Ty smirked as he took the black cap and quickly put it on. It was surprisingly comfortable. More importantly, it hid his white hair. It always amazed Ty, the obscure collection of stuff the old apothecary carried around inside his robes. It was a wonder he didn’t leave a trail of random items spilling out behind him wherever he went. Orlyn was truly a two-legged tinker wagon.
“There’s no need to call attention to yourself if it can be helped.”
“Thank you. I’ve been meaning to get one.”
“Keep it. It was always a bit too small for my melon, anyway.” Orlyn smiled and hurried after Feoldor. “We will see you two there,” he said with a wave over his shoulder.
The brothers stood at the alley’s entrance and watched as the two council members disappeared into the crowd. “Maybe keeping this stuff wasn’t the best idea,” Breen said as they walked back to where they had tethered their mounts. “I don’t fancy messing with something that might be cursed.”
Ty chuckled. “The only reason Orlyn said that was to keep Feoldor from snatching the jewelry. You saw the way he was looking at those ruby daggers; practically had to wipe the drool from his chin. I’m sure it’s fine. Mangora was selling that stuff to anyone who walked into her shop.”
Breen nodded, but the apprehension in his eyes never really left. “We still have an hour before the Sidaran Assembly meets. Let’s stop at the East Inn for a bite.”
Ty thought that a good idea. He grabbed Waddle and followed his brother and Acorn up Wood Lane toward River Street. He slid his hand inside his pocket when he thought Breen wasn’t looking and gently caressed the spine of the small tome. Had he really seen those words, or had he just imagined it? He was anxious to find out.
Chapter 35 | Ty
TY HAD NEVER SEEN the inside of the Assembly Hall before. It had always been the large, mysterious white dome behind the Hall of Justice, rising above the mansions that lined the west side of River Street.
After wasting an hour at one of the tables of a nearly vacant East Inn, too nervous about the upcoming meeting to eat the bowls of stew they had ordered, the brothers finally left. They’d kept their mounts hitched at the inn and walked the distance to the assembly building. From the number of horses already lining the front, it had obviously been a wise choice.
They headed up the stairs and across the white granite floors of the atrium, making their way to a set of closed doors they’d been told would take them into the main assembly chamber. The place was busier than Ty had expected, men and women scurrying about like mice searching for a way off a sinking ship.
A pair of Sidaran Lancers stood on either side of the doors, their green uniforms embroidered with the gold crest of Sidara—a large tree with deep roots fanning out in all directions. The guards all carried a sword at their waist and a halberd by their side. Those to the left of the doors held their halberds in their left hands, while those on the right held theirs in their right. Ty thought the bulky weapons would be difficult to wield indoors, especially for the two on the right who had to hold theirs using their sword arm, but it did look impressive.
Lyessa was standing to the left of the guards, waiting on them. She smiled as they approached. “I was starting to wonder if you were coming.”
“Are we late?” Breen asked.
“When it comes to the assembly, a quarter of an hour early is considered late.” She motioned to the guards, and they opened the doors.
The inside chamber of the Sidaran Assembly was enormous. It was easily the largest room Ty had ever seen, at least three or four times the size of the main room at the East Inn. Rows of stone benches fanned upward from the main floor in a half circle, allowing everyone within to view the stage at the front where the overlord sat.
The room was surrounded by a buttress of fluted pillars built halfway into the wall. They were wide at the base and thinned as they reached the domed ceiling. At the center of the ceiling was a glass skylight, which flooded the chamber with light. A few sporadic torches lined the outer wall, but they were obviously used more for decoration than anything.
The room was awash with color, each assembly member arrayed in their brightest apparel. They mingled about, catching up on the latest gossip. The overlord’s sudden convening of the assembly seemed to be the main topic. Evidently, it wasn’t usual to hold such gatherings during the colder months, but with most of the men and women of the assembly living within the city limits, it was hardly an inconvenience.
