by Dan Zangari
Kaescis lowered his faceplate and strode back to his horse. How can he see in that thing? The prince swiftly mounted, shouting more orders to his soldiers.
Cornar turned to Krindal. “Is everything all right?” he asked in a whisper.
The old necromancer-scholar nodded, then said, “If you’ll excuse me, I must round up the scholars.” Krindal hurried off to the farmhouse.
Cornar stood where he was, thinking. Krindal must have been sneaking about in order to know that the men from the Order of Histories were inside the inn. Nordal had mentioned hearing a noise above him two nights ago. But the attic was locked. Cornar couldn’t investigate it properly and had dismissed the noise as a wild animal.
Cornar returned to the tents, but glanced back to the small Mindolarn army. He felt that Krindal and Kaescis were keeping something from him and his men. Nothing could bother him more.
The dream… he thought. Melthas had shielded Cornar from the truth all those years ago. Cornar felt left out because of it, just as he was feeling now with Krindal and Kaescis. That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? If Cornar had known his father was facing the possibility of death, he would have treated him differently. Cornar would have hugged his father, telling him how much he loved him. Cornar would have overcome his resentment.
After the exchange between the scholar and the prince, all Cornar wanted to do was to remain aloof at the back of the convoy. He wanted to ride with his men, taking comfort in their camaraderie. But perhaps that was not the right thing to do.
Actions, he thought, remembering the not-Karenna’s words. He needed to do certain things. Was being at the expedition’s head one of them? Perhaps he needed to be there.
This was obviously not a simple expedition of discovery as he’d been told… But what motive would Krindal have to lie?
Cornar dismissed the thoughts and called for his men. “Kalder, Midar, Hemrin. Let’s break camp. We’re leaving.”
* * * * *
It was midmorning before the expedition was ready to leave Klarin. The army filled the street which ran through the middle of the village. It seemed that almost all of Klarin’s citizens stood along the street, gawking at the soldiers. Their expressions said they had never seen such a gathering of troops.
After seeing to his men, Cornar pushed his way to the head of the expedition. As Kaescis had said, a white horse was waiting for Cornar.
Some riders with familiar faces were on horseback near Kaescis: Admiral Kaetet, Laeyit, and the servant Practil. There were a few others Cornar didn’t recognize, men dressed like Admiral Kaetet—undoubtedly other captains from the ships Kaescis had conscripted for the journey—a couple of commanders in plate armor, and one of those crimson-armored soldiers. Cornar had overheard a soldier calling them the Crimson Praetorians. Cornar knew of them, the elite guard of the Mindolarn Empire.
“Mister Dol’shir,” Kaescis said, gesturing to those around him. “I wish to introduce you to the rest of our leadership.” He pointed to one of the captains. “This is Captain Hetarin, commander of the Ulicin. And this is Captain Regader, commander of the Helidar.”
“Captains,” Cornar said, bowing, and then mounted his horse.
“These two are Grand Marshals Hezidex and Galiur.” Kaescis gestured to the men in plate armor. Their helmet’s visors were lowered, so Cornar couldn’t see their faces.
Grand marshals, huh? Cornar mused. The highest ranking officers in the Mindolarn army. What would Kaescis be doing with two grand marshals? Usually a grand marshal oversaw an entire theater of war. But two grand marshals for an expedition? Odd… There was something more to this trip to Klindil than either Kaescis or Krindal was telling him.
“And lastly, my friend Bratan.” Kaescis pointed to the Crimson Praetorian.
Bratan’s horse was standing close to Laeyit and her steed. Cornar glimpsed her eyeing him while whispering to Bratan. She had a glint of hostility in her yellow eyes. Cornar didn’t trust the woman.
“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” Cornar said, gripping his horse’s reins.
“Mister Dol’shir will be protecting Master Krindal and his associates,” Kaescis said. “And he’s a renowned adventurer, so I say we heed his suggestions as we explore Klindil.”
That was a backhanded compliment.… If you think so highly of me, let me know what’s really going on, Cornar thought. He would discover the truth about this trip, one way or another, even if he had to figure it out on his own.
