Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [128]
“I’d never have met Tammarion then,” Kieri said. “Never had children.”
“But they were killed—”
“Would you wish Cal unborn because he was captured and suffered Siniava’s torments?”
“Cal is still alive. Your wife and children are dead, and it’s my fault.”
“It is not. Aliam, listen to me. Without you, I would be dead, dead of starvation or, if I survived in body, dead in soul from what my captor did to me.” Aliam stirred a little. Kieri felt a rush of warmth, as if the taig touched him. “You saved my life,” he went on. “You saved my sanity. You were my father, my elder brother. From you and Estil I learned what goodness is, how good people behave. From you I learned how good men govern others, how they lead others, how even in war honor and wisdom have a place. From you came the ideas that first let us—you and me and Aesil M’dierra—form a code of honor for mercenaries in Aarenis. If, years from now, my people think I was a good king, it will be because of you, because of your kindness and your example.”
“But still—” Aliam was sobbing now, tears running down into his beard. Kieri’s eyes burned, but this was no time for tears. Either he was a king, with a king’s powers, or he was a title only, hollow.
He reached out and pulled Aliam into a hug, as Aliam had once hugged the terrified boy he himself had been. The taig’s power he’d felt before surged up in him from the earth below; he could feel it reaching outward to Aliam, warming them both. “But still, Aliam Halveric, I tell you as your king that you did me no harm. You did me only good. As your king, Aliam, I tell you that you are my oldest friend, my dearest friend, and nothing you have ever done or would do will change that. And as your king, I command you—lay down this guilt you feel. Walk away from it. I believe it was put in your heart by some evil being.” He pushed Aliam just far enough away to see his face, to see the startled look, the relief that showed in Aliam’s eyes, as whatever pain held him was lessened … faded … and blew away like smoke on the wind.
“I feel—”
“Better, I hope,” Kieri said. “A visit from your king is supposed to have that effect, they tell me.”
“What did you do?” More life, more alertness came back into Aliam’s face, as if he were waking up from a long illness.
“I have been taking instruction in the arts of kingship,” Kieri said, as lightly as he could. He was still gripping Aliam’s shoulders; he could feel in his fingers some change in the man, something that felt like the difference between a diseased, dying tree and a healthy one. Had he really done that? Or was it just his words? “My elven relatives,” he went on, “tell me that here in Lyonya a king’s main task is restoring harmony and health, not resting his royal rump on a throne being flattered.”
Aliam made a sound between a sob and a laugh, then drew a long, shaky breath. “Well … Sir King … whatever you did, and however you did it, I feel … better. I still think—no, all right, I won’t say it. I feel better. Almost … almost younger, though at my age that is not a possibility.”
“Why not?” Kieri asked. “I feel younger, too.”
“But you’re half-elf and I am not.”
“Aliam, this is no time to start an argument.”
Another shaky breath. “You’re right, Sir King—”
“And didn’t I tell you to call me Kieri, at least when we’re alone? And do you see a horde of courtiers standing around ready to be jealous?”
“Er … no … Kieri. But it’s so … I don’t know what—”
“Something … I know there’s something but not what. You would not have felt that much misery all on your own.”
“You remember I said—in Chaya—”
“Yes, and I remember what I said and that you were—or you acted—reassured. Were you trying to fool me then, Aliam?”
“No. I think I was reassured then, there in Chaya with you. I wouldn