Heritage Of The Xandim

19

BRIGHT FACE , DARK HEART

Tiolani awakened early and slipped quietly out of bed. Drawing the drapes aside, she looked out of the window. ‘Why, it’s summer,’ she said. Suddenly her heart grew lighter. Every year it happened like this. Summer came late to the northern realm of the Phaerie, but the long wait was always worthwhile. On one particular morning, all the imperceptible changes in the climate and landscape seemed to come together, and suddenly the world was a different place: golden, glowing and warm. Vibrant flowers, an emperor’s cloak of purple, red and gold, massed beneath the trees, mingling their perfumes and crowded with bees. Colours were brighter. Birds flitted everywhere, filling the air with song, and streams and rivers, with a new, laughing note in their ever-running songs, flashed the sunlight back into the air. Green leaves fluttered at the end of each twig, and the grass in the meadows where the horses grazed grew rich and strong and thick. Suddenly, it was as though the cold, bleak darkness of winter and the pale and windy spring, which had seen her struggle to establish herself as ruler of the Phaerie realm, had never been.

For the first time since her brother had been slain, Tiolani felt she could look forward to the future. Since Hellorin was wounded, and she had suddenly found herself to be the Lady of the Forest by default, she had been finding life desperately difficult. But today she was filled with hope. At last she was beginning to feel in control of her father’s realm. Until he recovered, she could function effectively as the ruler - and she was even beginning to enjoy it.

‘What are you doing there, my love? It’s early yet. Come back to bed.’

Tiolani turned away from the window with a laugh. ‘Ferimon, you’re wicked.’

The handsome courtier with the blond curls flashed that charming white smile that never failed to melt her heart. ‘Only with you, my love. You know that my one joy is to be with you.’

Unable, as always, to resist him, Tiolani turned her back on the bright summer sunlight, and went happily into his embrace.

Later, as Ferimon slept again, Tiolani lay in his arms, relaxed, secure and sated. My darling Ferimon, she thought. What would I have done without you? It had been Ferimon who eventually broke through her grief, brought her comfort and, eventually, helped her take a grip on affairs within her father’s court. When she looked back, she wondered how she would have managed to get through those first dark days following Arvain’s death, save that she and Ferimon had been drawn together, helping each other through the difficult and lonely months. It had been Ferimon, for example, who had suggested that she ban all outsiders from entering the Phaerie realm at this time, and forbade all the Phaerie to journey to the world outside. That way, the news that Hellorin was incapacitated might be kept secret. It was well known that the Magefolk had a healthy respect for the Forest Lord and his powers, and it would be better at this difficult time if they believed he was still in command.

Ferimon was also encouraging her to take an increasingly firm stance with her father’s old counsellors, and Tiolani’s happy mood darkened a little at the thought of them. They would never take her seriously as a ruler, he had told her, if she allowed them to argue with her all the time; however, she suspected that most of them would never take her seriously no matter what she did. And, like Aelwen, some of the advisors were Hemifae, with their taint of treacherous human blood. How could her father have trusted them? Well, that was a mistake Tiolani didn’t intend to repeat, even though she might be stuck with them for the present. Sometimes she would find herself falling into a daydream in which they were the quarry of her Hunt. The thought of them being ripped to pieces by the hounds, the notion of wading, for once, in their blood . . . sometimes these fantasies would frighten her with their savagery, yet they would make her feel better, at least for a while. And though she couldn’t really hunt down her father’s counsellors, she was beginning to manage them better. Since she had dismissed several of them from their posts, the quibbling and dissension had diminished markedly, but it had made her no friends within the court, and everywhere she went, she was sure that people were plotting and whispering behind her back, planning to wrest away the power that was rightfully hers.

Well, just let them try. Ferimon had arranged a personal bodyguard of loyal warriors to protect her at all times - just in case, he said, there was more trouble with renegade humans - but they could protect her from her enemies within the court just as well. She smiled at her lover as he lay dozing beside her. How wonderful he was. She had come to rely on his good advice, and his support had been invaluable as she gradually learned to make the great decisions that would affect an entire realm, and to wield the authority of a ruler with dignity and confidence. She would dearly love to make him her consort, but that was a decision of such magnitude that she could hardly take it without her father’s consent.

When would Hellorin wake? He still remained in a suspended state while the healers worked on his injuries, and though they seemed to be taking an unusually long time about it, Tiolani didn’t question their skills. With Ferimon by her side, she was beginning to like being ruler of the Phaerie . . .

She was jerked from her romantic dream as Ferimon wormed his way out of her embrace and began to pull on his clothes. Tiolani sat up in bed. ‘Where are you going?’ she asked him, with a trace of peevishness in her voice. ‘It’s far too early to be getting up.’

