Kristine Kathryn Rusch - Black Throne 02 - The Black King

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THE BLACK KING

For Gift, who has renounced the Black Throne to become a Shaman, the news from Blue

Isle is disheartening.

There his sister, Queen Arianna, once a proponent of peace, has begun to prepare for war.

For unknown to Gift, Arianna has been possessed by the dark soul of the Black King who

nearly destroyed the Fey Empire generations before in his mad quest for power. Through

darkest magic he has returned to life in Arianna’s body to finish what he started—while

the queen’s true consciousness has been hidden away by her most ardent supporters.

Now Gift must somehow avert the tragedy that threatens his world. But looming above

all is the ancient curse of Blood against Blood, forbidding one member of the Black Family

from taking the life of another. Yet what choice does Gift have? If the Black King is

allowed to assume the Throne he will plunge the world into a terrifying cataclysm that

could destroy all who inhabit it.

RAIN OF DEATH

There was no way of telling how many archers stood above them.

An arrow hit the man Gift had been yelling at. Arrows landed near Gift, and he

suddenly realized he was the target. The man he had directed to the wheel was trying to

turn it, but not doing a very good job.

Skya had come on deck. Gift cursed softly. He didn’t want her here. He hurried to her,

put his arms around her, and pushed her toward the deckhouse.

“They’ll kill you,” he said.

She raised a single eyebrow. “Looks to me like someone is trying to kill you.”

The man was still struggling with the wheel and the ship was losing momentum. If no

one did anything, they’d be stuck here, easy targets for the archers above.

Some of the Fey on deck were shouting now. The Sailors were still in position, two of

them with arrows in their backs. A wave came up over the deck. One of the Fey women

screamed. Arrows were spraying the entire area around Gift. One of them hit a Navigator

who collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Skya was back on deck. She grabbed Gift and flung him aside as if he weighed nothing.

She held him underneath the overhang.

“If you die,” she said, “we all die. You’re staying here.”

The Black Throne Series

THE BLACK KING

Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Bantam Books

New York Toronto London Sydney Auckland

Copyright notice

Contents

The Black King

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

The Black Heir

13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

Visions

28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

The Assassin

37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

The Blood

51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72

73

The Black King

74 75

For my sister, Peg Hammer, who showed me

that women can he strong, courageous, and

feminine all at the same time.

Acknowledgments

Thanks on this book go to Anne Lesley Groell for her tremendous work on this project;

Merrilee Heifetz for keeping the dream alive; Paul Higginbotham and Jerry and Kathy

Oltion for their perceptive comments; my husband, Dean Wesley Smith, for loving the

world of the Fey sometimes more than I do; and to all the readers who’ve been writing

me letters and telling me what they enjoy about this world, and why.

The Black King

contents - next

The Return

Chapter One

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Gift stood on the prow of the Tashka, his hands clasped behind his back, his feet

spread slightly apart. He wore his hair longer than he ever had, and used a leather tie to

hold it back. The sun and weather had darkened his skin, making it the same color as that

of the Fey around him. His hands had calluses, his body more muscles. He had learned a

lot on this trip, much of it about survival.

The Infrin Sea was choppy. A wind had come up, carrying with it a light mist. The

skies were overcast, the air chill, but something in it smelled of home.

If he squinted, he could see Blue Isle ahead. At first its mountainous shore had looked

like a gray shadow against the gray ocean, but as the ship drew closer, the shapes were

becoming clearer.

The Stone Guardians protected the only natural harbor in Blue Isle. They were huge

rocks, three times taller than most ships, staggered throughout the harbor and its entry

way. The Guardians created unusual currents that changed with the tides and the

weather. No ship had ever made it through the Guardians without guidance. For decades,

Gift’s Islander father and grandfather kept Blue Isle isolated by destroying all the maps

and getting rid of the people who watched the currents.

Now that Gift’s sister, Arianna, was Queen of Blue Isle, she had reopened the trade

routes. Maps existed again, as did the on-land watchers. Navigators learned the patterns

of the currents, and some Fey had even been trained in reading the waters.

He unclasped his hand and wiped his eyes. Soon his Gull Riders would return with

news of the conditions near the Guardians. Then he would put his Sailors and Navigators

into action.

