by Beth Alvarez
“No.”
“I don’t doubt Vicamros would let you take it. You’re a closer friend to him than kings ought to keep.”
“I’m useful to him,” Rune said. “I don’t want to make myself too useful. He’d never let me free.”
Her smirk broadened into a smile. “And you’re free now?”
He stared at her for a time, then lowered his eyes. The desire to look at his hands as he mulled over that question pulled at him fiercely, but he resisted. He marveled at the change on a daily basis, but never where anyone could see. “I don’t know.”
“Hm.” Alira paced forward until she could peer out the window.
“It seems to me there’s a great deal of uncertainty in this house. Someone’s going to need to fix that.”
“And by someone, you mean me?”
The gleam in her blue eyes was nothing short of scheming. “Well, it is your house.”
And Vivenne had been kind to him in his youth. Rune frowned, but he’d spent enough time around Alira to know when he wasn’t likely to change her opinion. He stalked past her and crossed to the front door.
It was better to finish things, he told himself. Better not to let it sit and fester any longer than it must. Even with Firal, communication was terse and often tense, but it existed. Even stilted conversation was better than silence. He stepped out onto the stone stairs and allowed himself a moment to savor the fresh air. Making himself stride down the path and into the garden was more of a challenge, and he stopped at the mouth of the path that led between the roses, unsure how to proceed.
In the end, he didn’t have to. Vivenne looked up and grew still.
They stared at each other in silence for a time before Rune forced himself to take another step. Grit on the stone walkway crunched under his boots, the sound and sensation still foreign enough to send an odd quiver up his spine. The sound was not unpleasant, but the lack of the earth’s grounding presence under his feet would always be odd.
Slowly, Vivenne stood and curled her dirt-smudged fingers into her palms.
What was he to say? He hardly knew where to begin. That he’d shattered the Gate-stone had upended everything, caused the island to collapse and robbed her of her family and home. He swallowed hard and tried to find words. “Viv—Lady Tanrys—”
Before he could do more than start, she closed the distance between them, flung her arms around him, and buried her face in his chest. “Tell me it’s worth it,” she moaned, her voice thick with the tears that welled in her eyes. “Please, tell me it wasn’t for nothing.”
Rune wrapped her in a fierce hug and squeezed his eyes closed. His throat constricted and no words escaped.
For a long time, he simply stood and held her, fighting tears of his own while she sobbed into his chest. When she quieted, he found his voice again.
“I tried,” he rasped. “The whole way out, he wouldn’t go without me. He said we had to close the Gate. I thought—after everything—I tried so hard, but it wasn’t enough.”
Vivenne nodded. “But he knew it. He knew when he decided to go after you. He made that choice. And Ennil made his.” A new flood of tears turned her eyes glassy, but she sniffed hard and wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm before they could fall. “I warned him. I told him so many times, the crown would be our downfall. He never listened.”
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.
She shook her head and took a step back, though she still held to him, as if he was all that kept her moored. “No, no. It wasn’t you. You can’t blame yourself for the follies of others, and I was a fool too, always believing when he said it would work out. Well, it hasn’t, and what am I to do now? I’ve nowhere to go.” She sniffed again and scrubbed tears from her cheeks with the cuff of her sleeve.
Rune let her go when she withdrew, for all that he felt he should do more. But smoothing her grayed hair would have been inappropriate. The only tie between them had been his friendship with Vahn, a connection that had led her to open her home to him in his tumultuous youth—a connection that, whether she admitted it or not, had led to where they stood now. “You don’t have to go anywhere. You’re still family to Lulu. To Firal. You can stay here for as long as you like.”
“Ah, I couldn’t intrude. We all deserve a chance at family, and I’ve had mine. It’s not fair to expect to be part of yours, too.”
“Aren’t you?” His brows drew together. He worried it made him look stern, rather than thoughtful or sympathetic, but he couldn’t manage to smooth the lines that formed between them. “Your door was always open to me, when Vahn and I were children. I see no reason mine shouldn’t be open for you now.”
Though her eyes still glittered, a smile broke through her tears. She reached to pat his cheek. “Look at you. You always tried to be so hard, but your father’s gentle spirit is in you. You’ve grown to be a good man.” As quick as it had come, her smile faded. “I don’t think I could bear it if you weren’t.”
“Thank you,” he murmured. “I don’t know what else I can tell you.”
“Just that you won’t waste the gift that’s been given to you,” Vivenne said.
That softened the worried furrow between his brows. “That, I can do.”
Before he could say more, the sound of lively hoofbeats on the lane made both of them look up. Vivenne stepped back to put a greater distance between the two of them. She straightened her dress and smoothed her hair before the horse came into view.
“Good morning, m’lord,” the courier called. He fished in his satchel and produced a letter, which he displayed overhead. “Got a summons for you from the king. You’ve gotten popular again, haven’t you?”
“Unfortunately so,” Rune called back. He strode to meet the courier a safe distance away from his garden. More than once, a curious horse had nipped off tender leaves or buds.
The courier lounged against the front horn of his saddle. “Anything exciting, this time?”
“More exciting than a pending execution?” He broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter to inspect its contents.
