fic: Sins of the Fathers (2/4)
Sins of the Fathers
Part 2
Six years later.
“If you’re not in this room within the next five minutes, there will be the Keeper to pay!” Zedd shouted in his best magic-teacher voice, striding into the study for at least the sixth time, looking for his errant student.
He had been waiting for Darken’s arrival for more than an hour. When the boy failed to show his face at the appointed time for his lessons, Zedd had waited for the negotiated ten minutes, and then had begun scouring Darken’s favorite hiding places without much hope of success. The prince was constantly discovering back passageways and staircases of which Zedd was ignorant, not to mention the fact that Darken was so small he could squirm into crannies the wizard could never hope to reach.
But Darken usually saved his antics for occasions when he was free to roam, not for times reserved for instruction. He loved learning, avidly devouring every scrap of knowledge that Zedd fed him.
At the age of six, Darken was still learning only the most rudimentary basics of magic, the simplest spells tempered by the importance of using wisdom and caution. The boy’s han was not the most powerful Zedd had ever encountered, but Darken’s Gift was stronger than his father’s, a fact that galled Panis daily.
Darken was a serious child, albeit sometimes moody, but not above the occasional prank, such as tying the ends of Zedd’s robes to the table leg while the wizard was deep in meditation only to dissolve into laughter at the sight of the wizard tangling himself up in his own clothes when he tried to stand up, or replacing Zedd’s favorite seasonings with hot pepper and looking on straight-faced while his teacher poured copious amounts into his favorite stew, or, most infuriating of all, slipping into Zedd’s chambers during the day and short-sheeting the bed linens.
Constantly aware of the prophecy hanging over Darken’s head, Zedd had done his best to instill a sense of compassion, justice and humility in the boy, and the child had seemed to take the lessons to heart.
“BOO!”
Zedd yelped, jumping back as a blue-eyed stare accosted him out of nowhere, popping into his line of vision as if dropped from the sky. Darken’s upside-down countenance smirked back at him.
“What the - ! “ Zedd roared. He hated being taken by surprise.
Darken had smeared charcoal all over his face, and black smudges covered his D’Haran red tunic and leggings where he had wiped his hands. The boy’s dark brown hair stuck out in wild spikes that looked as if they had been clumped together with jam.
“I’m a screeling, and you’re dead!” the boy shouted with glee, nimbly sliding down from the rafters. “I scared you, didn’t I?”
Zedd struggled between impatience and laughter. He had been so wrapped up in his work , so absorbed in his brooding, that he had forgotten it was Keeper’s Day.
Still -
“How do you know about screelings, Darken?” With any other child this might not be a pressing concern, but Darken Rahl was not any other boy.
Darken looked up at him as if Zedd had taken leave of his senses. “You told me, Zedd. Don’t you remember? You spent one whole day talking about them when I wanted to go outside and play.”
So he had. The wizard sighed in relief, although he noted with a chuckle that the mats of jam must have been Darken’s own creative idea of screeling adornment.
“What’s all this about?” Someone else had entered the study.
Even if Zedd hadn’t recognized Panis’s clipped disapproving voice, he would have known the new arrival by the way Darken seemed to shrink inside his own skin. The happy excited boy of a moment ago disappeared as the prince made a futile attempt to wipe the charcoal off his face and clothes. Grabbing a handful of Zedd’s robes, Darken rubbed them across his face and through his gooey hair in a futile attempt to erase his transgression.
“It’s Keeper’s Day, father, and I wanted to - “
The child’s explanation was cut short by an icy blast of displeasure.
“Be quiet and return to your chambers. Clean yourself up so that you’ll be presentable at dinner. You’re too old to be acting like a baby.” Panis glowered over at his son and the boy leapt to obey, scurrying out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him.
The king turned to his wizard, scowl still in place. “Zedd, I’ve told you that my son is to be kept on a short leash. I won’t have him wasting his time with frivolity. He must learn how to rule.”
“It is Keeper’s Day, Lord Rahl.” Zedd rarely called Panis by his given name any longer. “I saw no harm in allowing the boy to celebrate the holiday.” The wizard was not about to admit his own surprise at Darken’s caper. Shielding Darken from Panis’s censure had become almost second nature to Zedd by now.
