Authors: Dara Joy
“He
does!”
All eyes turned towards the sound of the powerful voice which spoke from the doorway to the chamber. Krue.
He strode forward, his commanding presence a force in the hall. He came to a halt abreast of Traed.
“The lad is right.” Krue placed his hand on Traed’s shoulder. “Reverse your ruling; it is past time to put away old hurts. The Tan-Shi will have to understand and if they do not, it will be their misfortune. For I
will
claim this Traed as my son. I should have done so when he was but a child and would have if not for the constraints you
placed upon me. Constraints, I would add, that doubled my sorrow—to lose my sister and my son-of-the-line as well.”
Wolthanth spoke. “Krue, there was more to that decision than you realize. As retribution for Theardar’s insult to the Lodarres line, you would have sought to face Theardar for the rights to his son. This we could not allow.”
“Yes, Krue,” Gelfan added. “Theardar was a sixth-level mystic even then. At the time, you were but a four. Against such power, you would have been helpless.”
Krue’s lavender eyes captured the Sages in their steely glow. “Think you so?” he uttered in a chilling tone, causing a few members to look away. Krue’s reputation as a legendary warrior was well-known.
Gelfan narrowed his eyes, not liking the way the conversation was going. Sages were not to be questioned. “Perhaps not,” he admitted. “But we could not take such a risk.”
“You should have allowed
me
to make that decision! It involved the honor of my family.”
Yaniff spoke to Krue. “We could not. It was my say the Guild followed.”
Krue turned a shocked face to Yaniff. “Your say? But why? You were on my side of it—you told me so yourself! Why would you do such a thing?”
“Rejar.”
Both Traed and Krue appeared stunned.
Finally Krue spoke. “But Rejar was not an issue then. Why, I had not—that is, Suleila and I…I had not yet performed the Transference with Suleila.”
“Exactly.” Yaniff pierced Krue with a steady look. “As I say, we could not risk your going against Theardar.”
Everyone was silent for many moments. What had Yaniff seen? Somehow it involved Rejar and was of vital importance. But what? The Sages pondered.
“I do not understand these things, Yaniff. I confess they disturb me more oft than not. For I wonder where the line between vision and manipulation lies. Lately these lines blur for me and I begin to resent much.”
“It grieves me to hear you speak thus, Krue.”
“And me.”
“I have known you all your days; I beseech you to listen when I ask you to honor my words. It is Rejar and it has always been Rejar.”
“I cannot credit this!” Krue spat.
“What do you speak of?” Traed was completely left out of this exchange of mystical significance.
The Sages turned horrified eyes to Yaniff. “We cannot credit this either. Surely you have misread the signs, Yaniff?” Gelfan was clearly shaken. “He is of the Familiars; he is not—”
“It
is
as I say.”
Strangely enough, it was Krue who recovered first. “I am not here to argue my son’s place in your visions, Yaniff. I am here to claim another son to me. This son.”
He faced Traed, placing his hand upon his shoulder. “I claim this Traed as my right by bloodline, by Charl mystical belief, by Aviaran law, by my heart as well, as Traed ta’al Krue, acknowledged brother to the sons of my loins Lorgin and Rejar. It is done. Embrace your father, Traed. Though it grieves me that this moment comes so late, better than never.”
Moved, Traed embraced Krue. Jade eyes damp, he went down on one knee before him. “I acknowledge you as father of my bloodline and of my heart as well. I hereby know myself.
I am Traed ta’al Krue!”
Not one voice called out to dispute the fact.
Yaniff watched, more pleased than he had been in many a year as Traed rose to his feet, bringing with him
his rightful heritage and the name of his mother’s bloodline. On Aviara, when a father disgraced his lineage, he forever lost the right to claim his sons. Such sons by law then belonged to he who would stand for the mother’s line. In this case, Krue had the right to claim Traed.
Krue and Traed left the hall together, and Yaniff thought it was just.
“Are you sure the babe is getting enough rest?” Krue glowered down the table at his eldest son, Lorgin.
“Yes, father, I am sure,” Lorgin answered him dully. He casually turned away from his father towards his brother Rejar and crossed his eyes. Krue was driving him mad! Yes, it was his first child but, by
Aiyah,
he was not an idiot!