I’ll use those dreams if I must, Cornar told himself. Perhaps in the next one I’ll learn something pertinent to this quest. He would have to pay attention to the details, but for now he could replay the first three in his mind. There would be time, since it would take nearly two weeks to reach the ruins of Klindil.
Kaescis said a few words to the small army, and then kicked his horse, urging him into a trot. The other riders did the same.
A roar of clanking armor, the beating of hoofs, and marching soldiers echoed behind him. Cornar glanced over his shoulder, watching the procession leave the village. The villagers were still watching with wide-eyed amazement. Their innocence reminded him of little Galana from his dream. That soothed him.
Now calmed, Cornar resumed his focus forward. A thrill surged through him. Somewhere out there, one of the greatest secrets of Kalda lay awaiting discovery.
“Tragedy shall befall him throughout his life. He will have no kin to rely upon.”
- Prophecy of Soron Thahan
A knock awoke Iltar from his slumber. He propped himself up on one arm and gazed at the floor beside the bed. The clothes he had scattered before sleeping were still there. Sunlight shone through the sheers from a nearby window,. Iltar hadn’t drawn the drapes so he could easily tell whether he was on Kalda or Vabenack. The sky was a clear blue.
“Master Iltar,” Hazais said in a cheery tone, “the ladies are waiting for you in the solarium.”
Iltar threw back the covers and crawled out of bed, picking up the clothes.
“Mast—”
“I’m coming!” Iltar yelled. “Let me get presentable, and I’ll join them.”
“Ah, yes,” Hazais said, and Iltar thought he heard the butler sighing in exasperation.
Here I thought Mindolarn servants weren’t supposed to show emotion, he thought, folding his clothes. Iltar made his bed, then turned to an extravagant dresser. It was longer than he was tall, and he was quite a tall man. A couple of small mirrors on stands were arranged at one end beside a tray full of combs and brushes. It looked very feminine.
Iltar dressed quickly, putting on a clean black tunic and matching pants—his favored outfit. Then he grabbed a small, curved dagger and put it on his belt. It was more ornamental than anything else, but Iltar thought he’d better brandish a weapon if he were to play the part of a bodyguard.
“Master Iltar—”
“Hold on!” Iltar said through clenched teeth, grabbing a brush. He ran it through his hair while Hazais continued encouraging him to hurry. The butler made some comments that implied Iltar was a poor bodyguard.
“Your mistress could be in danger!” the butler almost shouted.
Iltar sighed and continued stroking the brush through his gray hair. After dealing with the cowlicks Iltar used a comb to straighten his hair and then his goatee.
Hazais was still droning on as Iltar put the comb back in its place. What an annoying man. Iltar rolled his eyes and took one last look in the mirror. He looked good, if he did say so himself.
“I must insist that this behavior of neglect is—” Iltar swung the door open, finding the butler and two women dressed like maids standing in the hall. Hazais straightened up with a harrumph and adjusted his fancy orange coat. “Please follow me,” he said, then turned from the door and started down the hall.
Iltar looked at the women, and they bowed in response to his glance. He forced a smile, then turned and followed Hazais. Behind him, he heard the women enter his room then utter surprised exclamations a
bout the chamber’s tidiness. The maids had probably expected to find it in disarray.
“Do not take offense at this,” Hazais said, glancing back to Iltar, “but you really must do better at waking before your mistress rises.”
“I’m no servant,” Iltar said with a grunt, coming alongside the butler. They wound through a couple of halls before arriving at a staircase leading to the lower levels of the guesthouse.
“But you have a sacred responsibility to the countess,” Hazais said, sounding frustrated as they descended the stairs. “You are to protect her. If an attempt on her life were to happen here, I would have to claim some responsibility.”
“So are you saying that I should never sleep?” Iltar asked, deliberately acting terse. This butler seemed easily excitable, and thus a source of entertainment.
“No!” Hazais almost spat the word. “That’s why we have guards. I am saying that when she is awake and moving about, you must be too.”
“Well, I don’t see any harm in letting the men continue their duties before I’m ready.”
