In the House of Five Dragons
12. Clutch
“What awaits us in the ultimate beyond? We have devoted lifetimes to pondering the meaning of the question. The Alterra have told us more, but deciphering their answers only poses more questions.”
— From Beyond the Veil, by Aelus Kar
It’s not going very well, is it? Stumble asked forlornly. Why hasn’t he told the Terran knights yet?
He doesn’t remember. Alterra isn’t his world. His time here and the journey back through the veil have cost him much, answered Flickerdim. He is lost and needs more time, Stumble.
Can we help him?
Not with this.
Stumble hopped across the branch. His soft owl feathers stirred and blurred, shifting through myriad colors and textures. Fluffy white clouds twisted as they circled the empty gaps in the sky like soapsuds circling a drain. The Uprising shivered.
General Hern waited at a respectful distance while Rikard embraced his family. Lady Mazrem kissed her husband’s cheek. Her lips were cool and hardened by dark paint.
“We’ve missed you so much, Father. Gods, we all thought you were dead!” Gaius announced.
“All of Carce has honored you in your absence, my lord,” said Laurael.
Did she think he cared about that? Honors, homage… All that mattered was finally being home. Rikard couldn’t answer. All he could do was sob into their shoulders and hold them close. They were so solid, so very and beautifully real. Not dreams that led him this way or that, not torn memories like war-hooks through him, pulled tight and then ripped away to leave him bleeding tears. Real.
Hern reluctantly cleared his throat until he caught Laurael’s attention.
“I don’t think the Lyceum will need very much, Lady Mazrem,” he said, “But it would avoid complications if you’ll confirm Captain Mazrem’s identity yourself. Emperor Tychon’s called a session tonight. Will you present your testimony?”
“I’ve not seen my husband in thirty years, General Hern,” said Laurael firmly. “I will be with him tonight.”
“Understood, Lady Mazrem,” replied Hern diffidently, inclining his head. “But the emperor will be awaiting your word on Captain Mazrem’s return. This is an important time.”
Laurael glanced past the Moon Court escort and down to the distant crowd gathered outside her gate. Their cheers and applause were only a soft rumble from this distance, like the purring of some vast but contented cat.
“My son will speak for me tonight,” she said.
“Hae, Mother,” Gaius agreed. “I’ll be there. Is that all, General Hern?”
Hern raised his eyes at the impatience in Gaius’ voice, but made no comment.
“A minor detail,” he said with a small, polite nod. “Lord-Captain Mazrem is still wounded. They appear to be the same injuries he sustained at Njorn Pass. They’ve been cleaned and dressed, but we would like to send a foster from the temple of Surma tomorrow to continue his care.”
“Thank you, General Hern,” Lady Mazrem answered smoothly, with none of her son’s irritation. “The Moon Court has always shown the utmost reverence and respect to our family.”
“We’re all in your husband’s debt. Captain Mazrem, I need to meet with the other generals before the Lyceum session tonight. I’ll come to see you again soon.”
Rikard had listened to the whole conversation in occasionally sob-punctuated silence, afloat in a warm, sweet sense of return that made everything else feel so unimportant, so very far away. It was like listening to Jingleblack tumble-ramble on about the Ravel Scree, a place Rikard had never seen and never would. It was gone, all Shattered.
But now Hern was actually speaking to Rikard, not just about him. Captain — no, General — Hern was a good friend who deserved his attention. Rikard did not remove his arms from around Laurael and Gaius, but craned his neck so he could look at the man.
“Soon as the blooming moon,” Rikard told him.
“Ah… Emperor Tychon will want to see you, too,” Hern said with a slightly faltering smile. “I’d expect summons to the imperial palace before long.”
Summoned by the emperor? Castum Tychon, who sent Rikard and his men to die in the mountains of Fiore? He took me from my home the first time, sent me away into ice and stone. Tychon will never take me again! Never!
Rikard flung his wife and son protectively behind him, ignoring their shocked cries of protest, and lunged at General Hern. He threw all of his weight into the much older VEIL knight, bowling them both over to the ground. Hern landed hard against the stones.
“What are you doing?” Laurael cried. She reached for Rikard, but Gaius pulled her back.
