Back From Chaos

by Yvonne Hertzberger

  So she stayed awake the rest of the night, going over every possible scenario and developing a strategy for each. Feeling as well prepared as possible, she put on one of her best, but most sober, daytime gowns, dressed her hair in a conservative braid, wound at the nape of her neck, encased it in a pearled net and dabbed on a hint of berry juice to hide the paleness of her cheeks from lack of sleep. Then she stepped into her waiting carriage. She arrived at the door of the council chamber at precisely the appointed time to find the door closed and Klast guarding it.

  She noticed that Klast looked in both directions to make sure no one saw them before he opened the door and bade her enter. He followed her in and barred the door. Messalia quickly scanned the room. Noting that Sinnath was absent, she was relieved to eliminate at least two of the scenarios she had prepared.

  Gaelen indicated an empty chair at the table with a goblet of wine already poured. “Messalia. We are pleased to have you meet with us. Please sit and be comfortable.”

  Messalia observed that all the men also had wine in front of them, but she hesitated to drink. She had not lived this long through carelessness. Who knew what the wine contained? However, when Gaelen took a draft from his goblet, she had no choice but to follow unless she wished to appear suspect. She suppressed a sigh of relief when nothing happened. She decided that Gaelen had nothing to gain from poisoning her and she ought to enjoy the rest of the excellent wine.

  She had seen Klast take up a position beside the door in the practised stance that rendered him of no apparent consequence. But she took no further notice of him. Instead, her attention went to Gaelen, who began without preamble.

  “Your messenger tells me that you have important information for me. I have asked my council members to attend, in the event that further discussion is required. Unfortunately, Sinnath could not be located last night. I have sent a messenger again this morning to see if he can be found and invited to join us.”

  Messalia’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly at Gaelen’s explanation of Sinnath’s absence. She was not sure what it boded, but she sat just a bit straighter and put her best face on it. “My lord. As you are aware, I receive information that others are not able to see. My work as a seer puts me in contact with many persons who seek my advice.” She halted momentarily, trying to ascertain Gaelen’s reaction. He gave none.

  “We are all aware of your reputation.”

  Her eyes darted from member to member, but they, too, remained inscrutable. She decided there was nothing for it but to be blunt.

  “My lord. In recent times I have received two visits from Sinnath. He was most interested in hearing predictions with regard to your lady and how Bargia would be affected by her presence. He also wanted to know if our people would accept your lady, and what would happen should she disappear … and if I saw rebellion in Bargia’s future.” Her observation around the room gave no indication that this was news. They gave no clues she might use.

  “You will need to be more clear, Messalia. Have you any knowledge of why he would be interested in these things? We need something more than questions.” This last came from Grenth. The directness of his approach unsettled her. She forced herself to relax into her chair.

  “Sir, he was most circumspect in his inquiries. But as a seer,” she decided to be bold, emphasizing the word seer, “I sense things that are not said. I have built my reputation on the accuracy of my interpretations and my predictions.” She took a deep breath. This needed to be said before Sinnath arrived, if he arrived. “I have reason to believe that he is plotting to rid Bargia of the Lady Marja, my lord.” Then she hastily added, “though I cannot prove this.”

  Gaelen nodded, “I see. Have you anything more?”

  “No, my lord. I just thought it my duty to inform you of this. It may be helpful to you and to Bargia. I am your loyal citizen.” She watched for his reaction. His face still showed nothing. Earth, but he was good for one so young and inexperienced. She would not wish to contest him in a game of Bluff.

  Gaelen nodded again. “Loyalty is always appreciated. Thank you, Messalia. We will discuss this. If you have anything later that can be verified, we will be interested to hear it.” Gaelen stood. The audience was clearly over. Messalia allowed herself a small sigh of relief and stood to leave.