The overwhelming number of people made navigating the room look impossible, but Lyessa directed them down the steps and through the maze of bodies with very little difficulty. She clearly knew exactly where she was going. Most acknowledged her presence with a deferential nod. At one point, she took Ty’s hand to keep him from bumping into an elderly woman attempting to squeeze her gown between two rows.
Once they passed, she didn’t release it.
Ty found himself standing a little taller as he walked alongside her. He marveled at how much had changed over the last several weeks, beginning with that fateful night at the East Inn when she had shrewdly taunted him into his first performance. Not in his wildest dreams would he have imagined himself walking through the halls of the Sidaran Assembly, hand in hand with the overlord’s daughter.
Ty was hoping they could sit somewhere near the top, but Sheeva met them halfway and led them on around to the other side of the room, where it appeared their seats were already waiting in the first row. Unlike Ty, the short assassin had no problem sporting her white hair. One look at her amber eyes had most people backing out of the way.
Up ahead, the members of the wielder council chatted amongst themselves, as it seemed no one else in the room was willing to talk to them. Orlyn smiled when he saw them coming. The tall apothecary produced a sandwich from one of his many pockets and took a bite. He offered half to Veldon, but the barrel-chested portmaster politely refused before rubbing the top of his balding head with his handkerchief, looking more nervous about being there than Orlyn.
Ty’s stomach rumbled as he stared at the sandwich. He wished now he’d tried harder to finish his meal at the inn.
Miss Reloria smiled and waved as they passed her and Feoldor’s seats. Feoldor, with his arms folded in front of his chest, didn’t even bother lifting his head. He looked about as happy to be there as he was walking around Mangora’s shop.
Ty took his seat next to a very nervous but very excited Gilly. The little dwarf had both legs curled under him on the bench. His head spun back and forth as he watched all the people mingling about. He did not like crowds, so it was hard to guess how Veldon had managed to talk him into being there. Even Ty was feeling a bit suffocated.
Ty’s father sat at the end of the row next to Ambassador Lanmiere, who was no longer wearing the sling from his injury during the king’s hunting expedition. Whatever they were discussing was lost to the noise of the room.
Lyessa sat next to Ty, and Breen found an empty spot awaiting him beside Fraya. Apart from the wielder council, the rest of the hall was filled with members of the ruling class. Their snobbish looks and contemptuous whispers let Ty know that he and the council didn’t belong. They stuck out like a pickle in an apple barrel.
He looked down at his simple brown leather pants, faded blue top, and heavy coat, then at Lyessa’s burgundy velveteen gown. One couldn’t have found two more different people. Why was she so willing to let herself be seen with him?
“Order! Come to order!” a short, round man in front of the overlord’s chair said. He held a large ceremonial staff in one hand, which he proceeded to whack three times on the granite flagstones. The clatter of heeled shoes and the rustle of clothing quickly enveloped the cavernous chamber as the lords and ladies hurried to find their seats.
As the last echoes of movement faded and all eyes and ears were attuned to the main floor, the chamberlain once again smacked the white stone. “This meeting of the Sidaran Assembly will now come to order.” The man’s nasal voice grated on
Ty’s nerves. “The overlord of Sidara will at this time offer an opening address in accordance with the traditions of this—”
“Oh, hang traditions!” one of the taller, more opulently dressed men said from his seat near Orlyn. Ty smiled, pleased he didn’t have to listen to the little man’s droning. “What in blazes is going on around here? Why has the White Tower suddenly taken such a keen interest in Easthaven? We are hearing rumors about some sort of wielder battle. And why are members of the Black Watch interrogating our citizens? There’s even talk of Northmen savages boating in to rape and pillage—”
“Don’t forget about the monsters in the forest,” a lady added a few rows farther up.
Ty leaned forward and looked down his row, where the only people who were not standing, shouting, or waving their arms sat in silence. He could see from the expressions on the council members’ faces that they were afraid of where this might be heading. On his left, Ty’s father was also leaning forward. His eyes were focused on Overlord Barl, but the look on his face said that he had something else on his mind.