He muffled her complaints with a kiss. ‘It’s a surprise,’ he said. ‘I won’t be long. Anyway, you should be getting up soon yourself. You’re holding public audience today, remember?’

Tiolani made a face. ‘I hate holding those damned audiences. The entire court is looking at me all the time, waiting for me to make a mistake, and I never know what to say.’

‘Well, it’s time you learned.’ Ferimon spoke sharply, and all of the pleasant good humour had vanished from his expression. ‘You’re the ruler of the Phaerie now, Tiolani. It’s time you stopped acting like a pampered little girl.’

Tiolani dropped her gaze. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right.’

Ferimon took her in his arms and smiled down at her. ‘Of course I am. And don’t worry about the public audience. I’ll be right there beside you. Trust me, Tiolani. I know what’s best for you.’

When he had gone, Tiolani snuggled back down beneath the covers and stretched out luxuriously, looking round her room. How she loved this place, which had been hers ever since she’d been old enough to leave the nursery. The cold stone walls were panelled with golden wood, beautifully carved to resemble a forest scene, with trees, flowers, twining vines and a river that curled and flowed right around the room. Here and there, animals were cunningly concealed amid the vegetation, and she loved to pick them out one by one: rabbits, deer and slinking foxes on the ground, and squirrels, birds and even an owl perched in the branches of the trees. The carving extended to the stone surround of the fireplace, and in keeping with the general theme, the carpets and drapes were mingled shades of gold and green, as was the coverlet on her bed.

Thinking of Ferimon, Tiolani wondered how so much happiness could come out of such deep sorrow. True, her father was taking a worryingly long time to recover - but as Ferimon said, at least she knew that he was with the best possible healers. Her grief for her brother was more of a problem. Her feelings were still so acute, months later, that the pain could only be assuaged by the repeated spilling of human blood in the Hunt. Because she needed to hunt so frequently, she seemed to be locked in a constant battle of wills with Aelwen, who was forever fussing and complaining about the state of the overworked horses, until Tiolani had become sick of the sight of her. Only the thought of Hellorin’s wrath, if he recovered and found that she had removed his precious Horsemistress, had prevented her from getting rid of Aelwen for good and all.

Yet, despite these problems and annoyances, things were getting better. While Tiolani had Ferimon at her side, everything would be all right, of that she was certain. She would have been far less sanguine, however, if she could have heard the conversation that was taking place at that moment across the corridor, in the rooms of her lady-in-waiting.

Ferimon could tell that Varna had been fretting. When he entered she was staring into the depths of the fire, her expression morose, her eyes clouded with troubled thoughts. She spun around quickly as he entered, unable to hide her unhappiness. Inwardly, Ferimon cursed his error. Whenever he left his sister alone for too long to be with Tiolani, she would start to miss both her brother and her friend, and uncertainty would begin to invade her mind.

‘I thought you were never going to come,’ Varna said. ‘Did I not know better, I would think you were beginning to enjoy Tiolani’s company more than mine.’ Her bright voice tried to make her comment into a jest, but there was a slight tremor beneath the words that betrayed her uncertainty.

He put his arms around her and kissed her on the forehead, thinking, with wry amusement, that he’d done something similar not five minutes before to silence Tiolani’s complaints. Women were so predictable. ‘Surely you cannot think I would prefer the company of Hellorin’s pampered daughter to that of my own dear sister.’

‘I’m sorry.’ To his dismay, the lines of tension had not moved from between her eyebrows and around her mouth. ‘I sound jealous of poor Tiolani, and I have no right to be. After all, I still have you, but she has lost everyone: mother, father and brother.’ Varna hesitated, then went on: ‘Ferimon, are you sure we should be using her in this way? The death of our parents happened a long time ago, and Hellorin has always been kind to us.’ She took his hand. ‘My dear, could not our grief at losing Arvain and so many of our other friends have clouded our thinking? Tiolani might be spoilt, and not the easiest of people to live with, but I hate to think of hurting her.’

Ferimon shot his sister an anxious glance. These fits of conscience, to which she seemed increasingly prone, might ruin everything, and his plan was much too good to fail on such a ridiculous detail. Of course, Varna believed that his plot to encompass Hellorin’s downfall had begun after Arvain’s death. She had no idea just how long he had been hatching it in the secret recesses of his innermost thoughts, and how carefully he had plotted and intrigued to achieve the Forest Lord’s downfall.

Even though she was his only remaining kin, though they had shared a close and loving bond since childhood, Ferimon felt not the slightest shred of remorse at duping her in this fashion. Best she stayed innocent, he told himself. She was convinced that the ambush had been an evil twist of fate, and had no idea that her brother had masterminded the entire trap - right down to providing those stinking ferals with the weapons that they so desperately needed. And, since she had been among the hunters on the night of the attack, it was certainly best she didn’t know that he had risked her life to achieve his ends. Anyway, that was entirely her own fault. Though he had tried his utmost to persuade her to go with him in the net crew that night, she had insisted on accompanying Tiolani on her first Hunt.

