by Guy Antibes
The woman’s face turned white. She wiped a bit of sauce from her upper lip. “If you will excuse me?”
Vishan nodded as the woman rose and left. “Gornytar, are you still behind me?”
“I am, Prince.”
“Good, you have just been promoted to chaperone.”
“As you wish, your Highness.”
Vishan looked across at a grinning Vestya. “You know this sauce is quite good with whatever this little bird is.”
Vestya laughed. “It’s not a bird. It’s a local lizard.”
Suddenly, Vish had an urge to cough, but he kept it to a single hack. “Lizard. I’ve never had the opportunity to eat one before. It tastes like a bird.”
“So they say,” Vestya said, looking off at a painting on the wall.
Vish then noticed that neither Vestya nor Fateem had been served the same dish. He ate the lizard legs anyway to Vestya’s amusement.
“Are the rest of the courses as unique as this one?” Vishan said as he finished the plate. He actually didn’t mind the taste at all.
Vestya looked behind Vishan at Gornytar. “Our guest can have Fateem’s portion. We are ready for our next course.”
“Yes, my lady.” Gornytar said. Vishan turned around to see a smirking Gornytar leave the room.
“So you permitted Fateem to have her fun?”
Vestya smiled. Vishan liked her full lips and white teeth. She had a duskier complexion than her father and long black hair piled on her head. “I did. You are an enigma to our family.”
“Why am I an enigma?” Vishan asked. Was he here to survive? Was the betrothal real? Vishan had seen no proof of other than what these two women had told him. The lizard legs didn’t help their credibility.
“Father doesn’t know what to make of you. You seem to be able to survive... things.”
“I try to be prepared. If I learn something new, I remember it and apply it if I can. I’ve made sure that survivability is infused into how I think.”
“So what emergency preparations have you made for your stay in our castle?”
Vishan smiled. “Why would I tell you? With due respect, one of the keys of such thinking is to keep your plans to yourself.”
“You won’t share them with your future wife?”
“How do I know the ‘betrothal’ is genuine?” Vishan said.
Vestya laughed. “Oh, that. I will show you the official document, which my father left here. I don’t think he believed it either, but I promise, your father’s seal is quite genuine. I’ll show you after dinner.”
Vishan’s breath seemed to have left him. He had hoped she was incorrect. He had his father’s note in his jacket so at the very least he could check the seal.
The next course consisted of what appeared to be beef stew. Vishan looked over at Vestya’s plate. Everything looked exactly the same. Maybe the cook spit in his serving or perhaps Fateem did in the kitchen. He tasted the broth and it tasted normal to him. Beef wasn’t popular in the Imperial Capital. Another slight? But then Vishan remembered the cows in the feeding lots. Hustafal certainly had a different culture.
Vestya dug into her stew. “I am sorry about Fateem. I tried to tell her that you had nothing to do with the betrothal, but her heart was set on Bashelyr as my husband.” She leaned over and put her hand below her neck. “I did not. We played together as children, but we didn’t grow closer together as we got older. Quite the opposite, actually, he would rather go off on his own to live in some other locale.”
Is that what Vish would like to do? Settle far away, not from his somewhat indifferent mother, but from his unpredictable father. He nodded his head as the thought came and went. He knew that he wouldn’t want to have been Fateem’s son. But that wasn’t fair. She would not treat her son as he had been treated.
“What do you wish?” Vishan asked.
“I wish you’d ask me that after we get to know each other better. I’m not willing to tell you my innermost secrets so soon in our relationship.”
Vish liked her answer. No batting her eyelashes or indirection... just a plain answer that he respected. “Then, what is it you’d like to know about me? I, too, have some areas off bounds, but I’m willing to provide you with what information I can. When are we to wed? Is that mentioned in the offer letter?”
Servants cleared the stew. Vish was surprised he had finished it.
“Shall we move directly to dessert? The kitchen would like that since they eat the leftovers.”
Vishan smiled at the consideration of the servants. “Why not?” His curiosity had grown. Perhaps the letter might reveal something else to him, if it was genuine, that is.
Dessert consisted of something familiar, iced fruit and light sugared wafers. He’d had much the same kind of thing at home. Vestya devoured hers while Vishan didn’t care as much for the too-sweet fruit and ate enough to be polite.
“Come with me,” she said as she showed them back into the sitting room. “I’ll be right back. You can peruse the Baron’s library.”
Vish took her up on the offer and looked through the full shelves that were in the sitting room. He came to a section on the theory of Affinity and the use of power. These were sorcerer’s books. He had the same volumes in his own library in his palace quarters. He picked out a well-worn volume, that he didn’t have, on the origin of the Warstones. It seemed ancient. He didn’t have anything similar.
“Found something interesting?” Vestya said walking up behind him.
“Who is the sorcerer?” Vishan asked waving the Warstone book at Vestya.
“Sorceress. Me,” she said. She presented him with the betrothal document and sat down on a chair next to a table near the window.
Vishan looked up and could see the windows to his own rooms. He took the chair on the other side and pulled out his instructions.
“These are my orders,” Vish said as he pulled out his document. He perused the betrothal letter.