“He won’t take me away again!” Rikard screamed. He grabbed the general by the front of his blue saela heaved him up until the two men were face to face. “I’m home! I’m not leaving! Never, never leaving!”
A pair of Moon Court knights seized Rikard by the elbows and hauled him back. They wanted to take him! Rikard struggled, howling in fury and terror. They were trying to take him away from his home, his family again!
He twisted and bit into one of the men holding him, forcing his teeth through cloth until he tasted blood. The knight grunted in pain and let go, clapping a hand over the wound. Two others leapt in to replace him. One wrapped both of his arms around Rikard’s and the other hooked his elbow around the screaming hero’s throat, pulling him backward, off balance. Together, all four toppled to the ground in a writhing heap.
Laurael freed herself from Gaius’ restraining grasp. “Rikard, stop this at once!”
“They’ll take me!” he screamed.
“No, they won’t. These knights are leaving you with us,” she said firmly. “Aren’t you?”
Hern picked himself up and dusted off the seat of his pants. “Hae, my lady. Let him go,” he instructed.
Reluctantly, the knights released Rikard and stepped hurriedly back. He rose to his knees, shaking his head back and forth like a beaten dog. Laurael said they were not trying to take him. But that’s what Hern had said, wasn’t it? That he would be summoned?
Summoned. The Alterra summoned me, called my name across the veil and I had no choice but to go. Through glass winds and across black fields of stars, they took me away and led me until I bled out every wish in unending battle. Summons left only sand. Dry and blowing on mute winds.
Rikard sat back on his heels and looked up at Hern. The other man rubbed his head and grimaced. He did not look like he meant to rip Rikard away from his family. Rikard reached past Hern’s deep, pained frown, but found no such intent, only a firm desire to avoid further quarrels.
You just want to get away from me. You think I’m… different. No, that’s not your word. Wild. Crazy. Dangerous. But you don’t want to be the one to say anything. All you want is quiet.
General Hern lightly kissed Lady Mazrem’s hand and saluted Gaius before turning back to Rikard. He bowed deeply, as though to a prince.
“Take care, Rik. I’ll find you later.”
He was lying. Rikard could taste it, like bitter slip. Hern had no intention of returning unless he had to. As far as he was concerned, Rikard Mazrem was still dead. This wild animal that came back wearing his old friend’s skin was something best caged and locked away.
Rikard felt sick. His guts hurt again, as they had before, during the long trek into Dormaen, but this aching throb seemed to push out instead of in. He vomited onto Hern’s boots, something frothy and white. Rikard stared in wonder. What was it? Had someone put that stuff inside him? How?
Hern sighed. “Goodbye, Captain Mazrem.”
He pulled himself back up into his chariot and motioned to the knights, who fell into step behind him. Together, they marched back the way they had come, down the grassy hill and then out into the Everstones.
When the Moon Court knights were gone, Gaius let out the breath he had been holding.
“Hae, that went well,” he said.
“Enough,” Laurael said. She brushed back her mahogany hair and went to Rikard, kneeling beside him. “You must tell us the details of your return, my lord. What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled. The sick, sticky mess drying on the ground still fascinated him. It used to be something else, he knew that much.
Laurael pursed her dark lips and then snapped her fingers at a servant boy.
“Get Lord Mazrem something to eat,” she said. “He must be famished. And clean this up.”
Eat. Hae, that was it! The stuff on the ground had been in his stomach first. Milk, maybe. Rikard dimly recalled bladders of goats’ milk for knights and soldiers knocked unconscious in battle. Someone had fed Rikard while he slept, cared for his body while he was not in it. The thought was oddly touching.
“Is it really him, Mother?” asked Gaius.
“Yes, it’s him.”
Rikard stood. His wife rose gracefully beside him and offered her arm to steady him, but Rikard took her hand and led her toward the house, toward their son.
“We should…” He struggled with the words, so long unused. “We should sit. And trade talkings.”
“We have a great deal to discuss,” Laurael agreed.
Gaius gestured for Rikard to follow. He took them through the colonnade striped in shadows and into a large atrium. Sunlight streamed through the open roof and sparkled on a burbling fountain. The atrium was full of lush, leafy green things from Jumaar and Zurest, many in bloom and filling the air with a lively, floral perfume. It was all beautiful, lovely and rich. Just as Laurael always wanted but he had never been able to provide on a VEIL captain’s wage.