“I would think you, of all people, would prohibit my son from celebrating a holiday given over to the Keeper,” Panis admonished. The ruler of D’Hara was still a handsome man, although, unlike Zedd who had become leaner over the past five years, Panis had begun growing soft around the middle, the price paid for over- indulgence. His hair, though, was as golden as always, and he still cut a fine figure with the wives and daughters of his retainers.
“All children celebrate the day, my Lord. Darken meant no harm,” Zedd said calmly, hoping to appease the king before he worked himself into a lather.
“How can we be certain of that, Zedd? I haven’t forgotten the prophecy, even if you have. The boy needs to be watched at all times.” Panis retorted sharply, his eyes narrowed to slits as he peered up into the rafters where Darken had been hiding only moments before. “What was he doing up there anyway? You’re far too lenient with him.”
Over the years, Lord Rahl had grown increasingly concerned with Shota’s warning about his son, until it had reached the point where he saw dark implications in everything Darken said or did.
The sad truth was that Panis Rahl’s early pride and happiness in his son had begun to wither as soon as the child had recovered from the fever that come nigh to killing him shortly after his birth.
Upon Zedd’s return to the palace after his own father’s death, he had started to notice a troubling change in Lord Rahl’s feelings toward Darken. The king rarely visited the nursery, and on those few occasions when he did ask to see his son, Panis kept aloof, rarely holding or touching the child.
By the time Darken was taking his first steps, , his father had begun to fret about the prophecy, as jealous about the child’s potential for power as he was with the possibility of his son becoming a murderous tyrant.
The son could not be permitted to outshine the father.
And thus had begun Panis’s steady war of attrition against Darken, combat waged against a foe still too young to fight back, or even to understand what was at stake.
Darken could do nothing that pleased his father.
When the boy excelled at his studies, he was too bookish; If he was less than perfect at his lessons, he was either lazy or an idiot; if he stumbled over the words of an incantation, he was incompetent; If he said the words perfectly he was prideful over a trifle that any child could accomplish; if Darken cried when he fell and hurt himself, then he was too weak and unfit to rule; if he remained stoic, he must be harboring dark schemes; if he accidently broke something, he was a clumsy fool, and if he pulled a childish prank, then he was headed down the path of unspeakable evil.
The child was caught in an elegant trap from which there was no escape.
Why couldn’t Panis understand that his treatment of the boy might one day twist Darken’s nature into becoming the very evil that he feared?
Why couldn’t Panis Rahl see what Zedd had seen all too clearly a few months earlier?
It had happened on Darken’s sixth birthday. A well-meaning soul had presented the prince with a black and white kitten. The boy had been thrilled, and his eyes had lit up with joy when he showed the little scrap of fur to his father. Panis had reacted with cool aplomb, without raising his voice or losing his benevolent smile, he quietly hurled daggers into his son’s heart.
“A kitten. What a perfect gift for a little girl, Darken,” he had drawled. “If you want to keep it, then I suppose I’ll have to begin calling you daughter instead of son. What name would you prefer? Darlene, Doris?”
All of the birthday guests had slunk down in their chairs, clearly wishing themselves anywhere else, while Zedd could only hope that the unfortunate who had brought the animal had managed to escape the palace alive.
At first, uncomprehending, Darken had looked at his father in confusion. “I want to keep her, father. What do you want me to do?”
Panis replied without hesitation,” If you want to please me, if you want to show me you’re a man, you’ll break its neck - now.”
The hall became so quiet Zedd thought he could have heard a pin drop as he seethed inwardly at the man he had once called friend. He felt he should do something, intervene in some way, but sat frozen in his chair, cursing himself for a coward.
Darken, great tears rolling down his face, stubbornly clung to the small animal. “I won’t hurt her, father. I’m not a man yet. I’m only six.”
Panis continued his verbal barrage, his soft words completely without inflection . “That’s right, cry, just like you always do. Leave us, Darken. Run up to your room and put on your prettiest dress. You’ve shamed me enough for one evening. Get out of my sight.”
Darken had flown out of the room, red-faced and sobbing, while the guests tried to carry on as if nothing had gone awry.
At the earliest opportunity, Zedd had slipped away from the ruins of the celebration, making his way to Darken’s chambers. There he found the boy curled against the casement, staring out into the night, the kitten tucked up under his chin.
“Why doesn’t Father like me, Zedd” Darken had asked, rubbing his cheek against the purring bundle, as soon as the wizard had entered the room. ”I want him to be proud of me, but I can’t do anything right.”