Neeran Fenakyr, Baron of Hustafal,
For the good of the Empire, Vishan Daryaku, Prince of the Empire shall be betrothed to Vestya Fenakyr, your daughter. The wedding is to take place no later than six months from the date of this letter in Hustafal. Notice of the nuptials are to be delivered to Emperor Shalil Daryaku and to Princess Yalla, the eleventh wife of the Emperor no later than five weeks prior to the ceremony so that each might have sufficient time to attend, should they so desire.
In consideration of this much-anticipated event, one hundred thousand gold dreks shall be delivered to Baron Hustafal no later than two months after the ceremony.
Sealed into a decree, the seventeenth day of the fourth month of the 365th year of the Daryakan dynasty,
(The Imperial Seal)
Well, that certainly looked like something his father would produce. His consideration of his mother’s wish to see her now-only son wed gave the decree some credence. His examination of the dates gave him about four months before Fenakyr would become his father-in-law. One hundred thousand gold dreks paid for his marriage? Didn’t the bride usually pay a dowry? He didn’t understand his father’s need to keep him in the dark. Why not tell him he had arranged a marriage before he left? Vish suddenly grew very tired of his father’s games.
Vishan thought back to the feedlots on the way to Hustafal and felt empathy with the beasts, like an animal being led to the slaughter. Vestya looked comely enough, but she still had to be her father’s child. Did Fenakyr still want to kill him, despite the forced betrothal? The marriage had brought him to his enemy’s den and unwanted confusion filled his mind.
He looked over the seal to his orders and the decree and he couldn’t tell any difference. He looked well and truly betrothed. He tossed both documents across the table to Vestya.
Vishan took a much more critical look at his bride to be. She certainly was comely enough with intelligent and lively eyes. She didn’t appear to have any physical abnormalities and he still liked her smile. He liked her long neck and, so far, her demeanor. He t
hought she would appeal to him regardless of the circumstances. Other than the fact, of course, that Vishan had no say in the matter.
“It looks genuine to me,” Vestya said, shrugging, “but then I didn’t doubt it when the Baron showed it to me.”
“How did he take it?”
“A way to get rid of his daughter and be paid for it? Rather well, I would imagine. He doesn’t talk to me much.” She brightened as a thought, obviously came into her head. “Do you know how Affinity works? Use too much without knowing how to shield the power and you end up absorbing power from others around you as well as the nexus. It can make people sick. Children don’t develop enough power to do so, but my mother died six years ago, when I was fifteen about the time we learned I had Affinity. When the Baron found out, he purchased a book on sorcery and threw it in my lap one night demanding me to learn how to shield my power. I think that’s why he spends so much time in Baku.” Vestya stopped talking. It looked like she waited for a reaction.
“Who runs this castle in his absence?” Peleor taught him how to shield his magic long ago. Vish wasn’t that interested in the subject.
“Fateem takes care of the castle. The Hustafal Council has run the barony’s administrative matters for years, since the Baron spends most of his time in Baku. He has caretakers at his various estates and farms.”
“And you?”
Vestya laughed. “I sit around all day trying to figure out how to leave. It appears that you, my prince, may be my salvation.”
“Only if you teach me how to shield you from my power.” Vishan tried to be a bit playful.
Vestya’s eyes grew wide. “No one told me you had power. I told you about my mother to scare you.”
“You might be scared if you don’t teach me how to shield my power. My tutor in sorcery never told me about this condition.” Perhaps he could learn something about Vestya if he engaged her in teaching him what she knew.
“It’s easy enough to learn. People have to be around you all of the time in order for your power to have any long-term effect. I’ll teach you tomorrow. How did you know you were a sorcerer?”
Vishan spent the rest of the evening telling Vestya an edited version about his power. He ended by telling her about the power that Scouts used to live in the field. He had learned shielding in his early training with Peleor, but he wanted Fateem to show him what she knew.
“My life has been sheltered compared to yours.”
“I saw this book. What do you know about the Warstones?” Vishan said.
“There are four of them. Moon, Blood, Sun and Pure. The Pure burned out and is now called the Darkstone. I’ve dedicated my life to finding out where it is.”
Vishan narrowed his eyes, smiling. Vestya couldn’t be older than he. “Dedicated your life?”
“This book is only one of many. The rest are in my rooms. The best information I have is that the Great Emperor was buried in Dakkor, in the mountains not far from Hustafal. The Darkstone was buried with him in a stone crypt. I’m going to find it.” She clutched her fist and assumed a determined look.
“Perhaps we can look for it together, since I have no idea what I’m to do here other than marry someone within six months.” He looked at Vestya and still couldn’t picture himself married to her or anyone else. “The whole trip here and this...” he picked up the betrothal decree, “seems so surreal. I don’t know what to think of it, except that I believe it would be proper to spend more time with you.”
“I’m of much the same frame of mind. I looked at you up on the fourth floor and wondered what you were like. You could be much worse.” She clicked her tongue as if she regretted what she said. Vish couldn’t help but furrow his brow in confusion, but then he brightened as he realized what she had really said.
“Thank you for the compliment.” Vishan laughed. “And I’ll take it as such. I’m tired from my trip and will want to sleep later tomorrow. Perhaps we can start by having our midday meal together tomorrow and you can teach me the shield.”