His father had a gift for seeing the larger picture. He didn’t let details bog him down. Ty thought he would have made a great general had he joined the corps instead of following in his father’s shoes and becoming the overlord’s gamekeeper. He had always been the person the council turned to when there was a problem.
The abrasive man at the front finally took his seat, and the chamberlain decided not to press the issue. Instead, giving up his ceremonial opening, he retreated to the far wall where he watched the crowd with a stern face.
Lyessa’s father stood from his seat on the platform. Ty didn’t envy him.
Overlord Barl raised his hands to quiet the room. “You deserve answers.” His voice resounded off the inner walls as he waited for everyone to sit back down. “And I will do my best to make sure you get them.”
The murmurs quieted but didn’t cease altogether.
“This will undoubtedly be one of the most important assembly meetings Sidara has ever conducted. Certainly in my lifetime.”
The room grew still, all eyes at the front.
“I fear there is no going back. By the time you leave here today, your perception of the world . . . will never be the same.”
Chapter 36 | Ty
THE ROOM WAS SILENT, everyone at the edge of their seat. Ty needed to sneeze, but he held it in, afraid that if he did, it would start a panicked stampede. He focused on Barl to keep his mind off the sneeze. Lyessa’s father looked strong. Confident. Even with the injured leg, he looked ready for battle, which was probably good, considering who he was addressing.
Barl scanned the audience. “Most of you know me well enough to know that I’m not one to equivocate, especially when it comes to matters of grave importance. So, believe me when I say that this is one of those times. All the way back to the arrival of the Fae, there has always been a conflict between those with magic and those without. Battles have been fought, lines divided, and the innocent made to suffer . . . on both sides.”
Disgruntled murmurs rose at Barl’s mention of “both sides.”
“Over the last thousand years, the jun’ri have ruled Aldor while the ven’ae have been rounded up and imprisoned by the White Tower.”
“As well it should be,” came a stern remark from somewhere on the far left of the room, followed by a small round of applause.
The man who had been so outspoken earlier leaned forward in his seat. “You are telling us nothing we don’t already know. Magic’s taint can be seen all across our lands. Wielders are popping up everywhere. They’re a plague on society.”
Again, loud ayes filled the chamber.
Orlyn, who happened to be sitting next to the opinionated oaf, finished the first half of his sandwich, seemingly oblivious.
Ty tried reaching for his new book, but Lyessa’s hand tightened on his, holding it in place.
“Are they, now?” Barl asked, taking a step forward. “Popping up everywhere? And how would you know this, Cirian? The ven’ae remain in hiding. Do you possess some secret talent for sniffing them out?”
The man next to Orlyn sneered. “I don’t need a special talent. It’s obvious.” Those around Cirian patted the taller man on the back, encouraging his stupidity.
Feoldor looked at Lyessa. “Why do I get the feeling your father didn’t tell anyone we were coming?”
Lyessa offered an embarrassed half-smile.
Great, Ty thought. This is going to turn out well for us.
“So, you can definitely tell the difference between a wielder and a non-wielder?” Barl asked.
“Of course!” Cirian was red in the face. “Everyone can. What do you take me for?”
“I only ask, Cirian,” Barl said as he gestured to the left of the man, “because you happen to be sharing a bench with nine of them right now.”
Cirian leaped from his seat—as did everyone around him—and stumbled backward, trying to get away from the wielder council members, all of which remained where they were.
Ty’s hands were shaking. This was a terrible idea. What would the assembly do if Lyessa’s father couldn’t talk them down?
“Guards! Guards!” Cirian shouted at the top of his lungs, pointing a finger at Orlyn. “Arrest these . . . these people.” He tried backing up farther but stopped when he hit the wall of assembly members behind him, all trying to do the same thing.
Barl held up his hand. “Belay that order, Captain, and kindly take your men back to the perimeter, unless I call you.”
