by D. W. Rigsby
The guards were listening; as they moved along, one elbowed the other to get a look at one of the younger baker ladies. She was quite a beauty—long, dark hair; big, rounded eyes; high cheekbones; and full lips. Vetus Sepher even caught himself looking at her and quickly set his eyes upon the dark spaces between buildings.
“It is getting colder by the hour, I swear,” Lyn said as she tightened her garments. “I wonder if we’ll need to wear a special protective suit one day, created to warm the body artificially, to keep us all from freezing. Can you imagine? Walking about with personal heaters in our drawers?”
The men sniggered.
Vetus Sepher smirked. “You have a wit about you. If we were to have these heaters in our drawers, we’d all suffer from rot and stench from the growth of fungi in our crotches that would cripple us from even the simplest task of walking,” he said. A low chortle passed through the men.
She glanced over at him and smiled. “Yes, it would do that.”
A group of young men had passed by on the opposite side of the street, carrying large crates of produce, causing their arms to bulge from the weight and obscure their faces. There were already too many people out this early for Vetus Sepher’s liking; any one of them could be a spy, an assassin, or, worse, a mercenary who might decide there was gain here and would act on it with no one’s direction but his own. He watched them out of the corner of his eye, searching for telltale signs of weapons, hints of who they might be under their guises. It was an old habit, one formed from seasons of training and experience. He set his mind at ease and remembered the celebration today and that the level of activity had increased for this reason.
Gray light between the buildings allowed him to peer into the crevices, seeking out unwanted silhouettes. He also spied a place he might go if he needed to take cover. As a fighter, he had learned to relax his muscles to conserve energy, yet he was tense. Perhaps he was overthinking things this morning when there was nothing to be concerned about.
Upon approaching the doors, Lyn said, “It’s about time. I’m certain to catch a cold if I stay out here any longer with no one to warm me.” She glanced over at Vetus Sepher. There was some laughter in her voice.
Vetus Sepher gave no notice.
The castle’s structure spoke of majesty; long lines across the front, towering circular fortifications, and arched windows stretched upward in grand fashion. The city itself paled in comparison, and the village outside the walls didn’t even measure. The doors, as tall as forty-eight hands, were made of iron and wood and were five times as wide as they were high. Large brown beams outlined the door, along with more large beams that intersected in the middle. Stones encircled the intersection. The right two quadrants of the circle were enameled red, and the left two quadrants were white marble. It was representative of the two great houses merged through purification and bloodshed: blood spilled in the great feud between the Duguals and the Earls. In the end, the house of Dugual prevailed. The great King Cane of Dugual, the last conqueror, decided to bring their families together through marriages between the two houses and bring their war to an end.
Three buzzing optics examined the group, taking images. It made one wonder just how deep their scans went, and if the guards kept photos for themselves to make light of people’s figures when they had nothing better to do. Even with such technology, there were ways to deceive; if it were x-rays, one could use material to absorb the photons in some areas while allowing them to pass through other areas. Photon-absorbing and photon-reflecting material could be used to conceal weapons or contraband from those who were searching for it. If it were taking a collection of images—to examine and discern what people held on their person—that, too, could be thwarted by adding in additional padding around one’s waist to compensate for the overall measures of the body comparative to what items might be under their clothing.
The doors automatically opened, making no sound despite their massive weight. Lyn guided the group through the doors and down a dim corridor. “Ah, that’s better. It gets warmer the farther we go,” she said, shaking off the chill. They came to a large, circular room that was open from above; along the far side, a staircase led up and up, spiraling around the entire room’s high walls all the way to the top. Around the sides were assorted entryways; some were permanently open, while others were closed off by heavy wooden doors. The doors went around the entire room, apparently alternating one open entryway and one closed entryway, and so on.
There were four main sections to the castle branching from the center. The main sections were the great hall and where the royals assembled. Court was held through the door directly across the room. All the way toward the back of the great hall was the internal garden room. The living areas were in the left spoke along with a kitchen, library, study, and guest quarters. The right spoke led to the ballroom, a good distance away, which also had its own kitchen for service. Outside, behind the castle, was an exterior building for the guards and another building for the stables. Vetus Sepher knew all aspects of the castle’s layout in the event he needed to make an escape with Petro. His eyes swept down the corridor and to the sides, and then he glanced behind, where two guards now followed.
“Achoo.” Lyn covered her mouth and nose.
“On the morn,” Vetus Sepher said. He fixed his mind on meeting the queen, knowing he could handle any possible threat that might emerge.
“Thank you.” Lyn took out a handkerchief, dabbed her nose in three quick blots, and put it back in her pocket.
Across the room and down the corridor they went toward the great hall, the court, and assembly room.
“The gardens are not much farther now,” Lyn said.
“Miss, where is His Majesty?” Vetus Sepher asked. He should have been here—but he’d heard intelligence state that the king left the castle and had not returned. It did concern him somewhat, for today was a challenging time for them all. Already he’d received word that the Father had attacked King Offing, and even Castle Dugual was on alert from the extra guards who seemed to be posted throughout the interior. The other indicators were the extra guards that had come out to escort him inside, the scanning at the door took that longer in his mind, and King Amerstall not being here, raised different questions.