  Once out the door, she quickened her steps to make sure she was well away before Sinnath might arrive. As she approached her carriage she glanced around. Still no sign of him. Good. When she had taken her seat and had ridden well away, she let out a huge sigh. She still had no idea what to make of the meeting, and the uncustomary loss of control unsettled her greatly. She would need to be even more careful for a while. Gaelen and the council were not the gullible men she normally dealt with. On the ride back she went over all that had been said and, deciding she had said nothing to incriminate herself, allowed herself a small smile. Yes, she would wait, and watch, and she would survive, as she always had. She leaned back more comfortably with a satisfied smirk.

  ~89~

  SUSPICION

  When Klast had barred the door firmly behind Messalia, Gaelen invited him to take her chair and pour himself wine. “You observed her from the side, my friend. What do you make of her?

  Klast made a derisive sound. “She cannot be trusted, my lord. She seeks to protect herself.” Then he added, “And she has given us nothing. A clever woman. But she is afraid. Of that I am certain.”

  The others around the table nodded thoughtfully in agreement. Janest ventured, “She knows more than she has told us. What do you think it is?”

  “I do not know, but she will bear watching,” Grenth spoke up.

  Gaelen looked around the room. “Friends, we have more.” He turned to Klast with a grim smile. “Klast has uncovered another piece of the plot.”

  Gaelen pulled out the correspondence and the ring. He held up the ring first. “This ring was found in the possession of a man from Catania who now rests in the dungeon. He has not yet been interrogated. But Klast has information that Sinnath has been in correspondence with a Catanian from the old court, and that they plot the overthrow of Bargia. When the prisoner tells us what he knows, we hope to confirm this.

  “And,” Gaelen held up the messages taken from Sinnath’s desk, “these also confirm that Sinnath is plotting treason against Bargia.” He ran his hands across his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in the familiar gesture, then added sombrely, “And we have Sinnath. He was arrested early last evening. Now we must prove his guilt to the people.”

  The room seemed to hold its breath a moment in stunned silence. Then it erupted as Janest and Kerroll both spoke at once, their questions tumbling over one another. Gaelen met Grenth’s eyes, and they waited for quiet.

  Gaelen held up his hand for attention. “Friends, when we received this evidence last night, we thought it best not to give Sinnath the opportunity to gather support. He awaits us in a cell far from any others. His guards have orders to admit no one but Klast and myself and to stay far enough from the cell that he cannot speak with them.” He sat down, placing the items on the table. “Let us examine the evidence. Then I will decide how to proceed with his trial.”

  Gaelen looked at each man in turn. “I need not tell you this must not be spoken of outside of this chamber.”

  ~90~

  INTERROGATION

  As Gaelen and Klast had planned, they met unseen, except by the guards, outside the cell where the prisoner from the inn was kept. They had agreed to find out if he knew anything useful before proceeding with the prosecution of Sinnath.

  Gaelen had gained a great deal of respect among the people as a result of his leadership and work during the plague. But Sinnath’s history as a trusted advisor to his father stood in the way of convincing the people that he had turned traitor. Some would remember that Gaelen was the second son, not the one destined to rule, that he lacked the experience of age and still, in some opinions, remained untried. And he had wed a daughter of the enemy, a
decision considered impulsive and dangerous by some of the older traditionalists. Unless treason could be proven beyond a doubt, some might side with Sinnath and plunge Bargia into civil war. Gaelen knew how disastrous that would prove. He had lost too many men between the invasion of Catania and the plague to fight such a war and be confident of victory. Some would take it as a sign that Earth did not approve of Gaelen. There were others, such as Messalia, who would be only too ready to use the chaos to their own advantage. And Bargia would be the ultimate loser. No, the evidence against Sinnath must be irrefutable.

  When Klast spotted Gaelen approaching, he unhooded the lamp he had lit and unbarred the door. Gaelen motioned Klast to precede him in.

  The prisoner leapt up wildly, arms shielding his eyes, blinded by the sudden light. “Who be there?” he cried out.