“Your father loves you, Darken. He just wants to - ,” Zedd began, the words sticking in his throat, but the prince would have none of it.
“Don’t lie!” Darken shouted, angrily interrupting the wizard’s attempt at comfort, his young features hardening into an expression Zedd had never seen before. “Someday I’m going to be bigger and stronger than Father, and I’ll have more magic, too. Then Father will be sorry that he ever made me mad.” Darken’s eyes had taken on a glassy sheen that chilled Zedd to the bone. The face turned towards Zedd was that of a stranger, not the amiable boy the wizard had always known.
Within seconds, the Darken that Zedd had always known had returned, re-animating those staring eyes as the boy threw his arms around Zedd’s shoulders, clinging to him for dear life. “I’m afraid, Zedd. Help me. I didn’t mean it.”
Holding Darken tightly against his chest, Zedd felt as if a giant hand were squeezing the breath out of his lungs as the words of the prophecy echoed in his mind - a silent accusation.
Darken Rahl, if he lives, will become the most monstrous tyrant the world has even known.
Was the boy’s true nature finally starting to emerge?
No!
Zedd had refused to believe it in the past, and he wouldn’t believe it now. There was too much good in the boy to give up hope. Lord Rahl’s vicious goading would have spurred even a Sister of the Light to anger.
But on that night Zedd realized with heart-sinking certainty that Panis’s unending campaign of humiliation against his son had to be stopped, or else all would end in disaster. Ten or twelve years hence, Darken Rahl, hating his father as much as his father did him, could indeed become what Panis - and Zedd - most feared.
But how in the Creator’s name could he halt what had been set into motion?
“By the way, Zedd, where is that infernal cat my son is always lugging about? It’s Keeper’s Day, you know. It’s not safe for a feline to be wandering around. It might get hurt.”
The king’s cold voice dragged Zedd back to the present.
He and Lord Rahl faced each other in the study as Panis continued, an odd crooked grimace creasing his attractive face. “You should know by now that my son should never be trusted with small animals.”
Then the ruler of D’Hara turned on his heel and left the room, leaving his First Wizard to wonder why the king should, all of a sudden, be concerned about an animal he had always detested.
++++
“I don’t know where to find the stupid cat, father. Unlike you, I don’t follow the little princeling everywhere he goes.” Taralynn was brushing out her long brown curls, admiring the sheen the candlelight gave her hair. Despite her preoccupation with her own reflection, the girl couldn’t keep the antipathy out of her voice.
Darken. Darken. Darken.
Everything was always about Darken.
When she had come to the palace to live with her father, Taralynn had hoped she would finally get a full measure of his attention, that after years of being ignored, she would have a father to dote on her.
Instead, almost as soon as they had passed through the gates, Father had become caught up in his duties to Lord Rahl.
She had accepted that. Everyone should strive to please Lord Rahl.
But Taralynn hadn’t counted on the other distractions her father would use to avoid her company - the parties, the drinking, the women.
An endless stream of women - all,it seemed, more interesting to him than was she.
Taralynn had been eager to make her father proud, so when he had prepared a course of study for her, she was determined to be an exemplary student. But the experiment had been a dismal failure. Try as she might, Taralynn had no inclination for books, for dry boring D’Haran history, for the numbers which seemed to blur together in front of her eyes. She would always end up pushing the books away in defeat, often rambling off in search of her father, and then would become further distracted by the beautiful dresses and jewelry of Lord Rahl’s concubines.
Once her father had commenced teaching Darken Rahl, whatever small amount of time he had once spared for her disappeared completely. When he wasn’t with Darken, Father was talking about Darken, worrying about Darken, planning for Darken.
Sometimes Taralynn thought that her father wouldn’t notice if she left and went back to her old village. But Mother didn’t want her back. Erylin was married, with young children, and had no interest in having her domestic arrangements disrupted.
Anyway - leaving the palace was unthinkable now.
The People’s Palace was the heart of the empire, the hub of the universe. The most powerful men and the loveliest women were drawn there like bees to honey. Everything that Taralynn wanted was here.
She would never leave.
Six months earlier, during the royal brat’s birthday party, while her father was preoccupied with the silliness about Darken and the kitten, Taralynn had finally worked up enough courage to ask one of Lord Rahl’s concubines to show her how to braid her hair. After that, the king’s women vied for her favor. She had soon become a fixture in the women’s quarters, where she finally received the attention she had always craved.
