“She is the seer, Allyn.” The king’s calm demeanor contrasted sharply with Ser Allyn’s. “You do remember the chant? We have heard it many times since Janto killed the stag.”
“But what does that have to do with this? The slayer’s boon has no bearing on an invisible pestilence!”
“Repeat the chant,” the king commanded. “Then see what you understand.”
“When the silver stag runs free, blessed will he who binds it be. Rise up, ye treasured bird of three. Wing him what boons ye foresee.” Ser Allyn raised his hands, pushing his hair neatly behind his ears. “I do not understand, my king.”
“Continue. What are the next lines?”
“Next lines? But we never say those anymore. We repeat the first three in rounds. The stag, the slayer, the bird, and treasure earned.” He had no trouble recalling them, however, and his jaw dropped lower and lower as he recited the complete prophecy.
“When evil spawns and overruns, from silver the weapon comes. Without her sight, mankind is done. With it, all will again be one.”
Serra felt possessive of the prophecy now. To her ear, the verses sounded better when united. They were all that still tied her to Janto. The slayer and the seer at least appeared in the same song.
“Father,” Janto interrupted, “could you speak plainly? I know this has to do with Serra returning—she’s the sight mentioned in the second verse as you said. And Vesperi must be the weapon spoken of, or she wouldn’t be able to kill those creatures. Nothing else we tried before she appeared had any effect, and I would bet money Nap could fell anything killable by arms. But what does the stag have to do with this? It may be obvious to you and her,” Serra could hear his frustration as he pointed her way, eyes trained on his father, “but there has been too much, far too much today with Mar Pina’s death and … and I don’t know what’s being asked of Vesperi or me.”
And me, Janto? Do you care anymore what is asked of me?
The king rose from his throne to give him the comfort Serra could not, that she would never be able to again. She wanted to cry, too, for the loss of that privilege and for Mar Pina, but not now. Not when she needed to nurse Lansera’s wounds instead.
“I am sorry, son. I sometimes forget others haven’t been preparing for this moment forever, least of all you whom it most concerns.”
Janto pulled back. “What do you mean? How long have you known these claren were coming?”
The king returned to his chair. “Since I agreed to ascend the throne. I knew then this time would come. You remember my Murat dream, Janto?”
His son nodded, and the Meduan coughed, trying to hide how closely she listened behind raised hands. Serra’s distaste for her grew by the second. Vesperi’s nonchalance was so forced—a mask would appear more lifelike than her face.
“I never knew when it would come true, but I knew what to search for once the Brothers came to me after my brother died. It was the same night I had to make a choice I have never regretted yet always begrudged. I had to leave my life in Madel’s Order and become king so you could bring Lansera an era of true peace.”
The Meduan laughed out loud. “I don’t understand what you think is so exciting about peace. Everyone living together, sharing, caring—people aren’t made for that. It is fantasy.”
Serra glared at her for interrupting, then a knock came at the far door.
“Enter,” the king bellowed. The door creaked open to reveal two guests. In the streaks of sunlight coming through the ceiling, Serra recognized the form of Rynna Hullvy in blue and green raiment. Someone with a dark braid walked beside her.
“It is you!” Bini’s excitement was loud, even at that distance. “Oh, Lady Serra, I did not believe the servants—how could you have appeared in the kitchen? But it’s true!”
Serra smiled despite the tension in the room.
“Enough. There will be time for that later. Please escort Rynna Hullvy here.” To his chief servant, the king said, “Retrieve the bell from my chambers. We must get started on this right away.” Ser Allyn exited from the side door.
Serra smoothed the flyaway hairs of her own braid, and Bini and the rynna neared the group. She did not want to give Bini cause for concern, and maintaining her appearance had stopped being a priority around the time a horde of all-too-visible insects had taken up residence in her hut. She gave Bini a comforting squeeze as she passed by.
Her servant gave the announcement in a sure voice. “Rynna Hullvy is here.”
