The Assassin King

8

“Rhapsody, I beg of you, please do not panic,” Ashe said quickly. His hands moved under the baby’s back, even though the loss of color in his wife’s face was scarcely greater than that in his own. “You remember what my father said about prophecies—that they are not always as they seem to be.” He carefully took his son into his arms as his wife leaned back against the earthen walls of the chamber, and attempted to smile down at the infant, but could not close his ears to the memory of the rest of his father’s statement. The value of seeing the Future is often not worth the price of the misdirection, Llauron had noted. Ashe had found that while the interpretation of prophecies could be misleading, in the end to ignore them was a choice with even more dire consequences. “I am not panicking,” Rhapsody said, her voice steady. though her face was still pale. “But there is no question in my mind that Meridion may well be the child of which this prophecy speaks, though I do not understand why something in the tapestry of the Weaver, from a time where history seems to have been undone, would apply to him. When Jal’asee, the Sea Mages’ ambassador from the Gaematria, was here during Gwydion’s investiture, he spoke to me of the lore that was growing within me, with the mixing of your blood and mine. He used that same nomenclature—saying that he would be a Child of Time.” She inhaled, remembering the mage’s words, spoken with the wisdom of the most ancient of all races. Your child will be blessed, and cursed, with the power of all the elements, Rhapsody. You walked through the fire at the heart of the Earth—do not fear; of course I know this, because you clearly absorbed it. What the rest of the world mistakes for mere beauty, one such as myself, who has seen the primordial elements in their raw form, can recognize them. You and your child were cradled in the arms of the sea during your recent captivity—I know this too, not by seeing it, but because the waves told me of it during my journey here from Gaematria. Your husband is the Kirsdarkenvar, the master of the element, so there is a tie to water in both parents. The earth is in you both as well—you because you have traveled through Her heart, your husband because he is descended of the wyrm Elynsynos, as thus linked to it, as you are both linked to the star Seren. And finally, as the Lirin queen you are a Child of the Sky, a daughter of the air. So your child will have all of the elements nascent within his blood. Do you know what all of those elements add up to? Tell me, she had whispered. Time. He will have the power of Time. I hope you will do me the honor of allowing me, when the child is old enough and the occasion permits, to help teach your child how to use it. “Then, when he was born,” she went on, “he, like all dragons, needed a name to be formed, and so I gave him one that harked back to Merithyn and his own father, but ultimately I wove the phrase Child of Time into his appellation as well.”

Ashe nodded at the memory. His time with his new son had been so brief, but at least Fate had been kind enough to allow him to witness the baby’s birth in the cave of the Lost Sea, the lair of his great-grandmother, Elynsynos, where Rhapsody had taken refuge. Elynsynos, who had long ago forsaken her earthly draconic form for one of ether, had taken the physical shape of a woman, the same form she had assumed to meet Merithyn, his Seren great-grandfather, so that she could assist Krinsel, the Bolg midwife, with the delivery. As he witnessed the miracle unfold, Ashe’s eyes had gone from his wife’s face to that of his great-grandmother, who in all the elegance of her regal beauty wore the plainly excited, childlike expression he had often seen her wear in dragon form. He had continued to watch in a mix of fear and awe until he felt Rhapsody’s hand clutch his. He closed his eyes now, relishing the memory like a treasure in his own hoard. Sam? Yes, Aria? The word was Lirin for my guiding star, and it had fitted her role in his life perfectly. She had reached up falteringly and rested her small hand on his chest. I need the light of the star within you. Our child is coming. He had bent closer to her and rested his hand atop hers. Whatever you need. How can I give it to you ? Open your heart. Welcome your child. All Ashe could do was nod as Rhapsody began to softly sing the elegy to the lost star, Seren, that she had learned from the Seren Sea Mage. As she sang she wept, listening only to the music radiating from the piece of that same star that had been sewn within the realm of the Rowans within his own chest, the pure, elemental song of the lost star, blended with the music of wind and fire, the lore that resided within her, and the earth and water that had come from his blood. Come forth, my child. Come into the world, and live. Ashe felt his throat tighten, remembering how close she had been to death as his son was coming to birth. Elynsynos had conferred one last time with Krinsel, the Bolg midwife Achmed had brought from Ylorc at Rhapsody’s request, then the dragon in Seren form raised her hands in a gesture of supplication and reached into Rhapsody’s belly from above, her hands passing through as if they were made only of mist and starlight. It was, he thought, the most magical thing he had ever witnessed. Elynsynos then drew back her hands and lifted aloft a tiny glowing light, pulling it gently from his wife’s failing body and putting it on her chest, into her hands. Name him, Pretty, so that he can form. Ashe had barely heard the words she had spoken over the thundering of his own three-chambered heartbeat. Rhapsody had reached for him with one hand. When his fingers had entwined with hers, she whispered the Naming intonation. Welcome, Meridion, Child of Time. For a moment, nothing remained in her other hand but the glowing light. Then slowly a shape began to form, a tiny head, smaller hands held aloft, then waved about. A soft coo erupted a moment later into a full-blown wail, and suddenly the cave was filled with the ordinary human music of a crying infant. The most beautiful sound he had ever heard. “I still believe it is very possible that this prophecy is not even about our child,” he said to the assembled group. “There are too many things that do not apply; obviously, and blessedly, Rhapsody did not in fact die, as the mother in the prophecy was proclaimed to do. Furthermore, even though he is unique and unusual in his lore and lineage, Meridion is not an unnatural child.” His face colored for a moment. “And he was certainly not born of an unnatural act; he came into the world, had his beginnings, in the same way every other child does.”