Rejar smirked at his brother, glad for once not to be the one under scrutiny.
Lorgin’s wife, Adeeann, beamed at Krue as if he were the wisest and most caring of olde-fathers. In truth, she was enjoying this. For which he would make her pay later.
“I do not think it safe for her in that tree you live in,” Krue grumbled.
Lorgin knew what was coming next. His father was once again going to “suggest” his son move back to the family home.
Temporarily.
For the next twenty years.
He wondered if his father was still suffering from the shock of his errant son, Rejar, bringing home a wife. Yes, that must be it. Had to be.
Lorgin fumed. Why did he always have to suffer because of his brother? He glowered at him across the table, brows lowered. Rejar blinked innocently at him.
“Oh, but the tree is so pretty.” Lilac winked at her
husband, Rejar. They had found a nice, secluded spot on one of the branches a few nights ago. She shivered as she remembered what he had done to her that night.
Rejar glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He discreetly ran the tip of his tongue across his sultry lower lip. Lilac shivered anew. Her husband had not been named “Gifted” in the Familiar tongue for nothing.
“The tree is perfectly safe, Father,” Lorgin reiterated for the hundredth time.
“I fail to see how it is safe when she can crawl off a limb and—”
Lorgin rubbed the side of his forehead, where the throbbing was starting. Krue had been going on like this for weeks and he was getting worse. “She cannot crawl yet, Father.” He groaned as he imagined what Krue would be like by that time.
“Nonetheless, who can say what—”
A loud shriek of disgust came from the direction of Krue’s Familiar wife, Suleila. Everyone stopped eating to stare at her, stupefied. Including Krue.
Suleila had had enough. “I vow, Krue, if you do not stop with this ridiculousness, I will scratch your eyes out!”
Krue’s mouth parted in shock.
Suleila threw her hands up in the air. “The babe is perfectly fine! She eats well, she sleeps well, her digestion is perfect, and yes, she looks like you! Now will you let us have some peace!”
All eyes shifted to Krue to see what his response was going to be to this most unusual but highly applauded setdown by his wife.
“Hmf.” He resumed his meal.
The rest of the diners gratefully followed suit.
“Scratch my eyes out?” he murmured to Suleila in a low tone.
Suleila’s lips twitched. “At the very least.”
He flashed her a look she knew well. “I look forward to it,” he drawled in a low tone, so no one could hear. He could still make her blush.
“My boy, would you pass me that purple woodcock over there?” Aunt Agatha peered at the plate through her lorgnette as she nudged Traed.
No one had a clue what woodcock was, but Traed passed the old woman the dish of Aviaran
calan
stew just the same. Aunt Agatha had come back from Ree Gen Cee Ing Land with Rejar and his wife, Lilac. Aviara had not been the same since.
A single knock sounded on the door.
Malkin, their servant, opened the door and was so unnerved by the person who stood there that he lost his ability to speak. So the visitor simply let herself in and entered the room where they sat.
All conversation came to a dead stop as each person looked up.
“Who is it?” Jenise whispered to Gian when no one would speak.
{It is the revered Tan-Shi Mother. She is the mystical leader of the feminine sect. They say she is the knowledge-bearer of all female wisdom on Aviara. It is unheard of for her to leave the monastery.}
“Why has she come do you suppose?” Jenise murmured.
{She has heard that Krue has acknowledged Traed to his line. In doing so he has violated an oath between the Charl and the Tan-Shi.}
Both Lorgin and Rejar had already been told about Traed and both were relieved. Although the brothers themselves had long acknowledged Traed, they knew of the strain placed upon their father by the Tan-Shi.
Jenise eyed the elderly woman closely. Her hair was silver and hung down her back. Her robes were black and unadorned yet somehow they did not look plain with her
proud carriage. Like Yaniff, she carried a long staff with a crystal at the end. Her eyes were clear silver, fathomless. Even though she never glanced Jenise’s way, Jenise had the distinct impression that the woman knew she was studying her.
Krue found his voice first. “Revered Mother, we are honored by your presence here. Come and sit at my table.” He stood, offering her his own seat at the head.
The Tan-Shi Mother declined. “I am not here to sit at your table, Krue, although I thank you for your gesture.”
