Mordecai Page 8

  “How is this going to work?” she asked. “She’ll just pop in whenever she feels like it? How will we ever be able to relax when the Queen of Lothion could just show up at any moment, day or night?”

  “It’s Ariadne,” I told her. “She needs to get away from being the ‘queen.’ That’s the point of it. She’s family.”

  “Your family,” said Penny pointedly.

  “You grew up with her too,” I mentioned.

  Penny closed her eyes, “No, Mort, I didn’t. I grew up with you, and sometimes when I was lucky, I played with Dorian and Marc too. Ariadne and I were never close. Her first memories of me are probably as one of the castle maids at Lancaster, and she terrified me back then.”

  “Terrified? That’s hard to imagine,” I said.

  “You were never a servant.”

  I frowned. “I thought the Lancasters treated their staff well. You never mentioned anything bad happening.”

  She sighed. “They did, and no, nothing bad happened, but I was poor, and desperate. I wasn’t a child anymore and I needed that income to support my father. I lived in constant fear of losing my position. I kept my distance from Ariadne back then because I was afraid she would remember my friendship with Marcus. I thought they would send me away if they knew.”

  “They wouldn’t have done something like that,” I protested.

  Penny nodded. “I know that now, but I was young, and I was common.”

  “I was common too,” I reminded her.

  “You had parents who could support you. I didn’t. And as it turns out, you were never common, even if you thought you were. The Lancasters always knew, your parents knew, and they treated you differently.”

  I didn’t think that was particularly fair, but she had a point. I had never been in fear of missing a meal, or watching my father starve. Closing my mouth, I simply nodded.

  Penny went on, “I still feel like a fraud as the Countess di’ Cameron. Deep down I’m always thinking that one of these days someone will stand up and call me out as a fake.”

  “You’re absolutely brilliant as Countess,” I told her. “If you think you’re acting, let me tell you, no one else does.”

  She smiled, then leaned down to pet Humphrey who had grown anxious as our conversation turned serious. Looking up she said, “Thank you. I try, but it isn’t always easy. I was so grateful when you built us this house. Secreted away here, in our mountain home, with no eyes on us, I can relax. No matter how hard the day is, when we come back here, I can just be myself. But now—how can I do that with the Queen showing up whenever she feels like it?”

  “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but think about Ariadne. She lost her parents, her brother, and she took the throne without anyone to support her. She wasn’t raised a commoner, but she was still young, and alone. She’s been alone all these years, and she’s had nowhere to hide or relax. She wants the same thing you do. Can’t we share a little of it with her?”

  “Well, we have to now, don’t we?” answered Penny. “You’ve already made the offer. I’ll look like a monster if I turn her away.”

  I shrugged, “I could make up an excuse…”

  “No,” she said firmly. “I’ll deal with it. I just wanted you to know how I feel, and maybe next time, you’ll think before you do something like this.”

  Something in her voice told me she wasn’t fine, but it was too late now. I figured I’d be paying for it down the line. The thought made me uncomfortable, so I leaned down as well. Petting Humphrey made us both feel better. Dogs don’t judge. “Tell me about Lynaralla,” I said after a moment. “I haven’t seen her in a while. Isn’t she supposed to be back soon?”

  Lynaralla was our foster child. Technically, she wasn’t human, she was the first Illeniel She’Har produced by Tyrion and Lyralliantha. Physically she appeared to be the same age as Matthew and Moira, which was unusual in and of itself. Normally the She’Har children emerged as fully adult-seeming humans, though with their characteristic pointed ears and the Illeniel’s silver hair. Tyrion and Lyralliantha had decided to experiment, producing their firstborn as an apparent teenager, then sending her to us to experience an abbreviated childhood.

  In every other way, she had been like most newly grown She’Har, with an analytical mind and a maturity only rivalled by her complete naivete when it came to the most basic aspects of the human heart. Over the past few years that had changed a little, which was perhaps why she had been sent to us. Two weeks ago, she had gone home to visit her ‘parents.’

  Tyrion and Lyralliantha were trees, or ‘elders’ as the She’Har called them. So calling them parents lost a lot in translation.

  “She was,” agreed Penny, “but we received a message yesterday. They have decided not to send her back to us. They want her to stay.”

  That made no sense to me. While Lynaralla was entirely adult in some ways, she was still a child in many others. I had grown attached to the strange girl, as though she were my own. I knew she wasn’t ready for whatever they expected of her. She needed more time. “That’s not right,” I argued. “Did you tell them we don’t think she’s ready?”

  Penny looked deflated. “What could I say? She isn’t ours. She never was.”

  My wife was no helpless damsel, and the look of defeat on her face made me angry. Reaching out, I lifted her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. “She’s more ours than theirs,” I said.

  “You can’t say that. She’s their child.”

  “The She’Har don’t have children,” I told her. “Not really.” I knew them in a way that Penny didn’t. I had lived their memories, worse, I had lived Tyrion’s memories. “And her father has never deserved the name. He was a cruel and brutal man. I don’t know what he’s like as a tree, but she would be much better off with us, at least until she’s old enough to understand the world better.”

