Silence fell on them.
Aneese straightened in her chair. Her voice softened, a tone Bethany had not heard in a long time. “Perhaps our openness with each other and the comfort of knowing we can speak our minds is what allows us to conquer all the things that oppose us.”
A small smile tugged at Bethany’s mouth and she bowed her head a little at the elf, signalling surrender. “What is everyone’s opinion of this Edmund?”
Torius cleared his throat. “I don’t believe we should trust him. He is from Taftlin and one of their nobility.”
Allric shook his head. “Edmund Greyfeather’s father is a minor noble as far as I can tell. It appears he sent his son only after hearing about Prince Daniel’s admittance. One can assume he hoped it would improve the family’s position at court. That suggests Edmund isn’t involved in any conspiracy from that end.”
“I agree,” Bethany said. “I really do believe his story.”
Aneese folded her wrinkled hands and placed them on her desk. “I am surprised to hear you defend anyone from Taftlin.”
“They’re not all bad.” It just slipped out, before her brain registered the words. Heat rose in her cheeks as all eyes turned to her. She gave a little shrug. “Well, you know, Arrago isn’t that bad as an aide so far.”
They continued to stare at her for far too long. Torius broke the silence. “If she, who has gone on official record stating the entire nation of Taftlin should be burned to the ground and furrowed for potato planting, trusts this Edmund Greyfeather, I’m inclined to believe his innocence.”
Surprisingly, Aneese agreed as well. “Though, what assurance can you offer us to prove that you are not mistaken?”
Allric answered the question before her brain formed the appropriate snide remark. “There were three Rygents as part of the interrogation. He would have been caught in any lie.”
“I remain skeptical that he can be trusted. And now with the latest threats coming from Taftlin…”
Allric cocked his head. “If you are referring to the peace agreement —”
“No, Lord Allric,” Aneese interrupted. She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a folded letter. “I received this letter two weeks ago from one of our outreach convents in Taftlin. Mother Whyn writes that the situation is deteriorating. She even fears the rumors about increased Magic use might be true.”
Bethany glanced at Jovan, who shrugged, clearly as equally confused. They both turned their eyes to Allric. He had already withheld important information from them.
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Allric said, annoyance in his tone. He returned Bethany’s gaze. “I would have told all of you if I’d known.”
Aneese remained straight and motionless. “I had not realized I needed to report my personal correspondence to you, Lord Allric.”
Bethany fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Right now, we need to find this Magi. I think we should arrange an investigation immediately.”
“And what do you suggest? Go door to door?” Torius asked, throwing his hands in the air. “We cannot accuse innocent people of being Magi without setting off all sorts of dangerous events. The people might even riot.”
“We have to do something or we’ll be knee-deep in Magi before the summer. And this one might have something to do with Garran’s death. It’s a stretch, I know, but we should treat him or her like a suspected murderer,” Bethany said.
Allric nodded, slowly at first. “Yes. Yes, I agree.” The tension on his face broke. “Work out the details with Jovan. Kiner can help, too. Let’s find him before they cause any real trouble. Be discreet. I want this person to get a little comfortable. It might make him easier to find.”
Bethany tapped her index finger on her chair’s arm. “I have plans to head into Orchard Park tomorrow. I’ll take my guards and a few others. We can make a full day of it. If Jovan and perhaps Erem can come with me, I can ride around the core of the town. Might be able to track him by headaches.”
Torius frowned at her. “I thought you could control them? You had when Sarissa was practicing.”
“True, but I’m out of practice. And I won’t be trying to suppress my body’s reaction.” Bethany sighed. “I know it’s probably not going to work. If you have a better suggestion…” She lifted her hands.
The others did not.
Jovan asked, “Why are you going into Orchard Park?”
She fought the awkwardness that surged inside her. “Arrago looks like a recovering leper. I’m giving him an advance on his salary to purchase new clothes.”