“Oh, stop it. You are a charmer, aren’t you? If only I were younger,” she said and winked at him.
Vetus Sepher smiled, and his eyes softened. In a dream, charming lady, he thought.
“He’s been gone for several weeks, visiting King Sirhe about new contracts,” she said. “And whatever else kings do, I suppose.”
As a young prince, King Amerstall had a reputation for being wild, but he had become much more subdued and somber since he had taken the throne from his father. Once a rumor floated about how King Amerstall, in his early years as king, had taken too much drink on a hunt and had gotten down off his horse and taken out his rifle to shoot a deerling. He’d aimed his rifle and fired it, and the deerling ran off and King Amerstall gave chase. His men were right behind him on horseback, keeping up. The deerling was clearly out of sight, probably gone by now, but King Amerstall decided he could catch it. His men tried to get him back onto his horse, but he would not have it. The brush was too thick, so he ordered them to stay while he ventured into the forest on his own. He stepped high, up and over the tall grass, and peeled back the branches of the thick shrubbery, making a racket while forcing his way through. His men muffled their chuckles as their king crashed through the forest, yelling, “Here, little deerling, come here.” There was gunshot, and everyone fell silent, looking for the king. Then his voice came over the wind, “No, that wasn’t a deerling.”
The men all smiled to one another. They had gotten closer to the shrubs, following King Amerstall. The guard in back of the line brought the king’s horse. Then there was another shot. The king’s horse reared up and snapped back its head, pulling the guard off his own horse.
“I got him,” King Amerstall’s voice rang out, and he c
ame through the brush, fighting, pushing, and cursing as he finally burst through and stood facing his men.
The guard got up, holding onto the reins of King Amerstall’s horse.
“That’s not a deerling either,” King Amerstall said and hiccupped. Blood ran down the backside of the king’s horse. He stared at it and then faced his guard. “Who did that?” King Amerstall swayed.
The guard reached over and took the rifle gently. “You did, sire.” It hadn’t killed the poor beast, and King Amerstall had it taken home to care for it.
He commanded his kingdom well. The people loved him for the protection he provided, the lands for them to work, the food in their bellies, and for being in the wealthiest kingdom of the entire realm. The Free City had prospered under Dugual, an idea brought forth by the house of Dugual, a city for those who wanted to live independently and create what they wanted, including the most advanced technology the realm had seen. Dugual also contracted all the deals with the Free City, taking a portion for itself, making it wealthier than all the other kingdoms combined.
Vetus Sepher and his escort party came to the door of the gardens, and Lyn rapped on the door. The thick wooden door creaked opened, and a burst of moisture infused with fragrance filtered out.
All kingdoms across the entire realm of Spearca—from the western shore to the eastern shore, from the southern shore to the northern shore, those on the White Sea upon the White Sea, and any other place—will follow the Treaty de Sanctus Marcus, for war will come, but it must not come lightly, and those who bring the sword will be forewarned to do so by abiding by this treaty.
—From Unified Kingship’s Governance Doctrine, by the Unified Kingship
In the doorway was a young boy of ten, dressed in servant’s attire. Beyond him the gray sky trickled through the large windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. A thicket of greenery blocked their view of what lay immediately ahead. “Please come in, sir. Her Majesty Queen Lilith awaits,” the young servant said.
Vetus Sepher entered through the doorway. Behind him he could hear the door shut and latch, and then the young boy reappeared.
“Follow me.”
A sweet aroma filled his nostrils; he caught floral scents mixed with lemon and orange, with the hint of rosemary, sage, and thyme. There was a hint of pine in the air as well as honey.
“Her Majesty is over there. Just go through the overgrowth path.” The boy pointed. “Sir, you carry a sword?” The boy peered at the weapon.
Vetus Sepher looked down at the boy and smiled. “I do. It is customary to be prepared at all times,” he said and winked at the young lad.
“I am not permitted to carry one. Maybe one day, when I join the royal army, I’ll be able to defend our queen,” the boy said.
“Of course. We’ll need strong lads like you when the time comes.” He patted the boy on the shoulder. The voice of an old teacher came to him: Be prepared. If not, life will prepare you, whether you want her to or not. In his youth and arrogance, he had scoffed at the idea, but in the end, life had taught him the truth of that statement.
He shook off his thoughts as he followed the densely covered path where vines had been groomed to create a living archway. Inside it was darker, and the air was more humid and warmer than in the halls. When he exited the tunnel, the light seemed brighter. His eyes took in gold, orange, white, red, and purple flowers. Some were in patches, some were intermixed, and some were in an array of their own. The garden expanded from left to right, stretching out where more hidden paths awaited. To his right, he could see an expanse of red and white roses, creating the sigil of Dugual; not far from it was Queen Lilith, who was sitting on a bench. She wore a simple but exquisitely made light-blue dress. Her brown hair was expertly plaited and pinned up, exposing the milky-white skin of her neck.
He approached her. “Your Majesty.” He bowed his head.
