Virin scowled. "This... This is ridiculous, Raizi! Spider gods and sacred bloodlines? These religions were all destroyed—"

  "And you are such an expert in religions? You, who swear by the name of the geneticist who made your kind?" Raizi snapped. "Temples may be destroyed, Virin, but so long as there is belief, there are the gods. I am old, but I am not the only one who remembers the days before the Mad One."

  "Why don't you ever call him by name?" Rakesh asked softly. Raizi turned, and Rakesh hurried to finish, before his father could stop him. "You always call him the Mad One. You never call him Tragar. Why?"

  Raizi shook his head. "It is...complicated. To deny him the afterlife. If no one speaks your name, then you become..." he frowned, staring at the table, drumming his fingers. "Not a person? The word...does not translate. You cannot go on, you cannot be reborn, if no one will speak your name to remember you."

  He fell silent. Unable to think, shocked to the core by the idea of being claimed by a goddess he'd never even heard of, Rakesh looked to Virin for help. His husband was staring at the table, frowning furiously, his face like a storm. Then Virin looked up.

  "Why didn't he kill you?" he asked quietly. "You were there. He knew you were there. He had to, if he knew the religion. So why did he let you live?"

  Raizi shook his head and smiled. "Too much of Gavir in you, Virin. Too much. He would have asked the same question."

  "So will you answer?" Virin leaned forward. "Or maybe I should answer for you?"

  Raizi looked amused, and for some reason, oddly relieved. He leaned back in his chair and spread his hands. "Tell me what you think."

  Virin nodded and started counting on his fingers. "No record of a Dark Spider in the religion books. So this isn't a religion practiced by the common people, the ones who would actually have their religious works recorded and shared. The book that my parents bonded over, one of them was yours. No mention of the Spider in there, either. I know. I just re-read it. So, this is a secret religion. A religion of the upper echelon, since you mentioned a sacred bloodline. Who has sacred bloodlines? Rich, powerful, important people. Nobility." He paused, looked at Raizi. "How am I so far?"

  "So far, you do well," Raizi admitted.

  "All right. So, we have a religion of the nobility. Again, no mention of it in the records. No Spider temples in Felanore city, not even ruined or repurposed ones. Tarason might have been an idiot, but he was a very thorough idiot. He took a complete inventory of all buildings, both intact and in ruins, when he took command of the garrison. There was no ruined temple that didn't fall into the harvest god or fertility goddess mold."

  Raizi snorted, made a twisting gesture with one hand. "The other way around, Virin. Harvest goddess, fertility god. But yes, go on."

  "Fine. Switch the genders. So, the only place that he didn't inventory was the Imperial Palace. The ruins there are off-limits. So, where's the most likely place for a temple we can't find?"

  "In the place we can't go into," Rakesh answered. "A royal religion?"

  Virin was nodding. "Royal religion. How do you keep it secret? You keep it in the royal family. There... There are loads of religions like that, over the seas, according to the books. The head of state is also the head of the religion. The story is that they're descended from the gods, usually. They marry within the bloodline, to keep it pure. Which the history books say they also did in Aakar. Add to that the fact that there was a prince of the blood who vanished without a trace before the Palace fell, and..." Virin stopped, his eyes wide. Rakesh felt his heart hammering in his chest.

  "Aba? You aren't... You can't be—"

  "Finish, son of my heart," Raizi said softly. "Say the words."

  "Creator..." Virin breathed slowly. "You? You're the missing prince?"

  Raizi sighed, and it was the sound of a lifetime of secrets falling away all at once. "You have spoken the truth. I can therefore now speak of it. You ask if this is something dangerous, something to report to the Ran-ti-ar. I would say you must judge that for yourself. The truth of it is that when I was no more than a boy, I swore on the blood and body of my mother, the Spider Priestess, the Queen Saranja, that I was none of his. No longer the son of the King. I swore myself to the Spider, and gave an oath to keep Her secrets until She gave me a sign that it was time to reveal myself. The Mad One, he had me taken up, locked away inside the Palace, in order to provide my sisters with heirs. He was afraid that if I remained free that I would, in time, rally the people against him and raise up a rebellion. He thought to control that. To control me. He failed."

