The Prince of the Veil

by Hal Emerson

  He looked them all in the eye, one by one, or at least tried. Tomaz looked wary, Leah looked resigned, and Lorna was once more staring intently at the carpet.

  Davydd’s lips had pulled back in disgust.

  “I have to do this,” Raven said slowly to him.

  “I bet that’s how it started with your Mother,” Davydd snarled. “She only took the Talismans because she had to.”

  “Davydd!”

  They all stared; it was Lorna who’d rebuked him. Her head was up and her clear blue eyes were frowning at Davydd like she was his disappointed older sister.

  “I don’t approve of this,” she said. “But there was no need for that.”

  Finally, she turned her gaze to Raven, and he saw that she was nothing but perfectly calm. Her face was neutral, her eyes simply observing.

  “You will give it to me when the time comes?”

  “He needs to,” Leah said softly. “He needs each of the Talismans to become Aspects – that doesn’t happen unless he gives them away.”

  Raven swallowed hard past a lump in his throat.

  No. I will not curse anyone with such a thing ever again.

  And that was the heart of it. He knew what it was to bear a Talisman of power. He knew what it would be like for Tomaz and Leah and Davydd once the novelty of the situation wore away. For Davydd, it no doubt had already begun. He was burned for life – he would always be this way, affected by the luck he’d earned, luck that would make him reckless and drunk with power. Leah would slowly start to lose her mind, finding herself unable to cope with the normal flow of life. Tomaz would gain arrogance with his strength, would begin to seek out ways to use it. He’d seen it all happen before – he knew what this kind of power did to those who held it.

  They are not us, said the voice of Geofred. They are not the Children.

  “I will keep it as long as necessary,” he said finally.

  Lorna’s eyes narrowed, but she made no sound of disagreement. Davydd continued to glare at Raven, his eyes, both red and gold, narrowed in the kind of fury usually reserved for men and women of the Empire.

  Raven heard the scrape of a boot and the soft hiss of swirling clothing; he looked to the door. Autmaran was there, in a newly stitched red cape, bearing the four golden knots of a Commander on the upper left side of his green tunic. The dark skin of his bald head gleamed in the reflected sunlight.

  “You’re awake,” he said, examining Raven and taking in the atmosphere of the room. “And I take it you’ve been reminded of everything that happened.”

  “You could say that,” Tomaz rumbled, stroking his beard.

  “Good then,” the Commander continued. “The Elders and the Generals are meeting. You’ve all been requested.”

  He looked at Raven.

  “All of you.”

  Chapter Eight: Council Matters

  Raven dressed quickly as the others filed out. He pulled his shirt back over his head, slid a belt through the loops of his pants, and donned his boots and the short coat that hung over them where they sat beside the vanity. He moved as naturally as he could, trying not to let the others see the tension he carried in his sore body. He turned to follow them, but was stopped at the door by Leah.

  She watched him carefully, and as she did he realized again how beautiful she was. She had a new scar along the left side of her jaw, one that was healing well. Her black hair was pulled back behind her head today and her green eyes were bright and well rested, though intent. Emotion gripped him with sudden force, and he had to mentally restrain himself from closing the distance and kissing her again. She glanced down at his mouth, the barest flick of her eyes, and he realized that maybe she wanted him to. But now was not the time, and here was not the place.

  She’s alive … shadows and light, thank the Veil she’s alive.

  But as the moment lengthened, he realized she was expecting something from him that was far distant from his current contemplation.

  “What?” he asked, warily.

  She pointed to the far side of the room by lifting her chin. He turned to look and saw, held on a small sword rack just out of sight from the bed, Aemon’s Blade.

  “The one condition we all agreed on,” she said. “You wear it every waking moment. We told the Elders and Generals that Keri was killed in battle, after you defeated the army almost single-handed. There are rumors everywhere, but only those of us who were there know what really happened, and the Kindred on the Wall were too far to see the details clearly.”

