Esar, Age 11

26 Years Ago

Esar hurried out of the box he shared with his mother and continued around the broad curve of the hall, passing uniformed servers carrying covered trays of food and a couple of well-dressed citizens that he didn't recognize. They didn't recognize him, either; why would anyone take notice of Esar without his famous mother by his side? It was almost like being invisible. Did normal people feel this anonymous all the time?

By the time Esar made it around to the Yasoh booth, his father was on his way out the door. Esar nearly ran into him.

"Excuse—oh, Esar! My, look at you, you're growing like swiftgrass." Laursel Arneckas smiled broadly and turned their near-collision into a quick hug. "Have a look at my boy, Grais," he called back into the room he was leaving.

"What about him?" Grais Yasoh answered.

The words stung. Esar had liked feeling invisible, but now he felt insignificant.

Laursel laughed. "I wouldn't expect you to understand a father's pride."

But no one would have guessed that a drab, spindly creature like Esar was the son of the senator from Heniscau. His father was a handsome man, tall and broad-shouldered, resplendent today in a long, sky-blue tunic of translucent fabric that allowed the embroidered pattern of his undertunic to show through. When it came to looks, at least, Esar's parents had been well-matched.

"I've something to attend to down in the staging area. Come walk with me and tell me what you've been up to, Esar. It's been too long."

He was on his way already, and Esar scrambled to catch up with him.

"I finished reading The Fundamental Principles of Vitricity and Ambient Currents," he told his father as they descended the stairs from the top deck. "I mean, I guess I never mentioned that I started it, but anyway, I read the whole thing, and I think I understood most of it, because I wrote to the author . . ."

"I still can't believe that fool truly thinks that Thumier can take the championship. His brother really did take all the brains in that family, didn't he?" his father mused, shaking his head. "I admit she's made a marvelous comeback, but she's simply not what she was at her peak. And even if she were . . ."

"She'd still face Danthan Keir in the final," Esar finished for him. He chided himself silently for going on and on about Fundamental Principles. What had he been thinking? He should have known that his father wouldn't be interested in science books.

When they got to the bottom of the staircase, Laursel tapped the lockplate next to the door to reveal yet another flight of stairs. The basement was off limits to most spectators. The rooms down here were for the athletes to warm up, relax, and refresh themselves. Esar stayed close to his father, half-expecting someone to bark at him to get out of the athlete's corridor.

He was not expecting his father to lead him to a practice room where Danthan Keir was reclining on a bench, shirtless and drenched in sweat. The swordsman tipped his head back to drain a glass of water, then handed the empty glass to an attendant with a green and white Heniscau loyalty ribbon hanging loose from her shoulder. Esar's father stepped forward to confer with her, but Esar's feet refused to carry him any further into the room.

Don't stare, he told himself firmly. But there were so many mirrors all around that Esar couldn't not look at him, and even worse, he could see his own bright-red face reflected back at him from every angle. Esar had been fine the last few days, looking down on Danthan from a distance, watching his matches in awe. Up close, half dressed, with his gleaming ringlets of black hair and every muscle in his arms and torso perfectly defined, the man was overwhelming.

While Esar tried and failed to find a place to look, Laursel was speaking to the swordsman. "So I don't believe there's anything more going on here than a bookmaker taking advantage of a fool with plenty of money to squander on ill-advised wagers. It seems our worries were unfounded."

"Your worries, you mean," Danthan said. He was an easterner, like Esar's father, but his accent was rougher, without Laursel's smooth civility. "Caulans may be reckless, but she fights fair."

"I'm not concerned about Caulans Thumier—or Grais Yasoh, for that matter. But I'd found any hint of his father's involvement, we would be having a very different conversation. Grais may be a fool, but Norsyff Yasoh is another matter entirely."

What was his father talking about? Esar puzzled over it for a moment, putting the pieces together.

"You thought someone was trying to fix the match? And that Grais bet against Danthan cause he knew it was rigged?"

He regretted speaking immediately as both men turned to stare at him.

"Is this—" Danthan began.

"My son, Esar," Laursel said. "And he's nobody's fool, as you can plainly see."

The praise bolstered Esar, helping him find the nerve to stand a bit straighter and look Danthan in the eye. "Nice to meet you," he said, carefully measuring the words.

