43: THE CARRIAGE RIDE

Kihrin paused. “Um, did Grizzst say what he did to restore Rev’arric?” He shook his head. “I mean, Relos Var.”

Thurvishar sighed in irritation. “No. He did not. Which lends itself to your theory that Relos Var was the author, not Grizzst.”

Kihrin exhaled slowly. “Yeah … although Grizzst is enough of an asshole that he could have left that out intentionally.”

“True,” Thurvishar agreed. “Nonetheless … I believe it’s your turn.”

(Kihrin’s story)

I was ready to turn invisible and jump from the carriage window when my father stepped inside the carriage and sat down across from me, next to Valathea.

I gaped. I wasn’t imagining it. That was my father. He looked younger than I remember and he was dressed like a vané prison guard, but it was still High Lord Therin D’Mon.

“Dad?”

No sooner had I uttered that than Doc—or rather Terindel—followed. “Ah, you found Kihrin,” he said to Valathea. “Good.” He kissed her hand and put his arm around her as he made himself comfortable inside the increasingly cramped carriage compartment.

Teraeth entered next and sat down beside me. “You’re never going to believe who we ran into.” The smile he gave me suggested this was not okay and he was trying as hard as possible not to scream, commit murder, or both.

Thurvishar came next, eyes widening as he took in how large the carriage wasn’t. “Ah, this is a bit—”

“Find yourself a seat,” Valathea suggested. “We’re all friends here.”

Thurvishar cleared his throat and sat on my other side. He wasn’t exactly what anyone would call a small man, and frankly, neither Teraeth nor myself were petite. This carriage looked like it comfortably fit six slim vané. Except where was …

Janel entered last. She could hardly fail to notice all six seats were filled.

“I’ll see if I can help the driver.” My father started rising.

“No need,” Janel said. She closed the carriage door behind her and sat down between Teraeth and myself. Of course, there was no “between” Teraeth and myself, so she ended up sharing our laps—one thigh on Teraeth’s leg, one thigh on mine. I shifted a little sideways to accommodate her. Teraeth did too. We each ended up each with an arm around her for balance, hands on each other’s shoulders.

She smiled at us. “Everyone uncomfortable?”

“Oh, deeply,” I said. “So uncomfortable.”

“Good.” She seemed to be contemplating what benefits might be gained from chewing on a mouthful of glass.

Doc put a hand over his mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to stifle laughter, and my father Therin wore a perplexed expression, like we’d told an inside joke he didn’t have the context to understand.

Valathea tapped on the carriage ceiling. “We’re ready,” she said.

The carriage started moving, the rumble of the wheels jarring against the springs and jostling Janel in my lap. Which would have been fun, except see the part where my father was staring at me the whole time.

“Thanks for the rescue?” I said.

Doc nuzzled his wife’s hair. “Thank Valathea. She’s the one who told us Kelanis had arrested you.”

“We were just starting to get to know each other, love,” Valathea said. “I think I like him.” Then her violet eyes wandered over to Teraeth. “So you must be my stepson.”

Teraeth’s hand tightened on my shoulder. “What gave it away?”

“You’re too pretty to be anyone else.”

Janel started coughing.

Valathea gave Janel a guileless smile.

“Darling,” Terindel said, “would you mind not flirting with my son? He wasn’t raised among the vané. Incest probably makes him twitchy.”

Therin gave his friend a raised eyebrow. “And you’re just fine with incest?”

Doc shrugged. “It’s all relative.”

My father rolled his eyes. “Why am I friends with you again?”

“I’m amazing in bed?”

I choked. This is not happening.

“Sure, that was it.” Therin snorted. “You know this is why everyone kept challenging you to duels.”

Valathea slapped her husband’s arm. “I can’t believe you’ve been having this much fun without me.”

Teraeth’s eyes met mine, his expression disbelieving. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying Teraeth finally—finally!—being embarrassed by someone else’s flirting, but the fact I was every bit as discomforted dampened any amusement.

“Look, I’m sure this is all … so awkward,” I said, “but we should probably talk about, uh—” I leaned back so I could look at Teraeth around Janel’s hair while I frantically changed the subject. “Teraeth, Talon was here.”

“What?” Teraeth nearly dislodged Janel, who balanced a hand against the carriage wall for leverage. “The mimic? What’s she doing here?”

“Talon works for Khaeriel,” Therin said. “At least, she’s claiming to work for Khaeriel. I have some doubts as to her sincerity.”

