Bad Son
That it was his son who vexed him was no surprise; rather, it was the fact that Baine had thought to apologize for his actions.
“To be clear,” Aliss read off the list of misdeeds that his son had supplied. “There is little on this estate that I cannot attribute to you and your friends – from the recent issues in the kitchen,” he unrolled the parchment in his hands further, “to that business in the stables.” It had been a difficult month; every time Aliss believed he had things in order for a trip to the Core something came up, another problem that required his attention alone.
“Yes, father.” Baine dropped his head, normally brash voice a small thing in the deeply carpeted room. “All of it was my idea, though not everything was by my hand. I'm sorry.”
Aliss felt his anger rising but forced it to simmer instead of boil over – Baine had set back the progress of their House by months if not years and would now speak the truth of the matter, one way or another.
“Why?”
Baine opened his mouth, but for a moment no intelligible sound came, only a sighing of tired air. Pulling the young heir from his bedchamber well past midnight was hardly kind, but Aliss felt a certain justification in his action.
“Well,” Baine finally spoke, “I suppose I'm sorry because I've injured our House and disappointed you, father. That was never my intention.” There was a distinct amount of contrition in the weary voice, but Aliss' anger only flared.
“No,” he said sharpy. “I don't care about why you're sorry – you've been caught, what else would you say? I care about why you did it in the first place, why you tried to ruin our House. Do you have any idea what I was going to do in the Core, any idea of how badly you've damaged our chances with the King?”
“I know, father!” Baine exploded, head coming up and eyes intense, all pretense of weary apology gone. “I know better than you. Our House is doomed if you go to the Core!”
“Guards!” Aliss called sharply before Baine could continue. “Leave us and bar the door. No one is to enter this room again until I am finished with my son.” He did his best to make the last sound as menacing as possible and Baine wilted again. The guards withdrew quickly, doing their best to hide vicious smiles; they had been on the receiving end of several ill-conceived pranks over the last few weeks.
“Father, please,” Baine began as soon as they were alone, “you must -”
“Baine!” Aliss cut off his son sharpy. “Do not fear – I have no intention of injuring you, though you sorely deserve it. Explain yourself and your actions. Now.” The last was delivered with all of the fatherly sternness he could muster. After the death of Baine's mother he had become lax with the boy, given far more leeway than was necessary and then found it hard to regain control when he finally came out of grief at his wife's death.
“Yes, I -” Baine hesitated for a moment, glancing at the door the guards had used. “Yes.” He took two steps closer to Aliss' chair, then stopped and sat down on the plush carpet. “May I?” The inquiry came after the action, but at least some kind of permission was being sought for insolence.
Aliss nodded. “Get on with it.”
“Father,” Baine said quickly. “I know you desire the King's favor to advance our House, but has he told you yet what will be required of you to earn it?”
“No.” The King was rarely forthcoming about his motives until Nobles stood in front of him in the Grand Hall, and even then was said to be evasive.
“I know what he wants,” his son went on. “The summer heat is coming – we've all felt it over the last several months. I looked into it; this will be the twelfth summer of the King's reign, and the fiftieth summer since the last Culling.”
Aliss felt his blood run cold. He knew the time of the Culling was drawing near, but surely it could not be so close!
“Son, I -”
“Listen!” Baine hissed. “I know you don't care for my friends but most of them are alone at their estates now, trying to keep appearances up but knowing their fathers will never return. Yaelish's sire has been gone for six months and Leldorn's for over a year – I'm telling you, father: the King is sending them to be Culled.”
Leaning back in his chair, Aliss considered the possibility that his son was in fact correct. The numbers made sense, but most Kings were more public about the Culling and its implications for Noble lines. Still, Alred VII was hardly well-liked, and there had been some controversy surrounding his birth, something about an illegitimate sire. All such talk had stopped - or been forcibly halted – when Alred took the throne.
“So you believe our King means to sacrifice me in hopes of sparing his own life? That he hopes enough Noble blood will sate the beast?”
Baine shook his head. “I don't think so, father – there is no way to sate the Gron'math. I think our King is buying time.” His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “Yaelish had one chance to visit his father this year, and described a scepter the King held at court, an unfinished thing in hues of green and blue, capped by a broken serpent.”
“The Hograth!” Aliss felt the words seep out of him. Such a thing was impossible!
“Yes,” Baine said, eyes wide and face white. “I'm sorry about everything, father, but I had to get you to stay. Please don't go to the Core – our King means to raise the armies of Nightmare!”
- D
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