  “What would you do then?” asked my wife. The look in her eyes was one I cherished, it spoke of hope, it spoke of her belief in me. Clearly, she thought the situation was hopeless, but she believed in me anyway. How or when I had earned such faith from her, I didn’t know, and I sincerely doubted I deserved it, but I would do anything to protect it. More than once in my life I had been saved from giving up on the tortured path I walked, merely because I couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

  Standing back up, I dusted off my knees and offered her my hand. Being stronger than an entire regiment of men, she didn’t need my aid to rise, she could have leapt straight up from the ground and soared completely over my head as easily as some people could breathe. She took my hand anyway. “I’ll go talk to Tyrion,” I told her once she was on her feet.

  “You think he’ll listen?”

  “I’ll be persuasive,” I answered.

  Penny pursed her lips. “We can’t afford to lose them as an ally.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  “It’s a long trip. There’s no teleport circle there.”

  “I’ll take the World Road to Turlington. I can fly from there. Five or six hours to get there and I can teleport myself back. I can probably be home in time for dinner if things go well,” I reassured her.

  She gave me a doubtful look. Apparently, her faith only went so far. I couldn’t blame her, though. My first trip to the island had resulted in me being forced to fight a host of krytek, the She’Har equivalent of soldiers. It had ended with me threatening to turn the entire island into an active volcano before I was granted an audience with Tyrion, my ancestor and now the elder of the new She’Har. Our relations were considerably better these days.

  I hoped.

  “I’ll come with you,” said Penny.

  “I fly faster when I’m alone,” I argued.

  “I’ll come with you,” she repeated, adding extra emphasis.

  “There’s no need…,” I began, but she cut me off with a kiss.

  When her lips withdrew she explained, “I want to make sure we keep them as allies.”

  I cocked one brow in disbel
ief. “Me?! I’m more worried about you! If they piss you off, how will I stop you from running around chopping down trees like some madwoman?”

  She smiled. “If I did something like that, you can bet I would have a damn good reason.”

  I wanted to tell her no, but I couldn’t do it. She had been through too much, when first I, and then our children had disappeared over the course of the past few months. As a result, she had developed a bit of separation anxiety. If going made her feel better, then who was I to tell her no? It wouldn’t cost me anything more than some extra effort while flying.

  “Fine,” I replied. “We’ll both go.”

  Chapter 8

  We started out bright and early the next morning. By bright and early, I really mean stupidly miserable. Mornings are not my favorite thing.

  It wasn’t that I had anything specifically against mornings, per se, really it was the people inhabiting them that annoyed me. Contrary to my family’s belief, I didn’t actually despise morning, it was more that in the morning I tended to despise them—my family.

  The main reason for this is that they insisted on talking, often to me, which is obviously unacceptable. Over the years I had often been required to rise early and function in the wee hours of the morning, and this was fine, so long as I was alone. Because of this, if I did have to do something at that time, I would often try to rise before everyone else and be gone and about my business before anyone else could wake up and attempt to communicate with me.

  Today that wasn’t an option. Penny and I would be traveling together. On days like this I adopted a different strategy. Rather than waking early and leaving silently, I tried to keep my head under the covers as long as possible, so as to avoid the eventual need to face other humans.

  Penny wasn’t having it, of course. She plied me with tea and her lively chipper personality, which only made me hate the world even more.

  Long ago I had determined that I had a descending list of preference for my various family members in the morning. The one I found least offensive was my son, Matthew, mainly because he didn’t talk much under the best of circumstances, and mornings were a time of silent truce between us. My other children were variously bothersome, but the nice thing about children is that since you have seniority you can ignore them without serious consequence.

  My wife, definitely not, which made her my least favorite morning person. Not only could I not ignore her, but she was positively glowing with vitality and good cheer. For some reason I could never fathom, she actually enjoyed my company, even in the morning, which is how I had long ago determined that she was really a sadist. No matter how dour I was in the early hours, it merely gave her a better target to torment.

  “How’s the tea?” she cruelly asked, her smile brighter than the sun.

  “Fine.”

  “It’s new,” she informed me. “You can really tell the difference in the flavor. Old tea loses something. That’s why I try to get it in small lots and replace it frequently.”

  “Mm hmm.” I hoped she would have mercy and stop there, or that she might have run out of things to say. I was wrong.

  “Of course,” she continued, “At certain times of year you can’t get it at all, so I have to order enough to last us. That’s why it isn’t as good in late winter or early spring.”

  It went on for an interminable amount of time, until I could no longer stand it. Swallowing the last of my tea in one gulp, I sat up and surprised her by pulling her to her feet and kissing her. It was the only way to silence her.

  She pushed away after a second. “Trying to shut me up, eh?”

  I didn’t answer, choosing instead to look innocently into the air above and behind her.

  With a sigh she went on, “You need to get dressed. What are you going to wear?”

  Contentiously I responded, “What are you going to wear?”

  She hooked a thumb toward the armor rack on the other side of the room. It wasn’t really a rack. It had a human-like shape with a head and shoulders to allow her enchanted mail to drape naturally over it. I wasn’t sure why she used it, it was as though she thought chain could wrinkle. Since it was enchanted it wouldn’t even rust, much less wrinkle. Mine was stored in one of my magical pouches, in a neat pile at the bottom. Even folding it seemed pointless.

