Young Haikor, Page 3

sounded like a woman’s. “That is my mother,” he said. And then he spoke slowly, with difficult. “And that is my father.” Finally, he used the same toneless speech of his brother. “And Prince Aart,” he said. “I can do any voice. I can make them believe I am anyone, until they see me.”

  “And then what?” asked Jaap, curious despite his horror.

  “And then my taweyr will do the rest. He will not be able to stop me, as he has no taweyr of his own to counter mine.”

  “But if he does. If you are wrong—” said Jaap.

  “I am not wrong about my own brother,” said Haikor, in a voice that seemed entirely new. Not his father’s or his brother’s, and not his own, either. A man’s voice. A king’s voice.

  How long had he practiced that? Surely that was what he had come out to the river to do, originally. The singing was just a side note to the main purpose. Treason.

  And now Jaap had become part of it.

  “I have lived with him my whole life. I know the good and bad of him. I have weighed them both again and again, let me assure you. And I have seen him here, with you. He is not at his worst, I don’t believe. But how would the kings of the continent react to him like this? What treaties would he lose with them? And when others try to take power from him, how many will die in a civil war that I am in a unique position to prevent? I owe it to my kingdom, I think,” said Haikor.

  Was he deluded? No, his eyes were clear. His logic made perfect sense. But it was a terrible thing for a twelve year-old boy to say about a brother who had protected him.

  “It would be better for Weirland to have a wise and strong king on the throne of Rurik,” said Jaap. And he knew as he said the words what they meant. He was condoning this, welcoming it even. He was encouraging fratricide.

  “Then I will show you my taweyr,” said Haikor.

  “No need for that,” said Jaap and put up his hands.

  But he had been fooled himself by Haikor’s size and his age. He had been fooled as Aart had been fooled.

  Haikor’s taweyr was not new to him. He had to have had it for some time to use it with only a twitch of his hands.

  Jaap was thrown back as if by a strong gust of wind. He could feel his head hitting a rock behind him. He could feel blood streaming from the back of it. He was dizzy, disoriented, but he could see Haikor standing above him.

  “I could kill you now. You have no defense against me.”

  Jaap knew it was true. He had come out without a single guard.

  Haikor did not touch him, but his taweyr pressed Jaap’s throat until the king of Weirland could not breathe.

  “He has never let me show this, my power. I have cowered before him, but I will cower no more.”

  As his vision went dark, Jaap wondered briefly who the throne of Weirland would pass to. He had no children. His father had only had one son. There was a distant cousin.

  Or would Haikor take it himself?

  Then, suddenly, the pressure on his throat was gone. Jaap could see again—dimly. He could breathe. That was all he thought of for a long moment. He was not dead. He was still king of Weirland.

  Water splashed on his face, cold and dirty. Jaap spat out the taste of it. It was faintly brined.

  “The river Weyr flows out to the ocean, where the weyrs are suffocated in salt,” said Haikor. “I have always thought that watching its course was a reminder of the truth of life.”

  “That it ends in death?” said Jaap, his voice hoarse and barely audible to his own ears.

  “Indeed.” Haikor offered Jaap a hand, but the king of Weirland shook his head. He had learned his lesson. He did not need another one not to trust Haikor of Rurik.

  “Jaap of Weirland, I will show you the mercy you say a king should show. This once, and do not expect it again. What works for you in Weirland will never work for us here. But you will promise to acknowledge me as the heir to my father before you leave. I will be king. Do you hear me?”

  Jaap hesitated a long moment and he could feel Haikor’s weyr begin to rise again.

  Then he nodded, and he told himself afterward that it was not because he was afraid to die. It was because he thought that Haikor would indeed be a better king for Rurik, and that it would in turn be better for Weirland.

  “Good. Then I will send a servant to make sure you are well. After I am finished with my brother.” Haikor walked away, and Jaap could see only the outline of his figure, the head held high despite his height.

  What have I done, Jaap wondered. The next years of his life were spent in figuring out the full extent of the answer, and wondering if it might have been better to have given up his life then and there, for Weirland and for Rurik both.

  END