If Father had ever thought to take notice, he might have tried to stop her, so at first Taralynn was careful to keep her visits to the quarters a secret. But she soon learned to her chagrin that, as long as she wasn’t underfoot, Father was never very concerned about her comings and goings.
He almost seemed relieved when her interest had shifted away from him, happy that she had found an interest to occupy her time.
The concubines, eager to curry favor with Lord Rahl’s First Wizard, strived to out-do each other in dressing Taralynn, brushing and arranging her hair, showing her how to use henna and kohl to best advantage, describing the ways to attract and please a man. It never occurred to any of them that the eager student might one day best them at their own game.
It hadn’t occurred to Taralynn until three months ago, when, upon the occasion of her eighteenth birthday, Lord Rahl had gazed at her with new eyes, noticing that she was far more than the gangly daughter of his First Wizard. That evening, he had made a point of singling her out, and later, when most of the guests, including Father, were either groggy from drink or too much food, Lord Rahl had pulled her into an alcove and laughingly demanded a birthday kiss from her.
A kiss that had been far more than a light peck on the lips.
From that day forward, the king had made a point of complimenting Taralynn at every opportunity, telling her how lovely she looked, how her dress flattered her coloring, how her wit was sharper than any woman in his Court. As their flirtation progressed, Lord Rahl had started to unburden the secrets of his heart to her - his loveless marriage to a woman who had never understood him, his loneliness, his longing for more children, especially for a son who would be truly worthy to rule.
How grateful he had been to have found the perfect woman in the form of the daughter of his dearest friend.
Panis had urged Taralynn to become his in every way, careful never to force the issue. It was just that it was so hard to wait, he had claimed, now that he had found his soul-mate, his queen, a woman filt to be the mother of his future son.
While Taralynn was exhilarated by Lord Rahl’s constant declarations of devotion, it was the determination to prove she could give him an heir that led to her surrender one night in the garden. After that, the king made certain that her father was occupied during their evening trysts in the garden.
She might not be the wizard son her father had wanted, she might have no Gift, she might have little education, but Taralynn had a power just as potent, and she was determined to use it to her best advantage.
Clasping a heavy gold necklace around her throat , she took a moment to enjoy the way it added an extra glow to her complexion before rising to her feet and reaching for her cloak. She was late and Lord Rahl was not a patient man. “I have to leave now, Father. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful about the cat, but I really don’t know where it is.”
“Leave? Where are you going? It’s almost time for dinner.” Father gazed back at her in bafflement, seeming to see her for the first time in years. “Where did you get that necklace? I’ve never noticed it before.”
When did you grow up?
The question gleamed in his eyes.
Taralynn sighed. “Lord Rahl gave it to me for my birthday, Father. Don’t you remember?”
As a matter of fact, Father hadn’t remembered her birthday, not until Lord Rahl had thrown her the party that had surprised Zedd as much as it had surprised her.
And while the gold chain was indeed a gift from the king, it had been given in exchange for the much greater gift she already carried for him - a son.
After Lord Rahl fastened the heavy links around her neck, he had assured her with more fervor than ever before of her value to him above all other women.
Her son - their son - not Darken, would be the future Lord Rahl.
Nicholas Rahl would one day sit upon the throne of D’Hara.
++++
Later that evening Taralynn slipped back into her chambers lost in a blissful haze. As always, she had employed every trick, every bit of advice given to her by Lord Rahl’s most skilled courtesans, and, as always, she had pleased the king more than any woman he had ever bedded.
He had told her so, and she knew he would never lie, not to her, not to the woman he loved.
Lord Rahl intended to announce their betrothal within the week, and Taralynn was relieved that she wouldn’t have to keep their secret much longer. She was already eight weeks gone with child, and would be showing soon. Up to now her father had been oblivious, but he wasn’t blind.
As she dreamily shed her grass-stained dress, Taralynn tried not to dwell on the jarring sight that had met her eyes when she had first caught sight of her lover in the garden tonight.
She didn’t want to think about the small creature she had glimpsed struggling in his grasp, dangling from the grip of those same hands that had later caressed her body.
Taralynn didn’t want to remember hearing the snap before the animal had gone limp.
She had to make herself forget the way Lord Rahl had tossed the cat’s still twitching body into the bushes with a careless shrug.
But most of all, she would deny any memory of his smile when he had then looked around and, acknowledging her presence, winked at her as if at an accomplice.