“Who’s Talon?” Janel asked.

“An insane mimic assassin. I’ll have to tell you the full story sometime.” I studied Janel. If the previous night had upset her, I couldn’t tell.

“I’m sure Empress Tyentso has finished reading through my annotated transcripts by now,” Thurvishar offered Janel. “I’d be happy to let you read them if you’d like to quickly catch up on events. I tried to be thorough.”

“Annotated—” My mouth dropped open. “Oh Taja. That damn listening rock. You actually wrote all that down?”

“He did,” Therin volunteered. “I saw it on Tyentso’s desk.”

Thurvishar said to Janel, “It’s not dissimilar to what Qown was doing with his enchanted journals.”

Valathea cleared her throat. “Perhaps full introductions would be in order.”

“Oh, um, right. Sorry. Everyone, this is Valathea. Valathea, this is Thurvishar D’Lorus, Janel Theranon, and I’m guessing your husband already told you about Teraeth.” She clearly knew who he was. “I assume you know my father and, uh…”

Valathea smiled at me. “And my husband. Yes, one assumes I know him too.”

Janel made a faintly strangled sound.

I shifted as best I could from the position I was in. “So I don’t mean to sound like I’m not happy to see you,” I said to Therin, “but what the hell are you doing here? And where’s…” I grimaced.

“Where’s your mother?” Therin said.

“Yeah. That.”

He shook his head. “I have no idea. We parted at the Well of Spirals, after she ordered them to restore Valathea.” Therin tilted his head in the delicate vané’s direction. “Although I still don’t know why she did that.”

“Nor do I,” Valathea admitted, “but I intend to send her a great many flowers. She left shortly after she realized you had fled.”

My father nodded, his expression tense, and looked about to start brooding while he gazed out the window. As one apparently does in this family.

“Now we’re going to the house of a dear friend of mine,” Valathea said, “who’ll be able to shelter us until we can decide on our next course of action.”

“And this friend is…?” Teraeth asked. I pinched his shoulder to remind him not to be rude, but he ignored me. “Apologies, but the last time someone was coy about given names, they turned out to belong to our enemies.”

Janel pointedly ignored that.¹

Valathea didn’t seem offended. “His name is Dolgariatz. He keeps a summerhouse on the shores of Lake Eyamatsu. I’m sure he’ll let us stay a few days while we regroup.”

Teraeth pondered that. “Fine. Also, I have no idea who that is.”

“He’s a Founder,” Valathea helpfully elaborated.

“We just need to contact the Eight,” I said, “let them know Kelanis went back on his word.”

Teraeth regarded the three people sitting across from us. “You know, we could use your help. Kelanis promised he’d be willing to enact the Ritual of Night, but now that the time’s come, he’s balking.”

“Violently balking,” Janel added. “We came as representatives of the Eight Immortals, but Kelanis drugged us and left us to die out in the Korthaen Blight.”

Teraeth picked up the thread again. I honestly wondered if they’d been rehearsing this. They had their timing perfect. “I’m not thrilled about the idea of performing the Ritual of Night, but Vol Karoth has awakened. Kelanis must do the right thing. If you could put in a word with the other Founders, it might help.”

Valathea once more turned perfectly still. “Vol Karoth is awake?” She turned to the two men sitting beside her.

“Apparently so,” Therin murmured.

“Yes,” Thurvishar said, “so if we’re going to keep his cage from shattering fully, this way seems the most certain.” He paused. “Well. Maybe.”

Teraeth stared at him. “What?”

“Several passages in the prophecies suggest this attempt will fail. That this time, Vol Karoth will not be re-imprisoned.” Thurvishar shrugged.

I frowned. I hadn’t heard anything about this. “Which ones?”

Thurvishar said, “‘When the last great people pay the debt of ages, demon due, none shall see the evil day when immortal rites are carried through.’ Devoran Prophecies, book 3, quatrain 43. Or, ‘Turn thy gaze toward the first tree, great king, for the queen of roses knows your lies. The dance over, no reprieves shall be given. The crystal, once broken, will never be made whole. The black sun’s eyes open, and never again shall sleep,’ from The Sayings of Sophis.”

“No, no, no,” Teraeth said then. “Those passages are talking about what happened five hundred years ago, when the vané were supposed to give up our immortality and refused. That’s already been fulfilled.”

“I’m not convinced that’s true,” Thurvishar said. “They apply just as strongly to what’s going on right now.”

“I don’t believe that,” Teraeth protested.

