Legacy of the Sword by Jennifer Roberson Read Free Book Online

will, Electra, it will do you little good. If you seek to rail at me like a jackdaw because of your fate, I suggest you look at the cause of your disposal. It is because of
you
Carillon has made me heir to Homana and your daughter’s intended husband.
You
, lady. Because you conspired against him.”
    Long-nailed fingers twisted the wine-red fabric of her mantle. Her eyes held a malignant fascination. “Your prophecy says a Cheysuli must hold the Lion Throne of Homana before it can be fulfilled. Undoubtedly all of the shapechangers think that man will be you, since Carillon has let everyone know—nomatter how unofficially—that he intends to proclaim you his heir. ‘Prince of Homana,’ are you not styled, even before the proper time?” Electra smiled. “But that is not the prophecy Tynstar chooses to serve…
nor is it mine
! We will put no Cheysuli on the Lion Throne but an Ihlini-born man, and we will see to Carillon’s death.”
    “You have tried,” he said with a calmness he did not feel. “You have tried to slay him before, and it has failed. Is Tynstar so inept? Is he a powerless sorcerer? Or has the Seker turned his face from his servant, so that Tynstar lacks a lord?” He waited, but she made no answer. Even in her anger, she was utterly magnificent. He felt the tightening of his loins, and it made him angry with himself as well as with the woman. “Electra, I ask you one thing: have you said this to your daughter? Do you tell
her
what you intend to do? He is, after all, her father.”
    “Aislinn is not your concern.”
    “Aislinn will be my
cheysula.
”
    “Use no shapechanger words to me!” she snapped. “Carillon may have sent me here, but this is
my
hall!
My
palace!
I
rule here!”
    “What do you rule?” he demanded. “A few pitiful acres of land, served only by those who serve the Mujhar, except for your loyal women. An impressive realm, Electra.” He shook his head. “It is a pity you hold no court. Instead, you have only the memories of what you once had the ordering of.” He smiled ironically. “The grandeur of Bellam’s palaces in Solinde and the magnificence of Homana-Mujhar. But all of that is gone, Electra—banished by your treachery and deceit. Curse not me or mine when you must first curse yourself.”
    For the first time he had shaken her composure utterly. He could see it. She trembled with fury, and clutched at the silk of her mantle so that the fabric crumpled and rent. Rich color stood high in her face. “First you must
wed
her, shapechanger, to merge the proper blood. But what is not yet done shall
remain
undone…and the prophecy shall fail.”
    Electra stretched out a hand toward him. He saw the merest crackle and flare of purple flame around one pointing finger, but the color died. The hand was nothing more than a hand. Before a Cheysuli, the arts Tynstar had taught her failed.
    “Tynstar’s sorcery keeps you young now, Electra,” Donalsaid gently. “But you should remember: you
are
a woman of fifty-five. One day, it will catch up to you.” He walked slowly toward the dais, mounted it even as she opened her mouth to revile him, and slowly walked around her. “One day he will be slain, and then what becomes of you? You will age, even as Carillon ages. Your bones will stiffen and your blood will flow sluggishly. One day you will not be able to rise, so feeble will you have become, and you will be bound to chair or bed. And then you shall have only endless empty hours in which to spin your impotent webs.” He stopped directly before her. “That is your
tahlmorra
, Electra…I wish you well of it.”
    Electra said nothing. She merely smiled an unsettling smile.
    “What of
me
?” asked a voice from a curtained opening. “What do you wish for
me
?”

D onal spun around and saw the young woman gowned in snowy white. A girdle of gold and garnets spilled down the front of her skirts to clash and chime against the hem. Red-gold hair flowed loosely over her