by A. C. Cobble
“Interesting,” murmured Amelie.
“Why don’t you try it?” asked Prem. “You could begin working with me to reach my father, and after you’ve done that successfully, you could link to other guardians. All of them are experienced in establishing thought melds, and it would be beneficial to have more connections and not rely only on my father and I.”
Smiling, Amelie agreed, “I would like that.”
“I’ll tell my father, then.”
“Do you have to direct the thought to him?” wondered Rhys. “Or can he… read your thoughts?”
Frowning, the girl replied, “Usually I direct my thoughts to him. Sometimes, when I’m distracted and my thoughts are vivid, he’s able to receive them without me sending them. There was a time when I was younger, I fell and broke my arm. It was a stupid thing, and with our healers, not a serious injury, but my father knew my pain. He came running immediately to find me. He said it was like I was shouting in his head. So, you could say, the more intense the emotion, the louder the thoughts.”
The rogue shifted uncomfortably. “And he hasn’t said anything, ah, in the last few days?”
“Not since…” Prem trailed off and then cleared her throat. “Not since the other night.”
Ben looked between the two of them, wondering at the sudden tension.
“It must be nice to get some privacy after so long,” remarked Amelie. “Back in Issen, I used to sneak away sometimes, just to get away from everyone.”
“There’s not much privacy here,” said Ben with a nod at their bedrolls all lying within a few paces of each other.
Prem smiled. “You’re right, but it’s different than living in the middle of the same village for one hundred years. Everyone knows everything about everyone. There were no secrets. I believe these last few days is the longest I’ve ever been away from my father’s thoughts. He’s giving me space which I appreciate, but I hope he is not worried.”
Rhys tilted up a wineskin and then wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “What would he be worried about?”
Prem smirked at the rogue but did not answer.
Ben assured her, “We’ll be just fine through Sineook Valley. It’s all agriculture and flat terrain. The scariest thing in the valley is a potato. Adrick is the one who will be facing danger. The demon swarms the mages are tracking look nothing like what the demon-king mustered against us, but anytime you face a demon, it’s risky.”
“My father can deal with demons, but I’m not so sure how he’ll fare with those Sanctuary mages of yours,” responded Prem. “They’re a handful, and he’s not used to dissent.”
“The Sanctuary mages are a handful, and that’s why we sent them away,” said Ben with a wink.
Towaal harrumphed beside him and he grinned.
“Not even once have you been away from your father’s thoughts this long?” asked Rhys after taking another swallow of wine. “How… how did you handle, ah, courtship?”
Prem glanced at him. “No one was brave enough to court me underneath my father’s nose.”
“No one?”
“Not once,” answered the girl.
Rhys dug in his cloak and produced his pipe. With trembling fingers, he stuffed the bowl full of fragrant leaves, sparked it alight, and drew on the pipe before blowing out a thick cloud of blue smoke.
“Do you have something to say?” wondered Prem.
“No,” mumbled the rogue, “I do not.”
Ben looked between the two of them. “Is there—”
“How’s that soup coming, Ben?” interjected Rhys.
Ben cursed and grabbed the spoon, stirring hard and scrapping the bottom of the pot where it had already begun to stick.
Rhys said, “I swear. Once a farm boy, always a farm boy.”
Muttering under his breath, Ben complained, “I was never a farmer.”
“It’s okay if it’s a little well done,” said Amelie unconvincingly.
“Okay with you—” Rhys dropped his pipe, his eyes wide in shock. Towaal turned and gasped, her jaw hanging open. Amelie fell back, scrambling on her elbows and heels to get away.
Ben, still stirring the stew, slowly turned and frowned. Behind him, a young woman stood at the edge of the firelight. She had shoulder-length red hair tied loosely behind her head. A long green dress hugged her body. Her stout leather boots appeared well-made and suitable for travel. She had no pack and no provisions, but did not appear to be in need. She stood, unthreatening, smiling at the group’s panic.
“Can we help you?” asked Ben, unsure why his companions were so stunned.