His stomach was jumping. He was coming home after almost a decade away. He had

traveled across the Fey Empire, and then he had gone to the Eccrasian Mountains to train

as a Shaman. There he had touched the Black Throne and his life had changed.

He shuddered, remembering how the Throne had clung to him, how it had tried to

absorb him, and the strength he had used, both mental and physical, to pull away. The

Throne was a living thing, and it wanted to make him Black King. But his sister Arianna

ruled the Fey.

Arianna was a good Black Queen, and an excellent Queen to Blue Isle. Except there

was something wrong now. He had Seen it in Visions. Something was wrong with her. And

no one would tell him what it was.

He took a few steps forward, as if that would bring him closer to the Stone Guardians.

Once he had vowed not to return to Blue Isle until he became a Shaman. But he would

never be a Shaman. A Shaman couldn’t practice with blood on his hands, and Gift hadn’t

realized that, in his youth, he had accidentally killed a Wisp.

Now he didn’t know what he’d do if something was wrong with Arianna. He was the

oldest, the one who should have taken the Throne, but he had renounced it. Arianna was

the ruthless one, the one who had the willingness to make the hard decisions and the

enemies that leadership required. He had always been the gentler of the two, the one less

willing to take risks.

“Standing and squinting at the Isle won’t bring it any closer.”

Gift turned. Skya stood behind him, her black hair in its customary knot on the top of

her head. The wind had pulled strands from it, whipping them about her narrow face. He

had always thought that she looked like the perfect Fey: her features symmetrical and

upswept, her chin so narrow that it looked almost pointed, her black eyes filled with life

and intelligence. She was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, and although

he’d spent the last six months with her, he was still surprised at the depth of that beauty.

“Part of me wants to get there now, and part of me doesn’t want to return,” he said.

She didn’t answer him. She tried not to discuss what she called matters of state. But he

sometimes saw that as her way of avoiding anything personal. “The Gull Riders are back.”

“I told them to report to me,” he said.

“They’re waiting in the hold.” She put a hand on his arm. Her touch was gentle. He put

an arm around her and pulled her close. Her gaze met his and in it was a warning he

ignored. He kissed her, slid his hands into her soft hair, pulling it free as he had done

almost every night on this trip when she slipped into his stateroom after everyone else

had gone to sleep. The kiss was long and deep and he didn’t care who saw it.

She did. She believed they did not belong together.

She had never told him that, not in so many words, but he knew. It was one of the few

times he knew what she was thinking, and he had no way to reassure her.

Finally she pulled away. “Gift,” she whispered. “We can’t—”

“I thought you didn’t follow rules,” he said, placing his wet forehead against hers. The

mist ran down their faces like tears.

“Only the rules I make myself.”

“You’ve made up rules about me?”

She smiled and slipped out of his grasp. “The Gull Riders are waiting.”

He sighed. “All right. Are you coming with me?”

She shook her head. “This is your ship, remember?”

There was a bit of rancor in that. He’d hired Skya to be his guide, to get him out of

Ghitlas and to Nye. He had told her time was of the essence, and that he needed to be at

Blue Isle within a month. She had laughed at him, and told him the best way was to go

through Vion, and catch a ship out of Tashco on the Etanien continent, bypassing Galinas

altogether. Her guidance had saved them months of travel. She was going to leave them

in Tashco, but he had persuaded her to come to Blue Isle, a place she had never been.

At that point, they hadn’t been lovers, but the possibility had been there. He liked to

think she had made this trip for him, but she had never said that. He knew that her

natural curiosity and distaste for rules might have been the thing that convinced her to

come.

Also, knowledge of Blue Isle would make her much more valuable as a guide. She

needed as much experience as possible. The Fey were not known as natural guides. It

wasn’t part of their magic. It wasn’t really part of Skya’s magic either, but that didn’t

seem to matter. She was born with a Spell Warder’s talent—the ability to create spells for

all types of magics, which meant that she had a little bit of all of the magics that existed

among the Fey—but the Warders were also the most rule-bound of all the Fey. Such a job

would have driven her crazy.

“It may be my ship,” he said, “but I can always use your advice.”

“I have no advice to give,” she said. “I’ll watch you maneuver through the Stone

Guardians, but I’m still not sure they’re as dangerous as you say.”

He stared at her for a moment, measuring. She raised her eyebrows, then shrugged.