Part I Part 3 Part 4
Part 2
Six years later.
“If you’re not in this room within the next five minutes, there will be the Keeper to pay!” Zedd shouted in his best magic-teacher voice, striding into the study for at least the sixth time, looking for his errant student.
He had been waiting for Darken’s arrival for more than an hour. When the boy failed to show his face at the appointed time for his lessons, Zedd had waited for the negotiated ten minutes, and then had begun scouring Darken’s favorite hiding places without much hope of success. The prince was constantly discovering back passageways and staircases of which Zedd was ignorant, not to mention the fact that Darken was so small he could squirm into crannies the wizard could never hope to reach.
But Darken usually saved his antics for occasions when he was free to roam, not for times reserved for instruction. He loved learning, avidly devouring every scrap of knowledge that Zedd fed him.
At the age of six, Darken was still learning only the most rudimentary basics of magic, the simplest spells tempered by the importance of using wisdom and caution. The boy’s han was not the most powerful Zedd had ever encountered, but Darken’s Gift was stronger than his father’s, a fact that galled Panis daily.
Darken was a serious child, albeit sometimes moody, but not above the occasional prank, such as tying the ends of Zedd’s robes to the table leg while the wizard was deep in meditation only to dissolve into laughter at the sight of the wizard tangling himself up in his own clothes when he tried to stand up, or replacing Zedd’s favorite seasonings with hot pepper and looking on straight-faced while his teacher poured copious amounts into his favorite stew, or, most infuriating of all, slipping into Zedd’s chambers during the day and short-sheeting the bed linens.
Constantly aware of the prophecy hanging over Darken’s head, Zedd had done his best to instill a sense of compassion, justice and humility in the boy, and the child had seemed to take the lessons to heart.
“BOO!”
Zedd yelped, jumping back as a blue-eyed stare accosted him out of nowhere, popping into his line of vision as if dropped from the sky. Darken’s upside-down countenance smirked back at him.
“What the - ! “ Zedd roared. He hated being taken by surprise.
Darken had smeared charcoal all over his face, and black smudges covered his D’Haran red tunic and leggings where he had wiped his hands. The boy’s dark brown hair stuck out in wild spikes that looked as if they had been clumped together with jam.
“I’m a screeling, and you’re dead!” the boy shouted with glee, nimbly sliding down from the rafters. “I scared you, didn’t I?”
Zedd struggled between impatience and laughter. He had been so wrapped up in his work , so absorbed in his brooding, that he had forgotten it was Keeper’s Day.
Still -
“How do you know about screelings, Darken?” With any other child this might not be a pressing concern, but Darken Rahl was not any other boy.
Darken looked up at him as if Zedd had taken leave of his senses. “You told me, Zedd. Don’t you remember? You spent one whole day talking about them when I wanted to go outside and play.”
So he had. The wizard sighed in relief, although he noted with a chuckle that the mats of jam must have been Darken’s own creative idea of screeling adornment.
“What’s all this about?” Someone else had entered the study.
Even if Zedd hadn’t recognized Panis’s clipped disapproving voice, he would have known the new arrival by the way Darken seemed to shrink inside his own skin. The happy excited boy of a moment ago disappeared as the prince made a futile attempt to wipe the charcoal off his face and clothes. Grabbing a handful of Zedd’s robes, Darken rubbed them across his face and through his gooey hair in a futile attempt to erase his transgression.
“It’s Keeper’s Day, father, and I wanted to - “
The child’s explanation was cut short by an icy blast of displeasure.
“Be quiet and return to your chambers. Clean yourself up so that you’ll be presentable at dinner. You’re too old to be acting like a baby.” Panis glowered over at his son and the boy leapt to obey, scurrying out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him.
The king turned to his wizard, scowl still in place. “Zedd, I’ve told you that my son is to be kept on a short leash. I won’t have him wasting his time with frivolity. He must learn how to rule.”
“It is Keeper’s Day, Lord Rahl.” Zedd rarely called Panis by his given name any longer. “I saw no harm in allowing the boy to celebrate the holiday.” The wizard was not about to admit his own surprise at Darken’s caper. Shielding Darken from Panis’s censure had become almost second nature to Zedd by now.
“I would think you, of all people, would prohibit my son from celebrating a holiday given over to the Keeper,” Panis admonished. The ruler of D’Hara was still a handsome man, although, unlike Zedd who had become leaner over the past five years, Panis had begun growing soft around the middle, the price paid for over- indulgence. His hair, though, was as golden as always, and he still cut a fine figure with the wives and daughters of his retainers.