“Yes,” responded the girl, her voice unhurried and smooth, like honey on a cold day. “I believe you can help me. May I sit?”
Ben nodded wordlessly.
The girl sat, flipping her skirts out to cover her legs and shoes.
“That’s really unnecessary, Karina,” she murmured, shaking her head at the mage. She turned to Rhys. “May I have some of your wine, Rhys? I am parched. I tried to catch you in Kirksbane, but you had already left. It’s been a scramble to chase you down. Not to mention a few, ah, distractions along the way. I’m told you found the remnants of one south of the city?”
Ben saw the rogue had his hand clasped tightly on a long knife, but the man made no move to draw it. Towaal sat still as stone, her eyes fixed on the newcomer. Ben looked to Amelie, and she mouthed one word to him. He frowned at her, not understanding.
“The V-Veil,” stammered Amelie in a frightened whisper.
Ben blinked, then uttered a curse and leapt to his feet, scrambling for his longword and flinging the sheath away as he drew the blade.
“Really, young man, you’re the one who thinks to pull a weapon on me?” asked the girl, her voice light and airy. “You’re the only one in this group without any talent. What do you think you could do against me? I could swat you like a fly, boy.”
“We’ll do what we have to, Coatney,” growled Rhys, rising to his feet.
Ben stood, breathing heavy, his sword gripped in his hands. Prem joined him, but neither she nor Rhys had drawn their weapons. Towaal and Amelie sat silently, building energy, Ben hoped.
Lady Coatney bent forward and gracefully plucked the rogue’s wineskin from where he’d dropped it. Ignoring the companions, she tilted up the skin and took a long swallow. When she lowered the wine, she sighed. “That’s not a great vintage, Rhys. Next time you’re in the City, please let me direct you to a more reputable wine seller. You can afford much better than this.”
The rogue didn’t respond.
Looking around the group, Coatney smiled. “You can relax. The trap you found south of the city was for me, not by me. If I wanted to harm you, I already would have.”
The group watched her warily.
“You are wondering why I am here?” asked the Veil.
Unable to find his voice, Ben nodded.
“I was upset that you stole the wyvern fire staff from me,” started Lady Coatney, “but I am at an age where I have no interest in acquiring vendettas. I already have plenty of those, as you know, and that is why I am here. Are you aware that my predecessor is not as dead as rumor had it?”
Again, Ben couldn’t find the words and merely nodded.
“I knew that, along with a few select members of the Sanctuary,” continued Coatney. “We’ve been hunting that woman since I obtained the Veil. Every couple of decades, we would encounter her or some trace of her. Usually, it meant the death of one of my friends. From time to time, she’d attempt to strike at me. Sometimes, I was able to thwart her plots. Other times, she did significant damage to my reputation and the Sanctuary. It is a game of cat and mouse that has played out for four hundred years. In the last three weeks, I’ve become convinced that she finally means to end it.”
“How do you know?” whispered Amelie.
“She’s drawn me out of the Sanctuary,” said Lady Coatney. “In all of her machinations, in all of her maneuvers, she’s never managed that. Now that
I am in the open, I believe she will strike.”
“Now?” gasped Ben, his eyes darting around, peering into the darkness.
Lady Coatney smirked. “No, not right now. She’ll strike when I walk into whatever trap she’s set for me.”
Ben glanced at Towaal out of the corner of his eyes and saw the mage had barely moved since she first saw Lady Coatney. A look of disbelief, shock, and fear was etched on her face.
Rhys coughed, and Coatney smiled at him. “Yes, Rhys?”
“May I have my wineskin back?” he asked hoarsely.
Coatney handed it to him and watched, a twinkle in her eyes, as Rhys released his knife and grasped the wineskin in both hands. He turned it up and began to gulp.
“What are you doing here?” wondered Amelie, a tremor cracking her voice.
“Avril is not my friend. She is not a friend of the Sanctuary, not a friend of Alcott, and not a friend of you, either,” declared Coatney. “We do not need to agree on everything, but I’d like us to agree on that. Tens of thousands, and I mean that number literally, tens of thousands of bodies could be laid at her feet. She will kill anyone to get what she wants. She is no friend of yours, and she will not help you in what you’re trying to accomplish.”