“Both of you, please. Don’t put any faith in prophecies,” Janel said. “Demons aren’t in the habit of giving out useful information.”

Valathea sighed. “I agree with the young lady. The prophecies are young as such things are measured. Only around three thousand years old. I don’t even know what to say except nothing good can come of this.” She squeezed her husband’s hand. Therin stared at them both, a frown on his lips, looking like he was puzzling out some mystery.

Doc studied me. “You haven’t said a word.” He’d been quiet too. Maybe that’s why he’d noticed.

I sighed. “That’s because I think my friends are wrong.”

“What?” Janel twisted, putting herself firmly in Teraeth’s lap so she could glare at me.

Teraeth’s fingers dug into my shoulder. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“Completely serious.” I didn’t let go of Doc’s stare. “I’ve been thinking about what King Kelanis said when he explained why he wouldn’t do the ritual. He’s right. Stripping the immortality from the vané when it only buys us two hundred and fifty years, at most, does seem ridiculous. Especially since the prophecies are coming to a head now. Not in two hundred years. Not in fifty. Now. Half the people sitting in this carriage won’t be around in two hundred and fifty years. And if we go through with the ritual? None of us will be. So what are the Eight Immortals going to do? Keep reincarnating us? ‘Oops, sorry, we brought you back too early. Let’s just pull you back again in a few centuries.’” I made a face. “No, thanks.”

A stunned silence met my speech. Mostly from my side of the carriage. Valathea wore no expression at all, and Doc looked almost proud. My father seemed worried, as though I’d just announced my lifelong ambition was kraken wrestling.

“That’s … you can’t … that would…” Teraeth blinked at me with those jade-green eyes.

I smiled. I’d actually rendered the man speechless. I’d always assumed that impossible.

“The Eight don’t have anything else that can stop Vol Karoth!” he finally exclaimed in a rush.

“Is that going to change if we wait?” I said. “Kelanis isn’t wrong. We’ve had over three thousand years. If the Eight Immortals were going to come up with something, don’t you think they should have done it by now?”

“Well,” Valathea said. “Isn’t this unexpected.”

“Let them work this out,” Doc whispered to her.

I focused my attention back on Teraeth. “I’m sorry, Teraeth. I respect your mother. I do. But she’s not thinking clearly. I can hardly blame her, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to blindly follow her plan. Especially when her plan seems to be, ‘Let’s just do the same damn thing we’ve always done and hope we’ll have a different outcome this time.’”

“Kihrin, how can you even say that?” Janel wasn’t looking in my direction, but she was close enough that I still heard her. “You know what’s going to happen if Vol Karoth breaks free, don’t you? We all saw what happened in the Blight. What just a psychic projection of him can do. You won’t be able to hide. He’ll come after you. He always comes after you!” Her voice was a growl. “I didn’t free you from him just to see him reclaim you.”

Teraeth stabbed a finger in the air as though he were impaling someone’s heart. “I’m not letting that happen. No way. If we have to lose our immortality, so be it.”

I scowled. I appreciated their concern, overprotective and smothering as it was, but oh Taja, did it annoy the crap out of me just then. “There has to be another way. And yes, I’m aware he wants me. My nightmares won’t let me forget. Vol Karoth thinks he isn’t whole without me, never mind that the thought of being trapped inside that … thing … makes me want to scream forever. It doesn’t change—”

“What are you talking about?” my father asked.

We all paused.

Thurvishar cleared his throat. “The prophecy about the Hellwarrior. The one that Gadrith was trying to fulfill—”

“It’s you four,” Therin said. “Galava explained it to me. But why would Vol Karoth want you?”

Valathea’s mouth dropped open. “By the Veils. S’arric. I remember when you—” She blinked, shocked almost beyond words. “You’re S’arric? Galava reincarnated S’arric? How?”

Therin looked over at her. “Was that supposed to answer my question? Because it didn’t.”

I shook my head and started mouthing no—I really didn’t want to explain this.

“It’s, uh … S’arric was, uh…” Valathea bit her lip. “Someone I worked with a long time ago. How did—” She paused, cocked her head. “How could this even be possible? I thought S’arric was still imprisoned inside the Blight. Imprisoned … along … with Vol Karoth.”

Neither myself, Janel, nor Teraeth answered. I mean, where would one even start?

So naturally, Thurvishar took this as his cue to begin the lecture.

“Oh, it’s fascinating,” Thurvishar said. “S’arric’s souls were freed—or really excised—from Vol Karoth’s—”

“Thurvishar, you don’t need to explain this,” I said.