“I know just the place. There is a walled garden on the other side of the western wall. It’s by the stables. I’ll be there with a basket of food. We’ll be to ourselves. She can look down at us from the fifth level window if she wishes. It’s her only vantage point.”
Vestya pulled a cord and the same servant that led Vishan to dinner led him back to his room.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, I heard you didn’t mind the lady’s little trick,” the servant said, as they walked around the staircase up to Vish’s room.
Vishan wondered if he might have an ally in this man. “I did. It only took a little observation. I’d eat lizard legs again,” he said.
The servant nodded and didn’t say another word as he took him across the castle to his tower.
“You can find the way from here, your Highness?”
“Vishan will do. What is your name? It appears I’ll be staying at Hustafal for the foreseeable future.”
“Ovyr, sir. Work here nights when there’s a need. I tend the gardens and the horses, as well.”
“I’m to meet Vestya tomorrow at gardens on the West side, tomorrow. There is a door by the stables?”
“Vestya?” the man furrowed his brow, and then he nodded his head. “Ah, yes, there is sir. Only the baron and his daughter are permitted in there. I sometimes go in and do some work with the flowers and such.”
“What is the garden like?”
“It’s a memorial to the baron’s wife. There are lots of planted flowers and smaller trees. She is buried in the family cryptorium, but there is a marker at the fountain. A pretty place, it is.”
“I’ll be waiting for Vestya at midday tomorrow by the gate. If you would be there to let me in should Lady Vestya be late I would appreciate it.”
“If you’ve been invited, then it will be all right.”
They reached the door to Vishan’s rooms, after all.
“Good night, sir.”
Vishan smiled at the man, not willing to use his first name, but then he didn’t expect him to. “And to you. Thank you for showing me the way.” He slipped through the door into his rooms, closing it behind him.
He disrobed and slipped into bed. The last leg of the journey and the shock of his betrothal did him in. His head hit the pillow, but he still couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t believe anything anyone said at this point. Today’s entire episode had seemed so strange, as if it were staged. He had to admit that the betrothal document was genuine.
Vishan didn’t know if this was another of his father’s tests or an attempt by the Emperor to kill him off yet again. Would he ever know the truth?
~~~
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
~
VISHAN STOOD AT THE GATE INTO THE GARDEN for a while before he found Ovyr in the stable.
“It appears the lady is late. Would you let me in?”
Ovyr looked relieved when he asked—an odd expression for being asked to do something that might not be looked favorably on by the castle’s inhabitants. The man quickly unlocked the gate and scurried away.
He pushed the gate open and saw Vestya sitting on the edge of a fountain. She waved her hand underneath the water.
“A test?” Vishan tired of all the game playing at Hustafal.
“One you passed. I counted eighteen minutes. You have an adequate amount of patience and have shown a decent level of initiative. Who opened the garden door for you?”
“Ovyr. He gardens here and has a key.”
Vestya clapped her hands with delight. “And you are personable enough with the servants. Very good. You’ll make someone a delightful husband. Are you hungry?”
Vishan didn’t know what to make of her comment, but sat on a bench in front of the fountain and watched her play with the water. “Someone delivered breakfast at my doorstep at a respectable hour. Thank you. So I’m hungry enough, but I haven’t been starved. I’d hate to have to consume my betrothed in a fit of starvation.”
She laughed.
“That certainly won’t happen this afternoon!” Vestya looked younger than a woman a few years older than him should. She stood and shook the water drops off of her fingers “I am starving, but I promise I won’t tear into your manly flesh with bared teeth. I consume people differently.”
“Like your mother” Vishan said and put his hand to his mouth, amazed that such rude words came from him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”
Vestya’s smile disappeared. “Why did you say such a horrid thing then?”
“I guess I’m upset with what my power can do if it isn’t shielded. It preyed upon my mind this morning and...” He shrugged. “Please accept my apology.”
Vestya waved her hand. “That would be nothing compared to the Baron’s words. I forgive you. I think we’ve both been under a lot of stress, being thrown together as we have.”
“The Baron left for Baku the day after he received the decree. Sometimes he’s unreadable and that was one of the times.”
“Were you ever tested by the sorcerers?” Vishan said.
“And disappear into one of their towers forever? When did you ever see a woman sorcerer?”
Vishan had to think. He never had and the subject had never come up with Peleor. “I haven’t.”
Vestya picked up a rock to throw it into the water, but didn’t. “Ovyr would have to get it out.” She dropped the rock. “I refused to go. My father offered to have members of the guild visit, but I put up a monumental fuss.”
“I’ve never heard of a sorcerer marrying a sorceress. Do you think my father knows?” Vishan asked. He knew the answer before he even mentioned it. Of course, he would know everything. The man enjoyed putting people into impossible situations just to see if they survived. Vish would survive, if only to spite his father.
Vestya nodded. “I’m going to eat, even if you won’t,” she said and walked across the little garden square and retrieved a basket covered with a white cloth. “No insects or lizards or spit,” she said, giving him a smile. Perhaps she had forgiven his unthoughtful comment.