“We do not think she is our friend,” murmured Lady Towaal.
Ben and the others nodded slowly. It was the truth. Avril was not their friend, but neither was the Veil.
“Good,” beamed Coatney. She stood and looked around the group. “You are a knife, slashing through the air. No one directs you but yourselves. When it comes time to meet flesh, think about who deserves your wrath. Cut with intention. You did good work against the demons. Do not ruin it by shattering the institutions and systems that Alcott has relied upon for centuries. Do not ruin it settling a personal vendetta. When it comes time to decide a course of action, think about whether stability or disruption suits your purposes. If you find yourselves standing between the Sanctuary and Avril, know that her way is chaos, and chaos brings death. Is that what you want for the world?”
“I-I, ah…” Ben stammered, unable to come up with a response.
The Veil continued, “You do not have to like me to understand that sometimes we might share a common cause. Being an ally to the Sanctuary in a particular moment is not the same as endorsing our every action. Rhys can tell you about that. I know I do not have your support for my plans, and I am not asking for it. All I’m asking is that you consider your choices. Towaal, Initiate, you saw what good the Sanctuary is capable of. Do not forget that.”
“We won’t,” said Lady Towaal quietly.
“That is wonderful to hear,” remarked the Veil before turning to walk into the night. As she vanished into the darkness, she called over her shoulder, “Enjoy yourselves in Whitehall.”
For a long moment, the group was silent. Then, Rhys burst out into a long string of curses.
“What was that about?” wondered Amelie, fear still caught in her throat but now joined by awe.
“Why didn’t she attack us, and how did she know we are going to Whitehall?” squeaked Ben. “She had the drop on us… complete surprise. I didn’t know she was there until she was half a dozen paces behind me. With more mages or soldiers, she could have easily killed or captured us. Why didn’t she?”
“Because,” answered Towaal grimly, “she means to use us.”
“For what?” questioned Amelie.
Towaal could only shake her head. “She seems to think we will join her cause against Lady Avril.”
“Do you think she knows we saw Avril in Shamiil?” wondered Amelie.
Towaal shrugged. “I do not know about that, but we were right. Avril is back in Alcott. She’s back, and the Veil believes their rivalry will finally come to a head.”
“And we’re supposed to play a part,” muttered Ben.
“So it seems.”
“But, how?” wondered Amelie.
After a pause, Rhys stated, “She means what we said. She thinks we’re a weapon. She expects us to damage Avril and further her cause, somehow. She didn’t attack us because we’re already doing what she wants us to do.”
“But… what?” asked Ben.
Rhys could only shrug.
“Are you sure?” queried Prem. “Maybe what she said about not holding a grudge is true, too. She knows we no longer have the staff, so perhaps there is nothing she wants from us.”
“I killed her son,” reminded Ben.
Rhys nodded grimly. “Ben’s right. I’ve known that woman for ages. She has no problem acquiring and persecuting vendettas, and she has a big one against us. She aims to use us. It’s as simple as that. When the time is right, she’ll bury us. She came to us tonight because she thought the conversation would steer us toward interfering with Avril. I don’t know how she thinks we will do that, but I know we’re a long way from the City. She wouldn’t be here unless she thought it was important.”
“I agree,” said Amelie, “but if we don’t know what she wants us to do… we could be helping her, or even foiling her plans, and have no idea.”
“The Veil never says anything outright and straightforward,” said Towaal, “but what if she did? What if her intent tonight was to convince us that she really does represent stability for Alcott, and Lady Avril really does represent disruption and chaos? She’s making a plea for us to take sides. She’s trying to convince us that Lady Avril is evil, and we should oppose her.”
“Is she wrong?” asked Ben.
No one had a response to that. Restless and lost in their own thoughts and speculations, they set a watch and fell asleep. A sense of uneasiness pervaded their camp, but none of them thought the Veil would attack that night. If she wanted to harm them, she would have done so without warning. But if the Veil could find them, then so could Avril. So could anyone.
