The Pearl of the Soul of the World by Pierce Meredith Ann

Author:Pierce, Meredith Ann [Pierce, Meredith Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Speculative Fiction
ISBN: 9781417832194
Google: Jb0a8t8AJocC
Amazon: 0316067245
Barnesnoble: 0316067245
Goodreads: 92719
Publisher: Graphia
Published: 2013-02-23T05:00:00+00:00

"Whereafter shall commence

such a cruel, sorcerous war

To wrest recompense

for a land leaguered sore.

With a broadsword bright burning,

a shadow black as night

From exile returning

shall champion the fight

For love of one above who, flag unfurled,

lone must stand,

The pearl of the soul of the world

in her hand.

When Winterock. to water

falls flooding, foes to drown,

Ravenna's own daughter

shall kindle the crown."

Silence. No sound in the tent but the fizz of lampwicks and the night wind sighing. Her brother Roshka eyed her uncertainly. Syllva stood mute beside her Istern sons. The bewildered sentries glanced at one another. Then she heard Talb the Mage chuckle and Pendarlon begin to purr. But her gaze remained on Irrylath.

"Oh, husband," she breathed, "believe in me."

Coming forward, he knelt before the flame that Erin held. His sword arm seemed nearly recovered now, for with it, he reached toward Aeriel.

"I do," he whispered, "for it is you. Forgive my doubting."

His hand passed through the flame, without harm this time. She experienced a flickering, and the odd feeling of something broad and insubstantial passing through her, but then it was gone, and her vision of Irrylath and the rose silk tent steadied again. Sabr had come to stand beside the prince. She touched his shoulder, mistrust plain upon her face.

"Cousin," she warned. "How can you be sure? We have known for months that Aeriel is lost—yet now this apparition claims it is not so! Dare you trust the rime that she has given you?"

The prince rose suddenly and turned on her. "Unhand me," he spat, his voice like burning oil. "It was you I let convince me that Aeriel was lost, you I let persuade me to turn from her memory! We have dallied here at desert's edge uncounted hours on your advisement. This is Aeriel. I know her. Do not presume to advise me further, queen of thieves!"

His tone was savage, his expression furious. Aeriel felt an ugly little thread of satisfaction run through her.

"My thought was for you," Sabr cried, stumbling back from him as though she had been struck. Her face held a look of desperate betrayal. "Always and ever for you."

Turning, the prince's cousin fled, disappearing into the night. Irrylath watched her go, his expression hard, full of fury still. It was the Lady Syllva who spoke at last, coming forward to touch the prince's arm.

"You are too hard, my son," she reproved him sternly. "Too hard by half. Aeriel is your wife, but Sabr is your cousin still, and a commander in my warhost—your equal in rank. What she says is true: she thinks only of you. She has been the one to lead our desert trek, keeping our forces together against desertion and despair, and not two daymonths past, it was she alone that stood between you and your own dagger."

The prince glared at the Lady, but made no reply. Aeriel put one hand to her temple. Her head was spinning. A heavy weariness had begun to steal over her. She had not realized the effort that speaking through the sword required.

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