Now it was more important than ever that he keep her on his side. ‘Don’t be angry with me, Varna,’ he cajoled. ‘How can we be hurting her when she so desperately needs our support at this time? And you agreed to help me avenge our family’s name. It was your clever planning that won me Tiolani’s trust in the first place, remember? That idea of wearing the same robes I wore for Arvain’s funeral was inspired. And as for the ostensible gift from Arvain - that was pure genius, and well worth the expense. Do you know that she never takes it off?’

Varna sighed. ‘At least it made her happy, poor creature. She doted on that brother of hers so much, she was blind to the fact that he was far too self-absorbed to think of buying the occasional gift for his sister. Now that he’s dead, she has built him up into something he never was.’

‘For certain, he was never interested in ruling.’ Ferimon grimaced. ‘In all those years I stayed close to him, he had no desire whatsoever for power, and I could never get him to influence Hellorin in any way. He was my friend, and I grieve for his death, but now that he is gone, Varna, I don’t feel we owe Hellorin another thing. And don’t worry about Tiolani. I’ve made her happy, have I not? And I promise I will do everything in my power to keep her that way - while you and I will be ruling the Phaerie through her, and no one will suspect a thing.’

His sister looked unconvinced. ‘But what if Hellorin should awaken, and find out?’

He smiled. ‘You needn’t worry about that, dear one. Our associates among the physicians will make sure that Hellorin stays exactly the way he is.’

Varna shook her head. ‘I still don’t see why we have to keep him alive at all. That way, there’s always a risk. Why don’t we have our physicians rid us of him once and for all?’

‘All in good time. Coming so soon after Arvain’s death, the loss of her father might incapacitate Tiolani completely. No; let her gain some confidence first, and decide that she actually enjoys being ruler of the Phaerie. Then, when we make our move and Hellorin departs this life, she will not be so inclined to look into the matter too closely.’

‘I only hope you know what you’re doing,’ Varna told him. ‘Here.’ She thrust a bunch of richly scented summer roses, with the dew still pearling on their petals, into his hand. ‘I was up at some unearthly hour picking these. I knew you would never think of such a thing yourself - and besides, you’re far too lazy to get out of bed at first light. I hope Tiolani appreciates them.’

‘Oh, she will.’ Ferimon smiled wolfishly. ‘She loves surprise gifts.’

‘I’d appreciate the occasional surprise gift myself,’ Varna muttered, ‘but you never think of that.’

Ferimon was too busy congratulating himself on his own cleverness to hear her. ‘Your hard work will be worthwhile, I promise,’ he told her. ‘Every embrace, every gift, every little loving gesture brings Tiolani further into our power, and helps to deliver the realm of the Phaerie into our hands.’

The public audience was the aspect of ruling that Tiolani liked least. Every tenth day she was forced to follow Hellorin’s custom of hearing the petitions of any who had a favour to ask or a dispute that needed settling. She dressed in all her finery. To make herself a little taller, she used a minor version of her father’s glamourie spell, whereby he could make himself grow to a towering height. She even used magic to make her voice louder and more resonant, but nothing she did seemed to make up for her want of confidence. She was afraid she’d betray her lack of experience every time she opened her mouth. She hated having to make decisions on the spot in front of a crowd of courtiers, and she lived in constant dread of exposing herself to derision and scorn.

Today, in particular, she was beginning to wonder whether she had made a serious error. Ferimon’s sources had told her that Ambaron, representing the interests of the small group of Hemifae traders who dwelt in the city, had been complaining about the restrictions she had placed on the movements of her subjects, but she’d expected him to request a private meeting to raise his grievances. Instead, however, he had apparently decided to corner her by raising his issues before the entire Phaerie Court, and there was no escaping a very public confrontation.

Tiolani sighed. ‘Speak, Ambaron.’ She tried in vain to keep from revealing her dislike of him in her voice. The trader had taken after the human side of his heritage in appearance. With his brown hair, stocky build and blunt, rounded features, he looked like a slave who had dressed up in his master’s finery, and Tiolani was ill-disposed to look kindly on anything that resembled a human.

From the expression on Ambaron’s face, the dislike was mutual, and his bow was a great deal more perfunctory than was required - especially from a Hemifae - to show respect for a ruler. When he spoke, he assumed a ponderous, didactic tone, as though he were speaking to a child. ‘Lady Tiolani,’ he began, ‘as you doubtless know, it is the custom of the traders to travel each summer to the Wizard city of Tyrineld, where we trade moonmoth silk and gems from the mountains for the forged tools and weapons of metal that we cannot produce, and for the fruit and herbs requiring a warmer climate, that we cannot grow ourselves in this northern realm. This year, you have placed a ban on any Phaerie travelling outside their own lands - but surely you did not mean that restriction to apply to merchants? Would you truly deprive your subjects of the luxuries and necessities from the south in this way?’