Hazais was taken aback by that statement. The butler stopped at the bottom of the staircase and looked directly into Iltar’s eyes. His gaze had a fiery indignation that made Iltar want to laugh. Hazais obviously didn’t know who he was dealing with.
The butler’s nostrils flared. “You, sir, are an arrogant, self-centered social climber!” Iltar fought back a smile. Oh, this is simply too much fun. He chuckled. “Do you think this is funny?” Hazais demanded.
“Assassinations? No. You, on the other hand…” Iltar trailed off, grinning. The butler turned his nose up as he spun and walked down an adjoining hall. Iltar followed him, reveling in his goading of the butler.
Soon they reached the solarium, a seven-sided room that extended from the guesthouse, positioned near the mansion. The high ladies were sitting at a glass table set for three. They were sipping on an orange liquid and enjoying a cheery conversation.
Hazais stepped inside, stood to attention, addressed the women by their titles, then presented Iltar with a perturbed tone. Once Iltar entered the solarium, Hazais stalked off, disappearing down the hall.
Elsia laughed and cupped the top of her glass, preventing her drink from spilling. “What was that all about?” she asked.
“I didn’t take kindly to his berating,” Iltar said, sitting in the only empty seat. He looked out the glass walls of the solarium and examined the gardens. They were far more beautiful in the sunlight. There was even a large patch of grass where he could hold training sessions with the acolytes. This is better than what I had planned. The boys can be training out there while I catch up on my research. Training in the morning, studying in the afternoon and evening. It was perfect—
“Iltar?” Elsia asked. Had she said something?
“What?” Iltar looked at the countess.
“You weren’t paying attention again,” Elsia said with a grin, taking a sip of her drink. Alanya was also smiling at him.
“Were you admiring the view of the palace?” Alanya asked. “Many of my guests get lost in that view.”
Iltar started, then looked back out the window. He hadn’t noticed, but the palace was sitting on a hill not too far away. It stood out among the leafy trees, its red-brown coloring stark against the greenery. The palace gave the scene a sense of magnificence, making the entire view from the solarium quite amazing. From this vantage, Iltar could see that seven extremely high towers surrounded the palace, guarding it like sentinels.
“Hadn’t noticed it.”
Elsia laughed. “Then what were you staring at?”
“The grass.” Iltar pointed to the spot where he intended to train the acolytes. “It looks big enough for the boys to conduct their training.”
“I’ve never seen mages train,” Alanya said. “Perhaps I can watch?”
“Certainly,” Iltar said with a shrug and then raised his glass to his lips. He took a sip and his mouth puckered from the tart, citrusy taste of the drink. What is this?
“Do you not like it?” Alanya asked. “I can have something else brought.”
“It’s fine,” Iltar said, taking another sip. This time it didn’t seem as tart.
“So, what did he say?” Elsia asked.
“Who?”
Elsia fought back laughter and rolled her eyes. “Hazais.”
“He pretty much called me a poor bodyguard. Kept nagging me while I was trying to get ready.” He took another sip. There was a hint of sweetness to the drink.
“Please accept my apology for any offensive remarks he made,” Alanya said cordially. “I will have a word with Hazais.” Iltar grinned.
“I already sent word to the Yaelinum,” Elsia said, clearing her throat. “The boys should be here in the late afternoon.”
“Good,” Iltar said, nodding.
“Do you want to go to the Hilinard today?” the countess asked. Iltar nodded, taking another sip. The drink was growing on him.
“What ancient texts are you researching, Master Iltar?” Alanya asked. “Or are you feigning research?” Iltar sat his glass on the table but didn’t answer.
“Oh, it’s legitimate,” Elsia chimed, and then glanced to Iltar as if seeking approval to say more.
Iltar didn’t react to her glance. Did he dare include another person in his affairs? They were staying with this woman. Alanya would undoubtedly stumble across notes lying about or an open text.
“But I’ll let Iltar explain it,” Elsia said, sitting back in her chair.
Are you really putting me on the spot…? he thought. Iltar hated when that happened.