She stood and nodded. “Vetus Sepher. I would like to say it’s a pleasure, but considering that your purpose is to remove my ward, whom you brought to me to care for, I have mixed feelings about your presence,” she said. Her bearing became more regal, and her eyes darkened.
With an air of both respect and patience, he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
Her stance relaxed, and she sighed. “I know you are here to do the bidding of the High Order. My tone is not against you, sir; it is against the injustice of it all,” she said. “I remember that day, here in this very garden, when you brought Petro to me. I looked at him and asked what his name was.” Her eyes brightened. “You said ‘Petro—one of strength, the rock to build upon,’ but you also said I could give him a new name. And I said that anyone could see that he would be steady and sturdy and that ‘Petro’ would stay.”
“Yes, I remember that day,” Vetus Sepher said. He bowed his head slightly.
More resigned now, she said, “I also remember asking what you could tell me about him.” A twinge of hurt was in her voice, and the slight wrinkles around her eyes became more prominent.
He glanced down for a brief second before reestablishing eye contact. “My apologies, Your Highness; there was nothing to tell. You know he has purpose, but what purpose has not yet come to be seen.”
Queen Lilith’s face changed to pale and bewildered, and she lowered herself onto a bench.
Vetus Sepher helped her, taking her hand and then kneeling beside her. “Are you not well?” he asked, looking upon her with concern.
“I’m fine. Just tired. I’ve been up many nights since I learned you were coming for Petro. It’s been troubling me.” She looked into Vetus Sepher’s eyes. “You look to be a man who is trying to do the right thing, but also a man who is only following his orders.” She smiled at him. “Are you soon to be an Experiri?” She softened her eyes, and Vetus Sepher noticed how she moved past a lingering pain. Perhaps it was Petro’s leaving.
Queen Lilith was an Alcoyte, a follower of the Numas’ ways. She’d been prepared at a young age and had taken the sacrament at the age of twelve. Her mother and father, as well as their parents, were Acolytes.
“May I?” He gestured to the bench. She nodded, and he took a seat next to her. He tilted his head backward slightly as he straightened his back and then turned his focus to her. “No, Your Highness. I am to remain a vetus for now,” he said. “I don’t care for spending long, tedious hours in a lab, research facility, or study. Maybe in my late years, but I’m still at an age where I need to feel the ground under my feet as I move from city to city or train new recruits,” he said.
She rested her hand above her heart. “Why have you truly come back? Can you at least afford me that?” Her hands cupped together. “Please do not make the mistake of thinking that I do not know there is real danger here. I sense it in you. I’m certain the Numas could have left Petro with some other family, a noble one perhaps, but I believe he was brought here for protection.”
Perceptive, he thought. He breathed in and let the air out slowly. He wanted to say, I’ve come back for your sake, queen, and the sake of us all.
“Do you ignore me?” she said flatly. “This is not what I’m accustomed to, that is certain.” Frustrated, she got up and paced about. “We’ve cared for Petro and played the Numas’ game of ‘this is an ordinary child.’ But we knew that he wasn’t, and we protected him from unknown dangers because the Numas trusted us to protect him while being unworthy to know why we were put into this position of trust.” Her eyes bored into Vetus Sepher’s.
He did not flinch but only stared back. “You know King Offing is under siege. You know Petro has a special purpose. You know I am here. What reasoning is there behind all these things?” he said and stood.
She glided over into a sliver of a sunbeam trying to cut through the cloudy sky and passed her hand through the light. “Petro was supposed to stay with us until he was of age. Why has that changed?” Her voice was at a lower pitch, and the corners of her eyes slanted.
Vetus Sepher’s brow furrowed. “I did
tell you he would be in your hands until he was of his own, but he’s now ready to come to Tokus Numas, and there is urgency.”
Her hands trembled slightly. “Changed, has it? His name was recently added. You’ve come here demanding to take Petro from me, and you expect me to go along with it? I understand the concern. I treated Petro as my own, as much as I could in my position as queen,” she said with a mother’s look about her. “If you take him from me, I don’t know how it will change him. Do you understand my concerns?”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Vetus Sepher said. All the wealth of the kingdom was in her hands, but he could see that the wealth of her love for this boy was a hundred times more.
Queen Lilith straightened herself and said, “It is my decision to fulfill. We are one in our ways; you know this, so we must act as one, each taking a part on the stage of life. It seems unfair to Petro, I must admit. I wonder what he must have thought when I looked into his eyes and told him you were coming.” She paused, and it looked as though she was struggling slightly with some deep emotion, but her training persisted in overcoming it. “He knows you are here and will be coming to join us. He knows that the Numas have requested him, but he doesn’t know that he’s required to go,” she said with eyes as cool as blue sapphires.
She should have told Petro he was leaving, he thought. Waiting does nothing to ease the pain; it only prolongs it. Does she really think she will not let him leave? No, doubtful. Her unwavering faith will not allow it.
The queen scanned the garden area as though someone else might be present. “Petro is a special young man—I wish he had come from my own womb,” she said, rubbing her belly and sounding very much like the mother she was.