“Be that as it may,” the queen said. “Ivy acts as an emissary from the Court of Kenvard, and when not serving as ambassador to North Crescent, she makes her home here. Myn makes her home here as well. Naturally, you do, Queen Myranda. And now you insist upon being the sole guardians of artifacts of the fallen conquerors.”
“Queen Caya, you and the Chosen have a history together,” the king added. “Quite simply—and again, this is not a personal assessment, but a logical one—it is not a stretch to suggest that the division of the Northern Alliance was less the creation of three kingdoms and more an opportunity to expel Ulvard.”
Ether gave the others a weary look. “I have no interest, nor place, in politics. If you insist upon discussing petty nonsense, I will take the seed to the vault and take my leave.”
She stepped toward the box. Myranda motioned for her to stop.
“No. It is a reasonable concern. If we are to work together separately as well as we did as one, then we must be transparent in our tactics and our aims. Queen Tanya, King Terrance, I invite you personally, or representatives of your choosing, to tour our kingdom. We will show you what precautions we have taken, and we will share with you the techniques we utilize to render the D’Karon creations safe. It was always our intention to share that knowledge when it was ready, but naturally keeping our fellow kingdoms involved in the process is not only fair, it is wise. The D’Karon ruled over the whole of the Northern Alliance after all, and Ulvard and Vulcrest have had to cope with their legacy to a large degree already. This is simply a very specific and very dangerous example of that legacy, and we will deal with it collectively. That education will begin with the storage of this very seed. Maka, Tressor is, of course, welcome to all the same knowledge I offer Vulcrest and Ulvard.”
“I thank you, Your Majesty,” Maka said.
The king and queen of Ulvard conferred with one another for a moment.
“That is acceptable,” the king said.
A disruptive clacking sound drew all eyes to Ether. She drummed her stone fingers against her thigh. “Are we through with pointless gestures and empty words? Shall I do what should have been done at the outset?”
“Ether, I congratulate you on making it clear that you are not a diplomat of Kenvard, Vulcrest, or anywhere else,” Caya said.
“Take the box and stow it in the vault, but inform those present to expect an official visit to oversee its handling,” Myranda said.
Ether’s solid form vanished into a burst of wind. The breeze curled around the box, securely wrapping it and hoisting it into the air. Rather than wait to be allowed out of the room, she and the box whisked into the fireplace and out the chimney.
Queen Tanya and King Terrance blinked uncertainly at the still flickering flames. It was clear they were far less accustomed to the casual application of supernatural might than the rest of those in attendance. As before, when they realized they and their assistant were alone in this reaction, they swiftly gathered themselves.
The king adjusted his clothes, tousled into disarray by the burst of wind. “I believe that concludes the official business?”
“I would say so,” Caya said.
“Very well then. I believe the queen and I will retire. We are not accustomed to conducting the affairs of state at so late an hour.”
“You will find members of my staff just outside the door. They will take you to your quarters,” Myranda said.
The royals politely excused themselves. When the door shut, Caya pulled the crown from her head and thumped it on the table with all the finality of a laborer kicking off their shoes for the day.
“If that is any indication of how future summits are likely to go, I’m am going to have to insist upon stronger drink, and earlier in the day,” she said.
“They care about their kingdom. I can’t fault them,” Myranda said.
“That’s fine. I am perfectly willing to be the one to assign fault to them. I crowned them as the rulers of Ulvard a full six months before restoring Kenvard specifically because I had a feeling the process would be far smoother with you than them, and they’ve underscored that a dozen times over.”
“We are all learning to adjust,” Myranda said.
“You could stand to be a bit less overtly benevolent in your compassion and understanding, Myranda. It takes the wind out of the sails of an otherwise enjoyable airing of grievances.”
Myranda laughed. “My apologies. Do continue.”
“No, no.” She waved her hand. “Diplomacy and all that.”
“Are we through here?” Deacon asked, touching his fingers to his forehead. “There will be much work to be done in the days ahead. It has been a taxing day. I could use a bit of rest. My head is aching terribly.”
“You could start by removing that crown of yours,” Caya said.
“Not just yet,” he said.
“We really should be going,” Myranda said, standing. “Adorable as it would be to leave Leo to sleep in a heap with Myn and Ivy all night, it would be best to put him to bed.”
Caya raised her finger. “Just one more point, if I may. For the purposes of official record, this is not state business, as I really don’t need to hear from the good king and queen of Ulvard for being left out. However, have you had any rumblings about strange events here in Kenvard?”
“I’ve just mentioned having to collect my child from his babysitters, a malthrope and a dragon. Strange events are relative,” she said.
“Point taken. I will be more specific. I have been informed that some hunters in the Dagger Gale Mountains were quite certain they saw, for a few moments at least, a flicker of a churning white wall to the north. The description was a bit too familiar to disregard out of hand.”
Myranda froze. “Were they certain they saw it?”
“I didn’t interview them personally.” Caya cast a weary glance at Croyden. “That is evidently beneath a queen. But Tus spoke to them. He didn’t mark them as certain of what they saw, so much as certain they saw something.”