Jovan shared a knowing look with Allric, before saying, “I’d buy that. He does look a little rough to be your aide. Tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow,” Bethany repeated. She’d find the evil son of a whore before he did any damage…and she could have a few minutes of normalcy while helping Arrago find decent trousers.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Viper will come. The Diamond must be ready.
—Prophecy of the Diamond, First Tablet
Bethany sat atop her horse, examining faces and buildings as she and Arrago made their way through the busy main area of Cheapend, the market district of Orchard Park. Next to her, on a borrowed horse, Arrago prattled on about…she had no idea. Occasional verbal clues announced when she should nod or grunt in acknowledgement. But Arrago, for all his apparent genius at organizing paperwork, never shut up and she needed to keep her eyes and ears open, not be absorbed into inane chatter.
At least his need for new clothes offered a perfect opportunity to slip through the busiest parts of Orchard Park with a clear purpose for the gossip mill. City or not, her arrival wouldn’t go unnoticed. Ten thousand people and they still gossiped as much as a monastery in winter.
Well, she needed the mysterious bastard to show himself. Allric was right - make him get comfortable. Bold. Then, he’d make a misstep and they would have him.
Behind her came the voices of Kiner, Erem, and Jovan. Further back, she knew rode her and Jovan’s guard. They all had instructions to pick up various items, do shopping, and make jolly as best as they could, all the while listening and looking. The regulars had already been sent out to troll the gutters for news, but little things might slip while the knights were out and about.
Bethany knew it was a long bow shot, but better than nothing. Nothing always meant sitting around, waiting, and she was no good for that.
“The temple still looks huge from this distance,” Arrago said, pointing to the formidable building in the distance. “I bet it just looks like an ordinary mountain in light fog. Bethany, look!”
She cocked her head towards the coastline. It was Bethany’s favorite view of the temple, jutting out of the ocean. From this position, one could see that the temple was built on and into the miniature mountainous island that jutted out from the coast. A causeway had been built using the natural stone formations.
“Well? What do you think of it?”
She forced a smile. “The temple looks huge because it is huge. It’s a mountain, for pity’s sake. It’s bigger than most towns. That’s why my tower has twenty-nine floors to it.”
He playfully rolled his eyes at her and went on chattering about the history of the temple, forgetting—or not knowing - that she had been alive for the last century of it. That she had been abandoned there when she was a child.
The closer they reached the markets, waves of blended voices swept towards them until it was nothing more than a continuous shout. Once they reached the edge of the pressing crowd, they dismounted their horses. Holding the reigns, they wandered towards Bethany’s favorite tailor shop, which bordered the market square.
The smell of charred meat filled the air, even stronger than the stench of hundreds of unwashed humans. While she had eaten animal flesh before, typically during war time, she hated the stink of it.
“I love the smell of roasting mutton,” Arrago said, inhaling loudly. “I almost never got to eat it after I moved into the monastery, you know. Elve
n cuisine. Lots and lots of nuts.”
Bethany offered a polite smile but stayed silent. She noticed clusters of people on the streets, peering over each other’s shoulders while someone read from a sheet of paper. The printing press in Orchard Park, the first of its kind, had been running for nearly a year but she had still not grown accustomed to ready access to the printed word. She wondered what was so fascinating that common folks would be paying attention. She strained to hear but they weren’t close enough and the crowd was still too loud to make anything out. Perhaps the priests had finally followed through with their threat of starting a news circulation.
“Here we are,” she said. The two-story section stood out amongst the terraced housing because of the white lime-washed door and walls. Above the door, hung a faded sign:
Hattie and Francis—Sewers
Arrago tipped his head towards the sign. “Sewers?”
“Literacy isn’t their strongest asset. I’ve long given up explaining to Hattie and Francis that “sewers” doesn’t mean people who sew.”
Arrago laughed.
“They are amongst the best tailors I’ve ever met, though. Sadly, Hattie’s responsible for many of Jovan’s garish outfits, but don’t let that worry you. They can make clothing wearable by sensible people, too.”