“All children celebrate the day, my Lord. Darken meant no harm,” Zedd said calmly, hoping to appease the king before he worked himself into a lather.
“How can we be certain of that, Zedd? I haven’t forgotten the prophecy, even if you have. The boy needs to be watched at all times.” Panis retorted sharply, his eyes narrowed to slits as he peered up into the rafters where Darken had been hiding only moments before. “What was he doing up there anyway? You’re far too lenient with him.”
Over the years, Lord Rahl had grown increasingly concerned with Shota’s warning about his son, until it had reached the point where he saw dark implications in everything Darken said or did.
The sad truth was that Panis Rahl’s early pride and happiness in his son had begun to wither as soon as the child had recovered from the fever that come nigh to killing him shortly after his birth.
Upon Zedd’s return to the palace after his own father’s death, he had started to notice a troubling change in Lord Rahl’s feelings toward Darken. The king rarely visited the nursery, and on those few occasions when he did ask to see his son, Panis kept aloof, rarely holding or touching the child.
By the time Darken was taking his first steps, , his father had begun to fret about the prophecy, as jealous about the child’s potential for power as he was with the possibility of his son becoming a murderous tyrant.
The son could not be permitted to outshine the father.
And thus had begun Panis’s steady war of attrition against Darken, combat waged against a foe still too young to fight back, or even to understand what was at stake.
Darken could do nothing that pleased his father.
When the boy excelled at his studies, he was too bookish; If he was less than perfect at his lessons, he was either lazy or an idiot; if he stumbled over the words of an incantation, he was incompetent; If he said the words perfectly he was prideful over a trifle that any child could accomplish; if Darken cried when he fell and hurt himself, then he was too weak and unfit to rule; if he remained stoic, he must be harboring dark schemes; if he accidently broke something, he was a clumsy fool, and if he pulled a childish prank, then he was headed down the path of unspeakable evil.
The child was caught in an elegant trap from which there was no escape.
Why couldn’t Panis understand that his treatment of the boy might one day twist Darken’s nature into becoming the very evil that he feared?
Why couldn’t Panis Rahl see what Zedd had seen all too clearly a few months earlier?
It had happened on Darken’s sixth birthday. A well-meaning soul had presented the prince with a black and white kitten. The boy had been thrilled, and his eyes had lit up with joy when he showed the little scrap of fur to his father. Panis had reacted with cool aplomb, without raising his voice or losing his benevolent smile, he quietly hurled daggers into his son’s heart.
“A kitten. What a perfect gift for a little girl, Darken,” he had drawled. “If you want to keep it, then I suppose I’ll have to begin calling you daughter instead of son. What name would you prefer? Darlene, Doris?”
All of the birthday guests had slunk down in their chairs, clearly wishing themselves anywhere else, while Zedd could only hope that the unfortunate who had brought the animal had managed to escape the palace alive.
At first, uncomprehending, Darken had looked at his father in confusion. “I want to keep her, father. What do you want me to do?”
Panis replied without hesitation,” If you want to please me, if you want to show me you’re a man, you’ll break its neck - now.”
The hall became so quiet Zedd thought he could have heard a pin drop as he seethed inwardly at the man he had once called friend. He felt he should do something, intervene in some way, but sat frozen in his chair, cursing himself for a coward.
Darken, great tears rolling down his face, stubbornly clung to the small animal. “I won’t hurt her, father. I’m not a man yet. I’m only six.”
Panis continued his verbal barrage, his soft words completely without inflection . “That’s right, cry, just like you always do. Leave us, Darken. Run up to your room and put on your prettiest dress. You’ve shamed me enough for one evening. Get out of my sight.”
Darken had flown out of the room, red-faced and sobbing, while the guests tried to carry on as if nothing had gone awry.
At the earliest opportunity, Zedd had slipped away from the ruins of the celebration, making his way to Darken’s chambers. There he found the boy curled against the casement, staring out into the night, the kitten tucked up under his chin.
“Why doesn’t Father like me, Zedd” Darken had asked, rubbing his cheek against the purring bundle, as soon as the wizard had entered the room. ”I want him to be proud of me, but I can’t do anything right.”
“Your father loves you, Darken. He just wants to - ,” Zedd began, the words sticking in his throat, but the prince would have none of it.