  Klast set the lamp to one side on the floor and stood between it and the man, who by now had sunk back onto the stone bench that, with one ratty blanket, served as his bed.

  “I am the nightmare you had last night and this is the man who will decide your fate.” Klast made his voice cold and menacing. Gaelen stood back in the shadows, arms crossed, feet well apart, giving the impression of great size and immovability.

  The man shrank away further until the wall pressed against his back. His hands clutched the edge of the bench, white-knuckled.

  Ornan had not been trained as a soldier. He carried only one dagger as a rule, which had become dull from using it to cut rope and meat. As a messenger/trader, such skills had not been necessary. Lone, poor traders generally travelled safely, as they carried nothing of value to thieves. Courage and cunning were other qualities lacking in this man. He knew how to follow orders, not make decisions. He had not been required to think for himself. Now he sat paralysed with terror.

  Gaelen spoke from his place in the shadows.

  “You will not speak unless spoken to. You will answer all questions. If your answers are useful you may live a little longer. If not … I’ll leave you alone with my man here. I am sure he can find a slow and painful way to rid Bargia of you. He is most skilled in such things. I do not think you will be missed.”

  Klast gave a low-throated snarl that made the man start to whimper.

  “P … please.”

  “Quiet!” Gaelen spoke to Klast then, his voice cold. “If he speaks other than to answer, break his fingers … one at a time, mind.” Klast jerked a nod.

  “Your name?”

  “Ornan,” he answered, his voice strangled with fear.

  “Who sent you?”

  Ornan hesitated until Klast started coolly forward. “Wilnor,” he stammered.

  “What were your orders?”

  He hesitated again until Klast made to reach for his hand.

  “To deliver a message and bring back the answer.” He leaned forward slightly, opened his mouth as though to continue, took one look at Klast and sank back again.

  “Tell all of it. Leave nothing unsaid. My man will know if you try to hide something.” Gaelen let a note of sinister satisfaction creep into his voice. “Earth has given him a special gift.”

  Ornan’s tale came out in halting pieces. It proved much more involved than expected. Wilnor had fled Catania City to his estate in the country when the demesne had been overthrown. When it became clear that Wilnor could not influence Argost, he contacted Lord Wernost of Lieth. He made him an offer of assistance if that man wished to take over Catania. In return Wernost was to make Wilnor governor. When the plague killed Wernost, that plan had been postponed, and now Wilnor schemed with Sinnath instead.

  Ornan had been Wilnor’s man since well before the invasion. His duties had taken him to various places within Catania for years, while Wilnor still had Cataniast’s ear. But Wilnor, a cunning conspirator, needed more ways to increase his power. So when a man arrived spreading hints of a plot to overthrow Gaelen and take Bargia, he befriended him. Ornan had acted as Wilnor’s go-between, both in Bargia and in Lieth.

  “We must see to it that Merlost of Lieth understands it would be unwise to entertain thoughts of challenge to Bargia or Catania,” Gaelen declared. Klast grunted assent, not taking his eyes off their prisoner.

  Ornan had travelled to Bargia with messages twice, but this was his first visit to the inn. Norlain’s greed had made her an easy mark. One of Sinnath’s men had prepared her for the coded message. She had offered her son as delivery boy. Ornan had an address, but not the name of the man who planned the takeover.

  It seemed Sinnath had remained most circumspect. He had sent the ring and the address to be used for correspondence via his own man. Ornan could not read and did not know what the correspondence contained. Wilnor also had not revealed the details of their plans to him. Ornan did divulge that Wilnor had concentrated his efforts on Sinnath after the death of the lord of Lieth from the plague. The ring had come back the last time with only the verbal message to wait for further instructions. He did not know who owned the ring. Norlain also did not know it, he said. He had asked her. He had not had time to discover who owned the address.

  When Gaelen had no more questions he looked at Klast. “Let him rot here for now. We may have use for him later.”