The lancers stopped halfway down the stairs, unsure what to do.
“Did you hear me, Captain?” Barl asked.
The lancer captain spared a quick glance at Cirian before raising his fist to his chest and ordering his men back to their places.
“Now listen to me, all of you!” Barl snapped, his patience clearly reaching its end. “You said you wanted answers. You all but demanded them a moment ago. Well, here you are.” He gestured to Ty’s row. “I have asked these men and women to help shed some light on our current situation. If it weren’t for the bravery of these . . . people,” he said with a poignant glare at Cirian, “my daughter and I would have been food for a horde of arachnobes.”
Cirian straightened his coat. Ty noted he did his best not to look at them. “With all due respect, Your Lordship, but have you lost your mind? Arachnobes? Next, you’re going to be telling us that Easthaven is surrounded by rock trolls, and the forest is inundated with talking trees.”
A few of the assembly members laughed, that is, until a vine from somewhere inside Orlyn’s robe poked its way out, slithered down the row, and wrapped itself around Cirian’s hand. The assemblyman screamed as he fought to pull his arm loose. Those standing closest nearly caused a stampede as they rushed to get as far away from Cirian as possible.
“Now, now,” Orlyn said to the long piece of ivy. “That’s not very nice. He might need his arm.” The vine released Cirian’s wrist and slid back across the seat and into Orlyn’s robe.
Ty shook his head. The man’s going to get us killed.
Cirian didn’t move, his hands shaking as much as his legs.
“I guess your talking-tree theory might not be too far off,” Barl said. He gave Orlyn a stern look as he attempted to calm the crowd, asking them to return to their seats.
Some returned. Most stayed where they were.
“I know you have your doubts,” Barl said, signaling to a handful of guards at the back. “So, I brought you a little something to prove I haven’t completely lost my mind.”
Six men staggered down to the main floor, carrying something large between them, wrapped in brown canvas. From the pervasive smell, Ty knew exactly what it was, and the memories it brought had him biting down on his tongue.
Smiling, Lyessa began to poke him, but when she noticed the serious look on his face, she squeezed his hand instead.
Ty closed his eyes and swallowed, forcing down the images of his mother. When he open
ed them again, he concentrated on Cirian, curious how he would react when the guards revealed what was inside.
The men dropped the bulky object in the center of the floor, and it landed with a wet pop. Gingerly, they untied the cords holding the thick material, clearly not wanting to be standing so close to something that smelled that foul.
Those sitting on the lower rows held their noses, but all eyes were glued to the mysterious unveiling. Even Cirian stopped glaring at Orlyn long enough to see what was going on.
Once the last of the rope was undone, Barl grabbed hold of the canvas. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “I present to you your very own arachnobe.” With that, he ripped back the covering, and the enormous spider’s legs unrolled onto the floor.
The first three rows emptied. Cries of horror rang out as the members fought to reach the upper levels, knocking each other out of the way to get as far from the hideous creature as they could. A few of the women, as well as some of the more foppish-looking men, fainted in the aisles. Barl watched with a grim smile, and Ty couldn’t help but smile as well. Nothing like proving willfully ignorant people wrong.
Feoldor laughed out loud, receiving an elbow from Reloria. Orlyn was too busy working on the second half of his sandwich to care. Lyessa tightened her grip on Ty’s hand as she stared at the hideous creature.
“I’d almost forgotten how big they were.”
Somehow, Ty didn’t believe her.
Down the row, the rest of the council seemed to have mixed emotions as they watched the crowd’s response.
“Does anyone else want to tell me that I’ve lost my mind?” Lyessa’s father demanded.
Once they realized the creature was dead, some of the bravest of the assembly members moved to get a closer look, Cirian being one of them. Keeping his arm up to cover his nose and mouth, he stepped up beside the creature and shifted a leg with his boot. “I . . . I apologize, Your Lordship, for my rash statements.”
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