The king welcomed the rynna with raised elbows and dismissed Bini. “Thank you. Now please prepare Lady Serra’s room.”
“I couldn’t—” Serra started, and the king shot her a look that forced her silence.
“Yes, of course, Your Highness.” Bini exited.
Rynna Hullvy was elegant, her tan head scarf covering all but the longest of her gray hairs. “What ritual do you request I perform?”
“The Calling. I would do it myself, but I need to talk with these young people more. They have many questions to be answered, and the Calling takes far more concentration than I can spare.”
If the request surprised the rynna, she did not show it. Serra did, wrinkling her brow. The Calling was not covered in her childhood trainings nor in Ryn Gylles’s classes. And the king performed rituals by himself?
“I sometimes forget you were almost a priest,” Janto filled in, as though reading her mind. Sharing thoughts probably could not be helped after so many years together.
“Figures,” Vesperi muttered. Serra questioned why the woman was there. A weapon need only be pointed.
The rynna removed herself from the group, choosing a space with concentrated sunlight near the back of the hall. She rolled out her prayer mat and waited for the bell.
The king spoke. “All three of you, come closer to me. I trust our rynna, but there are those who would listen in at our doors with intentions much worse than gossip. What we decide tonight—what each of you decide—must be kept secret at all costs. Some people would prefer the claren not be stopped.”
“The Meduans, you mean.” Serra stared accusingly at Vesperi.
The king responded with a bit of reproach in his voice. “Some of them, perhaps. But certainly not all. People who lust for power are often the same ones who would avoid death at all costs. The claren would only be welcomed by those who seek to use them as a tool or who are afraid of someone strong enough to defeat them.”
“Afraid of me?” Doubt lined Vesperi’s narrowed eyes. “You think there are Meduans afraid of me?”
“I know there are. Your decision to run away when you did was fortuitous, Vesperi. Some might call it Madel’s hand intervening. A messenger was already on his way to Sellwyn to command you to marry King Ralion when you made your way over the mountains.”
Her veneer dropped. She was utterly flabbergasted, showing a mixture of shock and pride. “But why me? Why would he have chosen me? We never spoke when I was at Qiltyn.”
Janto was concentrating hard, looking as though he grasped feathers of information from the air and had bound them together into something that made sense. “For your magic, of course. That’s why they wanted you.” He smiled at Vesperi, pleased with his conclusion … and with her. “No one else has what you have.”
She returned his gaze with only more evident confusion.
“Didn’t you know that?” Janto was bemused.
She gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. “I knew of my talent, but I am not the only person who possesses magic. There are many wizards in Medua. I thought I could be useful to Father, but as a woman, I—”
“You killed a horde of claren. And you could have killed any of us at any time—I don’t know why you haven’t, actually.” That was a deeper realization for Janto than figuring out Vesperi’s role in the prophecies. Serra could tell by the softer tone he took. “You have no idea what you are, what you have that no one else does?” She hated the tenderness in his voice.
“But there are wizards—�
�� Vesperi started.
“Their magic is not the same as yours,” the king broke in. “No one has had the silver flame for hundreds of years. Not since the time of Didio Albrecht, my great-great grandfather. He and his Silver Guard eradicated the last of the cantaleres on Braven.”
“Those were real?” Serra gasped. This room held the slayer of the stag, the possessor of the flame, and the wielder of the sight, yet she kept hearing more amazing things. What has my life become? Planning a wedding had been a lifetime, not a week ago.
The king did not acknowledge her outburst. “The letter I received from Mandat Hall warned me that Vesperi was dangerous as well, a curious way to describe someone they seemed so desperate to find again.
I will not be surprised if they have dispatched men over the mountains to capture her. Caution is of utmost importance.” He stroked at the stubble on his chin. “Now, I was speaking of the night the Brothers told me my brother had died. They told me to watch for signs. A woman who possessed the silver flame reborn—” he beckoned Vesperi closer and she obliged him “—and the death of the legendary stag.” Janto nodded at his acknowledgment.