  She must have seen his face darken; she held his gaze, squared her shoulders, and faced him across the doorway.

  “I didn’t ask you to lie for me,” he said.

  “You were unconscious,” she said, “and not in the frame of mind to ask me much of anything. Besides, this wasn’t about you.”

  “I killed her – of course it was about me.”

  “I won’t argue with you, just do it,” she said, her tone broking no nonsense. “We need to know you’re you.”

  She turned and left, leaving behind a fiery glare. He turned and looked at Aemon’s Blade: the white-metal gleam of the sword itself was hidden in a plain leather sheath, but the wrapped copper wire of the hilt glinted in the sunlight from the window. He still remembered drawing it from the tomb where Aemon had died. Falling in battle to the Empress while saving the Kindred almost a thousand years before, he’d been buried and enshrined where he lay. The blade had been bound to the fallen hero through Bloodmagic, the same way Leah was bound to her daggers and Davydd to his sword. It meant that Raven, Aemon’s only surviving ancestor, was the only one able to touch it, though controlling it the way Leah or Davydd could control their weapons was impossible due to the dozen of generations of blood dilution.

  Raven crossed to the Blade and grabbed it, buckling it around his waist in one swift move. As soon as his hand touch the hilt, he felt a sense of calm descend over him, though it was short-lived. The Blade had always been as much a curse as a blessing, setting him apart from everyone else, marking him out as someone different.

  But Leah was right; they needed to know he was himself.

  He turned to follow the others, quickening his pace to catch them. The room he’d been given was in the downstairs corner of a mansion, and as they left they passed a grand stairwell and alcoves with various statuettes and carvings. Whoever had owned this house had been quite the admirer of mythical creatures; everywhere you turned, there was another half-bird half-something fighting a beleaguered hero.

  Which one am I – the beast or the hero?

  No one spoke as they walked, the only sound their boots clipping against the wooden floor. They passed an open door and Raven saw a man with bandages around his head resting in another bed like his while two others, also heavily wrapped, were doing their best to play cards on a gilded bedside table.

  That’s why Davydd doesn’t have a bed – all the rooms are filled with wounded.

  Lorna and Davydd began to pull ahead, and as they did Leah and Tomaz specifically held themselves back, walking alongside him. The Ranger pair made it through the large marble foyer first, and out the tall double doors of the mansion.

  “We’ll be there shortly, so I’m going to make this fast,” Leah said abruptly, breaking the silence only after the distance had widened between the two groups so there wasn’t a chance of the others overhearing. “We need to talk about Geofred’s memories. And specifically we need to talk about –”

  “I know,” Raven said just as abruptly as they left through the main doors. He had to throw up a hand to block his eyes from the sunlight – it was noon, or close enough, and spring was in full bloom. The poplar trees that lined the streets here had not been damaged by the fighting, and they stood tall and strong. Birds sang from their branches, and a light breeze blew the smell of baking bread to him.

  It seemed so wrong to Raven he almost thought he was dreaming.

  “If you know we need to talk about the memories,” Leah said, sounding anno
yed at his abrupt response, “then let’s talk about the memories. What are we going to do? We have to let the others know. At least Davydd, Lorna, and Autmaran.”

  “Autmaran?” Tomaz rumbled.

  “We need seven Aspects to challenge the seven Talismans,” she said, launching into full analytical flight. They turned right and made their way down the street. Raven heard Leah speaking, but the words seemed to pass around him like wind over a raven’s wing. He couldn’t find it in himself to care very much about anything at the moment – perhaps the shock of what he’d done was only just sinking in, or perhaps he still hadn’t completely shook off whatever had happened to him when he’d been … that thing.

  Can you ever shake off something like that? Are there things inside us that, once awakened, we cannot put back to sleep?

  “Autmaran is the most honest man I know,” she said, bringing Raven out of his reverie with the sound of the commander’s name. “He never lies, he never says anything but what he feels in his heart, and he is the best judge of character I have ever met. Of course, that’s outside of you, Tomaz, but you’ve already got your Aspect, which means obviously the others are meant for someone else.”

