them, and it seemed lighter now than before. But that had to be an illusion, he decided. When first he had entered the shelter, he d come in from the harsh light of day, and all had seemed dim. Now he had come in from the gloom of dusk and storm, and the same room seemed bright.
In a far chamber, the emir could hear the facilitator Thull-turock chanting. He was already preparing to start the endowment ceremony.
'How soon shall we leave?' Talon asked the emir.
'A couple of hours at most,' he said.
'That is not much time to say good-bye.' Talon had probably been thinking of her own mother, Gatunyea, but the emir drew a sharp breath of pain. His daughter, Siyaddah, had offered her own endowment to him, and once the endowment was transferred, he would never be able to speak with her again. It was a terrible sacrifice, and the emir spotted Siyaddah down in the crowd, waiting near the foot of the stairs for him.
Alun stood at her side, and as the emir approached his daughter, Talon withdrew a few paces to offer some privacy. Siyaddah strode forward, her eyes glistening from tears in the light of the false stars.
'Father' was all that she managed to say.
He stood before her, admiring her, but could not speak.
'Tell her not to do it,' Alun suggested. 'I will give you one of my dogs. You won t need her.'
'And if I back out,' Siyaddah said, 'won t the others who have offered their endowments feel deceived? They made their gestures in part because of my sacrifice.'
The emir did not answer. She was right. He just held her eyes, admiring her.
Such strength, such goodness, he thought.
He admired her more than words could tell. But he spoke as well as he could: 'Why are there not more men with such great hearts as yours?'
'You can have all of my dogs,' Alun offered. 'I don t care about them.'
But no one was listening. To steal endowments from a dog would be a churlish thing, the emir decided. To take advantage of a dumb animal because of its faithfulness-it was beyond his power. He did not have that kind of cruelty in him.
'Take my endowment!' Alun offered.
The emir smiled at the young man. Alun was a mongrel, an ill-bred man, but it was obvious that he loved Siyaddah. It was just as obvious that her affection for him was as a friend, not a lover.
My daughter seems intent to break many hearts today, he thought.
'I thank you for the offer, Alun,' the emir said. 'But I fear that I would be taking it under false pretenses, and that would be dishonorable.'
'I love your daughter,' Alun said. 'There is nothing false in that. And because I love her, because I wish to honor her desires, I offer my endowment. She made her offer because she believes in you, believes that you are the best hope for this rescue. I think she is right.'
The emir needed endowments, that much was true. Another one, offered honorably, would be greatly valued. But he did not want to give Alun false hopes that he might win his daughter s hand. Nor did he wish to take an endowment from someone whose motives were not entirely pure.
Alun was hoping to buy Siyaddah s love, and the emir knew that it could not be purchased.
Had Alun begged to give his endowment in order to free his king, or to save his people, the emir would have taken it gladly.
But the Emir Tuul Ra had recently been in a council meeting attended by Glories, and he wanted to be like them. Something inside him whispered that taking Alun s endowment would be wrong.
It is not a gift that he offers freely, he realized. It is a bribe, one that carries an onus.
'I thank you for your offer,' the emir said, 'but I must decline. You hope to win my daughter s heart, and it may be that you shall. But you will have to find another way.'
14
Battles are seldom won with an ax and shield upon the field. More often, they are won by cunning before a blade is ever swung.
Things moved quickly for Talon after her match with the emir. The endowment ceremonies took only an hour. The facilitators had put the finishing touches on a few forcibles during the march, carefully filing the runes upon the heads of each. Thus Talon and the Emir Tuul Ra were ready to garner their first attributes-one endowment each of brawn, grace, metabolism, stamina, sight, smell, and hearing.
The ceremony took place in a small chamber away from the public, where only a few potential Dedicates and their families could sit at once. The air smelled fresh here, for a crack in the high stone roof let Talon see up a natural chimney to where the stars shone. The stream that had fallen into limpid pools in the great room earlier now flowed into this room, becoming a burbling brook. There was no furniture here, only rocks to sit upon and some rafts of moss to lie upon.
Daylan Hammer presided over the ceremony, with Lord Erringale standing tall at his side in raiment that shimmered like sunlight upon green leaves. Each of them inspected the forcibles before the rite proceeded, Erringale frowning at the forcibles for a long moment.
'You taught the shadow folk well,' he said to Daylan, with an undertone of subdued anger, 'though you were sworn to secrecy.'
'The Runelords of that world discovered most of the lore themselves,' Daylan said. 'I gave them a little help, mainly to stop the horrifying experiments that they were performing.'
Talon wondered at this news. The discovery of rune lore was lost in history. She had not suspected that the technology was first a product of the netherworld, or that it was meant to be hidden from them.
'It was not well done,' Erringale said. 'There are no more true Ael anymore, not since the shattering. The power to grant proper endowments has been lost. There can be no more Ael.'
'It is true that the rune lore does not work as it once did,' Daylan said, 'and the Runelords are seldom as honorable as our Ael once were. But overall, the good that has been done has outweighed the bad.'
Erringale said no more.
The Cormar twins were first to take attributes. They had already been granted dozens of endowments before the fall of Caer Luciare, but now they asked an honor that Daylan Hammer was loath to give.
'We wish to twin our mind,' one of them said. Errant, Talon thought it was, though she could never be certain, for the two looked so much alike. 'Thull-turock has said that among the ancient Runelords, this was sometimes done.'
'Sometimes it works,' Daylan said, 'but more often it leads to grief. I would advise you against it.'
'But you will not stop us?' Tun asked. Or at least she thought it was Tun. Her father once said that Tun was a hair taller, and a bit more reckless. Talon could not tell them apart, either by voice or by appearance.
'I don t have the authority to stop you,' Daylan said. 'I am not your king, nor your lord. As I see it, no man is. I suggest that instead of asking me, you put it to your comrades, as representatives of all your people. They are the ones who will be most affected, if this fails.'
So the Cormars stood before Talon and the Emir and offered their argument.
'By twinning our minds, Errant and I will be able to read one another s thoughts, to fight as a perfect team- two men, four arms, but only one heart. And if it works,' Tun said, 'it will be a great benefit. I will always know what my brother is thinking, what he sees and hears.'
'Yes, and if it doesn t work,' Daylan said, 'it will lead to madness and a loss of self-control.'
The emir studied the men, looked to Talon for her thoughts. 'You re the one with experience in such matters,'