Servants brought out chairs and a low table. The boy Laurael had sent off before returned with a plate of fruit, bread and cheese. He set it on the table near Rikard, bowed deeply and retreated. A nervous woman poured and served him pale wine from a crystal decanter. Rikard snatched the glass away before she could drop it. She flinched and then hurried away as quickly as decorum allowed. Laurael watched the interaction without comment.
“We have been lost in your absence, my lord,” she said.
“Lost? You left Dormaen? Where were you lost?” Rikard asked. He almost dropped the glass.
“Only in spirit,” Laurael corrected herself. She took a long sip of wine. “Please, eat. Perhaps a meal will ease you.”
Rikard was not quite sure what his wife was talking about, but the food did look good. His recently emptied stomach ached. How to get the food into it? Well, Laurael and Gaius were putting wine in their mouths.
He tried the same thing with a wedge of apple, but it was too big to swallow. It took Rikard long moments to recall that his teeth were more than weapons. Chewing proved easy enough to master. At first, he gagged and threatened to be sick again, but Rikard spat and ate only a little at a time.
It was delicious, sweet and substantial and real. When the apple was gone, he licked and sucked his fingers. But still his stomach grumbled, so Rikard took a slice of cheese and repeated the process.
“Will someone please clean him up?” Gaius asked. He slumped into his chair and half-covered his face with his hands. “That’s truly disgusting. Where have you been? Stuck in the Fiore mountains? You’re certainly acting like one of those little savages.”
“Be kind, Gaius. Your father has suffered much,” Laurael said.
An old man with spotted knuckles brought a basin of water and a folded square of soft cloth. He gently took Rikard’s hand, but the VEIL captain pulled away and snarled until the servant slunk off once more.
“What exactly have you suffered, Father?” asked Gaius. “So far, we’ve only been able to guess.”
“I asked the Alterra for help,” Rikard answered slowly.
They knew that part already, it was obvious. Bits and pieces of it floated at the front of their thoughts like foam pushed before a breaking wave. But he wanted them to understand better than that, these ones he loved most.
“They agreed to help,” Rikard told them. “Slitherstream promised to… to remove the Fiori.”
“They all vanished without a mark and have never returned,” Laurael said. “Yours was the greatest victory in history.”
“We know that part. What happened after that?” Gaius was impatient, but he had uncovered his face and sat forward now, frankly curious.
“The Alterra took my life,” Rikard answered shortly. It hurt to say. The words stuck in his throat and made it difficult to swallow or even to breathe. “My Terran lifetime. They took me away to pay my debt.”
“That was their price? You? Where did they take you?”
“Alterra.”
“They took you into Alterra? Through the veil?” Gaius asked incredulously.
Laurael nodded like she had expected just such an answer from her husband.
“A world of thought and dreams, not one of body and substance like Terra,” she said. “Is that why you’ve remained of such a handsome age, my lord, and why you are still suffering from the wounds of Njorn Pass?”
“I… don’t know,” Rikard admitted.
It made some sense, but none of the Alterrans ever mentioned such an effect. But then, he was the first Terran ever to enter their world. Perhaps they didn’t know, either.
Or they did, and told me, but I don’t remember. There are holes in my thoughts.
“So they took you away to Alterra. Hae, then. For what?” asked Gaius.
“To fight.”
“To fight? To fight whom?”
Rikard finished off a fifth apple, piled with cheese, and followed it up with a handful of bread. It was thick and dark and filled his stomach comfortably.
“Each other,” he said between bites. “The Alterrans are fighting one another.”
“An Alterran civil war,” Gaius repeated, shaking his head in dumbfounded wonderment. “Imagine that! What are they fighting over?”
“Us.”
“What?”
Rikard stopped to collect his thoughts. This was all so terribly complicated… and tiring. He hadn’t used his voice so much in thirty years and it was growing rough around the edges. Laurael sensed his discomfort and made a slicing motion with one slim hand.
“That’s enough, Gaius. Your father’s been away for such a long time and he’s weary.”