“Don’t lie!” Darken shouted, angrily interrupting the wizard’s attempt at comfort, his young features hardening into an expression Zedd had never seen before. “Someday I’m going to be bigger and stronger than Father, and I’ll have more magic, too. Then Father will be sorry that he ever made me mad.” Darken’s eyes had taken on a glassy sheen that chilled Zedd to the bone. The face turned towards Zedd was that of a stranger, not the amiable boy the wizard had always known.
Within seconds, the Darken that Zedd had always known had returned, re-animating those staring eyes as the boy threw his arms around Zedd’s shoulders, clinging to him for dear life. “I’m afraid, Zedd. Help me. I didn’t mean it.”
Holding Darken tightly against his chest, Zedd felt as if a giant hand were squeezing the breath out of his lungs as the words of the prophecy echoed in his mind - a silent accusation.
Darken Rahl, if he lives, will become the most monstrous tyrant the world has even known.
Was the boy’s true nature finally starting to emerge?
No!
Zedd had refused to believe it in the past, and he wouldn’t believe it now. There was too much good in the boy to give up hope. Lord Rahl’s vicious goading would have spurred even a Sister of the Light to anger.
But on that night Zedd realized with heart-sinking certainty that Panis’s unending campaign of humiliation against his son had to be stopped, or else all would end in disaster. Ten or twelve years hence, Darken Rahl, hating his father as much as his father did him, could indeed become what Panis - and Zedd - most feared.
But how in the Creator’s name could he halt what had been set into motion?
“By the way, Zedd, where is that infernal cat my son is always lugging about? It’s Keeper’s Day, you know. It’s not safe for a feline to be wandering around. It might get hurt.”
The king’s cold voice dragged Zedd back to the present.
He and Lord Rahl faced each other in the study as Panis continued, an odd crooked grimace creasing his attractive face. “You should know by now that my son should never be trusted with small animals.”
Then the ruler of D’Hara turned on his heel and left the room, leaving his First Wizard to wonder why the king should, all of a sudden, be concerned about an animal he had always detested.
++++
“I don’t know where to find the stupid cat, father. Unlike you, I don’t follow the little princeling everywhere he goes.” Taralynn was brushing out her long brown curls, admiring the sheen the candlelight gave her hair. Despite her preoccupation with her own reflection, the girl couldn’t keep the antipathy out of her voice.
Darken. Darken. Darken.
Everything was always about Darken.
When she had come to the palace to live with her father, Taralynn had hoped she would finally get a full measure of his attention, that after years of being ignored, she would have a father to dote on her.
Instead, almost as soon as they had passed through the gates, Father had become caught up in his duties to Lord Rahl.
She had accepted that. Everyone should strive to please Lord Rahl.
But Taralynn hadn’t counted on the other distractions her father would use to avoid her company - the parties, the drinking, the women.
An endless stream of women - all,it seemed, more interesting to him than was she.
Taralynn had been eager to make her father proud, so when he had prepared a course of study for her, she was determined to be an exemplary student. But the experiment had been a dismal failure. Try as she might, Taralynn had no inclination for books, for dry boring D’Haran history, for the numbers which seemed to blur together in front of her eyes. She would always end up pushing the books away in defeat, often rambling off in search of her father, and then would become further distracted by the beautiful dresses and jewelry of Lord Rahl’s concubines.
Once her father had commenced teaching Darken Rahl, whatever small amount of time he had once spared for her disappeared completely. When he wasn’t with Darken, Father was talking about Darken, worrying about Darken, planning for Darken.
Sometimes Taralynn thought that her father wouldn’t notice if she left and went back to her old village. But Mother didn’t want her back. Erylin was married, with young children, and had no interest in having her domestic arrangements disrupted.
Anyway - leaving the palace was unthinkable now.
The People’s Palace was the heart of the empire, the hub of the universe. The most powerful men and the loveliest women were drawn there like bees to honey. Everything that Taralynn wanted was here.
She would never leave.
Six months earlier, during the royal brat’s birthday party, while her father was preoccupied with the silliness about Darken and the kitten, Taralynn had finally worked up enough courage to ask one of Lord Rahl’s concubines to show her how to braid her hair. After that, the king’s women vied for her favor. She had soon become a fixture in the women’s quarters, where she finally received the attention she had always craved.