“I’m not so sure mat’s true,” Achmed said. “Sexual congress with a dragon could possibly be viewed by any number of reasonable minds as an unnatural act. It is certainly not something I want to contemplate on a full stomach.” A flash of heat shot through Ashe, and ugly words spilled forth from his mouth before he could stop them. “And what, then, would you consider your own conception, Achmed? I shudder to even imagine what coupling would have produced a being that is half Dhracian, one of the most ancient of all the world’s races, and half Firbolg, one of the most bastard strains of demi-human monsters ever to scar the face of the earth. You’re hardly one to talk about being born of unnatural acts.” Rhapsody regarded him reproachfully as the rest of the council stared at him in silence. The Bolg king said nothing, but the Sergeant-Major glowered at him in a way that added threat to the very air of the tiny hidden room. “Perhaps it is not Meridion’s conception, but rather his actual birth that the prophecy means by brought forth in blood from fire,” Rhapsody said. “Not even you can deny, Sam, the unusual circumstances of his delivery. His birth took almost all the blood in my body, from which I am still weak. And. given what has happened to me over time, it could be assumed that I am the fire from which he was brought forth, and you, as a dragon, are the earth that is his sire. But it seems to me that all of this is irrelevant. If there’s any chance whatsoever that the Child of Time Talquist is seeking could be Meridion—or if Talquist thinks he is—then we must do everything we can to protect him. whether or not he is the child of which the prophecy speaks.”

“I agree,” said Ashe. He exhaled deeply, contemplating what to do next. “I thought, Rhapsody, that you are supposed to remain silent,” said Anborn. “There is still much to report; I do not believe His Grace is finished with his tale, and I am by no means finished with mine. Let’s get on with this.”

“Indeed,” said Constantin, “I have one more thing to relate about the actions of the Emperor Presumptive. Some time ago, two of the priests of Sorbold who lived in the manse proximate to Jierna Tal and to the Earth basilica of Terreanfor escaped the fire that destroyed their manse and all of the abbots, acolytes, and priests that dwelt there. For all that this fire was seen as a tragic accident, these three men witnessed otherwise. Those clergy had first feasted in great opulence within the palace of Jierna Tal, where their food was laced with some sort of drag to lull them into sleep. Those who were in its grip never awoke, a mercy of the sort given the death that awaited them. Others were driven back into the manse with arrow fire by Talquist’s guards when they tried to escape the flames.”