“This is a new world for me, Gift.”

He nodded. Just as everything had been new for him in Vion and Etanien. She had

been surprised at that. She had thought that the Heir to the Black Throne should have

understood everything about the Empire. Now that he had traveled a lot, that concept

made sense to him too.

But Arianna had never been off Blue Isle. She had no idea that women went shirtless in

half the Empire or that there were still slaves in rebellious regions like Co.

To Arianna, Blue Isle had been the entire world.

It felt strange to be back here. Sometimes he questioned his own motives in returning.

Was he coming back to solve a problem he didn’t entirely understand? Or had the touch

of the Black Throne done something more to him?

When he had wrenched his hand free of the Throne, it had emitted a white light that

had triggered a series of Visions, Visions he could still see if he closed his eyes.

—His long-dead great-grandfather, sitting on the throne in Blue Isle, smiling at him—

—And his sister was standing before the Black Throne, looking at it with such longing

that it frightened him. He wanted to warn her, to tell her to stand back, but he almost

didn’t recognize her or the look on her face. He took a step toward her—

—He was in water, thrashing, an undertow pulling him down. Water filled his mouth,

tasting of brine and salt. The old Fey in the boat—his great-grandfather again? Or

someone who looked like him?—reached for Gift, but if Gift took his hand, the old man

would die. And Gift didn’t want that. He didn’t want to cause someone else’s death—

—His sister, her face gone as if someone had drawn it and then wiped it away, calling

his name—

—His long-ago best friend, the man to whom he’d always be Bound, Coulter, kissing a

Fey woman, kissing her, and then Gift grabbing him, pulling his head back, and putting a

knife to his throat. He had to—

—His sister, screaming—

—In the Places of Power, two Shaman stood at the door, preparing to find the Triangle

of Might. He couldn’t stop them. He was trying, trying, but he didn’t have the strength—

“Gift?” Skya said.

“What?”

“You looked strange for a moment.”

“I always look strange.” He kissed her again, lightly, then headed toward the hold.

As he stepped into the large deckhouse, he nodded at one of the Nyeians braiding rope.

This ship carried a larger crew than most ships, and it seemed as if most of the crew did

nothing. But they were there for an emergency.

Gift had a cache of Weather Sprites to bring storms or to hold them back, five

Navigators whose services he would probably need in a few moments, and a large group

of Sailors to get him through the Guardians. Those were all magical Fey. Then there were

the Tashil and Nyeian crew who actually tacked the sails and swabbed the decks, and did

all the necessary manual labor. They had carried the bulk of the work on this trip.

The Bird Riders he had with him were also necessary for long ocean voyages. Most of

the Riders he had were Gull Riders, although he had a few Hawk Riders for their strength

and a few scattered Bird Riders from Sparrows to Pigeons to Robins who had come to him

from various places on Etanien, all carrying messages from Seger.

Seger was a Healer who had served Gift’s Fey great-grandfather, whom Gift’s Islander

father had eventually defeated in battle fifteen years before. Seger had proven loyal to

Gift and his family by saving the life of Sebastian, a Golem that Gift considered to be his

real brother.

Now Seger served as Arianna’s Healer and sometimes advisor. The fact that Seger had

sent for Gift—and by more than one messenger—told him that things were very bad

indeed.

He was the Heir to Arianna’s throne because, like him, she had never married and had

no children. If they both died, the Black Throne would revert to his grandfather’s oldest

son, Bridge, whom his grandfather and great-grandfather had never trusted. That was on

the Fey side.

On the Islander side, things were worse. If Gift and Arianna died without issue, the

throne would go to someone who wasn’t a direct descendent of the Isle’s Roca.

Gift climbed down the steps, past the lower decks his hands on the rope railing. The

steps became a rope ladder on the last part of the descent leading him into the darkness

of the hold.

When he reached the bottom, he hurried down the narrow corridor to the mess hall.

He pushed open the door to find the five Riders he had sent out. They were naked and in

their Fey forms, their bird selves subsumed into their torsos. But they still had the look of

birds. Their hair grew in a light feathery pattern down their backs and their noses curved

like beaks.

The ship’s captain, Wave—a Sailor who, at a hundred, had decided he was too old to

send his consciousness into the sea—leaned against the wall. His powerful arms, tattooed

in the L’Nacin tradition, were crossed against his chest and Gift could tell from the

expression on his face that the news was bad.