If Father had ever thought to take notice, he might have tried to stop her, so at first Taralynn was careful to keep her visits to the quarters a secret. But she soon learned to her chagrin that, as long as she wasn’t underfoot, Father was never very concerned about her comings and goings.
He almost seemed relieved when her interest had shifted away from him, happy that she had found an interest to occupy her time.
The concubines, eager to curry favor with Lord Rahl’s First Wizard, strived to out-do each other in dressing Taralynn, brushing and arranging her hair, showing her how to use henna and kohl to best advantage, describing the ways to attract and please a man. It never occurred to any of them that the eager student might one day best them at their own game.
It hadn’t occurred to Taralynn until three months ago, when, upon the occasion of her eighteenth birthday, Lord Rahl had gazed at her with new eyes, noticing that she was far more than the gangly daughter of his First Wizard. That evening, he had made a point of singling her out, and later, when most of the guests, including Father, were either groggy from drink or too much food, Lord Rahl had pulled her into an alcove and laughingly demanded a birthday kiss from her.
A kiss that had been far more than a light peck on the lips.
From that day forward, the king had made a point of complimenting Taralynn at every opportunity, telling her how lovely she looked, how her dress flattered her coloring, how her wit was sharper than any woman in his Court. As their flirtation progressed, Lord Rahl had started to unburden the secrets of his heart to her - his loveless marriage to a woman who had never understood him, his loneliness, his longing for more children, especially for a son who would be truly worthy to rule.
How grateful he had been to have found the perfect woman in the form of the daughter of his dearest friend.
Panis had urged Taralynn to become his in every way, careful never to force the issue. It was just that it was so hard to wait, he had claimed, now that he had found his soul-mate, his queen, a woman filt to be the mother of his future son.
While Taralynn was exhilarated by Lord Rahl’s constant declarations of devotion, it was the determination to prove she could give him an heir that led to her surrender one night in the garden. After that, the king made certain that her father was occupied during their evening trysts in the garden.
She might not be the wizard son her father had wanted, she might have no Gift, she might have little education, but Taralynn had a power just as potent, and she was determined to use it to her best advantage.
Clasping a heavy gold necklace around her throat , she took a moment to enjoy the way it added an extra glow to her complexion before rising to her feet and reaching for her cloak. She was late and Lord Rahl was not a patient man. “I have to leave now, Father. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful about the cat, but I really don’t know where it is.”
“Leave? Where are you going? It’s almost time for dinner.” Father gazed back at her in bafflement, seeming to see her for the first time in years. “Where did you get that necklace? I’ve never noticed it before.”
When did you grow up?
The question gleamed in his eyes.
Taralynn sighed. “Lord Rahl gave it to me for my birthday, Father. Don’t you remember?”
As a matter of fact, Father hadn’t remembered her birthday, not until Lord Rahl had thrown her the party that had surprised Zedd as much as it had surprised her.
And while the gold chain was indeed a gift from the king, it had been given in exchange for the much greater gift she already carried for him - a son.
After Lord Rahl fastened the heavy links around her neck, he had assured her with more fervor than ever before of her value to him above all other women.
Her son - their son - not Darken, would be the future Lord Rahl.
Nicholas Rahl would one day sit upon the throne of D’Hara.
++++
Later that evening Taralynn slipped back into her chambers lost in a blissful haze. As always, she had employed every trick, every bit of advice given to her by Lord Rahl’s most skilled courtesans, and, as always, she had pleased the king more than any woman he had ever bedded.
He had told her so, and she knew he would never lie, not to her, not to the woman he loved.
Lord Rahl intended to announce their betrothal within the week, and Taralynn was relieved that she wouldn’t have to keep their secret much longer. She was already eight weeks gone with child, and would be showing soon. Up to now her father had been oblivious, but he wasn’t blind.
As she dreamily shed her grass-stained dress, Taralynn tried not to dwell on the jarring sight that had met her eyes when she had first caught sight of her lover in the garden tonight.
She didn’t want to think about the small creature she had glimpsed struggling in his grasp, dangling from the grip of those same hands that had later caressed her body.
Taralynn didn’t want to remember hearing the snap before the animal had gone limp.
She had to make herself forget the way Lord Rahl had tossed the cat’s still twitching body into the bushes with a careless shrug.
But most of all, she would deny any memory of his smile when he had then looked around and, acknowledging her presence, winked at her as if at an accomplice.
Part I Part 3 Part 4