As far back as I can remember?
Nyphron thought hard and was surprised to discover he couldn’t recall exactly when Malcolm had come to Alon Rhist. The bulk of Nyphron’s life had been spent afield. He had no idea when he first noticed his father had a new slave. As far as Nyphron was concerned, Malcolm came into existence only when Nyphron first devised his plan to have a Rhune kill Shegon. Nyphron needed a disposable person, and he’d just inherited his father’s household, his servants, horses, and slaves. He picked one whose name happened to be Malcolm.
But he’d been around long before that. He must have been…but for how long? Was it before the bad winter? Yes, definitely before then. Was it before Tekchin got his scar? Nyphron thought it was. Further and further back he remembered seeing him.
I must be mistaken. It had to have been a different slave, wasn’t it? It had to be. Rhunes don’t live that long.
Watching him, Malcolm offered a gentle, sympathetic frown, the sort a mother might show a son who had skinned a knee. “Nyphron, I want you to succeed. I want you to be not merely the fane but the ruler of the world.You can usher in a new age and build a civilization where the divisions of the past are healed. I can help you do that, but you have to listen to my counsel.”
“How old are you?” Nyphron asked.
Malcolm smiled. “Just putting that together now, are you? Doesn’t bode well for your chances of being an intelligent ruler, does it? Your father noticed right away—but then your father would have been a better leader.”
Malcolm slapped his thighs with his palms and sighed. “But he didn’t listen to me, either. Of course, the very reason he didn’t listen is the same reason he would have been a better ruler. I can’t explain how frustrating that is. You, on the other hand, are nicely spoiled. You just want—and you don’t care who has to suffer so you can have. It’s just not in your character to notice those you consider beneath you—like me.” Malcolm paused as if something on the ceiling caught his attention. He looked up long enough for Nyphron to glance up as well. There was nothing there. Then Malcolm said, “That’s how you’ll die, by the way. This underlying blindness will be your doom, and even my telling you won’t change anything because you’ll forget. You’re far too set in your ways and far too full of yourself. But that’s the way of things. The ultimate irony is that good people can’t always do what is needed because what’s often required is bad, and they wouldn’t be good people if they did bad things, now would they?”
Nyphron was truly worried and wondered if he should get his sword. Malcolm wasn’t a Rhune; nor was he Fhrey. The problem was he had no idea what Malcolm was. Somehow, this person had deceived everyone, maybe for centuries. No, not everyone. His father had known—must have—that was why he had treated Malcolm differently, but he never told anyone, never told his son. Why?
“Why didn’t my father tell me about you?”
“Tell you what?” Malcolm pressed the tips of his fingers together. A decidedly sinister action, the sort of finger expression he’d expect from a Miralyith. Is that it? Is Malcolm Miralyith? Is he just making himself look like he’s Rhunic? He’d heard of such things. Malcolm could be a spy sent by the fane—only—no. He had been in the Rhist too long. Fenelyus would have had to send him, and she was dead. And why would a spy help kill Shegon and raise the Rhunes in revolt against the Forest Throne?
“Why didn’t my father warn me that you weren’t really a Rhune, that you weren’t his slave?”
“So, we are finally past that—good.” Malcolm nodded in approval. “I honestly don’t know why your father kept you in the dark. I actually thought he had told you, and maybe he did, and you just never heard. You do that, you know?”
“Who are you, and how did you come to serve my father?”
Malcolm sighed. “This list of questions will have to wait. I’ve already wasted too much time here. Sun is coming up and you have a battle to wage, the first real battle of a very long war. The first step of which is to order Arion to cloud the archers. Tell her and Suri not to interfere at all with the Spider Corps. They will pinpoint her if she does. But the Miralyith can’t protect themselves from what they aren’t expecting, and the Spider Corps have never seen arrows before. Send out the first legion—Raithe’s command and—”
“We have a fortress; it doesn’t make sense to send soldiers out beyond the protection of the walls.”