A Strange and Ancient Name by Josepha Sherman Read Free Book Online

glorious: a sweep of fertile fields and meadows rich with flowers—solid patches of red, blue and yellow from here—merging into a dark green tapestry of forest folding itself up against the wild mountains beyond, and over all the clear, sunless, achingly blue sky of Faerie and the luminous Faerie light.
    Hauberin got to his feet, soft gray tunic whispering silkily at the motion, and moved forward to lean on the terrace’s smooth white balustrade, enjoying the moment’s idleness.
    But then his gaze sharpened. There amid the peaceful fields lay Serein’s estate.
    Serein. So far there had been nothing but sweet innocence in all the man’s actions. By now, Hauberin could almost convince himself he had imagined the threat in Serein’s eyes the day of the celebration—no. It had been real enough.
    And why hasn’t he acted on it?
    The law, of course, was in Serein’s favor. Hauberin couldn’t exile his cousin, or slay him, or even hold him as a royal “guest” without some very real proof of treason; his magical folk, being by nature so near to chaos, clung to their laws as the only true stabilizing factor, and not even a prince dared go against them. Hauberin slammed his fist down on the balustrade in frustration.
    “Damn you, cousin,” he muttered, “what game are you playing now?”
    A mind brushed his, briefly, questioningly, and the prince sighed and answered silently, “Yes. Come.”
    He didn’t actually hear Alliar approach. But then, no one ever did. A flash of motion, and the wind spirit was at his side, at the moment no taller than Hauberin and vaguely elfin in shape, fairly glowing in the clear light, deeply golden of hair and skin and luminous eyes.
    Worried eyes. “My prince.” The being swept down in a bonelessly graceful bow, and Hauberin frowned.
    “So formal, Li? What is it?”
    “Am I your friend? Do you trust me?”
    “Yes, and yes. Look you, I’m in no mood for word games.”
    “Serein again?”
    Sometimes his friend could read him too clearly. “Serein,” Hauberin agreed.
    The being shivered “You’re going to have to kill him someday.”
    “Alliar!”
    “It’s true. For the sake of the realm as well as your own.”
    “Ach, Alliar.” Very gently, Hauberin said, “He . . . isn’t Ysilar. You don’t have to fear him, I promise you.”
    Anger flickered in the golden eyes. “I don’t fear him. But maybe you should! Wait, let me finish. Serein may be next in the line of succession, curse him—but can you picture him in your place?” Slim hands flew in a quick, fierce protective gesture. “Winds prevent! A fine prince he’d make, for all his fine looks, he, who dares hunger for your lands when he can barely manage his own?”
    True enough. “But he is next in line. And aside from the fact that I don’t intend to make things easier for Charailis or Ereledan by removing him, I’m not about to murder my own kinsman. Particularly when I haven’t been able to coax out the slightest hint of whatever plots are hiding behind that pretty face of his.”
    “You . . . could use force.”
    Hauberin snorted. “How long do you think my people would support a half-blood prince who bent the law for his own use?”
    “Ah. There is that. Ay-yi, at least the boy is free of him!” It was said with an ex-slave’s fervor.
    “The boy.”
    “Had you forgotten? The human! Serein’s little captive.” The being paused. “He . . . is free now?”
    “Oh, Alliar, of course.” Hauberin had forgotten; he’d had more things on his mind than one small human. A touch abashed, he asked, “How is the boy?”
    Alliar shivered. “Not overly well.”
    “He’s ill?” It was sharply said; a half-human might not be immune to human disease.
    “Not ill,” the being hedged, “not exactly . . . My prince, Serein is your kinsman . . .”
    “I thought we had already established that. Come, speak.”
    “At your will be it,” Alliar said formally. “The boy has been hurt. Deliberately, repeatedly,