So Maddek did.
CHAPTER 34
YVENNE
Yvenne had learned that even her vision could not see everything, for the ever-moving horizon hid the world beyond it. She knew not how far away the horizon was, except that it was more distant when she was on a tower or a ridge. And when she stood upon the ground, ridges and towers could be seen from farther away, as well, even if she could not see what lay at their base.
So when they entered the Parsathean camp, she knew not how far the horizon stretched—yet in every direction, there were warriors and horses, spread out so that there was grazing and room for all.
And not just the Parsathean army, she learned, though not much difference could she see in the camps. For many of the warriors who had gathered in Kilren to name the new Ran had accompanied Enox and the army to the glass fields—with news that even more Parsatheans were coming.
Many slept under the open sky, but studding the landscape were also tents of mammoth hide, bleached pale by the sun. All smelled of horses and grass and cooking fires.
They rode toward the largest tent, where the leaders of each tribe and clan had gathered. Into that tent, Maddek went, along with Nami and Seri, and five members of his Dragon.
Only Banek remained outside—to watch over Yvenne, who had been introduced to many of the tribes’ leaders outside but was not allowed admittance into the tent, for she was not Parsathean or yet married to Maddek.
She sat with Banek at a nearby fire, instead, eating roasted meats and speaking with the warriors who joined them, and trying so very hard not to let her frustration at being excluded from the meeting burn hot upon her tongue. So far she had come. So much she’d set in motion with a letter to Parsathe. Now no say did she have. Her future lay in Parsathean hands. And although she tried to tell herself that this was no different than Drahm, when she made use of a warrior and his strength . . . not truly could she persuade herself of it. For that battle against her brother had been truly of steel and blades. Yet this was a throne room, where she should be most useful to her warrior.
Except that it was also a throne room that one day would be his. She had to trust that Maddek could fight this battle. But she’d have rather fought it at his side.
At least there was much to learn outside that tent. The warriors she and Banek spoke with told them that a company of Syssian soldiers had indeed left the outpost and headed north, accompanied by larger numbers of Rugusian soldiers. Zhalen had been identified among them with some certainty, especially after Yvenne mentioned the scar on his neck. Her father’s army had come as far north as the Scourge, and not yet farther.
That news turned her gaze south. She could not see the soldiers that her father had brought with him, or the base of the Scourge, yet that giant demon’s corpse was in clear sight, only a day’s ride distant.
Yet the Scourge was not all that was near. To Banek, she asked, “We must be close to Temra’s altar?”
The old warrior’s brows pulled together. “Close to it?”
“To where Ran Bantik stood and implored the tribes to unite.”
His confusion cleared. “We are near that spot. But Temra’s altar is . . .” He made a sweeping gesture. “Everywhere.”
“Everywhere?”
“Everywhere.” He pounded his fist into the ground. “This is Temra’s altar. That is why we build no temples to other gods upon it. All of it is hers.”
Her chest hollowed. “Temra’s altar is the earth?”
He nodded.
“All of the earth? Or just Parsathe?”
“Anywhere there is solid ground.”
Which was why Maddek could not marry her at sea. But they had reached solid ground ten days past.
Throat thick, she said, “But it is true that you must be married upon it?”
“That is truth. And it is where a Ran stands when he is named.” With a lift of his chin, he indicated the tent where Maddek was.
Surprise burned away her hurt. “Is that what they are doing now—naming him Ran?”
He shook his head. “All must raise their voice. But the leaders of the tribes and the clans will first speak with him, and hear what he has to say—so they may carry it back to their people, who will know whether he is worthy of speaking for all of us.”
“What will they ask of him?”
“Many things.” Banek stirred the fire, sending up crackling sparks. “Likely they began with grief for Ran Ashev and Ran Marek. Then they would ask the questions that their clans and tribes want to know of a warrior who might be Ran—and of the woman he would make his queen.”
“They will ask him about me?”
“So they will.”
“And what they know of me might influence whether the Parsatheans name him Ran?”
“It will.”
And Maddek might not become king if they did not approve of her? She looked toward the tent in renewed frustration. “I would rather speak for myself.”
Banek grinned. “In time, they will call you before them. Our gathering is not set yet. And never have we been pushed to name a Ran even as another army approaches. Likely they will decide to delay the true gathering until that battle is fought—because your father’s death will change much.”
So it would. She would be more patient, then. As Banek was.
As Banek was with her, especially. “From the day we met, you have been a good friend to me,” she told him now. “I am grateful for it.”
A smile touched his mouth. “As I am grateful to you. Much have you given me.”
“I do not feel as if I have.”
“But it is truth.” A touch of melancholy came over his face as he stirred the fire again. “All that I loved was lost when the Destroyer came. There were many of us left with emptied hearts. Some filled theirs again with children and family. Others with rage.”
As Danoh’s mother had. “Or purpose,” Yvenne said quietly. As her mother had. As Maddek’s parents had.
He nodded. “Mine . . . I did not fill it again. Not with wife or children. I was afraid to lose it all again. I have fought these many years, and I have always done what was needed to be done, whether it was standing against the savages on the Lave or slaying a dark warlord, yet it was merely . . . doing. Because there was nothing else for me.”
Sometimes doing was all that was left. And then all that mattered was the manner of fighting and doing. “But you have fought and done it all honorably. Vela herself noted it.”
“So I have. And so she did.” His voice thickened. “And her favor gladdened my heart. Yet it is what you have set forward that has filled it. Because I do not merely fight. Now, I fight for something. And my heart is full as I never thought it would be again.”