by D. T. Kane
“I dislike how much time you spend with Ferrin,” father said, keeping his eyes forward.
Her eyebrows rose. It wasn’t that she was surprised; this was a common enough refrain between them. What father sometimes (often) lacked in affection he made up for with more than his share of parental protectiveness. But he was rarely so blunt.
“Why?” She tried to check her exasperation, but nonetheless spoke more sharply than intended. “You take more than a passing interest in him yourself with all the private lessons.”
Father shook his head. “I’m acting as teacher then. I don’t speak in that capacity now.”
“He’s the best student at Ral Mok by far. In nearly everything.” Except maybe manners, though she didn’t say that aloud. “Would you prefer I spent my time with the others destined to be sent off as sentinels to Doom’s Keep or the ruined Dales?”
“I’d prefer you spent time with no boys at all,” he grunted. “But particularly Ferrin. He’s just...” he hesitated, which gave her pause. First blunt, now indecisive? What was wrong with him?
“He’s volatile. Look at what he did to poor Jeremyck. Not good for you, being around a boy like that.”
She rolled her eyes. “He was in the right today and you know it. You didn’t even punish him.”
Father frowned. “Jeremyck’s father was a merchant. He died ten years ago when a piece of ebon turned up in one of his shipments. I should have chosen my lecture topic more carefully.”
She’d already known that about Jeryk, but it still made her think. She could relate to such loss. Still, the smoothness with which father had evaded her accusation of letting Ferrin off the anvil hadn’t escaped her.
“You needn’t worry, father. I don’t like him much anyway. You know better than anyone how insolent he can be.”
His eyes flicked sideways, looking entirely unconvinced. She shrugged. It wasn’t quite the truth. Ferrin was arrogant, sure, but not in the boastful, always-talking-about-himself kind of way. Well, he did talk about himself. But she didn’t mind that, too much. It was more like he just couldn’t grasp why everyone else wasn’t like him. Sometimes it almost seemed as if he was from another world. Or at least another of the Seven Realms. But he could be half tolerable when you got him away from lessons and books. And she liked the way his hair moved while he spoke.
Father was about to reply when a pennant broke the horizon’s plane, catching her attention and cutting off further talk. A white flag bearing a golden sun. Soon the rider bearing the sigil came into view, followed by perhaps a score of others, all wearing cloaks pure as a newborn.
Her heart leapt.
“Father, who exactly is it we’re meeting?”
The muscles around his eyes tightened as he fixated on the approaching riders.
“Parents of Tragnè. A covenant of them if the sentinel’s count was accurate.”
Twenty-six Parents? All in one place? No more than a pair had ever visited Ral Mok before, and even then father had never let her get close to them. That hadn’t stopped Jenzara from liking the stories about Lady Tragnè above all others as she grew up, fantasizing one day of joining the order that followed her teachings. Justice, humility, charity. Perhaps now was finally her chance.
“Do you think they’ll let me take the vows? I don’t remember there being any rule that you have to be at the Temple to do that.”
Father looked as if he’d swallowed a frog. “You will do nothing of the sort. I will do the talking. Remain silent.”
She crossed her arms before realizing how juvenile she must look. Uncrossing them, she grasped her reigns and stared straight ahead.
“Why’d you even bring me out with you then?”
For an instant a flash of consternation crossed his face, like a man who’d forgotten where he’d placed his spectacles. Then it was gone. Speaking of the Parents always put father out of sorts.
“It will be a good experience for you, seeing me put my own lessons into practice. Doing that which I dislike with grace. It’s a skill that will serve you well.”
She suppressed a sigh.
“And also because you’re the Lady of Ral Mok. The Grand Father will be expecting a proper greeting.”
