Of Rugus now, but originally of Syssia. With those pearlescent eyes, Tyzen must be brother to Bazir—and also brother to King Aezil, who had gained the Rugusian throne following King Latan’s death by poison. That king’s murderer had not been discovered, but everyone who spoke of it suspected that Aezil had been responsible.
So now two of Zhalen’s sons sat upon the council, and another son ruled Rugus—and their reins were held by the regent king of a rotten house.
This could not lead to the stronger alliance that Maddek’s parents had been fighting for.
With calm elegance, the youth inclined his head toward Maddek. “Commander.”
Maddek merely looked upon him. Though as tall as his brother, with the same dark hair and bronze skin, Tyzen did not appear to have even reached his bearded age. Perhaps he fully shaved his jaw, as most Parsathean warriors did. But Maddek suspected that nothing yet grew in.
Eyes ghostly pale, the boy regarded him with undisguised curiosity, as if oblivious to the insult of Maddek’s silence.
His brother was not oblivious. Bazir’s disdain darkened to anger, a flush rising over his cheeks.
Smoothly Pella spoke before Bazir could. “We mourn your queen and king with you, Commander Maddek. And we are sorry a messenger could not have been more fleet.”
Maddek bowed his head. “Silver-fingered Rani has flown them back into Temra’s arms, so not even the swiftest horse could have changed their course, Lady Pella. It is as it is.”
And there was a distance to be crossed. The news had to travel from Parsathe to Ephorn, then from the council to the banks of the Lave. A full season would pass between his parents’ deaths and Maddek’s return home. That could not be helped.
Yet now he could finally learn what had befallen them. He looked to Nayil, but before Maddek could speak, Kintus’s sharp voice pulled his attention to her.
“We knew that you would return home upon receiving word, Commander, but we did not expect to see an entire army behind you. Have you withdrawn every Parsathean warrior from the Lave encampment?”
Maddek met the Gogean minister’s gaze squarely. She would demand this answer of him now? Before he could speak another word of his queen and king?
But a season had passed since their deaths, and Kintus already knew what had happened to his parents. Those questions would not burn in her mind as brightly as they still did in Maddek’s—and when Kintus looked at him, she likely saw him only as the alliance’s commander, not a son.
So he swallowed his questions for the moment. “I have.”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
Irritation tightened Nayil’s weathered face as he looked to the woman beside him, but it was Pella who said, “Lord Nayil has already explained that every Parsathean must be present when their tribes gather to choose their new Ran, so that they may raise their voices in support or opposition.”
That did not satisfy Kintus of Goge. “Could not the warriors have sent word of their choice, instead? Could not the numbers have been taken at the encampment and counted among the voices?”
Maddek stared at her, disbelief and disgust rising sour to his tongue. “You would have me toss each warrior’s voice into a sack like a kernel of corn and carry it north, so that it arrives indistinguishable from the voices I carried with it?” Perhaps that was what civilization meant—in the southern realms, their kings and queens were chosen for them. Individual voices mattered little. But if civilization demanded silence, Maddek would never see the same happen to Parsathe. “They all come.”
Though his tone must have told her the matter was closed, still her mouth opened again.
Gareth of Toleh stepped in. “The boundary was not left undefended, Kintus. When we sent the message to Commander Maddek, my king also sent one hundred soldiers. Even with the Parsatheans absent, there are still a large number of alliance soldiers at the encampment, including a squadron of your own Gogean warriors. Their number can hold the river.”
Kintus’s bitter gaze swung back to Maddek. “And if the savages come in such great force that they overwhelm that number? What do we do then?”
Anger fired his tongue. “Then you will do as you have done for ages, and cower behind your walls,” he told her. Her eyes snapped wide and she looked to Nayil in outrage, but Maddek had not finished his answer. “You ask what to do? The savages will never stop coming, and they will never gather in such numbers that we can destroy them all. They will always be a threat, yet Goge does not have enough soldiers to fight them, even though you have had a full generation under the alliance’s protection to grow and harvest new warriors. Instead you made them into farmers and relied upon another wall—a wall constructed of Parsathean flesh and mortared by Parsathean blood. You did nothing to strengthen your own flesh and blood. I suggest you begin.”
“We did nothing?” Her thin lips pinched, two dull spots of color burnishing her cheeks. “You look well fed, Commander. Your giant horses appear fat. And the grain you gorge yourselves on is our flesh and blood, you reeking, brutish—”
“Kintus.” A sharp word from Pella stopped the tirade. Her steely gaze met Maddek’s. “In your opinion, Commander, are the defensive forces on the river sufficient to counter the savages’ attacks?”
“They are.”
If they hadn’t been, Maddek would have requested more forces before leaving.
Pella accepted his answer with a simple nod. “The agreement between our people states that each member of the alliance must be allowed the opportunity to settle their affairs and to establish new rule when internal disruptions of this nature occur. Following King Latan’s death last summer, the Rugusian commander left the Lave encampment early, as did most of the Rugusian soldiers. That ruling house is now settled. So Rugus can send additional reinforcements to the Lave until the Parsatheans have settled their affairs and their warriors return.”
A self-satisfied smirk curled Bazir’s mouth, his moonstone gaze smug as he regarded Maddek. “Rugus is under another obligation—providing guard to the Syssian court,” he said before looking to Pella. “The council approved the contract. Do you not recall? It was only done this past winter.”
“I recall the contract.” She frowned at Bazir before looking beyond him to his brother. “Can Rugus not spare a company of soldiers, Tyzen?”
Solemnly the boy shook his head. By all appearances he was at ease, yet his hands were curled into fists, his knuckles white. “Syssia’s regent has recently demanded that my king’s every available soldier be sent to his city.”
Bazir’s pale gaze flicked to Maddek again. “We believe the extra guard will be necessary.”
The heavy silence that fell across the ministers then felt like a burden of things undone. It weighed hard and sudden upon Maddek’s heart, and for a long breath, that great muscle seemed not to pound.