The Lotus Ascension (36 page)

“What does it please Your Graces to
name this your city?”

Soren did not even have to look at
Sillara. He spoke their shared thought. “This city is Tamar.”

“It means 'Savage',” said Sillara,
for Vaelus stared at them blankly. “And it was the name of our mother's clan.”

“We are the Desertmasters of
Tamar,” said Vaelus. “And we serve you.” Then he went to the acolyte on Soren's
side. From the acolyte Vaelus took the wurm's-tooth crown, and Sillara smiled
at its beauty. It was a light, elegant thing, and it rested on Soren's brow as
though it had been made for him.

When Chief Priest Vaelus then
placed the crown on Sillara's head, she smelled the rich scent of roses and
shalar
,
and she darted a glance at Soren. His wide eyes showed her that he, too, could
smell it.

“Now, Your Graces, we are in your
hand. Lead us aright.”

“We shall.” Soren and Sillara spoke
together, and then Vaelus led them up to the high balcony where Sillara had
sung in joy at Soren's return.

“Roses?” whispered Soren as they
went. “But there are none in the city.”

“They have always followed us.”
Sillara pressed Soren's hand.
“But the
shalar
?”

“I have smelled it since I first
coupled,” said Soren.
“Whenever I smelled roses.”

They stepped out into the brilliant
sunlight, and Soren raised his hand in blessing over their new people.

Sillara felt tears pricking her
eyes. “Oh, brother, I wish I could be your true Queen.”

“You
are
my Queen.” Soren
turned and pressed his lips to her brow. “The only one I have or ever shall.”

****

“That was tedious,” said Merieke,
lounging on a chair as Sillara put the kettle over the fire.

“I enjoyed the dancing,” said
Sillara.

“Their instruments are unusual.”
Soren stretched. “But, sister, before I settle down for supper, I think I will
bathe.”

“I can help—” said Merieke, but
Soren interrupted her.

“No, help Sillara with the supper.”
He smiled at Sillara and went upstairs.

“He's beautiful, isn't he?” Merieke
admired Soren's legs as he disappeared. “And he makes even these Desertmaster
clothes look good.”

“He is the most beautiful man in
the world.” Sillara had put bread out to rise before breakfast, and it was now
ready to be baked. She sprinkled saffron over the dough.

“Nathen is just as good-looking in
a human sort of way,” said Merieke, pouring out mead. “I'm sure that you would
like to have him, too.”

Sillara stared. “What?”

“I know that you could be happy
with Nathen,” said Merieke. “And once he's back, we could all four
play
together.” Merieke took a slow sip of the mead.
“They're both incredible lovers, and you,
well,
you're
great fun, too.”

Sillara understood then, and she
turned quickly, putting the bread into the pan over the fire so that Merieke
would not see her face. Even though Sillara doubted Merieke knew of her
marriage to Konas, why should Merieke think that Sillara would favor Nathen?
Nathen and Merieke had conspired to trap Soren into taking Merieke as his
concubine, and Nathen had already begun to use his Lotus-tricks on her.
Doubtless that was the reason. They planned to coerce or convince her into
accepting Nathen. Merieke's feelings toward Sillara, too, fell into place with
that realization. Merieke was not precisely jealous of her. Sillara knew too
well what jealousy was to think she saw it in Merieke. No, in Merieke there was
wounded pride. She wanted to be Soren's wife and his Queen—Sillara could have
laughed at the presumption were it not for her own predicament, her own situation
of being Soren's Queen and
not
his wife. Merieke could sense that Soren
desired Sillara, but why should that bother Merieke when she hoped to have both
of her favorite lovers, Soren and Nathen, at the same time as Sillara?

“Mead?”
Merieke offered Sillara
a mug.

Sillara took it and drank deeply.
She understood Merieke's idea, but she could not grasp why Merieke had such a
thought. If Sillara had been the one who had Soren, she would never want to
share him or to have any other lover.

But the memory of Konas's brilliant
green eyes sent a shiver of fear up Sillara's spine.
He
had the rights
to her that she wished Soren to have, and when Nathen returned, so, too, would
Konas.

Chapter Twenty-Three

A great cry went up in the town,
and Soren, who sat in the inner garden with Sillara, ran to the door and looked
out. Men and women pointed to the sky. A black balloon was landing just outside
town. With his Ausir gift of sight, Soren could see that not only had Konas and
Nathen returned, they brought with them broad-shouldered Darien. But his mother
and father were not with them. Soren scanned the bright blue sky, but he saw no
other balloon, not even to the horizon. Perhaps they were delayed. Could they
have been blown off course?

Sillara joined Soren at the door
and hugged him from behind. “What is it?”

Soren pointed, but he could not
speak in his growing annoyance. Now that Konas was back, the Ausir would be
pestering Sillara, hanging around her, acting like her wronged husband.

Sillara encircled his waist and squeezed.
“Do not worry, brother. He will never share my bed again.”

Soren spun around and held Sillara
in his arms. Their lips were so close. “But how can you stop him? He’s got
marital rights to your body.”

Sillara smiled. “Am I not Queen?
Will not the guards keep him from being alone with me?”

Soren understood. “So you do not
precisely deny him, instead letting the Desertmasters achieve what you want.”

Sillara nodded, still smiling, her
beautiful lips against her white teeth. Soren’s arousal threatened to overwhelm
him, so he turned away. He sensed his sister’s frustration, but what could they
do? She had given her oath to another man; to break it would be to dishonor
themselves
, and they loved each other too much to debase
each other.

“I suppose we should go out and
meet them.” Sillara’s breath caught. “Wait. I do not see a second balloon.
Surely they would need two to get everyone back here.”