  "You escaped. How?" Virin asked.

  "There was a young guardsman, assigned to my prison." Raizi smiled slightly. "I bear his name, now. Raizi is not the name my mother gave to me. He felt pity on the young prisoner. I am not certain which of us seduced the other. But it was so. I cared for him, deeply. And he for me, though he risked his life to do so. Because he loved me, he saved my life, managed to get me out of my prison and out of the Palace in the madness that preceded the fall of the Empire. Outside of Felanore, we parted ways. They were hunting us, you see, and they did not think we would separate. They thought I would not know how to survive, alone outside the Palace for the first time as an adult. But I had learned much during my confinement, and Raizi taught me more. He went south under another name, to the crossing at the Trade City. I went north, through the Gap. If all had gone well, we would have reunited in safety." Raizi looked down and shook his head. "I never saw him again."

  "He came through the Trade City crossing?" Rakesh asked. "We can find—"

  "He never told me the name he would be using. He told me to use his name, told me that he would find me on the other side." Raizi smiled sadly. "And truly, after fifty years, I cannot believe that he would know this old man I have become. I prefer to think that he, as I, found someone that he was content to make a life with. I prefer to think of him happy, because the alternative is that he was discovered, and he died to protect me."

  Virin nodded. "All right. I do have to report this. And Molari will probably want to talk to you."

  "I will speak to him. I suppose that means you wish me to stay in the city?"

  "You can stay here, Aba," Rakesh said. "And, I have questions. About this Spider Goddess. I don't know that I want to be a priest, Aba."

  Raizi laughed out loud. "My son, my dear son. Do you not realize that you are one already?" He reached out and touched Rakesh's black-and-gold collar. "All who wear this are the priests of this country. And what we are called to do in the Arena, it is not so different from dancing in the webs. It is something that surprised me greatly, when I wore the white. I wondered then, if Mathias knew of the Spider, or if she snared him in her webs to give him the dreams that created the Swords. Think on that. For the rest, I will translate the scrolls. And..." He paused, looked thoughtful. "I wonder...."

  "What?" Virin asked.

  "Will you perhaps need a translator in your new garrison?" Raizi smiled, no doubt at the stunned look on Virin's face, and the matching one that Rakesh was fairly certain he wore. "I would like to see Felanore again. And to spit on the grave of the Mad One."

  "I... I think they burned his body," Virin stammered.

  "Then I will spit into the wind," Raizi answered. "I will laugh at the knowledge that his shade will never see peace, and that I live free, with a wife and children of my own, and all that he sought to deny me. And I will seek the Spider, and present to Her my son, who will follow me."

  "I don't think that would be a good idea," Virin said. He leaned back in his chair, looking distant and thoughtful. "You said you're not the only one who remembers the old days. How many of them, do you think, would remember you?"

  Raizi frowned. "I doubt there would be many. If any. When I was imprisoned, I was a boy of twelve. I was imprisoned for seven years, and the only ones who knew I lived were my sisters and the guards. All of them are dead. No one lives now in Aakar who has seen me as a man."

  "What about family resemblances?" Virin persisted. "Do you look like your mother? Like Tragar? What about Rakesh? Does he?"

  Raizi caught his breath. He turned and looked at Rakesh, until Rakesh felt his face grow warm. He fidgeted in his chair, looking at Virin, then at the framed portrait on the wall, of himself and Virin at their wedding. It was somehow easier to look at the portrait, to see himself happy. It made it easier to deny that, yet again, his entire world had been turned upside-down.

  Raizi cursed softly, and Rakesh turned back as his father said, "Yes. Yes, he does."

  "Who?" Rakesh barely recognized his own voice speaking the strangled words. "Who do I look like?"

  "In profile, you are..." Raizi's voice faltered. Virin rose from the table without a word and went over to the bookcase. He studied the bound books for a moment, then picked one up and flipped through it before carrying it back to the table and setting it down.