“If something like the white wall happened again, we would be aware of it,” Deacon said. “That was an event that threatened the whole of the world. There would be no doubt.”
“Such was my assessment. But I am a woman well aware of my limitations, and chief among them is an ignorance of magic. This seems like a matter that could bite my people rather firmly if I were to ignore it.”
“Quite so. Far too many rumors and legends involving the D’Karon have come true. No. You were right to let us know.”
“As this has taken you by surprise, I suppose you haven’t had similar events here,” Caya said.
“I’ve heard no reports, but we’ve had our hands full. Maka?”
“Nothing of the sort. At least, nothing deemed serious enough for me to be made aware before this gathering.”
“I hate to add yet another item to an already full plate…” Caya said.
Myranda nodded. “We will keep our eyes open. If we can manage to coax Ether to look into matters, we will.”
Caya stood. “Then it has been a fine and productive evening. Congratulations on your thriving new kingdom, and give little Leo my best.”
Myranda hugged Caya. “Always.”
#
“This way,” Myranda whispered.
In what may well have been the greatest and unlikeliest of her many heroic achievements, Ivy had managed to climb from atop Myn and carry Leo all the way to his room without rousing the sleeping child. Myranda led the way to his crib in the royal nursery.
“Such a cozy place,” Ivy murmured, setting the boy down. “Though it seems awfully small for the prince of a whole kingdom.”
“Let’s just say those who built the palace had very different ideas of how the royal family should live than Deacon and I do.”
The pair slipped back into the hallway.
“I believe this was once the maid’s quarters. The intended nursery is in a different win
g entirely.”
“But how would you know if the baby needs you?” Ivy asked.
“As it has been explained to me again and again by the staff, the king and queen don’t need to know when their baby cries.” She adopted a very official tone of voice. “Your head must be clear and sound and turned fully to the needs of the kingdom.”
“So who takes care of the baby?”
“Half the staff of the palace. This is our room here,” she said.
Myranda opened a large door directly across the hall from the new nursery. This place, at least, was precisely the sort of quarters one would imagine for a royal family. Ostensibly, it was simply their bedroom, but it was nearly as large as the whole of the home they’d stayed in while the palace was being repaired. A comfortable sitting room served as the entryway for the suite. Furniture of the finest and most elegant sort filled the room. Beyond was the bedroom proper, with a four-poster bed large enough to fit half a dozen people.
Deacon sat at a desk in one corner, stylus in hand, hard at work. He still wore the crown.
Ivy crossed her arms. “How did I know, in a big, comfortable room like this, you’d be bent over a book?”
He looked to her and smiled. “Oh, Ivy. I am so sorry I didn’t have the opportunity to spend more time with you during the celebration.”
“You were busy, and so was I.” She flopped onto one of the couches. “Leo is so cute! And smart, too. Did you see him play the drum I gave him?”
“I certainly heard it,” Myranda said, somewhat less enthusiastically.
Deacon scratched out a few more lines.
“I feel as though I should be telling you all about what things are like in Den, but you’ve read it all in the messenger pads.”
Myranda stowed her crown on its pillow and sat beside Ivy. “I’ve kept up on the official matters, but I’m sure there are little things, day to day.”
“Mmm…” A half smile came to her lips. “It is strange. I’ve spent nearly two years there. Surrounded by people who look like me, after believing when we lost Lain that there were no more. And it is lovely. It is a wonder to see how they live. And it fills my heart to watch them grow. I can even see flashes of him in them, you know. But… it isn’t home. This is home. They’re talking with the elves to the south now. Things are calm. I think it might be time to stay here. At least for a bit.”
“Well you’re certainly welcome in the palace, or in our home near the edge of town.”
Ivy clapped. “Oh, right here in the palace would be best. Where I can play with Leo.”
She glanced in Deacon’s direction. “And who knows,” she said flatly. “Maybe if I stay long enough, I’ll be lucky enough to catch Deacon relaxing for a few moments.”
“You should know by now, books are where I feel most at home,” Deacon said.
“You could at least take off your crown.”
Myranda and Deacon looked to each other. Ivy flicked an ear.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
Deacon set down his stylus and turned. “She should know,” he said.
Ivy’s expression hardened. “I should know what? Are you two hiding something?”
“This doesn’t leave this room, Ivy. It is a matter that…” Myranda paused to gather her thoughts. “The kingdom has enough of a task ahead. They don’t need to have undue concern for their king.”
“Something is wrong…” Ivy said.
“Do you recall the affliction my hand suffered?” Deacon asked.
“Of course. It was sort of… which-way. It changed. But that’s what the ring is for.” She glanced to Myranda’s ring. “One of the things the ring is for, anyway.”
“Well… The ring hasn’t been working quite as well recently,” Deacon said.
“What’s happening?”
“Increasingly often my hand continues to misbehave regardless of the ring. At first it required a moment or two of focus to will it away, and the tremors or minor shifts wouldn’t return for weeks. In the last few months, things have changed. Even with the ring, keeping my hand steady requires constant focus. Rather than risk faltering during an official function, I took the time to place a similar but stronger enchantment on the crown. With it in place, my affliction is kept in check just as well as the ring managed in the beginning.”