“I have been on watch for those signs ever since. I suspected Vesperi’s gift, but Serra’s role in this was not clear to me until today. When they came for her the same day you left, Janto, I assumed it was because she was to wed you, and you would need her strength of spirit when the time came.”
Janto, the man she would have called husband, regarded her finally. His fists were clenched, but the twitch of his chin and fast blinking of lashes revealed cracks in his visage. He wanted her to deepen them, for his father’s words to be true. “Is this why you left me? Because of these prophecies?”
She was so glad no one else was in this room. Vesperi’s presence was enough of an invasion of privacy. “Yes.” Her voice quieted as her eyes grew watery. “There is no other reason I could ever leave you.”
His fists relaxed a little.
Ser Allyn came back, huffing from the urgency of his errand. He positioned the bell and its stand beside Rynna Hullvy, who lay prostrate on her mat. She did not look up, but once he stepped away, she began chanting. From the other end of the room, it was only a murmur, a distant chorus of crickets in summer.
Vesperi had made use of the distraction to slip her mask back on. The woman’s eyes and stance screamed of boredom.
“I know we are supposed to fight the claren,” Serra addressed the king, “but how will we know where to find them? Are the Brothers to be our guides, sending us where the claren are through the means of travel they have used with me?”
“I hope to ask them soon. But I think what we need to do now is make sure the three of you are willing to do that, if asked. Will you work together to save us from the claren? Will you do whatever it takes?”
It was an easy answer for Serra by now, though she wondered how many times she would have to make the choice. “I have already committed my life to Madel’s work in this. I will go wherever She needs me to.”
She expected Janto to speak next, but the Meduan beat him to it. “What else have I to do?” A fitting answer for a captive. But there were no guards here, nor had any followed her that day. The king trusts her. That did not mean Serra had to.
Neither did Janto. “You do not know what is being asked, Vesperi. How can you be certain this is what you should do?” So she had not completely beguiled him yet. It should not matter, but Serra rejoiced.
The Meduan’s eyes were on the king. “I just am. Besides, it is not as if I have a welcome waiting for me elsewhere.”
Rynna Hullvy’s voice rose, the wind before a tornado sweeps through. It stopped as suddenly, and their attention turned her way. Two wisps of gray swooped down from inside the golden bell—wisps that rapidly grew until a pair of Brothers stood by Rynna Hullvy, floating.
“What are those?” Vesperi gasped. “Should I kill them?”
“No.” The king’s answer was hurried. “You need to work on that being your first instinct, Vesperi. Not everything calls for the flame.”
Janto greeted the Brothers reverently, a pale but satisfied Rynna Hullvy standing beside them. “Brothers, is it good to see you, but why have you come?”
Serra stared at him, dumbfounded. The ritual was named the Calling. Maybe proximity to the Meduan had addled his brains.
“We brought them here because I have given you all the information I can, and now we must decide what should be done.” The king rose from his seat, raising elbows to the visitors. “Welcome, Brothers. We need your guidance.”
The familiar, whispery voice slithered through the hall. “This is not the role we have yet to play. We have opened the Eye. Our next task has not come.”
King Albrecht took their words in stride. How did he remain composed with such unhelpful responses? She wanted to strangle them, and they had only spoken three sentences. Meditation had not taught her patience.
“What are they?” Vesperi walked in a circle around the Brothers, fascinated.
“Our Brothers,” Janto answered. “They are the highest members of the Order, those closest to Madel.”
Closer than you know, Serra thought.
“Is there nothing you can tell us?” The king leaned forward. “Every second we waste is another that should be spent fighting the claren. Where should they go?”
“The slayer knows where to find the prey. He will pick up the scent.”
“But Braven is where I found the stag,” Janto stammered. “Should we should go back there? But surely they cannot cross the sea on their own?”