“Well, perhaps nothing that exciting, m’lord. Can’t say I was right happy to hear about that little adventure.”
Rune grunted in agreement. “Just a summons for council. He expects me there by this afternoon. At this rate, I don’t know why he lets me come home.”
“Eh, home’s good for a man’s spirit. Especially with so many visitors about.” The courier waved to Vivenne, who offered a polite nod in return as she resumed her work among the flowers. “Is she another relative, m’lord?”
“Might as well be.” Rune folded the summons and searched his pockets, but found nothing. He opened his mouth to ask the courier to wait for his coin when Rhyllyn came bounding down the front steps.
“G’morning, Thad,” Rhyllyn said as he trotted over to meet them. He flashed his brother a grin before he held up a neatly-folded letter between two clawed fingers. “I was hoping you’d have something for us today, would you mind taking this for me? I’ve money for the postage here.”
“Tip him for mine.” Rune turned his summons for Rhyllyn to see the seal.
Rhyllyn’s eyes grew round. “Ooh.” He produced an extra coin from his pocket and pressed it into Thad’s hand with his letter. “Are we headed back to the Royal City already?”
“The summons is for me, but you’re welcome to come along.”
“What about her?” Rhyllyn jerked a thumb toward Vivenne. “She’s been out here every morning, can I take her along and show her the palace gardens? I mean, she’s been there, but it’s different when you have a tour.”
Rune shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” He stepped back from the courier’s horse and gave the young man a nod. “Thank you. No reply necessary this time.”
Thad touched his forehead in a quick farewell. “As you wish, m’lord. For what it’s worth, I’m glad to see you alive. And, um... different, but we’ll chat about that on a day I don’t have more deliveries.�
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“Of course,” Rune said.
Rhyllyn bounded off among the roses to speak to Vivenne, and Rune allowed himself a quiet sigh. Someday, he’d have a moment’s peace.
When Rune appeared at the door of the king’s council chamber, Vicamros smiled and waved him in. “So you did receive it. I admit I never know what to expect. Half the time, when I send a summons for you, you’re nowhere to be found.”
“Something that may change now,” Rune said as the guards admitted him to the room. “It seems I no longer have a reason to travel so often as I did.”
“Indeed,” Vicamros chuckled. He motioned to the empty seat at his right side. The placement alone was enough to make Rune hesitate. More than a few councilors sent envious glares his direction. But Garam sat to the king’s left, and he nodded his approval. The king was not given to commanding permanent seating arrangements. More often than not, he placed guests of honor strategically, based on the needs of each individual meeting. With that in mind, Rune could only assume his placement was meant for some sort of leverage.
When he sat, he found himself staring across the table at a familiar face. Tobias nodded in greeting.
“I would have thought you’d be traveling to Aldaan with your people,” Rune said as he made himself comfortable. He’d noticed many things that simply felt different since his change, but one of his favorites was how simple it was to find a comfortable position for his feet when he sat in an ordinary chair.
“I’ll join them soon. King Vicamros has promised a mage to Gate me to their camp.” The smile Tobias offered was polite, but strained. “There are many facets to moving a group of people. Many new concerns.”
Rune tilted his head. “Such as?”
“Illness, primarily,” Garam said. “We had a few minutes to speak before you arrived.”
Tobias nodded gravely. “I’d never stopped to consider the possibility, but it’s already presented a challenge. Many of our people have been stricken by fever.”
“For which I mean to send a handful of mages who specialize in healing,” Vicamros concluded. “Which is why I’ve called council together today. Anything involving mages tends to upend things in the Triad, and I wish to gain other perspectives before I assign any to a post where they’ll be largely unattended alongside a group of new immigrants.”
“Not because the immigrants aren’t trusted,” Redoram added in a hurry. Rune hadn’t even noticed him, off to the side as he was. “More because the chain of command among mages has been disrupted, so we have no way to monitor the mages and ensure they’re treating our new settlers with the respect they deserve.”
Rune laced his fingers together and rested his hands against his stomach as he reclined in his chair. “So what do you want? Recommendations for which mages should be sent?” Firal sprang to mind when it came to healers, but he selfishly pushed that idea aside. The last thing he wanted was for her to go where responsibility dictated he wouldn’t be able to follow. At least, not unless he surrendered to whatever position of leadership Vicamros might cram him into that would afford an extended stay in Aldaan.
“Suggestions of which mages are unlikely to stray from their new leadership would be appreciated,” Vicamros said.
“Then you should send one of the Masters from Kirban Temple.” Rune shrugged. “Maybe with a few Kirban magelings as attendants. I don’t think any of them have a healing affinity, but helping a population adjust to illness doesn’t require more than rudimentary care.”
Garam’s brow furrowed. “Temple mages are the best choice? How do you figure?”
“The ruin-folk answered to the crown in Ilmenhith. So did the temple. All Kirban mages who’ve settled in the Grand College are already familiar with the ruin-folk and their needs, speak the same dialect, and will have a better understanding of cultural norms.”
“And they all know who you are,” Tobias said.
Rune nodded once. “And who I answer to.”