  “Glad you think so highly of me,” he rumbled.

  “So he’s the Snake,” Leah continued. “He is the one who will inherit the Aspect of Truth, or whatever it would be. That’s obvious.”

  She looked to Raven for his input and he shrugged noncommittally. It could be. The Snake Talisman dealt with sensing honesty and truth, and if the corrupted version of it went to Symanta, who was the master of manipulation, then it would make sense that the pure version was meant to go to an honest man, a man of the people. It could certainly be true.

  But it won’t come to that. And neither will the Wolf go to Lorna.

  “That just leaves transferring the Wolf to Lorna,” Leah said as if reading his mind. He stiffened, ready to have the fight again about giving up the Talisman, but it didn’t come. He shot a glance at the Exile girl and was relieved to see she was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to take up the argument with him. He would have to be very careful now that she had the Eagle Talisman. She could see the future, though just to what extent it wasn’t clear, especially since she had only just inherited the Talisman from Geofred.

  If I’m lucky, the Raven Talisman will partially cancel her out too. Hopefully she will be prevented from seeing me. On top of that, it took Tomaz months to find a way to reach through his Aspect. Likely she can’t even hold onto it longer than a few seconds.

  “And what about the Lion?” Tomaz rumbled as they rounded a corner and made their way toward the main Inner City square, where the ruined remains of the Imperial Cathedral could still be seen.

  Leah grimaced.

  “I’m still working on that one,” she admitted. “If my father was still alive, or if Elder Crane were here … ”

  “He may be on his way,” Tomaz reminded her. “They sent missives to Vale telling of our victory as soon as the battle was won.”

  Raven heard what the giant hadn’t said: “Missives telling of our victory … and Elder Keri’s death.”

  Three Elders are needed to reactivate the sambolin we retrieved from Tiffenal. With only Spader and Ishmael, all it remains is a fancy dagger.

  The whole reason they had gone to Formaux in the first place was to retrieve the sambolin the Prince of Foxes had stolen from the Kindred when he’d killed Elder Goldwyn. The enchanted dagger held all the memories of the Elders who’d come before Goldwyn as Elder of State, and, even more importantly, was one of thirteen pieces that powered the illusions that had kept the Kindred homeland safe. Without the sambolin, the illusions had failed, leaving the Exiled Kindred wide open to attack. That was the reason they had invaded in the first place – the Kindred had been left with no other choices but to wait for the Empire to descend, or to steal the initiative and march north, taking the fight to them.

  “But that’s all beside the point,” Leah continued. “What matters is the part of the prophecy Geofred held back from the Tyrant.”

  “What’s this?” Tomaz rumbled. “It’s been a week, and you didn’t tell me you knew something useful?”

  “I wanted to wait for him,” she said. “I’ve never seen another person’s memories before – I wanted to confirm what I saw.”

  She turned to Raven, walking backward so she could monitor his expression.

  “You saw it too,” she said, telling him, not asking him. “You saw it.”

  He just watched her, waiting for her to elaborate.

  “You know we have a deadline,” she continued. “You know we have a chance.”

  “I know I have a chance,” he replied.

  For a few seconds, she didn’t respond, but then she swallowed hard and turned back around, her expression shutting down. She’d put her stone face back on. They were approaching the central command post, the one that had been set up during the siege. It now had its sides rolled down and the Kindred flag was flying above it, the rose and sword, flapping in the spring breeze.

  “And what do you think you’ll do?” Tomaz rumbled.

  “I think what I’d like to do is sleep for another week,” he responded, rubbing his eyes. “And I also think there are too many loose ends that need to be tied up.”

  As they circled toward the front, they saw Davydd and Lorna enter the tent before them. As he did, the Eshendai Ranger turned back and looked at them over his shoulder. His burns looked even more fearsome in the light.

