Gallel's Heir

Chapter 19: Clutching Talons

Talans that clutch the heart sear rational thought and kill us as surely as those of a raptor.
— Anath shen Sorrel Albandor of Yambisey

“How do a wealthy mother and daughter not escape an island!” said Tavaris. The Ball of Shadows burned Minara’s fingers, but she had long taught herself composure. Immunity to pain. “We could have used that san’s powers, once those two were alone and vulnerable.”

“Tutang’s touching the Ball of Shadows should have made him sufficiently docile,” she said.

“And yet he wasn’t. Docile people don’t murder! Water mages are too valuable to die so stupidly. Escape, fine, so we can get her alone. But murder tends to waste valuable resources.”

“She had long defied me,” said Minara.

“It is not about you,” he said. The ball acquired an orangish tint like a burning coal. Searing pain. Minara nearly threw it at the wall. It would probably go right through the stone bricks and cause some damage elsewhere, maybe catch fire to rare books. Tavaris would not take kindly to having his heart thrown around.

Her breath came quicker instead. Despite her best efforts, her fingers trembled. “We underestimated his love for Lianna,” she said. “Can’t we just capture the little strumpet yet?”

“It may come to that. Not yet. Now that she didn’t manage to escape, we may as well use her to make Emick all that much more legitimate as Gallel’s Kel. There is too much greatness in the san girl to destroy her. It’s better she live and wallow in nothingness, never to know her potential.”

“She will wallow, without her mother to comfort her. Our plans will be better laid without that water mage we couldn’t have controlled anyway. Dylin would have been in the way. Without her, the engagement will proceed.”

“And then you can do as you wish with Lianna. I’d say you were jealous of her impending relationship with Emick.”

“Never!” said Minara. “You are my one and only love.”

***

Canúden woke easily in the dawn dusk, but lay in bed staring at the dim ceiling, totally relaxed. He had not slept long for the few hours he lay in bed, but when he did sleep, the sleep was restful. Dylin had seemed so close. He dreamed of her in shining robes of white, crushing dried zanath leaves into her palm, the ocean breeze carrying away the fine, fragrant powder eastward. She had a child with her, his daughter, and the infant laughed in glee at the sight of him. Dylin’s eyes had been filled with black fire and he still felt the intensity of her gaze. He saw it again whenever he closed his eyes. Her skin was as lucid as sunshine, with no marks. Her gentle smile pierced him to the heart. She seemed so happy, as if the only thing to mar her ultimate joy was that he was not there with her. She reached out and words hung in the air around him, I love you she had said. He felt them long after he woke, and the whisper shook him to his core.

He shook his head. Foolish to even think of her, as though that could bring her back. His muscles tightened, and the mattress no longer felt comfortable. He sat up.

His room was small but well furnished, as befitted a kel. The bed was wider than he’d have chosen when he slept alone, he’d be sleeping alone forever now. He’d prefer sleeping in the ground.

A maid, the person who’d woken him by her presence in the room, placed a porcelain bowl of water on his night stand, then lit a candle next to it. “Have a cheerful day, sir,” she said, then exited. Cheerful day. Ancestors smite him if he got through it intact. His arm ached in the sling. A simple break that Dylin could have healed in a few seconds.