“Why on earth would he do such a thing?” Gwydion Navarne asked in amazed horror. “Because of what he had asked them to do earlier in that day,” replied Constantin darkly. “These men, before they were renamed and hidden elsewhere, made it to Sepulvarta without Talquist’s notice, having escaped the fire in the manse, and came to me, relating what they had witnessed. They reported that Talquist had been harvesting the Living Stone of the basilica of Terreanfor, as I told you earlier. They related the specifics of it, however, a horrifying tale in which a massive stone statue of a soldier had been sliced from its pedestal in a lower vault of the cathedral, brought under cover of darkness to the square of Jierna Tal, and placed in one of the weighing plates of the great Scales of Sorbold, the very same instrumentality that conferred upon both myself and Talquist our offices. “In the other plate some sort of creature was also placed, a freakish miscreant, a poor pathetic soul of twisted body. Then the Weighing was begun. The priests reported that Talquist placed something in the other weighing plate of the Scales against which it was balanced, along with drops of his own blood. “And, in an abomination against nature and the All-God, the statue was animated, brought to life of the sort, and made to move under its own power.”

“Dear One-God,” murmured Rial. “What happened then?”

“Blessedly, the titanic statue ran off into the desert beyond the foothills between Sorbold and Sepulvarta, where it crumbled back into sand,” said Constantin. “The sword of Living Stone that it tore from its hand before it ran into the night dissolved into sand as well in the streets of Jierna’sid. This act was an abomination, a despoliation of a holy shrine that alone would justify Talquist’s removal from office, and in my view his execution. It was a rape of the cathedral of Terreanfor, a desecration that was unforgivable. But more than that, I have to wonder what the purpose was of this experiment. Fortunately, it was an experiment that failed ultimately, and while we may never know what he was attempting, at least we will not have to suffer the consequences.”

“Allow me to assume my traditional role of skunk at the lawn fête,” said Anborn. “You are incorrect in your assumption, Your Grace. The statue you mention did not in fact crumble to sand in the godforsaken desert of Sorbold. I witnessed this titan myself a few short weeks ago when I was doing reconnaissance in the streets of Jierna’sid. It was a monstrous thing to behold; it came up the main thoroughfare of the city, lurching as if drunk, though certainly it was more likely a factor of its own unnatural state of being. Everything in its path was destroyed; oxcarts, hay wagons, street booths, and most especially the soldiers of Sorbold, who charged it to no avail. It was a terrible sight to witness; while it was awkward and clumsy, there is no question that it was also invulnerable to standard weapon fire and bent on destruction. When last I saw it, it had crushed over eighty soldiers, had damaged untold numbers of shops and wagons, and was making its way in direct course for the palace itself. Mind you, I had little regret, as it appeared to be heading for the emperor himself, but if he is alive and threatening Sepulvarta, perhaps the statue’s intentions were other than what I assumed.”

“Perhaps indeed,” Achmed noted. “I am not certain what is significant in all of this, except that it shows that Talquist is willing to do whatever it takes to achieve his ends. In that way he is no different from me.”

“Well said,” retorted Anborn. “Very well, then, m’lady. what say you? Have you analyzed what we have reported and determined anything from the lore of it?” Ashe rose quickly from his chair. “Forgive me, Uncle,” he said, “and the rest of you. Before we go further, I wish to speak to my wife alone for a moment outside this chamber. Please indulge me.” Rhapsody held up her hand. “Before we do,” she said, “I need to ask Achmed something. At the risk of being rude, I’ll ask him in Bolgish; I’m sorry for my lack of manners, but time is of the essence.” The rest of the men in the circle nodded, and so she turned to the Bolg king as the baby in Ashe’s arms began to stir, making soft sounds of hunger. “If you are willing to tell them what you are undertaking within the mountain,” she approximated in the harsh, limited language of the Firbolg, “and why, I will help you achieve your ends that I have refused up until now.” Achmed’s eyes, mismatched and closely set so that they appeared to always be sighting down a weapon, gleamed. “To what degree?” he posited in return. “On your terms, or mine?”

“Up until now I have only shared with you the very basics of what I learned in the translation of the ancient scroll you asked me to undertake,” Rhapsody answered. “If you will share with this council your intentions and the knowledge of what you are doing, I will tell you whatever I know and will help you in whatever way I can. I need to be able to tell my husband why I am spending so much of my time on this when war is coming, and I have other responsibilities.” The two Bolg exchanged a glance. “Done,” said the Bolg king. The Lady Cymrian rose and extended her hands to her husband for the child. “We will return momentarily,” she said to the assembled group. “Meridion needs to nurse; thank you for your forbearance.”

“I will have Gerald Owen bring in a small repast so that you can refresh yourselves and eat,” said Ashe. I will not need to do so, he thought. What I’m about to do will leave me with no stomach for it anyway.