“Well?” Gift asked.

One of the Gull Riders, a woman named Uhgse, looked over at him. Her dark eyes

were beady.

“There’s a lot of chop,” she said, “and eddies that actually form holes in the surface of

the water. The waves are hitting the stone at an incredible height. There’s no clear way

for the ship to make it through.”

“It’d be like sailing in a hurricane,” said Abdal, another of the Gull Riders.

But there was one Gull Rider Gift had come to trust more than the others. “Ace? What

do you think?”

Ace, whose real name was Graceful, had taken one of the Domestic-spelled towels and

was drying his hair. He stopped when Gift spoke to him.

“I think the surface always looks like that.” He had a deep voice and warmer eyes than

most of the Gull Riders. “I felt no wind while I was between the Guardians, but the air

currents were unsteady. The weather’s not bad enough to make the chop anything out of

the ordinary. I think we trust our maps and go in.”

Gift nodded. Ace had proven himself over and over. Originally, Ace had served Gift’s

uncle, Bridge. Then a Gull Rider from Blue Isle had arrived on Bridge’s ship, near death.

Ace had taken her mission—to find and report to Gift about Arianna’s troubles—and had

completed it in record time. He had found Gift shortly after Gift had arrived in Etanien, in

a place Skya insisted was impossible to locate.

“I won’t go through chop and whirlpools with just a map for guidance,” Wave said.

“Of course not,” Gift replied. “We use all the Sailors and Navigators, and if we don’t

find a Ze, we don’t go any farther.”

“A Ze?” Ace asked.

“It’s a fish,” Gift said, “and it’s native to these waters. Sailors have found it to be a

useful guide through the currents around the Stone Guardians.”

“You’d better find that Ze well away from those stones,” Uhgse said. “We’re not going

to be able to anchor, and I’m afraid the currents’ll pull us into the rocks.”

“It’s my job to worry about that.” Wave gave her an odd look as he pushed past her.

“I’ll get the Sailors working.”

“Good,” Gift said.

Wave left the room.

“I’ve gone through the Guardians before,” Gift said to the Riders, “and the water was

as you described it. I suggest that you rest until we get into the currents, then Shift to

your Gull forms and fly above us. You might see some things that will help us through.”

“Are you worried about this?” Abdal asked.

“No more than any sane man would be,” Gift said.

He left the room-and headed back toward the ladder. The ship was rocking more than

it had before, and he wondered if they were taking action too late. He’d heard that the

currents of the Stone Guardians began far out at sea. Perhaps he should have sent the

Riders out the day before.

He shivered once, then grabbed the ropes and pulled himself up. When he reached the

deckhouse, he found Xihu.

She was a Shaman who had defied the rest of her kind to travel with Gift. She felt the

Black Family needed a Shaman, and since they had none, she had volunteered. She was

younger than most Shaman, which put her in her nineties. Her face wasn’t as lined as

most, although she had her share of wrinkles. Her white hair frizzed around her skull,

making her face look like the center of an explosion.

“What is it?” he asked. He was taller than she was, a sign that he had more magic,

which always astonished him. He had been raised to believe that Shaman had the most

power.

“A Vision,” she said softly.

And then he saw the evidence: the tear tracks that lined her eyes, the moisture beside

her mouth, the crease in her cheek where her face had rested against something.

He put a hand on her arm. She felt thinner than she had when they started this

journey over six months before.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, then led him out of the deckhouse.

Sailors were standing near the rails, holding their hands out so that their fingers could

be pricked by the Navigator. Five Navigators would work with over twenty Sailors. The

link between them was established through blood. Then the Sailors would send their

consciousness into the water while their bodies remained on the ship. They would contact

fish, and learn the gossip of the waters. In this area, the Ze had become the third part of

the chain that went from Sailor to Navigator, who then imparted that information to the

Captain. Other crew members would stand behind the Sailors’ bodies and protect them so

that they wouldn’t get lost in the sea.

No one paid Gift or Xihu any attention. The Sailors and Navigators were too focused on

the links; the remaining crew were too worried about failing to protect the Sailors after

the links were finished. Still, it felt strange to be on deck with this many people.

“What was the Vision?” Gift asked.