A woman on the other side of the table huffed. Gillan spoke so rarely at meetings of council that Rune was surprised to hear anything from her at all. She peered down her beaklike nose at him. “That all sounds vaguely threatening.”
Vicamros shrugged and adjusted his crown with a thumb. “I’m not against using threats to gain cooperation. The whole point of having powerful people on a council is knowing whose power to leverage in difficult situations.”
“Still, I question his advice.” That snively voice belonged to Survas. The man never missed an opportunity to stick his nose into affairs. “Must we remind you how many times this man has been labeled a criminal?”
“I don’t know.” Garam stroked his chin and leaned forward to peer past Vicamros, as if to size Rune up. “At this point, that may be an advantage. He’s unpredictable and dangerous.”
Rune snorted a laugh and raised a hand. “Less dangerous, now that I don’t have knives for fingers.”
“A curiosity that makes you more remarkable still.” Tobias smiled, but cleared his throat and made himself sober as he turned the conversation back toward business. “If I may, Your Highness, I believe the suggestion of temple mages would serve my people well. It would reflect well upon the crown that our unique needs and our comfort in a strange land have been taken into consideration when allocating mages.”
Vicamros scanned the faces around the table. “Any objections?”
A few councilors squirmed, but no one spoke. For how full the council chamber was, opinions seemed to be in short supply.
“Then it’s done. Councilor Parthanus, can I trust you to oversee the task of selecting a temple mage to serve the new settlers in Aldaan?”
Redoram bowed his head in deference. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
Survas sneered at that, too.
“If there are no other concerns, then the council is dismissed,” Vicamros said.
Most of those around the table stood. Redoram hurried around the table to join Tobias and together, the two disappeared while the other councilors stretched and pushed in their chairs.
Rune stayed where he was. “If this is what most council meetings are like, you can’t begrudge my absence. Summoning a dozen people from across the Triad to hold a five minute meeting isn’t exactly efficient.”
“Now you understand why I never moved to the countryside.” Garam smirked, though he rubbed his eyes.
Vicamros waved a hand as if it didn’t matter. “Please. With Gates at our disposal, it’s hardly an inconvenience.”
Rune wasn’t so sure. His Gift had proven slower to recover than the rest of him. He tried not to dwell on it, but being able to open a Gate on his own again seemed a distant dream. When Rhyllyn returned to his studies, he’d be left to rely on the mages in Roberian’s embassy. Which, he reminded himself, was not all that different than it had been. The seal on his Gift had left him crippled for so long, he didn’t know why he still thought of it as a temporary inconvenience.
“Either way, you’re welcome to depart now,” the king continued. “If I have need of you, I will summon you again.”
“Of course,” Rune murmured. He offered what deference was expected of him, then retreated to the hall. He hadn’t gone far before the click of Garam’s cane against the stone floor announced he wasn’t alone.
By now, Rhyllyn would have just gotten Vivenne into the gardens. Interrupting them so soon would have been rude. With that in mind, Rune slowed enough for his friend to catch up.
“There were a few other things you missed in council,” Garam said without preamble. His skill with diplomacy was impressive, but his ability to cut straight to what was important had always been more valuable. “I thought you’d appreciate hearing them.”
“Depends on what they are and how much more responsibility they heap on me.” Rune smirked, though mirthlessly.
“Nothing like that. More than anything, I figured you’d be amused.” Judging by Garam’s expression, it was bound to be entertaining. “We received a message this morning. The
Collective received our request for aid and they stand prepared to assist.”
Rune couldn’t help but laugh.
Garam grinned, too. “Just a little late, though I suppose we should appreciate the effort.”
“Just means we have to be sure never to put the Collective in charge of anything time-sensitive.” The tardiness of mages was an incredible irony, considering the immediacy of the Gates at their command. Rune ran his fingers through his hair and gave his head a shake. “I suppose we should be glad the Royal City never came under siege.”
“This time. It seems like every time we have a problem, the possibility comes a bit closer.”
“No city’s safe forever. I never would have thought a place as isolated as Ilmenhith would be in danger, but now most of it is underwater.” And even having seen it himself, Rune still didn’t know what he felt. The understanding that Elenhiise had ceased to be where he belonged had not been unexpected, yet it struck him harder than it should have, given how long he’d been away. He hadn’t given himself time to sort through those feelings. Eventually, he’d have to.
Garam chuckled. “You still have to give me the rest of your life story, you know. The past little bit has been more confusing than enlightening.”
“That’s every day with me, I’m afraid.”
“I assumed as much.” The old man stopped when they reached the foot of the long ramp that spiraled through the palace. “Where to from here?”
Rune motioned toward the doors. “Rhyllyn’s out looking at the flowers with Lady Tanrys. He was excited to show her the native plantings. I didn’t want to interrupt them too soon.”
“That boy’s got a gift for making friends. I don’t think he’s got an enemy in the world.”
“I hope it stays that way. He’s a good boy.” Rune clapped Garam on the shoulder. “I’ll go get them. Give your wife my regards.”
Garam returned the gesture. “She’ll want you over for a formal dinner before long. You know she’ll want the whole story straight from your mouth.”
“I wouldn’t dream of shorting her.”