Curse this miserable half-blood! In suggesting that she was deliberately depriving her subjects, he had placed her in an impossible position. Frantically she looked to Ferimon, who stood in his usual place, to one side of the throne. Usually his expression would tell her how she should proceed, but today, he simply looked thunderous, which wasn’t much help. Nor did he reply to her frantic query in mindspeech.

Tiolani gazed around the throne room for inspiration. The imposing and beautiful hall was built of pale-coloured stone, its roof supported by a double row of great pillars carved to resemble trees, with the branches fanning out to provide the vaulting of the ceiling. Massive windows of stained glass pierced the walls at regular intervals, and behind the throne was a massive rose window in multicoloured hues that took up most of the wall, and filled the room with jewelled light. The richly clad courtiers who were in attendance, standing or sitting in scattered groups, were all looking up at Tiolani expectantly. She was the cynosure of every eye in the room.

She could think of no other way to respond, save with bluntness. ‘The restrictions apply equally to all my subjects. Why should the traders be the exception?’

‘But Lady,’ the trader protested, ‘what about the new weapons we need? How will our miners and farmers manage without tools? What about wine? Or herbs for seasonings and medicine? Or the good oil from the olive, which we use for so many purposes?’

Tiolani sat up straight on the throne. If she let herself be bullied over this matter, she would never manage to claw back the respect - albeit grudging - that she had managed to win herself so far. ‘I thought I had made myself clear on this point,’ she told the trader. ‘I do not wish the Magefolk, particularly the Wizards, to know that the Forest Lord is wounded and currently unable to rule. They may decide to take the opportunity to encroach upon our borders, and following the ambush in the forest, the Phaerie are in no condition to fight a war over territory.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘The Wizards may decide that it will be easy to take advantage of a young, inexperienced girl. They would be wrong, but I would rather not risk the lives of my people to teach them that lesson.’

Ambaron glared at her. ‘Are you suggesting that we traders would give away secrets to the Wizards?’

Hellorin’s daughter met his glare with a stony look of her own. ‘Frankly, I’m not prepared to take the risk.’

‘But Lady, our livelihoods—’

‘Enough!’ Tiolani struck the armrest of the throne with her fist. ‘You have heard my decision.’

The trader stood his ground, his own temper clearly beginning to rise. ‘My Lady, this is ridiculous. You cannot make such a law—’

Utterly incensed, she leapt to her feet. ‘I am the ruler here. Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do.’

Ambaron’s face went white. ‘With respect, Lady, you are not the ruler here. You are merely acting in his stead. Wounded or not, Hellorin still rules the Phaerie - or do you know something that the rest of us do not?’ Even as the words left his mouth, Tiolani saw his expression turn to one of dismay. In the heat of the moment, he had gone further than he had intended, and spoken words he had never meant to utter aloud.

There was a moment’s deathly hush, then a buzz of horrified talk swept through the court as the implications of Ambaron’s remark struck home. What was worse, the trader was closer to the truth than he knew. So many times of late, Tiolani had found herself thinking how much more pleasant it was to rule than be ruled, and how convenient it would be if her father could remain out of the way for a little longer, and leave the field clear for her.

Tiolani’s guilt focused her anger into a solitary diamond point. She found herself thinking very coldly and clearly, without a trace of emotion. There was only one punishment for such sedition. Time seemed to stretch as she remembered her father standing at bay in the forest clearing, pierced through and through by the arrows of the rebels, calling down the wrath of the heavens on those who had slain his son. Then, all at once, she knew exactly what he had done, and how he had accomplished it. True, it would be more difficult to accomplish within the hall, but nothing was beyond the new Lady of the Phaerie. Summoning the Old Magic to her bidding, she called upon the powers of the lightning.

As she lifted her hand, Ambaron must have seen his death in her eyes. He backed away from her, his face contorted with terror. ‘Lady, please. Nooooo . . .’

Tiolani opened her hand and unleashed a single, searing bolt that came out of nowhere and wrapped itself, sizzling and crackling, around the merchant’s writhing form. He crumpled and fell - and suddenly the lightning was gone, leaving nothing but a vile odour of burning flesh, and on the floor, a blackened, smouldering lump that no longer resembled a Phaerie.

Tiolani swept the crowd with burning eyes, and felt them quail before her as her voice rang out through the hall. ‘Let all take heed,’ she said. ‘So perish those who would speak treason.’