“I’ve been seeing Blood against Blood.” She was referring to the chaos that would

descend on the world if Gift’s Fey family—the Black Family—fought against itself. The last

time the Blood against Blood had happened, all but a handful of Fey had died at each

other’s hands.

If it were to happen now, the effect would be even more devastating, as the Fey

Empire covered half the world.

He swallowed. “I won’t attack my sister.”

“It is more complex than that,” Xihu said. “I am seeing your great-grandfather.”

“Rugad’s dead. He’s been dead for fifteen years.” But Gift’s voice shook a little as he

said that. He had Seen Visions of his great-grandfather as well—had been seeing them

since his great-grandfather died near Blue Isle’s Place of Power. “Maybe you’ve been

seeing my uncle Bridge. He’s on the Isle now.”

At least, Gift assumed he was. That was where Bridge had been heading six months

ago, according to Ace.

“Yes, I’ve heard the argument,” Xihu said. “It could be you as well. There is a

frightening similarity of features among the men in your family.”

The Navigators had finished pricking fingers and pressing their own hands against

those of the Sailors. The Sailors were assuming their positions against the rail. Gift looked

past them. The mist was almost a rain now, but not worth troubling the Weather Sprites

over. He could see the Stone Guardians in the distance, growing larger as they came

closer.

“Tell me the Vision,” he said.

Xihu folded her hands together. She looked toward the Stone Guardians, but seemed

strangely unaffected by them. The mist dotted her face, and caught in the wrinkles, like

dew.

“I heard voices first,” she said. “Voices whispering that you’d come to destroy Blue

Isle. Then I Saw arrows covered with blood, and I heard a woman’s laughter. Then I Saw

someone who looked like you, only it was a woman.”

“Arianna,” he said.

“With your blue eyes and a birthmark on her chin. She had a cruel face.”

He frowned. Arianna did not have a cruel face. She had been impulsive and difficult,

but she had never been cruel.

“Then she turned and sat in a throne that had a crest above it: two swords crossed

over a heart. And she laughed. She said, ‘Gift will never rule the Empire.’ Her eyes were

cold.” For the first time since he had met Xihu, Gift thought he saw real fear in her face.

“It was as if she had no soul.”

A breeze rose, sending shivers through him. That didn’t sound like Arianna at all.

“What else?” he asked. He knew there had to be more because Xihu was too silent.

“Assassins,” she whispered. “I heard the voices of assassins, looking for you, trying to

kill you to protect the Isle.”

“Fey Assassins?” He had heard of them, but thought they were a myth.

She shook her head. “I could not tell.”

“Who would hire assassins? Arianna, even if she has gone crazy, can’t do that. And

neither could my uncle. The Blood against Blood would affect them. They know that.”

“Have you ever thought,” Xihu asked softly, “that the messages you received were

false? Perhaps your sister is fine. Perhaps someone only wants to kill you here, on the

Isle.”

He shook his head. “No one would want to do that.”

“Why?” Xihu asked. “You’ve been to both Places of Power. Maybe someone is afraid

you’ll find the third.”

Gift crossed his arms. The breeze had given him a terrible chill. “Who does that

threaten?”

“All of us. Whoever finds the third Place of Power will create the Triangle of Might,

which is supposed to reform the world. None of us knows what that means. There are

ancient stories that say it means only the greatest of us will survive.”

“And someone thinks I’m arrogant enough to place myself in that category?” Gift

wiped the water from his face. “I set guards on the Place of Power here on Blue Isle. I

lived near the Place of Power in the Eccrasian Mountains for five years. I never once tried

to arrange a meeting between someone in Blue Isle’s Place of Power and myself so that

we could find the third Place of Power.”

Xihu was silent for a long time. Then she closed her eyes. “It was merely a suggestion.”

“Because of your Vision?”

She shook her head. “ Because that is the second-greatest thing to fear about you,

Gift.”

“What’s the first?”

She didn’t answer him. She stood in front of him with her eyes closed, the mist beading

on her face, and said nothing.

“What’s the first?” he asked again.

She opened her eyes. There were tears in them. “That you will kill your sister.”

Chapter Two

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Arianna sat on a small stone bench overlooking the Cardidas River. It flowed red here,

Kristine Kathryn Rusch - Black Throne 02 - The Black King

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