Her head snapped back to the banners flapping in the breeze above the oncoming riders. Her subconscious had assumed all were the same. You see what you want to see, father would tell her. Now she saw that wasn’t the case. One depicted the staff and stars, sigil of the Temple’s leader. She had to grip her pommel to cease from quaking with nervous energy. She’d have volunteered to any ordinary Parent—or maybe even a Priest—in a second. But speak to the most powerful man in Agarsfar? The man who had killed her mother’s murderer? She spoke because the only alternative was to suffocate beneath the boulder that had settled over her stomach.
“Why would they come unannounced like this with such a large group? And from the south? They must be coming from the south, right? Otherwise we’d have received word from the sentinels at the West River Crossing? But why take a boat from the City to Bristine, then come all this way north? Why not sail straight on to Lustin?”
She finally had to pause for air and turned an expectant glance to father. But his eyes remained smelted to the oncoming Parents.
“Remain silent and let me do the speaking, Jenzara.” His voice carried less of an edge now, but still left no doubt it was a command, not a request. “I know your feelings on the Temple differ from mine, but you must trust me. This visit brings ill tidings. You need look no further than your own questions, for there are no good answers. Save one.”
She furrowed her brow. The only possibility she saw was the Parents hadn’t wanted them having advance notice of their coming. But that made no sense. She wished father would just leave his political squabbles with the Parents where they belonged—in the past.
But she didn’t have long to dwell on father’s hard feelings. The covenant was fast approaching and it wasn’t long before father raised a hand, signaling a halt. The Parents stopped a short distance from them. A smaller contingent—the one flying the staff and stars sigil—broke off from the main group, trotting towards them.
Father motioned for her to dismount and then murmured a few words to the page he’d brought along to carry Ral Mok’s colors—a white willow against a field of green—and instructed him to stay with the horses. He then dismounted as well and Jenzara followed him toward the approaching Parents. His stern silence left no room for conversation, though by that time it mattered little. She’d no mind to speak, thoughts having turned completely to the oncoming riders. Five white-robed men atop matching stallions. She also noted with curiosity two sullen children trailing the group on smaller mounts.
The lead Parent was tall and mostly slender, though age had long-since robbed him of being described as athletic. His face at once bore the weathering of many seasons, and yet a sort of serene smoothness. He might have been fifty; he might have been eighty. His once-brown hair was now mostly white, though his demeanor exuded energy, and Jenzara had no doubt that if he dismounted it would be with the ease of a young man, not the aching hesitance of an elder. His dark eyes were sharp and probing as he pulled up in front of father, as if searching for weakness in all things he saw. Unlike the other Parents, his robe was trimmed in gold and he carried a staff similar to father’s, though it matched his immaculate robes.
“Master Raldon!” The man’s greeting seemed overly boisterous and she noted with some surprise that he didn’t dismount. “I’m glad to see the old courtesies aren’t forgotten out in this wilderness.”
The silk of her father’s demeanor remained unwrinkled, though his shoulders tensed at the volume of the welcome, his mouth a thin line. He considered the speaker as if trying to remember a thought lost just over the horizon of memory. After several moments of silence, he seemed to decide the idea was beyond his grasp and spoke.
“Grand Father. A pleasure to see you again. I assure you that Ral Mok and the surrounding environs are
no less courteous than any other in the land.”
She took an unconscious step back and tried to examine the man further without being too obvious. So this was the legendary Grand Father. She felt a sudden urge to rush forward and introduce herself, but held back. Whether because of father’s words or the noose tightening in her stomach she couldn’t say. This man had been the Parents’ leader for longer than she’d been alive. She tried to think back to her history lessons. When had he assumed the Grand Parentage? She couldn’t recall, and the effort began to hurt her head.
“Hah!” the Grand Father gaffed. “I would expect nothing less from the great Master Raldon. But certainly, two men of our stature can dispose of the formalities.” The man’s demeanor was friendly, almost overly so. But something in his inflection tempered her excitement, even made her slightly uneasy. She’d never heard anyone speak to father in such a casual manner. Not even distinguished visitors he’d known from his days living in Tragnè.
