisoning of Dechund to put an end to the captain’s treachery and plotting … and likely much more about which Lerial knows nothing.

Lerial shakes his head.

And yet … what else could any of them do, faced with the destruction of all that they held dear?

Are you any better … given what you have already done?