  Klast nodded silently, picked up the lamp and followed Gaelen out the door, barring and locking it again. They waited until well out of earshot before they spoke.

  “It is fortunate that we have the letters from Sinnath’s desk. Without those Ornan is of little use,” Gaelen said.

  Klast nodded slowly. “You know that I do not wish to involve the boy. I have given my word to Haslin that I will do what I can to keep him and Norlain safe, but I fear it may be necessary to have the lad tell his tale.” He shook his head. “I am loath to break my word.”

  “I agree. We may yet avoid it, at least in public. You do agree that a public trial is necessary.” It was more statement than question.

  “Indeed. The people must see clearly that Sinnath has turned traitor. Anything less leaves you open to conspiracy, even rebellion.” Klast grew silent for a moment, and asked, “How do you propose to handle Sinnath himself?”

  “I think we leave him alone, with no access to information or visitors. When we have all our other evidence in order, we will set it before the council. We will include Ornan and perhaps the boy. Then, with all of this already arranged in the council chamber, we bring Sinnath in and confront him with it. He will see his guilt laid out, as will the other members of the council. You will be present as well, of course.”

  “A good plan I think. But we must keep him hidden and unaware until we are ready. If any news reaches him he will use it to plan his defence.”

  “Agreed. No one but Grenth knows where he is held since you changed his cell. Only you shall bring him food and drink until this is over. I trust no one else.”

  “As you wish, my lord. I have hand-picked the guards. I believe they can be trusted. They do not know who we hold there. The door has no window, and sounds cannot penetrate the walls. They have been posted well down the hall, as you have seen.”

  Gaelen gave a small distracted nod, frown lines creasing his forehead. Then he gave his head a quick jerk as if to clear it, turned to Klast as they approached the door to the exit, and said, “Now, my friend, my orders are to go and get some food and sleep. I know there has been little of such for you these last days. I need you alert.” The last came with a slight smile and twinkle of the eye.

  Klast nodded his understanding, and they exited into a back hall and went their separate ways. But instead of heading for his room to sleep off his exhaustion, Klast decided he still had time to visit Simna.

  ~91~

  SIMNA

  So much had happened the last days that Klast had had no time to spare for the situation with Brensa. He had eaten nothing since early morning. A good meal would revive him. So he entered the Lucky Stallion as the moon climbed high, and the stars told him it was not too late to find Simna available. He hoped she was not entertai
ning another client. With luck, the last one would already have left. He knew from past visits to the inn that she often sat with a goblet of wine and a late meal before she retired to her private chamber to sleep. This chamber she kept for herself alone. She had another, richly appointed, where she entertained her clients.

  It seemed Earth conspired in his favour. This evening, he found Simna sitting quietly in her favourite corner, just finishing her drink. The main room was empty of other clients. When Klast entered, the sound of the door brought a fleeting annoyance to her face. He watched her expression change to one of genuine pleasure as she recognized him.

  “Klast! What brings you to seek a lady’s company at this late span?” She turned to the kitchen and called out, “Mearin, bring more wine and some of our good cheese and cold fowl for my friend.”

  The innkeeper stuck his head out, nodded brusquely and disappeared to do her bidding. He grumbled just loud enough for the words to reach them about needing his bed and having baking to do before dawn.

  Klast gave Simna a weary smile and sat down gratefully at her table.

  Simna had reached that stage when most women had born a child or four and begun to wear the badges of age. Simna, however, had weathered the years remarkably well. Approaching thirty, her figure had filled to maturity, and her expensive gown showed her full breasts to advantage. She still had a slim waist, and her skirt draped the curves of her hips enticingly where she sat at the end of her bench, open to view. She had arranged her hair in a loose braid, wound about her head to enhance the softness of her cheeks. Her lips showed just a hint of red stain from the berry juice she used. Yet somehow she managed to combine all of this with an air of dignity that belied her profession.