“Lady Bethany! Come in,” Hattie said, waving at her from the window and then dipping her head back inside.
Bethany nodded at the fat human woman and both tied up their horses to the front post. She turned to the others. “Spread around a bit. We’ll meet back here.”
Jovan nodded and they split off, though her guards did not dismount.
“Hattie isn’t from Taftlin, but close. She’s from Aber. Francis is an easterner and has the thickest accent of anyone I’ve ever met. Don’t worry if you can’t understand him. Hattie talks so much that she repeats everything he says.”
Another group huddled together over a sheet of paper further down the lane. It had to be important that the commoners were actually stopping to read and she planned to check it out as soon as she introduced Arrago to the tailors. Her curiosity was peaked. A little dread did fill her, though. Did word of the Magic book get out?
She pushed it aside.
“Good afternoon, Hattie!” Bethany said as she walked in the door, determined not to let her mood spoil the middle-aged woman’s.
“Just a minute, Lady Bethany. I gotta finish this seam or I’ll never find my place again.”
Hattie knelt on a small stool in front of a wooden stand that housed a traditional eastern union gown. The layers of bright yellow fabric and orange needle-lace cast a sunny glow on the woman’s fat face. Bethany wondered if she would ever wear a marriage gown; she had planned to wear her ceremonial armor to her union with Garran.
The large woman struggled to her feet and curtsied before grabbing Bethany’s hands. “It is so good to see you again. It’s been at least a year hasn’t it? Since you needed those new under bindings. Oh gracious. I supposed I shouldn’t be rattling on about your under things when there’s a delicious man standing next to you, huh?”
Bethany didn’t meet Hattie’s gaze for fear of blushing. “This is Arrago, my new aide.”
“Gracious, Lady Bethany. You sure go through them assistants awful fast. I’ve had my Francis going on eighteen years. Or is it nineteen? You need to learn to keep these aides of yours around longer. Is that why you picked this one?” She sized up Arrago. “Easy on the eyes. He looks a bit like my Francis, back in the day. But you didn’t come here to have an ol’ woman fawn over you. Whatcha need?”
“Arrago needs a full set of clothes.”
Hattie nodded slowly, narrowing her eyes. “I’d say ten tunics and trousers. Best put a full set of hose together, too. He can keep those rags for when he’s cleaning the barns.”
“Hey!” Arrago crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve done quite well in the same tunic and trousers for most of my life, thank you very much.”
Both Bethany and Hattie laughed. “Working with the likes of Lady Bethany means you can’t be looking like the stable boy no more. You’ll need clean clothes every day now. Now be a good lad and go strip in the back room. I’ll be in to measure you right away.”
“Ah, strip?”
“Oh, don’t go all modest. I’ve seen plenty of naked men in my back room. Lord Jovan, for one. Just get out of those rags so I can measure you properly.”
After Arrago awkwardly trotted off behind the beige curtain hanging over the back doorway, Hattie turned to Bethany. “Try not to lose this one too fast. He reminds me of my Francis when we were kids.”
Bethany forced a smile. She was uncomfortable with any discussion about Arrago. “He has no money so charge it all to my account. Here is,” Bethany opened her velvet purse, “four silver. Let me know if it doesn’t cover the bill. Please make sure he has enough of everything. He’s tight-lipped, so just tell him what to get. Oh, and he needs proper boots. His are falling apart.”
Hattie dropped the coins in her pocket. “My Sandy is apprenticing at Arb’s. I’ll send your Arrago there. I’ll make sure he has everything. My Francis gots a few basic sets already made up, so I’ll get your Arrago into one of those. Can’t have him going back to the temple, looking like one of the river rats.”
“He looks rustic, but at least he never smells. I think he bathes in his clothes.” Bethany motioned at the street. “There’s a few things I need to take care of. If I’m not back in time, ask Arrago to wait for me?”