  Rakesh turned the book so that he could see it, then picked it up and looked at the cover. "Rin, why do we have a book on coins?" he asked.

  "My father, the Sword-scholar," Virin answered as he sat back down, pulling his chair closer to Rakesh. "If it had pages and words, he'd read it." He took the book from Rakesh and set it back on the table, tapping on of the images. "Look at this one."

  "What is it?" Raizi asked. He rose and came around to stand behind Rakesh, his hand firm and strong on Rakesh's shoulder. "Oh...."

  "How accurate was this?" Virin asked, looking up at Raizi. "These coins, the book says that they were struck to commemorate his becoming a god. Did they enhance the image? I don't know...straighten his nose? Give him a better looking chin?"

  "No, Virin," Raizi answered. "And I wonder that I have never seen the resemblance before. Perhaps...because I have not looked at that angle. And now Kesh-na is of the right age—"

  "So I do look like him," Rakesh interrupted, reaching out to touch the picture of the coin. "What does that mean?"

  "It means that you need to get dressed, love," Virin answered. "We need to go to the Ran-ti-ar."

  "That wasn't what I meant," Rakesh said. He looked up at Virin, feeling himself starting to shake. "Crazy Collared, you used to call me. Am I? Or...will I? Go mad, the way that he did?" He reached out and closed the book, resting his hand on the cover. "I... I couldn't live like that, Rin. I've lost so much already—"

  "You will not, Kesh-na." Raizi crouched next to Rakesh's chair. "His madness did not come from his blood. He attempted to take control of the webs, to subvert the power of Queen Saranja in her role as Priestess. That is what drove him mad—he was not the chosen of the Spider, and could not control the power. That was when he became convinced that he was a god. When the Dark Spider cast him off. There is no other madness in our blood."

  "None?"

  "None," Raizi said. He squeezed Rakesh's arm. "And you have shown already that you can dance the webs, and that the Spider accepts you. You are here. You are hale, save only that you bear the marks of her first kiss. That will not happen again. And you have not lost your mind."

  "Except that I'm still thinking of going to Felanore," Rakesh added, forcing a laugh.

  "That remains to be seen," Virin said, his voice grim. He got up and held his hand out to Rakesh. "Let's go get dressed."

  RAKESH SAT ALONE IN the sitting room of the Ran-ti-ar's palatial quarters in the main Garrison. Once Molari had heard Virin's initial report, he had called the Senior Councilor. Then he'd hurried Virin and Raizi both off into the secure meeting room that adjoined the sitting room. There was a young-looking ir-Zaan stationed at that door, and Molari's pretty attache had been assigned to see to Rakesh's comfort. Not that there was anything that Rakesh wanted. Except perhaps for Virin, and a very deep hole for them both to hide in until this all had passed.

  "Sir?"

  Rakesh looked up, and for a moment could not remember the Sword's name. He frowned, thinking hard. He'd never forgotten a Sword's name before.... "Listrel? That's your name, isn't it?" he asked.

  The attache smiled. "Yes, sir. You haven't eaten or drunk anything since you've gotten here. And the Kian-ti-ar said you were to eat. He said you'd been hurt, too. Should I call a medic?"

  Rakesh smiled, trying to hide the fact that her hovering was starting to grate on his nerves. "No, I don't need a medic. It's minor. And...if I ask for tea, will you stop asking me what I need for ten minutes?"

  She pursed her lips, looking as if she were considering it. "For tea, that will be five minutes. If you want ten, you'll have something to eat, too."

  Rakesh snorted. "You treat the Ran-ti-ar like this?"

  "No, sir. He knows better."

  "All right. Tea. And...if you have something sweet?"

  "Three-berry tart?"

  "That would be nice. Thank you, Listrel."

  She smiled and walked away, out of the room. Once she was gone, Rakesh tipped his head back and closed his eyes. The welts on his skin where the ropes had made contact were alternately aching and itching, and if he'd asked for a pain-killer, Listrel would have called for the medics despite his protests. Better to wait. Virin would help him when they got home. Whenever that was.

