25
HIS TOWN HOUSE was on the shore. It stood up on stilts like the houses here at the water’s edge, in order to let the water come in during storms, he said.
The house faced the ocean. Steps went down to the smooth rocks on the shore which gave way to sand, and then the waves that lapped up against the sand and the rocks.
It was beautiful, the water stretching off into the horizon, nothing in sight but water, though there were lands across this water, lands that could be reached after not too long on a ship, lands where goblins lived.
The house was locked up tight, but it had another of those dials on the front door, and Iahir worked it to allow them entry. Inside, everything was dark and gloomy.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said to her. “There should be servants here, servants who live here all the time, year round.”
“I don’t need to be seen to by servants,” she said, but she supposed she did, unless she was going to go into the kitchens herself and try to cook things. She could cook, but she wasn’t exactly skilled at it.
“Well, of course you don’t need it, but we’d be much more comfortable that way,” he said.
“I’ll find out what’s happened.” He took her up to a room that adjoined his room, and there were still clothes in the wardrobe that had obviously belonged to some elvish courtesan.
After he left, she spent too much time going through them and imagining this woman, how tall and thin and graceful she must have been, how small and delicate, how much the opposite of Gathren.
Because he did leave, and he said it was to bring back servants, but he was gone for a long time.
She found a small library—really just some shelves that lined the corner of the upstairs sitting room—and sorted through them until she found a book that seemed interesting—a great deal of them were about dragons, she noted, and she had to find one that wasn’t, a story about some repentant crime lord, purportedly a true story though she had her doubts, having never heard of this man.
She took it out to the shore, bringing along a chair. She read and let the water wash over her toes. It was quite private here, on the beach of the envivtain-to-be. No one saw her. She was aware, of course, that an orc lounging on the shore might not be a welcome sight here, not these days.
There were other town houses close by, but there were large blue walls built to section off one part of the shore from another. Iahir’s portion was vast.
She read until it grew dark, and then she went inside.
Iahir still had not returned. She lit a candle and went searching until she indeed found the kitchen, and she was quite hungry.
There was not much there. Bags of flour, bags of rice, bags of potatoes.
There was some salted meat, though, and she decided to boil some rice and eat it with the salted meat.
She made enough for Iahir, but hours passed, and he did not appear.
He was back quite late, hours after she had eaten his portion—out of boredom or hunger, she could not say.
She was not angry with him, not exactly.
She was the one who’d wanted to come here, after all, and he had tried to discourage her from it.
But she did feel rather abandoned, rather an inconvenient footnote to his life here, and she had not realized how much she had grown used to him making her the center of his attention.
Why, he had followed her secretly. He had volunteered to be killed by a dragon for her.
He had endured all of her criticisms of the way he licked her cunt and kept making new attempts to please her.
She could not be blamed for expecting a higher level of attention from him, she supposed.
However, she could not rightly blame him for not paying her that level of attention, not really.
He had brought her food. “You must be furious with me.”
“No,” she said. She was not.
“You must be ravenous,” he said, unwrapping the plate of food, which was green beans and roast poultry and herbed potatoes. “It’s cold.”
“I did eat rice and salted pork,” she said. She was rather full, but the food he’d brought smelled divine, and she sat down to eat a few mouthfuls.
“Well, I’ve found out a number of things,” said Iahir. “Renegahan has been entirely seized by the orcs. They are in the castle. They are in the halls of Parliament. They have blocked the gates, and no one is allowed in or out, and they are stringing up elves over the walls of the city daily.”
She set down her fork, no longer interested in eating. “So, it is their intention to kill everyone?”
“I don’t know what their intention is,” said Iahir. “Perhaps you know, Gathren. You were there. You were part of the planning, at least that is how you represented yourself to us. But if you were not really known to the High Chieftain as his daughter—”
“He did not send me away when I came to the council room,” she said. “He knew me enough to allow me access.”
“So, you do know.”
“Well, no, it was all very vague, what we hoped to achieve when we got to the capital,” she said. “My father did not have concrete plans, so this was why he summoned Dathor.”
“The orc you sent back to the north,” said Iahir.
“Dathor came and counseled caution,” said Gathren.
“He kept trying to organize some kind of alliance between your people and mine, against Findas. He said that if the orcs tore down the entire government, it would have unintentioned consequences on the entire country. He spoke of trains and government and treaties and all manner of things that the army did not care about.”
“Things that are now coming to pass,” said Iahir.
She eyed him. “You blame me. For sending him off?”
“No, no, it’s only that perhaps we should bring him back, send him to the orcs and see if he can’t end this madness.”
“Oh, no, he was a deserter, same as me,” she said. “They were angry with him when he left. He would not be welcomed back.”
Iahir sighed. He paced, running a hand through his hair. “We have destroyed everything, you and I. We have torn everything down.”
“Who told you this?” she said. “Did you see your father?”
“No, I told you, it will be days before he is even aware I am here,” said Iahir. “I have it from servants, mostly. They are particularly chatty, and they are particularly angry and frightened of orcs, and they all saw you.”
“So, it is just as it was in the inn,” she said. “Servants are often more disdainful of orcs than the upper classes. They have very little to look down upon. We are beneath them, in their minds, and their hatred for us is quite fierce because of that.”