“He’s already slept for half the day!” said Gaius. “Surely he can answer a couple of questions.”
Rikard sat back in his chair. It was made of woven reeds and deeply padded. His shifting weight made it creak and puff a few tiny motes of golden dust into the close, secretive air of the atrium. He wanted to answer his son’s questions, but Laurael was right. He was tired.
I need sleep. The dark-full dreaming.
But he was afraid to sleep. What if everything was gone when he woke? The very thought made Rikard’s vision swim with tears. After everything he had endured — surviving the war with the Fiore and then the Alterran schism, the long journey home — the gods could not be so cruel to take it all away again, could they?
“If I go dark… sleep, will you still be here?” Rikard asked. His question was small and frightened.
“You’re home now, my lord,” answered Laurael. Gaius rolled his eyes and she pinched his arm. “There’s nothing to fear anymore.”
“Hae, home.”
Rikard let himself fall back into sleep. When the dreams were gone, his wife and son would find him again.
Home.
“Is he asleep?” Gaius asked, finally breaking the tense silence.
“He’s snoring,” Lady Mazrem answered dismissively. “Hae, he’s asleep. The man always did snore like a choked smokestack. You two, get him to bed.”
The indicated servants lifted Rikard, chair and all. Carefully and quietly, they carried him from the atrium. Gaius reached for the plate his father had failed to finish and sandwiched several slices of mango and blue-veined cheese between some of the bread. Lady Mazrem arched one of her dark, finely shaped eyebrows at her son.
“If you didn’t eat so much, your uniform would fit better,” she remarked.
“What’s the point of Father’s little sacrifice if we can’t enjoy the advantages?” Gaius said and then bit into his second helping of lunch. Through a mouth full of crumbs, he continued. “I’m starting to wonder if killing him might have been better than what the Alterra did take.”
Lady Mazrem gazed out across the atrium. A pair of red and gold butterflies chased each other between the flowering jasmine vines.
“And what is that?” she asked.
“You saw him, Mother! He attacked General Hern for what? Because the emperor might want to meet with the war hero who all but built his empire? Father’s gone completely mad, hasn’t he? The Alterra didn’t just take a memory or borrow a joke. They took his whole mind.”
“He is… different, hae,” Lady Mazrem agreed.
Gaius threw the crusts of his bread onto the mosaicked atrium floor and jumped to his feet.
“Doesn’t anything ever bother you, Mother?” Gaius asked.
“So you often ask. Why should this bother me, my son? I never met Rikard Mazrem before my father promised me to him. Our wedding was the first time I ever laid eyes on the man. We were only married two years when he went to war with the Fiori. I barely knew my husband when he died. Why should it bother me at all that I do not know him now?”
Gaius flinched a little at his mother’s chilly, matter-of-fact tone.
“Even if you don’t care, don’t you think the rest of Carce will? What about Emperor Tychon? Since you’ve so kindly volunteered me to represent our family to the rest of the Lyceum, I’m going to have to be the one to tell them — to tell Castum Tychon himself — that Lord-Captain Rikard Mazrem is well and truly insane.”
“You will tell them no such thing!” Lady Mazrem snapped.
She seemed to be truly paying attention for the first time in the entire conversation. Gaius scowled.
“I don’t particularly want to, Mother,” he said. “I’m not stupid. I know how it’s going to make us look. Everything we have is built on Father’s good name, but what do you think General Hern is going to tell them? You saw him when he left. He knows as well as we do what’s become of Father.”
Laurael had calmed herself, now as hard and cold as a Fiori glacier.
“Nikas Hern will say nothing,” she told Gaius. “He has benefited from your father’s sacrifice, too. He could never have led VEIL to victory in Fiore and he knows it. But because of Rikard, he returned to Dormaen a victor. He will hold his tongue.”
“Because he’s honorable, you’re saying?” Gaius asked. “Because he owes Father some kind of debt?”
Laurael shook her head. “No.”
“Why, then?”
“Because unless someone else substantiates his claim — which you will not — Hern will only seem jealous. At best. At worst, the people will believe he wants to destroy a much more popular rival to his own authority.”
Gaius frowned. “What makes you so certain of that, Mother?”
“It’s the same reason he’s never challenged you.”