He frowned. “If you have come about Traed, then you waste your time. I have claimed him, as is my right.”
Traed, who was obviously uncomfortable at being the center of all this attention, stared down at his plate, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His anger at the Guild and the Tan-Shi was deep-seated.
“I am not here to discuss your right either,” she informed the Aviaran warrior. The Tan-Shi Mother never minced her words. She was direct and to the point.
Krue responded with like boldness, seeing no reason to temper himself despite his immense respect for her. “I will fight for him,” he said in a soft but deadly voice.
Traed looked at Krue, surprised.
“He is my son—you will not take him from me again.”
The corners of the Tan-Shi Mother’s lips twitched. “You will not have to fight for him, Warrior. It is time we set aside the past. The debt has been paid. The destruction that was caused by one Charl was made right by another.” She looked pointedly at Yaniff, who remained silent at his end of the table. Then she nodded at Traed, acknowledging him and his right to sit beside Krue in his home.
Traed pointedly ignored her.
Krue, in his first act as father, kicked Traed under the table with his boot. Grudgingly, Traed inclined his head. Slightly.
The woman’s silver eyes twinkled as if she found some amusement in his reluctance. “Stubbornness can be a good trait for a Charl warrior, son of Krue.”
Yaniff snorted. “So I have been telling him since he has been a youth.”
Traed narrowed his eyes. “I am not a Charl warrior. Nor will I ever be.”
“We will speak of that later, Traed.” Krue returned to his seat.
“No, Krue, we will not.”
Rejar and Lorgin both winced, knowing what was coming. Gian, watching the scene play out before him, waited for Traed to find out what it truly meant to be a son.
Krue did not disappoint. He set his goblet on the table with a clink and pierced the younger man with a steely look. “I said we will discuss it later.”
The muscle played in Traed’s jaw but he remained silent.
Excellent,
Gian thought,
already he takes the role of a son.
Gian wagered that many a battle of wills would take place in the future between the two strong-willed men.
Yes, I think I will ask Traed to come to M’yan for a while. He will need the time to adjust to what taking the name of Krue truly means.
But Gian was in for his own surprise when the Tan-Shi Mother suddenly said, “I will speak with the
tajan
of Ren.”
Gian raised his steady gaze to hers. {On
what matter?}
“It is a private matter.”
Gian knew he could not refuse such a request, even if it was stated as a demand.
{Very well,}
he assented.
{But she does not know.}
The Tan-Shi Mother’s voice came back to him in his mind and he realized she too had the ability to send her thoughts.
{Your secret is safe,
taj
Gian. I wish to speak to her of…other things.}
Gian inclined his head, although he was wondering what those other matters could be. “Jenise, the Tan-Shi Mother wishes to speak with you.”
Jenise, who was in the process of tasting a colorful leafy thing on her plate, squeaked, “Me?”
Gian almost grinned at the comical expression of apprehension on her sweet face. “Yes. In private.”
She looked from the Mother to Gian, then back to the Mother. “Why does she want to speak with me?” she whispered nervously.
Gian was amused. “I do not know,” he whispered back teasingly. “Why do you not ask her?”
“Come, child. We will go sit in the garden for a few moments. There are matters I must speak to you about.”
Jenise rose and, throwing Gian one last beseeching look, followed the robed woman outside. Gian chuckled as he watched her hesitant steps.
Yaniff also watched them leave as he calmly fed Bojo a strip of meat.
“What do you wish to speak to me of?” Jenise sat down next to the elderly woman on a stone bench.
“I would speak to you about your perceptions of power, my child.”
Jenise fidgeted in her seat, somewhat surprised that this old woman had been able to see into her in such a way. Power had ever been a touchstone to Jenise.
“What of it?” she asked quietly.
“You tell me,” the Tan-Shi Mother wisely instructed.
Jenise sighed. “I like not the way men wield it, the trappings of it, how they use it to control…I want no part of it.”
“Explain.”
“Karpon…he is—”
“I know about Karpon. Continue.”
“He twists and turns his power; he thinks he uses it, but it uses him.”
“Excellent.” The Mother nodded. “Go on.”
“Traed appears to have incredible abilities and yet he is not in harmony with his power…”