life. I drew you from the waves and warmed you with my own blood’s warmth. Either accept the gift, or throw yourself back into the sea,” the stranger challenged him.
This castaway knew the nobleman’s code. That was a galling discovery. Syresh had dreamed of swearing fealty to some lord, noble of mind as well as birth. To be forced to swear one’s life to a lostling on an unknown shore was a bitter draught to swallow.
But as he studied the stranger’s face, he saw a look of honesty, and power beyond all reckoning. His eyes were cold, but less cold than the sea that rolled its great waves ashore behind him.
Syresh made his decision. He tried his best to kneel gracefully, but his legs gave way; he staggered and almost fell forward onto his face. He was aware of the laughable sight he made, wearing bright silks dulled and stained by the mud, faded to a rainbow medley, the marks of felon’s bonds still red on his wrists. The thought stung his vanity.
“You saved my life; it is yours,” he said. The words almost choked him. Though life was precious, he would not swear unconditional service to a dark magician on this unknown shore. He put reservations in his oath that were not commonly set there.
“I will serve you as long, and well, as my conscience allows, and if ever I cannot serve you, you may ask for the return of your gift of life, and it will be granted.”
The other one showed no anger at the conditions, though his eyes were knowing. Syresh went on with the traditional oath. “I am your liegeman. My hands are your hands, my voice is your voice.”
The other one showed no pleasure, neither did he give his name. Instead he asked a mocking question. “And what of the King? Did you swear him no oaths of fealty? You wear his badge.”
Syresh winced at the reminder, and spoke earnestly to his new-found liege lord. “I swore no oath of this kind. I spoke the common ones only, that all men do. And all oaths were broken when he set those bonds on me. When we lowered anchor in Mareja, he would have had me killed, a traitor’s death, and yet I swear, I was never disloyal, not in deed, word, or thought.”
“You have earned your traitor’s death now, in swearing to me.”
“So I had guessed. So be it.” He reached for the other one’s thin hand and touched his lips to it. Then he stared at the gold ring that weighed that hand down.
“Where did you gain this royal ring, my lord? The same place you got your clothing?”
“Are your oaths broken so soon, Lord Syresh?”
“No, but where? Did the King indeed drown in the storm? His son is young and was not with him. None other in all the land would wear this. Are you royalty of some other kingdom? You speak with the voice of Mareja.” He reached out and turned over the stranger’s hand. On the wide gold base of the ring, ARNM was etched. Whose insignia was that? He turned the hand to the sunlight, so that he could see the thumbprint pattern etched in flesh and metal alike. The same. This royal signet had been made for the hand that wore it.
And then the riddle’s answer came to him. Tears blinded him. “Andiene Rejin-Neve Mareja,” he said. “The lost one. Rightful lady of our land.” He blinked away the tears and looked at her in wonder. “Indeed, I have chosen my liege better than I knew,” he said.
“Lord Syresh, you are tired.” She spoke with more gentleness now. There might have been tears glinting in her eyes too, but he did not dare to look to see. “Let us eat,” she said.
They ate roasted grasskit wrapped in salt-crisp seaweed and sandray leaves. After their meal, they sat by the dying fire, both silent. Syresh was burning with thoughts, speculations, questions, but it was for his liege lady to speak first.
At last, she broke the silence. “In that other land, did any suffer for my escape?”
“Many died, my lady. Many still die. The King … ”
“Do not call him that!” Her voice was fierce as the summer sun.
“The usurper, then, he feared greatly. None knew why, except from confused tales of madness, so many and so wild that we could not guess which ones might have some speck of truth. But because of his fear, he killed any who might