Danthan kept on smiling, though he looked a bit bewildered. "Your son?"

He didn't know. It wasn't a secret that Laursel Arneckas was the father of the Tresuan's son, but it was all too easy for everyone to forget. Esar understood that his very existence was scandalous. He'd picked that up years ago from words whispered by adults who thought he was too young to understand. His mother had done something unthinkable by choosing to bear a child out of wedlock, and the scandal ought to have destroyed Laursel's ambitions as well as Alzyn's station in society. But for all they might whisper, no one would ever shun the Tresuan or tell her she was no longer welcome in their company. And Laursel had flourished, winning an assembly seat in the next election, then marrying the widow Visrit Bharsalli a few years later.

And Esar was fine. Every now and then, when they thought he couldn't hear, somebody used the old word for a child like him, the one he'd had to ask his grandmother what it meant. But it didn't hurt. At least, not much, compared to other things. And mostly, he was fine.

The sound of familiar footfalls set Esar's nerves on edge. He hadn't been gone that long, had he? Not long enough that his mother would need to come looking for him?

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"I had a feeling I would find you here," said Alzyn. Esar wasn't sure at first if she was speaking to him, or to his father, or both. "I told you to keep this visit brief."

"You keep the boy on too short a leash, Alzyn," Laursel said. "Haven't I the right to spend time with my son?"

Alzyn leveled her icy stare in his direction. "I have never prevented you from seeing him, but it seems you only remember that you have a son when he appears before you."

Esar searched for a reason why what his mother said was untrue. His father was a busy man. He was a senator, he had to travel back and forth between his home province and Thaliron all the time, and he had to be a stepfather to his wife's three children. And even if he never sought out Esar, when they did spend time together, Laursel was always good to him, always kind. That was good enough . . . wasn't it?

"Lady Tresuan?" Danthan said. Esar looked up to see that his mother had fixed her gaze on Danthan Keir, but with that far-off look in her eyes that said she was recalling a dream.

"You," she said, barely more than a whisper. Then she smiled, the dreamy haze vanishing from her eyes. "Call me Alzyn, if you please."

"If you say so, Alzyn," Danthan replied, returning her smile. "Now I've got both Tresuans coming to see me before the final match? Don't tell me you've dreamed of some peril that's going to befall me."

"That's not how—" Esar began, but his mother raised a hand to quiet him.

"Surely there's no peril in Elorhe that you couldn't handle?" Alzyn dangled the statement as a question, raising her eyebrow.

Danthan laughed. "Who knows? Might be nice to face a real challenge."

"We should leave you to your preparations. I look forward to your match—and to seeing you at the banquet tonight."

Despite announcing their departure, Alzyn didn't turn to leave. Instead, her gaze lingered on Danthan, and she made no pretense of finding somewhere else to look. Just because she'd dreamed about him, or . . .

Cheers roared from the stands above. The final day of the games was about to commence.

By the time Esar and his mother returned to their booth, the royal family had taken their places. The amplified voices of King Svetrand and Queen Zafrys filled the stadium with a message of welcome and goodwill for the coming year. They introduced the officiant and returned to their seats. Princess Irezan was there after all, seated beside her father. Esar’s mother had been hopeful that she’d make it today, even when her condition had been quite grave a few weeks ago, and Esar had no reason to doubt his mother's intuition. A public appearance would do much to quell the rumors that the princess was dying, though nothing would be settled until the Ocean chose a husband for her.

The princess’s younger brother Vaclan was seated next to his mother. To the other side of the prince, leaning in close, was Lady Saiglen Gabarias. Saiglen and Vaclan were all but betrothed, but until the Ocean chose a husband for Irezan, the engagement couldn’t be formalized.

The heir to the throne was a woman, and that meant any unmarried man in Elorhe had the right to seek the Ocean's blessing. It didn't matter where they were born or who their parents were. Thirty years ago, Queen Zafrys had gone into those waves as a shop clerk and emerged as a princess. At least twenty men had tried to follow in her footsteps and marry her daughter, but all had been rejected.

Anyone could be chosen by the Ocean and marry into the royal family. There was only one exception to this generous rule: no Tresuan could take the throne. It was part of the agreement that the first king and queen of Elorhe had made with Esar’s ancestors. Not that he wanted to be Prince Ethereal, anyway; he just thought it was just funny that he was the one male in the entire kingdom who was forbidden to go into the Ocean.