  He heard the door-chime sound, and then soft voices. Listrel, and another woman. He recognized the cadences in the newcomer's voice and sat up, turning to face the door as Iras walked in. Even though she was approaching seventy, she was still as beautiful as she had been when the portrait that hung in the Arena had been taken, back when she had been Taramar. She smiled when she saw Rakesh, coming over to the couch and sitting down with him.

  "Virin called me," she said. "He thought you might need looking after, and he wasn't sure how long this meeting would take. Rakesh, what happened?"

  "Mother, I'm not entirely sure I understand. Or that I want to," Rakesh said.

  "And you're hurt? Virin was more than a little terse when I spoke to him, so I don't know much. I thought you just got out of regen."

  In answer, Rakesh held out his wrist, pushing his sleeve back so that Iras could see the welts. Her eyes widened, and she took his hand in both of hers and peered closely at the damaged skin.

  "This looks like a chemical burn," she said slowly. "Rakesh, have you had this looked at?"

  "Not yet. There's been no time since I woke up. And it's been...well, insane." Rakesh dragged his other hand through his hair. "What do you know?"

  "That you were hurt, that this involves Raizi in some way, that they're in with Molari now, and that my son seems to think you need looking after. That's all." She didn't let go of his hand. "Rakesh, what caused this?"

  "Rope."

  "Rope?" Iras's voice spiraled up in shock.

  "Rope made from fidelis fibers. Aba called it spidersilk. And it's something to do with who he was in Aakar." Rakesh frowned, forcing his thoughts into order, and told Iras what he knew. While he was talking, Listrel came in with tea and bowls of berry tart; Iras made him stop long enough to eat.

  "So, in the course of a few hours, I've gone from being Rakesh a'Raizi Tarkarin to being son of the Spider Priest and some flavor of heir to the Imperial throne of Aakar," Rakesh finished, and looked down at his empty bowl and cup. He leaned over and set them both on the table, amazed that his hands didn't shake.

  "You're still Rakesh a'Raizi Tarkarin," Iras offered, her voice soothing. "You're still the same man you were when you woke up this morning. All of these outside forces can't change that."

  "That's a pretty big outside force, Mother," Rakesh protested. "A goddess I've never heard of seems to think I'm her priest. That's what these mean, if my father is right. And now I'm having...prophetic dreams? Visions? I don't know what to call them."

  "You never did before?" Iras asked.

  "No!"

  "Because I've heard some of the Collared say that in deep trance, they have visions," Iras explained. "I never did, so I never really believed it. You should read some of the records on trance-work in the Arena. They might help."

  "I didn't realize there were records on trance-work," Rakesh said. He reached up and rubbed his forehead. "I can't remember ever seeing any in the library."

  "Talk to Marga. I think they might be with the medical records." Iras rubbed his hand, then touched his wrist, being careful not to touch the welt. "How extensive are these?"

  "Ah...the pattern runs from neck to hip, and then around my knees and ankles," Rakesh answered. For a moment, he felt as if he were back in training, and wondered if he were blushing.

  "That must be interesting to look at," was all that Iras said. Then she looked up. The door to the meeting room opened, and Virin came out into the sitting room. He smiled when he saw them.

  "I was hoping you'd be able to get here, Mother," he said, coming over and kissing her cheek.

  "And a good thing, too," she answered, her voice tart. "When were you planning on taking Rakesh to the medics for these burns?"

  "I didn't think they were that serious!" Virin answered. He sat down on Rakesh's other side, taking his other hand. "These.... Kesh, are these getting worse?"

  "I don't think so. They itch. And hurt, a bit."

  Virin arched an eyebrow. "How much is a bit?"

  "If I stood up to walk, I wouldn't feel the marks any more."

  "Ah. Low-grade hurt, then. They look more red than they were before." He kept his hand in Rakesh's, lacing their fingers together. "Molari wants some of the rope for analysis. I told him he's welcome to it. And Raizi will be here for a while longer, answering questions."

  "And then?" Rakesh asked. "Are you still going to Felanore?"

  "That depends."

  Rakesh looked at Virin, who was smiling at him. "Depends on?"

  "On if you're coming with me."

 

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