Crown of Renewal (Legend of Paksenarrion) Read Free Page B

that the dogs in question had been seen to burst into flame while in the dog yard. Nothing burned but the dogs … and not all the dogs. Only the dogs that had been fed human flesh. Immer shrugged. Someone had thrown a curse at him, clearly. Given the time of year—could it have been the old man, Andressat? He hadn’t thought the man had that much power—any power at all, in fact. He’d never been spoken of as a mage. But he claimed to be bred of Old Aare, a true line, so perhaps—perhaps he had been hiding it all these years.

    Ferran Andressat, heir to the title, stood watch over his father’s body turn and turn with the others. No attack had come after all, and he had called Meddthal in from his guard post for the mourning.They must all be there; in the absence of a king to confirm any of them in the title, they used a ceremony passed down in the family for generations. But that would come after placing Jeddrin’s body in the appointed cave. Until then … they stood watch.
    While he watched, each of his brothers had other chores to complete. Narits received visitors, then ushered them one by one into the chamber where Jeddrin’s body lay. Meddthal organized the household for the reception that would follow the funeral, and Tamir organized the funeral itself. Ferran had given them those assignments. No one had argued.
    As the day wore on and he took his turn at his own assignment—reviewing the status of his father’s governance—servants brought meals he ate, out of necessity, but did not really taste. He knew his father had insisted on the need for nobles to work, but he had not realized how much of the work of managing Andressat and its outlying lands his father had done personally.
    He ate the last meal of the day with his brothers in the room where the body lay—it could not be left alone—and nodded his approval of what they had accomplished. “We are ready for the burial, then, thanks to you. How one manages alone—how our father managed—I do not know.”
    “And how stands Andressat as a whole?” asked Narits. “I know he had been concerned about the costs of governing the South Marches.”
    “Solvent and whole, thanks to him, and may we do as well now that it is up to us.”
    “Indeed,” Narits said.
    “Do you remember, Ferran, the time you told him you were not going to spend one more morning in the library? You must have been ten or so.”
    Ferran grinned. “I do indeed. As I recall, I spent that entire day copying lists and wishing I could do it standing up.”
    “I was in awe,” Meddthal said. “Arguing with
him
? Amazing. But seeing the result saved me the trouble of trying it myself.”
    They shared memories for a while … times with their father, with their mother, with both. The candles around Jeddrin’s body burnedbright, flames standing up straight, without a flutter. At last Ferran said, “I need to stay with him tonight—go, sleep, and I’ll sleep tomorrow, after—after it’s done.”
    When they had left, he sat by the body and began the old Song of Death his father had taught him. It was in the language of Aare, which he had been forced to learn, as had they all, though none could speak it but themselves.
    The candle flames stirred. He sang on, the near drone of the song fitting his mood, fitting death itself.
    There is a lord above all lords
    And a death below all deaths
    Go to the highest lord, to the court of that one
    And be free of death, but never return
,
    Or lie in restful sleep, safe from harm
    Far below, below the deepest death
    And never return
.
    This night decide, before the death is done
,
    While still the spirit has will enough
    Make that choice, make it soon
,
    For the sand runs through the glass
    And candles shorten and daylight ends the night
    Come, spirit, make that choice
    So this body may be laid in honor
    Where it should be laid
    Then never return
.
    The cloth over his father’s body quivered like the quivering candle flames. It lifted over