Well, it was probably for the best. He didn't even know how to swim.

The first match was the youth division final. The competitors weren't much older than Esar, but their athleticism, pushed beyond human limits through the application of vitricity, was a wonder to behold. Esar didn't understand all the rules and intricacies of the combat arts, but he could still enjoy watching the competition. He didn't need to know the differences between the schools and forms, or why one technique merited a higher score than another. Swordplay was an art far removed from its origins in the brutal necessities of war, and in the games, acrobatics and style were just as important as strength and skill.

The final match of the junior division was next, and then archery finals for all divisions. Princess Irezan stood to bestow a circlet on each winner in turn, while anticipation mounted for the championship match between Danthan Keir and Caulans Thumier. Esar picked at the meal his mother had ordered for him: a Namaian noodle dish, rich and creamy and bland. It was cold by the time the final match began.

Even among the elite who earned the right to compete in the New Year's Games, Danthan Keir stood apart. He moved with such precision and grace, even when he was dashing around at incredible speed, and when he lept, he seemed to defy gravity. Caulans could put all the power in the world behind her blows, but it didn't matter if she couldn't land a hit on him.

The third time he backflipped away to avoid her blade, though, Esar's mother snorted.

"Oh, come on."

Esar glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was watching the match intensely, but didn't seem to be enjoying it. Esar couldn't spare any more attention to wonder at that, though; Danthan was running sideways along the wall.

Danthan won the match with another dramatic leap. He stayed airborne longer than Esar thought possible, and Caulans misjudged his trajectory, allowing him to swipe his blade just so and disarm her in a precise motion. The entire crowd was on its feet, screaming, cheering, throwing flowers and ribbons down onto the field. Esar grinned, but his joy faded when he turned to his mother.

"What's wrong?"

"It's—he's just such a show-off," Alzyn said. "He could have ended the match ten minutes ago."

It was an odd thing to say. A quick victory wouldn't have allowed Danthan to accumulate so many points from the judges. The crowd grew quiet as Danthan approached the princess to receive the circlet, and an odd thought came to Esar's mind. The Ocean had rejected so many suitors that people were starting to wonder if it might never choose a match for Irezan at all . . .

But none of those men had been Danthan Keir.

"Let's go, Esar," Alzyn said.

"But—"

"It'll take forever to get out of here once the crowd starts heading out. Come on. We've seen everything that we need to see."

Esar's mother dressed for the banquet that night in a deep violet tunic that might better be called a gown. It was more form-fitting than was the norm, with one side slit up to the hip. She wore sheer leggings underneath, and a gauzy yellow scarf run through with glittering threads was draped around her bare neck. It wasn't the sort of outfit that most people could get away with, but Alzyn Semfrey could get away with anything. She bid her son and parents a distracted farewell before departing for the palace.

"She's up to something," Esar's grandmother said. His grandfather nodded.

"What's she up to?" Esar asked, but his grandparents pretended not to hear him. But they let him stay up reading and didn't force him to go through his focus exercises before bed that night, so he forgave them for ignoring his question.

And Esar fell asleep, and dreamed of a meadow where sheep were grazing around a circle of obsidian.

It was just off the dusty, red dirt road, not far from one of the farmhouses that speckled the landscape. The black glass circle was large enough that you could have built a house on top of it, even another one of those large farmhouses with high-peaked, thatched roofs and whitewashed walls. The sheep ignored it, even when smoke began to rise from the center of the obsidian circle.

No, it wasn't smoke, precisely. It was particles that moved like swarming insects, swooping and darting, stretching as if trying to escape from a net before they snapped back, gathering moment by moment in greater concentration. Colors shimmered through the dark clouds of particles like sunlight glittering on waves, never still for a moment, as the growing mass swirled in ever-greater spirals.

The particles flowing out from the black glass twisted together into a serpentine form like a gigantic snake rising from the ground. Its scales shimmered with iridescent color, but the darkness continued to flow across its body. Dark wings stretched from the creature's sides, as wide as its body was long. The monster flapped them and took off, a few particles streaming behind it from the last traces of the obsidian disc before those, too, disappeared, leaving only the bare earth.