Hattie nodded her head. “Good to see you again. You needs to come by more often. Lord Jovan is here every month for a new outfit.”
“Lord Jovan is also a princess disguised as a knight.”
Hattie roared with laughter. “That he is, but he keeps our house lime-washed in the summer and coal-heated in the winter.”
Bethany said her good-byes and headed outside. It was time to check out the local news.
* * * * *
By the time Bethany had escaped Hattie’s, the small gathering in front of the store had moved on. She mounted her horse in hopes of finding others reading together. Her guards, who had stayed outside, followed behind her. Though she had originally protested the need for guards, she found comfort in their presence.
She had not made it far when Erem and Jovan came galloping down the dirt road. A dozen or so other knights followed them.
“Bethany!” Erem shouted, out of breath. “There you are.”
“What’s the matter?” she asked as a sinking feeling spread through her.
“Trouble,” Erem said and pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of his boot. “Read it.”
Waves of nausea rolled over Bethany as she skimmed the page.
Her desire to be like the many will not protect her. The Viper will flush her out with a blazing sword from the depths of the cold. Her Power will be her curse. And the Viper will rejoice.
“Great goddess on the wind,” Bethany whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. She glanced at Jovan, who paled considerably as he nodded gravely. “Keep reading.”
This is from the Prophecy of the Diamond, a secret text that the priests and sisters have hidden from us. They don’t want us to know about them because it replaces their law with the law of Apexia’s daughter, “The Diamond.”
Prophecy knowledge was for only the highest ranks of knights and priests. Common people were never to know about it. “Where did you get this?”
Jovan failed to look her in the eye. “It’s everywhere. I wonder why it doesn’t say your name.”
Bethany’s heart raced and she struggled to breathe. Thoughts swirled and turned in her mind and she could not focus. While the others did not understand her shock, Jovan did and his own look of shock helped ease her hesitation in front of her troops.
“They’re printed, so they must’ve come from the press,” Erem said at last.
Jovan nodded. “Let’s go. I think we might find our Magi.”
Bethany did not answer b
ut tightened her grasp on her reins, readying her horse for a full gallop through the earthy streets. Other knights and regulars joined in the rush of horses. Erem shouted at bystanders to clear the way.
Several minutes passed. Sweat soaked her leather reins. Apples gasped for breath as much as she did. Her life would never be the same. She had spent a lifetime fearing this moment, when the prophecies would be leaked, but she had never actually considered how it would feel. How alone and frightened it made her.
Thatched rooftops gave way to wood. Wooden buildings became brick and mortar. Horseshoes clapped against the stone paved roads. Jovan pointed at a single-story building ahead. A small sign jutted from its peak and swung in the light breeze.
It read, “Press.”
Bethany slowed her horse and jumped off of him before he even came to a halt. She stormed through the front door, not caring that it slapped the inside wall. Her hands shook with anger.
“Where is Bernard?” she shouted, scanning the unfamiliar faces in the room. She had met the printing press creator and owner several times and did not see him in the dingy light of the room.
“Here, m’lady.” He stood up from the large contraption, wiping black ink from his hands.
Jovan walked past her and grabbed the top sheet of paper off the pile on a nearby chair. He handed it to Bethany, scowling. She stopped reading at the title, ‘Prophecy of the Diamond, First tablet.’ She did not care which section it was.
Bernard’s face turned ashen. “Is there a problem?”
Bethany shook, clenching and unclenching her fists to calm herself. The other workers in the room stepped back from their duties.
She held up the paper. “What is this?”
Bernard’s gaze shifted around the room. “My latest commission. I was paid —”
Bethany lunged at the middle-aged Elorian. She grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the printing press. As he gasped and slapped at her with his hands, she contemplated how killing him would give her a short release of pleasure. After today, there would be no more happiness in her life, only fear of waiting for the inevitable links to be traced back to her.
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