“Very well,” father responded. “To what do we owe this unexpected visit from the Parents of Tragnè, Valdin?” He emphasized the Grand Father’s name with a coolness that was neither insubordinate nor respectful.
“Right to the point,” Grand Father Valdin responded, not seeming to notice father’s cool tone. “I see nothing has changed.” He gave father a look full of knowing. “But won’t you at least ask how our journey was?”
Father’s lips spread so thin they almost disappeared.
“How was it?”
“Oh fine, fine I suppose,” the Grand Father waved a hand. “Though a few of my men did run into a bit of trouble with a vagrant earth channeler about a day back. Rooted them right to the ground and ran off.” Valdin laughed, the sound reverberating through her bones. “I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that?”
His eyes locked with father’s, smile suddenly gone, a private discussion in their stares. From the look, it was one Jenzara was more than happy father kept silent. Finally, father cocked an eyebrow and looked away.
“No idea. But there are plenty of vagrants who tour the Great Road. More and more of late as the war stretches on.” This time it was father who gave the Grand Father a knowing look and for a moment Jenzara thought she saw a flash of anger in the man’s eyes. But in a blink he was back beaming down at them from his horse. She let out a breath. She’d heard father complaining to Master at Arms Mapleaxe—through closed doors—of what he called this “endless, pointless conflict,” and was glad the Grand Father didn’t seem inclined to engage father on the topic.
Besides, as she saw it, father had the wrong of it. When the Unity Bridge had collapsed at Riverdale nearly fifteen years ago, it had left the nearly unfordable River of Her Lady’s Justices separating the South from North. The bottleneck along the western shore of the Lake of Judgment, guarded by the infamous Doom’s Keep, was now the only land-entry point from the North into the South. Why risk good men in an engagement in that pass when they could just wait for the fifths and shadow friends in the North to starve? It was a wonder they hadn’t already; they certainly couldn’t grow crops in those barren, northern crags.
“No matter,” the Grand Father said, giving another dismissive wave. “As to why we’re here? Why, to do what the Parents always do—carry out the Lady’s Will.”
Jenzara gave a bow of her head to the sacred phrase and noted with relief that father also nodded. The Parents behind the Grand Father bent so low that, for a moment, she feared they’d topple from their mounts. The Grand Father made no move. Jenzara supposed the Temple had a rule that the one invoking the Lady’s Will needn’t partake in the bowing.
Father’s voice remained polite, but curt. “Certainly. But what mission calls for a whole covenant? Unannounced.”
All mirth suddenly evaporated from the Grand Father’s face, like dew off a dying bush in the morning.
“The Edicts.”
Without further explanation, the Grand Father motioned to the group behind him. The two children Jenzara had noticed earlier dismounted and came forward, carrying a substantial wooden chest between them. The pair were in a sorry state. A young girl and boy, brother and sister, perhaps. They were clothed in filthy tunics and frayed, ill-fitting trousers. Each had an iron collar tightly encircling the neck and she could see scabs and sores where the things had chafed at their skin. One of the boy’s arms hung in a linen sling that was as dirty as the rest of him.
But it was their eyes that caused her upper lip to curl in distaste. All black. No whites. Inky pupils surrounded by dark, swirling mists. Their vacant stares seemed to focus on nothing in particular.
Touched by the Seven. Ever since the Great Shadow War it had been an affliction suffered by the fifths. More proof that they were a menace to society. Channel too much shadow and it drove them mad. Before the Edicts, when they’d still been allowed to run free, it hadn’t been uncommon to find ones gripped by the Seven’s Call in the dark alleys of every major city of the land, raving in schizophrenic voices of madness. Some said it was the Seven themselves who spoke through them, the traitorous Angels of legend who had been banished to the Elsewhere. Jenzara didn’t believe such tales, of course. But that didn’t make the children’s presence any less disturbing.