  Something finally stirred in Raven’s chest, and he addressed the other two.

  “He … how is he doing? Davydd. How is Davydd doing?”

  Leah and Tomaz exchanged a glance, the kind that Raven had become quite used to – neither of them could so much as lift a finger without the other knowing what they meant by it. It was a closeness Raven could only wish for.

  “Well,” said Tomaz, “he is the type of man that builds up walls of laughter, hoping they will protect him from invading armies.”

  “So you’re saying he’s vulnerable?” Raven asked.

  “No,” Tomaz rumbled. “I’m saying there’s hope as long as he’s laughing. He’s going through hard times – but we all are. And he has his walls up – his laughter. It means he’s fighting, and that’s good.”

  “He doesn’t seem so happy with me right now.”

  “He doesn’t trust you to give Lorna the Talisman. You know how protective he can be. Give him time.”

  “But he’s right,” Raven said with a grimace. “Why should he trust me? I’m just as bad as the other Children. If I lose control again, I lose myself. It’s why I kept the Wolf, and why I plan to keep it for as long as possible.”

  Tomaz stopped and threw out an arm to stop him too. Leah kept walking a few paces, her hands buried inside her coat, looking grim but also unsurprised.

  “You getting dumb ideas like that is exactly what I was afraid of,” the big man rumbled. “And we need to talk about that before we move on.”

  “Here is neither the time nor the place,” Raven said pointedly, and tried to continue walking. The giant stepped easily in front of him, stopping him once more.

  “No,” the man rumbled with a note of grim formality not unlike the final rock in a landslide settling over a blocked mountain pass. “You need to hear this.”

  “Hearing what you have to say won’t change what I’ve done,” Raven snarled.

  Tomaz’s eyes widened, and Leah was suddenly attentive; her hands shifted inside her coat, and Raven knew she was clutching the handles of her daggers.

  “See?” Raven said. “I can’t even get angry without the two of you thinking I’m going to try and kill you. What I did reminded everyone that I’m my Mother’s son – it reminded me. You can try to forget about it all you want, you can try to pretend I’m just some High Blood cast-off like Leah and Davydd, but what I am goes deep, into my blood. I am my Mother – not my father.”

  “Why do you have to be one or the
other?” Tomaz rumbled; his black eyes had crinkled at the sides in crow’s-feet lines of worry and concentration. “Sometimes the greatest strength of men and women comes from a combination of both their evil and their good. There is no pure evil, no pure good, or if there is it is quickly extinguished. Reality is both. There is good in everything, and evil in everything, and it is only given to us what to do with both.”

  “Then I have more of the evil,” said Raven, pushing through the big man’s arm on his way to the Council tent. “And that’s the way it goes.”

  Tomaz resisted him for a brief instant, but then let go and allowed him to continue on his way. Leah fell into step just behind him, her eyes ahead and her face emotionless; she was once again limping slightly, her hands in the pockets of her coat. The heavy, steady tread of Tomaz’s gait fell into step behind them, but Raven blocked it from his mind.

  They reached the tent, and with a nod to the two guards flanking the entrance, went through.

  “Do we know if anyone was able to apprehend Henri Perci?” General Dunhold was asking, not looking up from the maps he was buried in long enough to notice their entrance. “Some of these notes are in his personal shorthand and I cannot make them out – will we be able to question him? Perhaps we can find out how deep his treachery goes. There may be more turncloaks, even Seekers, in our ranks, of which we knew nothing.”

  “I killed Henri Perci,” Raven said.

  His voice rang through the tent, even though he hadn’t intentionally projected it; the words were flat and emotionless, but the weight of them was palpable and out of all proportion to their simplicity. Autmaran, Davydd, and Lorna had all dispersed to various parts of the tent, and they, along with the remaining Elders, Ishmael and Spader, in their respective black and amber robes, and General Gates, in simple green and silver, rounded out the Council.