In the morning, the unease hadn’t faded. They scurried around the campsite, making a cold breakfast and packing quickly. There was only one major road through Sineook Valley. They’d be easy to find. None of them wanted to stay still. Movement, action, they need to keep going forward.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Amelie as they started walking. “I don’t think the Veil believes we’ll immediately turn on Avril and confront her. If the Veil cannot find the woman, then she knows we wouldn’t be able to find her either.”
“What was her goal then?” wondered Prem.
“Right when she left, Coatney mentioned Whitehall,” said Amelie. “It was the last thing she said. There’s a reason for that.”
“She knows we’re going there and made a point of making sure we knew,” said Ben, speaking slowly. “Do you think Lady Avril is in Whitehall, and Coatney is trying to aim us at the woman like an arrow?”
“Or a knife,” reminded Rhys. “She said it herself.”
“Why would Lady Avril be in Whitehall?” questioned Prem.
“We know the Sanctuary’s hand has been all over the conflict between the Alliance and the Coalition, right?” said Towaal. “That kind of maneuvering requires years, maybe decades of work. If Avril is in Whitehall, she could be working to disrupt the Veil’s plans with the Alliance and the Coalition.”
“Do you think she’s trying to stop the war?” queried Amelie.
Towaal shook her head. “I do not know.”
“If Avril is trying to stop the war, it’s not out of the goodness in her heart,” mentioned Rhys. “If she’s doing it, it’s because she believes it will help her gain power over Coatney.”
“I think we can assume both women have plans in Whitehall,” mused Amelie. “We don’t know what those plans are, but for some reason, Coatney thinks we may take her side and help thwart Avril.”
“If we ruin one woman’s plans, we help the other,” grumbled Ben. “We can’t foil either one of them without assisting her opponent.”
“What do we do with that?” wondered Amelie.
Determinedly, Ben responded, “We do our best to end the war. Whether it helps Avril, o
r Coatney, or both of them, it’s the right thing to do. We cannot respond to their manipulation. We can only do what we know is right.”
Towaal grunted and gave a nod of respect to Ben. “A very sensible proposition, Lord Ashwood.”
He snorted.
Rhys attempted a deep bow while walking, and Ben kicked at him.
The moment of levity brought a ray of sun into their moods, and moments later, their steps were lighter and their purpose clear.
“Knowing what to do doesn’t mean we shouldn’t watch our backs,” advised Rhys. “Either one of those women will stick a knife in us the moment we are no longer useful.”
“Agreed,” said Ben. “We should take the Veil’s visit last night as a warning. She’s out there, watching us. Avril is, too. In time, we’ll have to deal with them both.”
“The more things change, the less they change,” offered Prem.
“Exactly,” said Ben, a smile creeping onto his face. “We do what we were going to do before, but now we know we must be cautious at every turn. One misstep—”
“What’s that?” asked Prem.
Ahead of them, a large gathering of people were clustered in a field on the side of the road. At least one hundred of them were all turned, facing something in the middle of the cluster.
“Cabbage farmers?” guessed Rhys. “I’d put half a dozen silver on it or a night of drinking at the next tavern we find.”
No one took him up on his wager. The man had a point. They were passing cabbage fields.
Ben didn’t think that was why so many people were gathered together, though. He’d be the first to admit he knew little of cabbage farming, but surely it didn’t take so many hands, or a meeting.
“They don’t look hostile,” said Amelie. “Maybe we should see what they are doing?”
“Why not?” answered Ben. “Let’s join the edge of the crowd and peek over their backs. They don’t have weapons, but be ready to run, just in case.”
The crowd was shifting, and as they drew closer, they heard angry shouts. None of the people were looking back at Ben and his party, though. They were entirely focused on what was happening in front of them. They wore rough clothes, stained by dirt and the sun. Broad hats protected their heads, and several of them had loose burlap sacks on their backs. Annoyingly, it appeared Rhys was right. They were cabbage farmers. That didn’t explain why there were so many of them, though. When they got close enough to make out the words the men were saying, Ben began to pick up an angry theme.