Iahir grimaced. “Well, that’s horrid. It seems they should be more understanding.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes, perhaps, yes. Sometimes. If we have a common enemy, like the nobility, perhaps.”
He looked down at the plate. “I can put that in the ice box.”
“There is no ice in the icebox, my lord,” she said.
He sighed heavily. “I would have brought back servants, warrioress, but I’m afraid there are none I would trust to serve you.”
“Perhaps I can go out and purchase ice,” she said. “Not now, but early tomorrow. Is there somewhere that I—”
“No.” He shook his head. “Do not leave this house, and do not go anywhere without me. They will kill you, I think.”
She bowed her head. “I am causing issues for you. I think I must leave.”
“As you say, you have nowhere to go,” he said.
“Well, I cannot live here, like this, hidden away, frightened for my life,” she said.
He sighed again. “I will have ice delivered here. I can ask someone to make sure that happens, and anything else we need. I will make sure that food is brought, too, from the main keep. I can have someone bring it.”
She nodded. “Whatever you think.”
He looked down at the floor, fingers tangled in his hair, his face drawn. “I don’t know what I thought was going to happen when we killed him. I suppose I didn’t think about that part at all.”
“Why did you do it?” she said. “Why did you kill the High King?”
“Other people seemed to think it was a very good idea,” he muttered to the floor.
“That’s not the reason,” she said.
“It’s simply that it’s the sort of thing that I do,” he said.
“Is it?” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “You must have noticed. You must have seen that I am the sort of person who does imprudent and outrageous things.”
She nodded. “And everyone says it’s because you are trying to get the attention of your father.”
“Because everyone knows that my father doesn’t pay attention to anything at all,” said Iahir. “Everyone knows that my father has been obsessed with curing my mother, to the detriment of everything else, for some time.”
“Really?” she said. “So, who rules Cirlahir?”
“Oh, he fulfills his responsibilities,” said Iahir.
“He hires people, mostly, to do things that need done. If he is convinced he must turn his attention to something else besides his laboratory, he is often angry, and he often does something retaliatory. People are frightened of him. He has resources and power, and he does not like to be bothered.”
She nodded. She sort of understood. “You’re the heir.”
“Everyone calls me the heir,” he said. “But my brother is the heir.”
“Your brother is older than you,” she said.
He nodded.
“But you just said that your mother lost all attachment to reality after your brother’s breach birth—”
“Yes.”
“So, that means your father…” But she didn’t finish the sentence.
“Oh, I believe that’s still happening,” said Iahir. “Not that I like to think about it, but yes, I think… I quite think…” He shook himself.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“No, no, you don’t have to do that,” he said.
She drew in a breath, going back to what she was saying earlier.
“So, your father does not prepare you to be the heir or allow you to assume any responsibilities here because he is convinced that he is going to cure your brother, and he will take over as the envivtain. Instead, he ships you off to be on the kingsguard, as if you are a second son, which, technically, you are.”
“Quite,” said Iahir. “But everyone knows how it really is. People are frightened of my father, but they think he is mad.”
“And by extension, they think you are mad, as well,” she said.
He nodded. “You did not see this before?”
“I don’t think I understood,” she said.
A long pause.
He bowed his head, shutting his eyes.
“You don’t speak of this because you’re ashamed,” she said softly.
He smirked. “I don’t speak of this because I don’t know how.” He lifted his head and let the hand that had been tangled into his hair drop. “Let us cease to speak of it. Let us go to bed.”
She eyed him. “So, why do you do these imprudent and outrageous things, Iahir, if not for the attention of your father? Because it is obviously impossible to get his attention, is it not?”
“It is,” he said. “Why do I do them?” He lifted his shoulders.
“I think it is for attention, just not his. I used to get attention from, erm, nannies and tutors and other people who would scold me and… and pity me? That sounds rather pathetic. I am a pathetic creature, however. Pity is not what I truly wish people to feel for me, but I suppose it’s better than nothing. ”
She eyed him. “But that doesn’t really explain why you killed the High King. Because that act would not make people pity you.”
“No, I know,” he said. “I don’t know… I did not set out to make people pity me, Gathren.
It was not conscious. I suppose, however, I must have been in the habit of being outrageous because it made people look at me and then eventually they would feel sorry for me, and I…
So, I just got in the habit of doing it, always doing it, and this was the most outrageous thing I could possibly do. ”
That actually made sense. She understood. And she knew, too, that it wasn’t pity he wanted. It was, well, love. But she didn’t think anyone had ever really loved Iahir nae Cirlahir, and she wondered what that might have done to him. She went to him, putting her hand against his cheek.
He caught her wrist and looked into her eyes. “Why did you do it, Gathren?”
“I wanted…” She gave him a crooked smile. “Glory, as you said, my lord. I think I wanted glory.”
“We are both idiots,” he said.
She laughed softly.
He kissed her. “Me more than you, obviously.”
“No,” she said. “No, equally, I think.”
“I want to take your hair down, warrioress. I want to unbind your breasts. I want to tease you senseless and then bury myself inside you. It’s why you’re here with me, is it not?”
She supposed it was.