Read Online Restoration (Rai Kirah) by Carol Berg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carol Berg
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to kill the Emperor’s horse bound near the foot of it. With torches carried from the temple of Athos, the acolytes set the base of the pyre to burning.
Derzhi funeral rites were magnificent—wild music and singing to wrench the soul, pageantry and customs that drew on centuries of heged traditions. Unlike their Basranni kin, the Derzhi did not engage in long-winded storytelling, but rather reenacted the glorious deeds of the deceased with dancing.
To the murmured astonishment of the assembly, Aleksander himself stripped off his mourning garments and, clad only in a loincloth and blood, danced the story of his father’s journey into the afterlife. With ferocious grace his long, lean body evoked the ritual battle with the sun god—a demonstration of the dead warrior’s strength and worth—and then a final acceptance of a seat at the god’s right hand. The dancing did not stop when the Prince returned to his place. Rather it became wilder as the night grew late and the flames grew high, the dezrhila dancers whirling in the rapture of ancient deities nearly forgotten in the glory of the young sun god Athos.
I fluttered through the smoke, watching Aleksander, watching the crowd, watching the Hamraschi. The hegeds sat in a circle about the burning mound. Old Zedeon sat cross-legged in front of a hundred Hamrasch warriors, his sword laid across the sand in front of him, as was the custom in times of war. Leonid and Dovat were no longer beside him, but rather sat with the representatives of other houses. As the night wore on, the two Hamraschi moved about the circle, always respectful, but eventually sitting with every one of the Twenty hegeds, whispering quietly with the lords. Aleksander, seated at the front of the Denischkar family, kept his eyes fixed on the pyre, but I suspected he had noted the Hamrasch brothers, too. Prince Edik sat behind Aleksander, his soft face expressionless. When the pyre caved in upon itself, exploding in whorls of sparks so that the heavens were adorned with a whole new array of stars, Edik smiled. And when the crowd began to wind its sleepy way back toward Zhagad, Edik, Leonid, and Dovat rode together.
“Horns of the bull, Seyonne, what are you doing to yourself?”
I knelt in the corner of a flower-decked balcony, retching into a stone planter and holding my head, praying my skull wouldn’t crack before I emptied my stomach. “Haven’t got the hang of this shifting business yet,” I said as I slumped back against the balcony wall, shivering in the dawn chill. “A useful skill, but no pleasure at the moment.” Another factor in my problem—the longer I stayed shifted, the worse was the return.
“So it was you hovering about all night.” The Prince stood in the open doorway, the rosy light revealing the haggard truth of his blood-marked, unshaven face. We must have looked a dismal pair.
“Thought I ought to keep an eye on things.”
Aleksander disappeared into the dim room for a moment, and then returned to the balcony with a crystal carafe and two silver goblets. He tossed one of the cups to me, and then sank heavily to the stone floor and poured wine. “So you saw the Hamrasch wolves on the prowl. Observing Edik safely in their grasp, I am forced to concede your point. It appears they have decided that another branch of the family must rule the Empire.”
“What is their grievance, my lord?” I sipped the wine. Though I craved water more than wine, I could not refuse the Prince’s hospitality, certainly not when I was asking an exceedingly uncomfortable question.
“Will you leave if the matter is not to your liking?” Aleksander downed his wine in one long pull, and then threw the delicate cup hard into the corner. Not the same corner where I sat, which was better than I might have hoped. His anger was not directed at me.
“If I can help, I will.”
The flare of temper was quickly extinguished. Elbows propped on his knees, Aleksander massaged the center of his
Derzhi funeral rites were magnificent—wild music and singing to wrench the soul, pageantry and customs that drew on centuries of heged traditions. Unlike their Basranni kin, the Derzhi did not engage in long-winded storytelling, but rather reenacted the glorious deeds of the deceased with dancing.
To the murmured astonishment of the assembly, Aleksander himself stripped off his mourning garments and, clad only in a loincloth and blood, danced the story of his father’s journey into the afterlife. With ferocious grace his long, lean body evoked the ritual battle with the sun god—a demonstration of the dead warrior’s strength and worth—and then a final acceptance of a seat at the god’s right hand. The dancing did not stop when the Prince returned to his place. Rather it became wilder as the night grew late and the flames grew high, the dezrhila dancers whirling in the rapture of ancient deities nearly forgotten in the glory of the young sun god Athos.
I fluttered through the smoke, watching Aleksander, watching the crowd, watching the Hamraschi. The hegeds sat in a circle about the burning mound. Old Zedeon sat cross-legged in front of a hundred Hamrasch warriors, his sword laid across the sand in front of him, as was the custom in times of war. Leonid and Dovat were no longer beside him, but rather sat with the representatives of other houses. As the night wore on, the two Hamraschi moved about the circle, always respectful, but eventually sitting with every one of the Twenty hegeds, whispering quietly with the lords. Aleksander, seated at the front of the Denischkar family, kept his eyes fixed on the pyre, but I suspected he had noted the Hamrasch brothers, too. Prince Edik sat behind Aleksander, his soft face expressionless. When the pyre caved in upon itself, exploding in whorls of sparks so that the heavens were adorned with a whole new array of stars, Edik smiled. And when the crowd began to wind its sleepy way back toward Zhagad, Edik, Leonid, and Dovat rode together.
“Horns of the bull, Seyonne, what are you doing to yourself?”
I knelt in the corner of a flower-decked balcony, retching into a stone planter and holding my head, praying my skull wouldn’t crack before I emptied my stomach. “Haven’t got the hang of this shifting business yet,” I said as I slumped back against the balcony wall, shivering in the dawn chill. “A useful skill, but no pleasure at the moment.” Another factor in my problem—the longer I stayed shifted, the worse was the return.
“So it was you hovering about all night.” The Prince stood in the open doorway, the rosy light revealing the haggard truth of his blood-marked, unshaven face. We must have looked a dismal pair.
“Thought I ought to keep an eye on things.”
Aleksander disappeared into the dim room for a moment, and then returned to the balcony with a crystal carafe and two silver goblets. He tossed one of the cups to me, and then sank heavily to the stone floor and poured wine. “So you saw the Hamrasch wolves on the prowl. Observing Edik safely in their grasp, I am forced to concede your point. It appears they have decided that another branch of the family must rule the Empire.”
“What is their grievance, my lord?” I sipped the wine. Though I craved water more than wine, I could not refuse the Prince’s hospitality, certainly not when I was asking an exceedingly uncomfortable question.
“Will you leave if the matter is not to your liking?” Aleksander downed his wine in one long pull, and then threw the delicate cup hard into the corner. Not the same corner where I sat, which was better than I might have hoped. His anger was not directed at me.
“If I can help, I will.”
The flare of temper was quickly extinguished. Elbows propped on his knees, Aleksander massaged the center of his
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