“Oh no,” Valathea said. “I want to know.”

Thurvishar cleared his throat. “S’arric’s souls were freed by Elana Kandor, who sent S’arric on to the Land of Peace, where he slowly healed and eventually volunteered—as we all did—to be reborn and help fight this battle against Vol Karoth. But despite the fact that he’s mortal now, there are lingering ‘echoes’ of his previous connection with Vol Karoth, which is intriguing.”

“Volunteered as you all did?” Valathea’s sharp eyes raked across us. “And who were the rest of you? Anyone I’d have heard of?”

“Nope,” Teraeth and I said at the exact same time.

Valathea turned and looked at her husband.

Doc’s mouth twisted. He gestured toward his son. “Khaemezra’s sense of humor at play. Meet Atrin Kandor, my dearest.”

“I’m not Kandor,” Teraeth snapped. “Atrin Kandor died a long time ago.”

My father’s eyes widened as someone finally mentioned a name he recognized. Meanwhile, Valathea pursed her lips and contemplated her stepson before her vision focused on Janel. “So.” She tilted her head. “You must be C’indrol.”

Janel straightened. “What?”

“Ah, too far back. My mistake. Elana Kandor, then.”

Valathea wasn’t in a good position to see the way her husband’s eyes widened, any expression momentarily locked away. He immediately began studying the carriage wall just over Thurvishar’s head.

Janel was clenching her fists so hard, I feared she might cut into her own palms. “Yes,” she said. “I was Elana.”

“I suppose there’s a kind of poetic justice to that.” Valathea looked at Thurvishar. “And you?”

Teraeth frowned at the wizard as well. “It just occurred to me I don’t know who you used to be.”

“You never asked.” Thurvishar chuckled. “Simillion.”

“Simillion?” Janel blinked. “Seriously? The first Emperor of Quur? That Simillion?”

“That’s the one. Your classic god-king tale of the farm boy who survives his family’s massacre, finds a magic sword, and kills a bunch of evil god-kings with it before founding his own kingdom. Which he rules with a noble and generous heart.” Thurvishar’s mouth twisted. “Except in my version, I was murdered by the people I’d just saved, who dragged my body through the streets and turned that kingdom into the Empire of Quur.” He looked me right in the eyes and said, “It turns out you don’t automatically get a happy ending just because you’re the hero of the story.”

I felt like all the air had been sucked from the carriage. That was the moment, the very exact moment, that I realized something, and I knew it down to my toes.

I wasn’t going to get a happy ending either.

Teraeth and Janel might finally work out their differences, be happy, grow old, have a mess of kids if they felt like it. Hell, Thurvishar would probably swing something like a happy ending, although in his case, there’d probably be fewer children and more libraries. But me? Inextricably linked by my very souls with a god/monster/thing so virulent, Vol Karoth’s mere presence killed anyone near and made reality itself shrivel and flake away? Oh, there’d be no happy ending for me. My brother Relos Var had fucked me.

If I was lucky—if I was lucky and good and a lot smarter than my enemies gave me credit for—there might be an end. The kind of end without which there would be no happy endings for anyone else ever again.

I looked Thurvishar in the eyes and knew the other man understood. He knew what I was thinking. Exactly what I had just realized.

And he wasn’t going to tell me I was wrong.

Valathea turned to Thurvishar. “Then we’ve met before as well. I knew Simillion. We fought side by side against King Nemesan.”

I laughed bitterly. “You knew all of us, didn’t you?”

“More than you realize or remember.” The former queen of the Kirpis vané leaned back against the carriage cushions and smiled. “That makes this quite the reunion, then, doesn’t it? I do believe I’m going to enjoy this.”

“At least someone will,” Teraeth muttered under his breath.

And no one spoke for a long time after that, each of us lost in our own thoughts. A whole carriage full of brooders, we were. Aunt Tishar would have scolded each and every one of us.

Eventually, the cadence of the carriage ride changed as it slowed and finally pulled to a stop.

The driver knocked on the roof.

“Oh good. After all this, I’m quite anxious to—” Valathea’s voice trailed away as Doc opened the door.

We were next to a large lake, although if someone had told me this was a sea, I’d have believed them. An enormous sheet of teal reflected the sky above, so large that small waves lapped against the shore. A beautiful house had been built out over the water. But of course, that wasn’t what made my stomach sink.

The archers did that. They surrounded us.

And they’d clearly been waiting.