The children set the chest in front of Valdin and stepped back. Their stares remained empty, but they angled their bodies away from the container and shuffled their feet, as if whatever it bore inside gave them great discomfort. For an instant, she thought something resembling pity crossed the Grand Father’s eyes as he looked at the children. But almost immediately he returned to aloof casualness, seeming to hardly even notice the children’s existence.
“Valdin, I give the Light’s Will the utmost respect,” father said, pausing while the Parents all bowed once more. Jenzara hastily bobbed her head as well. “But can we please dispense with the mystery? How can Ral Mok be of service to your purpose?”
Jenzara winced at the impatient edge in father’s tone. Political disagreements or not, the Grand Father led all of Agarsfar.
“Very well. Open it.” The Grand Father motioned to one of the Parents mounted at his side, who dismounted without question. He stooped over the chest and unlatched its clasps. The brass hinges objected as the lid opened, crying out like a teething babe. Sitting upon the trunk’s velvet interior lay an orb like a massive pearl, about the size of the melons she occasionally saw in the carts of traveling merchants. Large enough that the Grand Father needed both hands to lift it. The orb’s surface was a glassy, ivory color. But as the Grand Father handled it, the color began to shift, as if the orb was filled with mist. A swirling combination of reds, greens, blues, and brilliant white.
Jenzara looked to father, full of questions. She nearly stumbled back at the look of contempt and anger she saw in his face.
“An elemental seer,” he said, bare degrees below a snarl. “What is the meaning of bringing such an artifact here?”
The Grand Father sighed. “That sounded dangerously close to questioning the Light’s Will, Raldon.” He somehow managed to emphasize his omission of father’s title. The Parents all bowed. For the first time, Jenzara noticed the spiked hammers and maces that hung from their belts.
“Not at all, Grand Father,” father said with only marginally less venom. “But I would appreciate being informed of what that Will is.”
Aloofness returned to the Grand Father’s face, though it no longer touched his eyes. “As I said, the Shadow Edicts demand our presence. Our sniffers,” he motioned at the collared children, “have reported a disturbing amount of shadow activity coming from the western province as of late. For these past fifteen years, in fact. A strange coincidence, yes?”
Jenzara suppressed a gasp at the implication. It had been nearly fifteen years since father had been sent off to Ral Mok by the reformed Senate, not long after the tragedy at Riverdale.
“And,” the Grand Father pursed his lips, “let’s just say I had a most disturbing conversation recently with your elements
instructor.”
Master at Elements Robertin? The man had traveled to the City of Light for a conference six weeks past. And now that Jenzara thought of it, she’d heard nothing of him since father had received word of his safe arrival several weeks ago. Why would he have been speaking to the Grand Father? And what sort of disturbing news could he possibly have passed to him? But when she looked to father she didn’t see the same questions in his face. Once more, some unspoken quarrel passed between the two men. A muscle in father’s jaw twitched.
“Our talk was so alarming,” the Grand Father continued, not releasing his hold on father’s eyes, “that it has compelled me to arrange this contingent to come perform some elemental examinations.”
“Examinations?” father said, more accusation than question. “You’ve no right to conduct blanket examinations of such a large swath of people. The Charter prohibits such invasions of privacy without individual cause.”
“Careful Raldon.” The Grand Father’s eyes gleamed with danger now. “You of all people should know what the Edicts declare. The shadow attuned have no rights under the Charter, and the war presents an exigent circumstance allowing the Parents of Tragnè to waive certain rights of other citizens when necessary for the public safety.”
Jenzara gulped and the knot in her stomach tightened. This was not how she had seen this encounter going. She wasn’t entirely clear what her father and Valdin meant by “examinations,” but she understood the gist. The Parents had gotten word of a shadow attuned in the west. And they were here to find the criminal.
The shoulders of the Parents mounted about the Grand Father tensed as father continued to glare. But the Grand Father’s demeanor flipped once more, the angry tension gone from his face, replaced with the easy-going manner that reminded Jenzara of, well, a friendly grandparent.