Alanya was staring at him, awaiting an answer. She looked even more stunning than when he had met her last night. Her gaze was tantalizing. His stomach fluttered, and he suddenly felt nervous. Iltar hadn’t felt like this since… since meeting Gwenyth—a fellow illusionist he adored who shared his mother’s name—all those years ago.
“You’re gawking again,” Elsia said. Iltar snapped a glance to the countess. Elsia’s arms were folded, and she smirked at him.
Cool fingers touched his hand, and Iltar jumped, seeing the high duchess’s long and elegant fingers resting atop his own. “Don’t worry, Iltar,” Alanya said, still smiling. “You’re not the first man I’ve caught staring at me. And I don’t mind.”
Iltar looked at her fingers, not knowing what he should say. Should he mention the Codices tome? Vabenack? Nightmares with a strange Reflection who thinks he’s some harbinger?
“I’m looking into prophecies,” Iltar said, still gazing at the high duchess’s fingers.
“Whose?” she asked. Iltar glance to Elsia, who had her hand across her lips. Was she mocking him again? Elsia was just like her nephew.
“Soron Thahan,” Iltar said, redirecting his gaze at the high duchess’s face. Alanya’s smile was disarming. “They were written in a book Elsia’s nephew found within the Master’s section of the Necrotic Order’s Record Hall.”
The high duchess studied Iltar with a puzzled gaze. “But he’s an acolyte still, isn’t he?”
“An apprentice,” Elsia said. “It’s a rank higher than acolyte.”
“It sounds like he was snooping someplace he shouldn’t,” Alanya said, glancing to her friend.
“He was,” Iltar said flatly. Alanya returned her focus to Iltar. Her attention was more compelling than an enthralling spell… “Pagus is a bit of a rogue. I blame it on his Royal Sarn blood.”
The women grunted disapprovingly.
“I was a Sarn Royal, once,” Alanya said. “Do you think me roguish?”
Iltar bumbled through his thoughts. What was he supposed to say to that? “Uh… no,” was all he could mutter.
Alanya grinned and patted his hand. Iltar had expected her to pull away, but she hadn’t. At that moment, footsteps echoed into the solarium.
You never know what to say… he lamented. Iltar did his best to regain his composure as servants filed into the room. They carried covered plates and set
them before Iltar and the women.
He just stared at the shiny covering, looking at his reflection in the metal with Alanya’s hand still atop his.
* * * * *
“You’re smitten!” Elsia said, smiling. She slapped Iltar on the arm as they climbed into the carriage the high duchess had prepared for them. Alanya had temporarily loaned it to them for their stay in Mindolarn. The carriage was like the rest of Alanya’s possessions: lavish and extravagant.
“No, I’m not,” Iltar said, taking his seat on the bench facing the rear of the carriage.
“You are!” Elsia said, smiling as she sat across from him.
Iltar rolled his eyes and studied his surroundings. Hopefully, his distracted manner would cause her to stop badgering him. The interior of the carriage was covered in red velvet with golden scrollwork adorning the ceiling. The scrollwork was arranged in a seven-sided pattern, and golden trim lined the four corners of the carriage, becoming a framework for the lush velvet seats.
“Quit denying it.” She kicked his foot.
The driver shut the carriage door, leaving them to argue.
Iltar drew his lips to a line and furrowed his brow. Elsia was being very familiar with him. Too familiar. They hadn’t become that acquainted with each other, had they? He could understand Karenna teasing him like this, perhaps even Baekal… but Iltar had known those women for years, and they were married to his closest friends. Cornar and Igan were practically brothers to him, making their wives pseudo-sisters-in-law.
“There’s nothing wrong with it, Iltar,” Elsia said as the carriage lurched forward. “She’s a beautiful and available woman.” Iltar ignored her and gazed out the carriage window. Elsia went on a little more about the matter, then gave up once she figured out he wasn’t listening.
There is no point pursuing something that isn’t going to happen. No woman as beautiful and wealthy as High Duchess Alanya Tasivir would ever show any genuine interest in him. No woman would… besides Anela. Anela was the only woman who had wanted him… but even she left. Granted, Anela thought he was dead.