“I didn’t see mother and father.
Maybe they got blown off course.” Soren placed Sillara’s wurm-tooth crown of
gold on her head, shifting her lovely black ringlets around to situate it
perfectly between her horns.

Sillara fit Soren’s crown into
place on his head, though it sat nearer his brow than Sillara’s did. “Konas
piloted the other one?”

Soren nodded. “But mother should
have been able to handle her balloon just fine.” He took Sillara by the hand
and led her from the house. Though no servants lived within the walls—for the
twins enjoyed their privacy and could claim Tamari tradition—guards flanked
them immediately when they stepped into the street.

“You shall be courteous to the
newcomer,” Soren said, and the guards bowed their silent obedience.

Merieke met them near the city
square. She broke her run only long enough to jump on Soren. She hung on him
and kissed his lips, beaming like a little girl. “Father’s here. All will be
well.”

Once Merieke had run ahead, Soren
shook his head. He was not sure how Darien’s presence would get him to marry
her, for that, doubtless, was what Merieke wanted above all things. Soren would
not be intimidated by his concubine’s father, living legend or no. Here, in
this city, Soren was King.

When they reached the edge of town,
they found Darien hugging Merieke. His daughter kissed his cheek repeatedly,
and then squeezed him, and then kissed him some more.

“I’m so glad you’re here, father,”
she said.

Darien stroked her hair. “I’ve
missed you, baby girl. They’ve treated you well here?” He set Merieke down and
gazed into her eyes, seeming to drink up her image. Everyone knew how the old
Admiral felt about his daughter, almost the copy of his dead wife.

“Tolerably.”
Merieke pouted. “But
I’d hoped to be Soren’s bride by now. Instead, these savages have made him King
of this hellhole, and he’s more concerned with that right now.”

“Now’s not the best time to press
Soren on the topic of marriage.”

“Why not?”

Darien looked off toward the
gathered buildings and locked eyes with Soren. “Greet your brother.”

Merieke did so with a long,
lingering kiss.

Soren and
Sillara,
still hand in hand and surrounded by Desertmasters, came upon the visitors.
“It’s good to see you, Admiral,” Soren said.

Darien stepped forward, and all the
Tamari—as Sillara had renamed them in honor of her people—fell back in
astonishment. Soren chuckled, for surely they had never seen any man stand as
tall as Darien Kesandrahn.

“What’s this?” Darien asked. “You
wear a crown?”

Soren touched the crown. “I have no
subjects elsewhere, so I’ve taken these proud people as my own.” He directed
his speech to Konas.
“But what of my father and mother?
I thought you were going to get them, to tell them what was going on.”

Konas’s face was grave, his lips
drawn into a thin line. “We need to talk.”

Soren looked at Sillara, and he
read in her eyes what he already knew. With that look on Konas’s
face,
and the fact that they were not there, something
terrible had happened.

“Come,” Sillara said. “The King’s
house
awaits
. Come, take your ease and rest from your
journey.”

Soren gripped his sister’s hand.
Even with such a weight upon her spirit, she was a gracious Queen. Tears stood
in her eyes, but she did not cry either before her subjects in public. The walk
home was long, but they waited to hear what their hearts burned to know until
they were behind closed doors.

“Tell us,” Soren said, when at last
the doors were closed. “Where are our parents?”

Konas took a deep breath. “Your
father is dead.”

The memories of Soren’s entire
childhood rushed through his mind in a moment, and the world seemed new and
strange to him, for there had never been a time that his parents had not been
in the world.
Dead.
How?

“How?”
The floor swam before
Soren’s eyes, and he sat down on the same bench in the garden where he had been
talking with Sillara just minutes before. Sillara sat beside him and took her
hands in his lap.

“Poisoned.”
Konas stood with his
hands clasped before him.

Sillara wept on Soren’s shoulder,
and when he felt her hot tears on his skin, he turned to her and crushed her
against his chest. He cast his crown away from him and cried into her hair.

“And what of our
mother?”
Sillara asked.

“When she saw that Kamen was past
help, she asked me to be their mountain.”

Ajalira had met death on her own
terms, with her eyes open and her mind clear.

Sillara held Soren like she would
never let go, and Soren’s heart broke to think that his mother’s beauty had
gone to the grave, that his father’s vigor was extinguished, but it also
swelled with pride that Ajalira had died as a proud Tamari.

Nothing more was said. Konas
shifted his weight from one foot to the other, seeming to be waiting for
something. When that something did not come, he turned away. Merieke went with
him, and though Soren could not hear them over his own and Sillara’s wailing,
they spoke animatedly about something. Darien led Nathen away, too, and the
twins fell into each other’s sorrow, finding their comfort only in each other.

Konas, Sillara’s husband, and
Merieke, Soren’s concubine, had no place in their private grief, nor did Soren
make any excuses to himself. He was
willing to take as
much honorable comfort from Sillara as he
could
and
give her as much as he
could
.

The twins wept until evening, and
it was not until Konas reappeared that they composed themselves enough to hear
the details of their parents’ deaths.

“Speak, therefore,” Soren said.
“Tell us how this happened.”

Though Konas eyed the space next to
Sillara on the bench, he did not sit there. Instead he sat on the stone bench
across from them. “Nathen did it.”

Soren jumped up. “What?” Anger
suffused him, but it had no direction.
Nathen?

Konas held his hands out before him
in a gesture of patience. “I know he’s your friend, but he’s a sneaky bastard,
a schemer and an eavesdropper, just like his mother. He must’ve found out about
Tivanel’s intentions and planned to hasten the inevitable: your father’s death.”

Nathen knew about the Ausir King’s
obsession with Ajalira. He had talked about it with Soren before. “He wouldn’t
do that.” Soren did not want to believe it.