  “You’re planning to wear armor on a diplomatic mission?” I needled.

  She scowled at me, “The She’Har don’t have any of our human traditions regarding clothing. It won’t matter to them. I’d rather be ready in case this does turn out to be dangerous. What are you wearing?”

  I gestured at my night shirt and bare legs. “I thought I’d pair this with boots and a bad personality. They match.” Actually, I had planned on wearing a simple grey tunic, my Cameron surcoat, and a pair of neat woolen hose, easy, comfortable, and almost stylish.

  She winked at me, “You’re planning to wear that on a diplomatic mission?”

  “The She’Har don’t have any of our human traditions regarding clothing. It won’t matter to them. I’d rather be comfortable,” I replied, giving her answer back to her.

  “And if it’s dangerous?” she asked.

  I grinned, “I have the indomitable Penelope Illeniel, warrior-countess and wrangler of wizardly children to protect my noble person. What danger could threaten me?” Dammit, her general good mood was infectious.

  Having had my mood forcibly improved, we moved on to a quick breakfast and then we were out of the house. We took my private teleportation circle to the World-Road and from there we walked to the Turlington gate. Once there, the fun part of the journey began.

  Penny looked hesitant as I stretched out my hand toward her. She took it, but the look in her eyes told me she was having second thoughts.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?”

  Well, no actually, flying was never completely safe, and my sort of flying was the most dangerous type. That was the main reason I was the only living wizard to fly that way. No one else had had the balls to try it, and I definitely wouldn’t consider teaching even my own children to fly this way.

  There was an opposing side to that coin, however. I was a master of the art. There were no other wizards to compare myself to, true, but I knew my skill. “This isn’t the first time you’ve flown with me, remember?” I answered, diverting her question with one of my own.

  “There was so much going on at the time…,” she began. “And so much danger, the flying was the least of our worries then. We haven’t done it in years.”

  Correction, she hadn’t. I had flown many times. “You’ve flown on your dragon quite a few times,” I observed.

  “That’s different,” she replied. “I’m not really comfortable with that either, but at least there’s a lot of dragon underneath me.”

  “But we’re already flying, didn’t you notice?”

  Jerking her eyes downward, she saw that we were already a couple of feet off the ground. I was actually lying. We weren’t flying at all. I had merely created a flat plane of force beneath our feet and gently lifted the two of us. We were simply standing on a raised platform, but the idea was to get her feet wet, mentally speaking.

  “Oh!” she shouted. “What happened?” She took my hand immediately, and I was more than happy to pull her into an embrace as she clung to me for safety.

  I expanded my shield to enclose both of us and shaped it broadly beneath, us so that it would be easy for the wind to lift us. Now we were flying. We rose slowly through the air, and Penny’s arms gripped me with a strength that came close to breaking my ribs. I had removed my personal shield, as I always did when we were close together.

  Note to self, don’t scare her too badly, or she might break me in two accidentally, I thought.

  I kept the shield above us open, so we could experience the rush of wind as I slowly increased our speed. “You’re alright,” I told Penny. “I’ve got you. Even if you let go of me, you wouldn’t fall.” Her head
was buried against my chest.

  “There’s no chance of that!” she cried into my tunic.

  Honestly, I was surprised at her anxiety. I had to remind myself that in some ways, there were two different Pennys. One was the warrior who had fought with me over the years, facing dangers and monsters beyond belief, and the other was the perfectly normal girl I had originally known and fallen in love with. My wife could do almost anything if it was necessary, if her family were in danger, whether it was me or our children. She would leap into the jaws of a lion if she thought she had to, to protect one of us.

  Because of that strength, she had done many remarkably brave things over the years. Not because she wanted to, and not because she had no fear, but rather because she was too strong to let her fear get in the way of standing up for her family. While it had all been happening, she had been so fierce that it was easy to think she hadn’t been afraid.

  The truth was, she had been terrified through most of it.

  Today we were flying, but it wasn’t to escape an enemy or save a child. It was just more convenient. That meant that bravery and necessity didn’t really enter the equation, and as a result she was letting her perfectly normal fear have its way with her mind.

  None of that was what I wanted. I wanted to share my joy with her. So I took it slow and kept our flight gentle and smooth, giving her time to adjust. After we had been flying for ten minutes or so I made a suggestion, “It’s alright to look around. You won’t fall.”

  It took a while, but eventually she pulled her face back, keeping her eyes on my face.

  “See, it isn’t so bad, is it?” I asked.

  Her expression was so serious it almost made me laugh, but I suppressed the urge since I knew it wouldn’t help. “This is entirely different than flying on a dragon,” she argued. “There’s nothing under us.” As she said the words her eyes darted downward and then came back to mine in a rush.

  “The wind is under us,” I returned. “Hold onto me and look forward, to the horizon. We’re picking up speed, so I’m closing the shield.” As our velocity increased keeping the shield open was impractical, not only did the wind blast us so hard it was difficult to breathe, but it really screwed up the aerodynamics.