Many Happy Returns
The clamour was not instant. Instead, a hush fell over the room as the impact of Harun’s words sank in, the two men framed by the doorway like a tableau at the end of a play. Then, as though the council were an audience and had finally remembered they had a job to do, there was movement, applause, cries of delight and surprise.
Balthasar shoved past Sorrow, sending her stumbling, in his bid to be the first to reach Harun and Mael, as everyone descended upon the chancellor and the boy. Even the servants abandoned their posts and stepped forward, milling on the outskirts of the group.
Only Sorrow, Irris and Charon held back from the crowd. Charon wheeled himself away from the table, but paused halfway across the room; Irris moved to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. Charon looked up at her, and Sorrow found herself turning to seek out Rasmus, needing comfort of her own.
He was gone, she remembered then. But Vespus was there, striding across the room, his own smile spreading as he moved, his arms held out in welcome, Aphora behind him.
Sorrow stood alone.
“Where is my sister?” a voice called, and the group parted, leaving Sorrow exposed before her father and, so he said, her brother.
“Yes, child, come forward.” Harun did not take his eyes off Mael as he spoke.
Sorrow found herself moving, though she didn’t want to, walking forward to be embraced by Mael. Someone patted her shoulder as the man who claimed to be her brother folded her into his arms – Harun, she realized, still keeping one arm locked around Mael, held fast to him. She heard the cheers of the people around them, half-hearted now she’d joined them.
Sorrow really was all she brought.
She tilted her chin upwards, and looked out, over their heads. She kept her expression clear, as though she was happy to be there. As though she celebrated with them, when inside she was cold.
Be careful what you wish for, a voice murmured in her mind. You might actually get it.
Mael finally released her, but put an arm around her and brought her to his side, so the three Ventaxises were standing together, facing the room. Charon and Irris had joined at the fringe, and offered identical looks of pity and concern.
“I have been blessed,” Mael said, and though he didn’t raise his voice, the chatter ended at once. “Eighteen years ago, I should perhaps have died. Many did, trying to save me, and others suffered.” He offered a nod to Charon – clearly someone had told him how the vice chancellor came to be in a wheeled chair. “But by the will of the Graces, I survived and found a home and family in Rhylla. Two families –” he smiled at Vespus, who inclined his head “– and today I have found a third. My first family. In my first home. I don’t think it was a coincidence that I fell on the day the peace treaty between our countries was signed. In fact, the more I think on it, the more I think it was by design. Because of it, I am a child of both nations. Eighteen years ago, my father sought to bring about a peace between Rhannon and Rhylla, and in me I believe that hope is fulfilled.”
Hope fulfilled – not so humble now. The voice came unbidden again into Sorrow’s mind, and she recognized it now. Rasmus. For a moment she was overwhelmed with longing for him. For his touch, and his presence. She wouldn’t feel so bad, so alone, if he were there. No, she reminded herself. That’s not fair.
Harun spoke. “I…” He faltered, and looked to his son. Mael nodded encouragingly, and he took a breath before continuing. “I have not been … myself, for some time.”
Understatement, Imaginary Rasmus whispered to Sorrow.
“The loss of my wife and son shook me to the core,” Harun was saying. “Left me in a place that was dark, with no way out, and no solace.”
If only you’d had another child to care for and cherish… Rasmus’s ghost muttered, and Sorrow’s lips twitched.
“I have done things I’m ashamed of,” Harun said. “Behaved in ways that didn’t behove the chancellor of this great nation. I have let you and Rhannon down, and I owe my Jedenvat, and my late mother, eternal thanks for working so hard in my absence, and for keeping the land together.”
Phew. For a second I thought he was going to mention you. That would have been awkward, the Rhyllian voice joked. But Sorrow wasn’t tempted to smile any more.
“I vow, though, as of today, I am a new man. I will preside over a new Rhannon. For my son has returned.”
The Jedenvat broke into applause at the end of the speech, and Harun nodded cheerfully, accepting their praise. They stepped forward then, eager to shake the hand of the chancellor and his son, and it was easy for Sorrow to allow herself to be moved aside, back to the outside of the group.
Someone called for wine, and the servants hurried away, returning with carafes and glasses, filling them to the brim and passing them around.
“What about music?” Mael asked. “Is there… Do you have music?”
“We shall have music,” Harun roared, and the company cheered.
Melakis left the room, returning with a pair of cases, which he opened to reveal two Alvus wood violins. He claimed one, and Aphora lifted the other. They busied themselves stroking rosin down the bows, plucking the strings, and then, without saying a word, they raised the instruments to their chins and began to play, as though they’d only been waiting for the opportunity.
Sorrow had never heard live music before in her life, only ever the songs Rasmus had hummed to her, and she froze as the voice-like melodies of the twin violins filled the room. Someone handed Sorrow a glass of wine and she took it, though didn’t drink, too transfixed by the sound. She could feel it, she realized, across her diaphragm and in her chest; every leap and trill of it became part of her. The melody was happy, she could recognize that. Joyful and rousing, and there was dancing, real dancing.
She wondered if Rhannon had folk songs. She’d have to find out. Irris would know where to look. She could bring them back, they could hold—
She stopped herself as she remembered she wouldn’t be the one bringing them back now. It would be him.
She scowled as Mael bowed to Irris, who looked horrified, but took his arm and allowed him to sweep her in small circles around the tables. Samad shrugged at Kaspira, and the two took up a stiff, formal posture, arms rigid, as they began to move. Harun looked at Sorrow, then held out a hand to Tuva, who tried to demur, but Harun wouldn’t accept her refusal. He pulled her into an awkward stance and began to chase his son around the room.
No one asked Sorrow to dance.