When The Petal Fell

14-1

14

She entered the bedchamber as silent as possible, but Rifnarus being Rifnarus, he knew she was there. Even now, at the end of his long, turbulent life, he still retained some of his impressive faculties. If only his body reflected his mind. His head turned, achingly slow, to catch her with his gaze. His breathing, short and rasping, the only sound in the room. The windows blacked out by the heaviest of velvet curtains, the only light coming from a single candle on a table beside the bed.

Rifnarus held out his hand, no longer the strong man he once was, the fingers thin and claw-like, shaking and bent. Klaron walked to the bed, lowering herself to her knees and grasped that hand with both of her own. Rifnarus smiled and allowed his head to fall back to the pillow, even that little effort exhausting him and he coughed several times. She lifted his head and dripped water into his mouth from the cup on the table.

"Thank you, my dearest Klaron." He tried to squeeze her hand, but it felt like a feather trying to clutch a mote of light. "Tell me, what news of my city? Keeping the nobles on their toes, I trust?"

"Yes, My Lord. There have been stirrings, but once certain ... secrets were mentioned all became calm." She smoothed down his bed coverings, even though he had not moved enough to ruffle them. "Repair work on the Underside is going well, after the attack."

"Good. Good." Rifnarus' eyes searched the air above his head, once bright and intelligent, now dull, almost blind. "You must remember to appease the Underside people. Without them, the city is only half a city. They are its backbone. Its foundation."

Klaron hid the tearing of her heart. He had said the exact same thing the day before and the day before that. The great man diminished before her eyes every day.

"I will see it done, My Lord." It had, of course, already happened. Days before. He turned his head again and fixed her with a dim stare.

"There is something we must discuss. Something of vital importance." He reached for her hand and she caught the questing fingers. "The matter of my succession. I am afraid it cannot be you."

Klaron's heart sank. She had stood at Rifnarus' side for many years, now. She alone had helped him during the plague years, during the internal conflicts, during the wars and now he denied her the right of succession? She felt bereft. She felt enraged. How dare he? This wasted stick of a man. This shadow of greatness. The succession should be hers!

"My Lord? Have I not served you well?" The training the Lord Protector had afforded her enabled her to hide the anger. "Have I offended you?"

"No, no, my dearest child. Never!" He coughed again, his once strong chest rattling with each breath. "It simply cannot be."

"Why? I have been loyal my entire life. The succession should be mine!" She felt her fingers curl into the heavy bed coverings, gripping so tight. "I deserve it!"

"Deserve? What a preposterous notion." He smiled at her. Mocked her. "Deserve has nothing to do with it. You are a Kannai, my dear. No-one would accept a Kannai as Lord Protector. It would be absurd."

"But ... but you always treated me as you would anyone else. I thought you loved me as a daughter?" She felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes. Through sadness or fury, she could no longer tell. Every emotion raged within her now.

"Love you? Yes, I suppose I did, after a fashion." A croaking sound erupted from Rifnarus' throat and Klaron realised it was laughter. At her. "As much as one can love a pet. But as a daughter? Ha! You are my dog, nothing more. Used to fetch and attack upon command. No dog could ever be Lord Protector."