“But…” Ivy prompted.
“But today I had an episode. A minor one. But it does not bode well.”
“So what do we do? What happens now?” Ivy stood. “Do you need me to get something? To do something? I am ready for another adventure if that’s what it takes.”
“It isn’t dire, Ivy. And I’ve been making progress on what I believe will be a proper cure. But it will take time. And if the affliction worsens to a certain degree, I may need to step away to tend to it. For now, there are more important things to worry about.”
“You’ve got to take some time to think about yourself sometimes, or you won’t be around to handle the other stuff,” Ivy said.
“If I don’t deal with the other matters, there is no reason for me to be here,” Deacon said. “Five D’Karon seeds we’ve found. Five. The D’Karon have only been gone for three years and we’ve found five of their seeds. Properly charged, each one has a wand with the power to give even a complete novice the means to cast D’Karon spells. That’s to say nothing of the spell book with the teachings to perform some of their most complex and heinous rituals. In a little box, invisible to even Ether.”
“We’ll find them.”
He shook his head. “We won’t. Not all of them. At any rate, we’ll never be sure. One and a half centuries of war. They had full access to the entirety of the Northern Alliance. And the people of Den were worshiping their teachings. There could well be seeds planted in North Crescent. Turiel was in the southern reaches of Tressor, and she’d been at work for the D’Karon since before their arrival. There could be hundreds of these seeds. They could have scattered them into the sea, hoping for them to wash up on the shore one day. And all it takes is one. One seed and enough time for it to grow and the door opens wide. The D’Karon return.”
“All we can do is be vigilant. We watch for the D’Karon. We fight their workings. And we teach the world to do the same in the future,” Myranda said.
“We’ve always succeeded before,” Ivy said.
“It is charitable to say that we have succeeded. I have played my part, but you are the ones who succeeded. You and I, we won’t be here forever. Someday this will be Leo’s world.”
“We will raise him right and make him ready,” Myranda said. “We will make certain that he won’t have to stand alone. He will have the world by his side if ever he must fight.”
“What sort of parents are we if we let that happen? We hand over a world with smoldering embers somewhere within waiting to set it aflame?”
“Nothing is ever certain. We take care of the world, and we take care of our children. It is the best we can do.”
Deacon looked to the wall, beyond which his baby slept. “We need to do better.”
#
Myranda lay in bed. Ivy had retired for the evening. The palace was still. And yet, a light burned. Deacon was at his desk. Books had arrayed themselves around him, hanging in the air. His stylus worked of its own accord, jotting down notes as he read from this page and that. It was anything but rare for Deacon to work long into the night when something had seized his interest. There was something different this time. When she looked to him, she didn’t see fascination and enthusiasm. She saw concern. Anxiety. Frustration. Deacon was a man of intense focus and dedication. It had served him and the Chosen well. But there were some riddles too complex for one man to solve. He was taking the weight of the world upon his shoulders.
When he approached the bed, he paused before the velvet pillow meant to hold his crown through the night. Not until he had his gem in hand did he finally lift the gold circlet from his head and set it down. She watched the
flesh of the ailing hand. It seemed mundane, but a wizard sees more than what her eyes show her. There was something about his hand and arm, and flickers elsewhere. It was a tension, as if his spirit were a tightened muscle. He slipped into bed beside Myranda.
“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Myranda said.
“I can manage.”
“You’re pushing yourself. You won’t be able to manage if you wear yourself out.”
She clasped his hand, closing her own fingers around the gem. With her power and will joined to his own, she felt a bit of the weight shift to her. The tenseness eased. Deacon slid swiftly into an exhausted sleep. Myranda did not. For a time, she turned over the events of the day. Her son should have been her greatest concern. Beyond that, her kingdom should have dominated her thoughts. In a way, they did, because she did not want to imagine a world in which she had to rule a kingdom or raise a child without Deacon by her side.
This affliction was more than he could handle on his own. She could lend him her power, but a cure had thus far escaped both of their expertise. Deacon needed help, and there was but one place in this world where he might find it. It was hardly an easy path to recovery, but she wondered what the most difficult part would be: reaching those who might help him or convincing Deacon that he needed to go.
Chapter 2
The next day, a brisk but pleasant breeze stirred the air. For a few weeks a year, the weather in Kenvard was temperate enough for the people there to enjoy the outdoors rather than simply endure them. Myranda made it a point to take full advantage. She, Deacon, and Leo ate their breakfast on a balcony overlooking the town. It was a glorious view, if somewhat obscured by Myn, who was just large enough to comfortably rest her chin on the railing and gaze at the trio.
Presently, Myranda and Deacon were fighting a three-way battle with Leo. Balancing the need to feed the boy, the need to prevent him from attempting to feed Myn his oats, and the need to prevent the staff hovering around from taking over proved to be quite the daily challenge.
“Myn, stop encouraging him,” Deacon said as she flicked her tongue out to snatch a glop of mush the boy flung in her direction. “You don’t even like oats.”
The Coin of Kenvard Page 3