Wings Over Talera - Charles Allen Gramlich [19]
“No,” said Hurnan Jystral. He turned away.
I glanced at Kreeg. Only he had not questioned my motives. He never did. Ever since the lava mines of Andertalen he had followed wherever I led, had carried out whatever task I asked of him. I looked at him then, and saw that he was ready to defend me if need be, even against the might of Nyshphal. I hoped that wouldn’t be necessary, but I had already reached a decision about what my actions must be. And I did not think Hurnan Jystral or his daughter would be happy about it.
* * * * * * *
It was not until much later that night, though, before I had a chance to speak to anyone about my plan. Rannon had been whisked away soon after our arrival at the palace, and I’d not even seen her the rest of the night—though I wanted so badly to tell her what I must do. Then, at the bell tolling the eighteenth dhaur, I was summoned to the quarters of the Emperor of Nyshphal.
Hurnan Jystral awaited me there, in a room far more spare than one would expect of such a wealthy and powerful man. There were burnished shields on the walls, and tables of rare samphur wood, but the decorations and pieces of furniture were few, with much space left for the emperor to pace. As he paced now.
I entered, escorted by bronze-armored guards, but then was left alone with the father of the woman I loved. He stopped pacing and stood for a moment staring at me. His face looked drawn and tired. Yet, beneath the exhaustion I could still see the anger that had seethed in him earlier this day.
“We are at war,” he said. “Or soon will be.”
“And who is our enemy?” I asked.
He shook his head, though his eyes narrowed as he glanced at me. “Would that I knew,” he said harshly. His hands clenched into fists. “I would destroy them.
I did not speak.
“We must lay plans,” he continued after a moment, speaking more calmly while watching my face. It felt as if I were being tested for something.
“And as my daughter’s betrothed, you must be involved,” he added.
“I won’t be here,” I said suddenly.
Perhaps I could have found a more polite way of saying it, or a better time. But then, I have never been known for my tact.
Jystral’s eyes went cold.
“You would abandon Rannon and her city in its hour of need?” he growled.
I shook my head. “I’m no general. No strategist. You don’t need me here except as a sword. And you have many of those. I believe that my brother—”
He snapped. “Your brother! What care I for your brother? What care I for you except that my daughter loves you? Perhaps foolishly.” His voice rang with a barely contained fury that I did not fully understand.
He stalked toward me, as if he would attack me there, and stopped inches from me. But I did not flinch, and met his gaze with mine. He had not let me finish what I’d started to say about my reasons for wanting to leave, but I would not beg him for that privilege. My muscles tensed. Heat poured into my face.
“You will remain in the city,” he told me, his voice tight and harsh. “You will take up your duties as consort to my daughter. You will be part of our planning for the city’s defense.”
I looked him in the eyes, my own anger starting to break free. Barely was I able to control it.
“No,” I said. “I will not.” Then I turned on my heel and walked out on the Emperor of Nyshphal.
Behind me...only silence.
I was not comforted.
CHAPTER SIX
A THIN ROLL OF PARCHMENT
After the confrontation with Rannon’s father, I returned in a heated anger to my apartment within the great sprawl of the palace. Kreeg awaited me there. Valyan would normally have shared the suite with us, but his wounds were being tended. Only the ex-fighting slave stood nearby to hear my curses ebb and flow.
“What do we do?” he asked during one of the ebbs.
I looked at him as I struggled for control. My thoughts needed to be clear. But another long moment passed before I trusted myself to speak.
“We leave this place,” I told him finally.
“To Trazull?” he asked.