The tinkling laughter of the Brothers filled the room. “They breed in the other realm and travel here as we do where passage between is easy. Braven is one of those places, as is this castle. But once they cross over, the claren cannot go back. They do not have Madel’s blessing.”
Janto threw his hands up. “Is that a no?” She knew how he felt.
“You have picked up the scent already.” They flickered, their presence weakening.
“No!” Janto rushed toward them. “You cannot leave now!”
His father restrained him, regarding Janto sternly. “Son, the Brothers are under no obligation to us. They serve Madel, and they come and go at Her will, not ours.”
The last traces of them dissipated, and Serra observed Vesperi’s veiled interest in the scene. Whether the Brothers’ display or Janto’s reaction had brought the fleeting surprise to the Meduan’s face, she could not tell.
“But I do not know what I’m to do.” Janto again clenched his hands into fists. “I killed the stag, but that’s done. Braven is not in danger, or surely Sielban would know. But how am I supposed to help Rall and the others whom the claren have attacked? How do I agree to act without any idea of what I am agreeing to?”
“Sometimes,” his father said, “you must trust that saying yes is the right thing to do without knowing why. Do you have faith this is the path to follow?”
Janto took a few deep breaths, his usual method of willing away his anger. He was so handsome, the red tones of his hair prominent in the fading sunlight. And the weeks of competition and travel had done wonders for his form and that last bit of baby fat on his cheeks. Fully a man now, but she could not have him. Serra stymied fresh tears.
When it felt safe to look again, Janto stared back at her. Radiant pride shone in his eyes. Her heart clenched as he regarded Vesperi in the same manner, lingering on this other woman who had also declared her fate. Serra doubted Vesperi had made nearly so dear a sacrifice to do it.
“Yes.” Janto spoke confidently. “I do have that faith. I have faith in Madel, and I have faith in both of you. I will do this. I will fight the claren until every last one of them is killed and our people have nothing left to fear. If the three of us are the only ones who can do it, then I must believe it so.”
“Then it’s settled. The claren will be defeated. Where you are headed is not yet known, but that you will be leaving soon is. I suggest you clear your he
ads, rest and pray for the remainder of this day, and we will meet in the morning, break our fast together, and figure out your next step.”
The three of them nodded. Serra did not linger, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes as she left. There would be plenty of time to talk things over with Janto on the road. She was in no hurry to rush that conversation, uncertain having it would make this easier on either of them. And if she delayed it, then maybe she could delay finding out how deep the bond between slayer and stag went.
Knowing Bini waited by her door was a greater comfort now than it had ever been before.
CHAPTER 41
JANTO
Serra’s braid of spun-caramel hair flew up from the speed with which she fled the room. She looks so much nicer without feathers or ribbons, Janto thought. But she could wear a gown made of koparin tails, and he would find her beautiful. Yet the Serra he knew would never have left a room without a proper exit, greeting even Vesperi in turn. She would have hid her emotion until the two of them were alone. The hurried exit indicated a clear desire to avoid him, something else new about her like the cool confidence she had shown in the kitchen, a transparency he envied. He wished he could run out himself, demand to know how she could give them up for anything, including Madel. But he did not have that luxury, not with his father in the same room, and the rynna and Ser Allyn. Madel’s hand, Vesperi would never let him hear the end of it. Poor little princeling.
“Until tomorrow then.” He raised his elbows to the others. “I need to check in with my guests before the evening gets much older.”
On warm nights such as this, the servants often had a bonfire in the courtyard, raising a glass together and watching the moons and stars. First person to catch a glimpse of Madel’s hair, as the shooting stars were called, won a glass of sparkling ale. But the courtyard was empty after that day’s events. Janto wished it were otherwise; a hello or two would lighten his mood.
He knocked on Rall and his son’s guestroom door. It opened slowly, Rall greeting him with a finger lifted to his lips. “I don’t want to wake Evon.”
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