Equilibrium: Episode 3

by CS Sealey

“No, please, my lady!” Challan cried, pressing his hands together and dropping to both knees. “Please reconsider!”

  The queen regarded him through narrowed eyes. “When I give an order, Briel, I expect it to be obeyed.” She thrust out her hand with her forefinger raised, the huge sapphire ring twinkling in the light from the midday sun streaming in the south-facing windows. “Am I or am I not the queen?”

  “Yes, you are, my lady!”

  “And am I or am I not the one authority in this empire?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then what in the world made you think you could get away with this? After the Ayons’ defeat at the Divide, they are even more willing to destroy us! I need not tell you that their numbers greatly dwarf our own. Even with support from the Tareks, we cannot possibly stand up against their armies, and they grow every day. I cannot afford to have men like you taking this war into their own hands! Markus, you know how to obey my orders. Take him out of my sight!”

  As the wizard opened the door to fetch the guards, Varren slipped out after him and made his way to a secluded part of the corridor. He felt the folded letter in his pocket, the one he had written in the event Queen Sorcha had decided to let Challan go unpunished. He pressed his hand against it and smiled. The queen was a far more sensible woman than he had anticipated. The letter was not needed.

  Seeing and hearing nothing, he summoned his gift and transported himself back to Delseroy, his grin not leaving his face until he entered the castle grounds. It was at this point he remembered that the king was engaged to Angora.

  *

  Varren clenched his teeth and tried not to lose his temper. The days before the wedding were flying by alarmingly quickly. Two whole weeks had passed since the girl had arrived, two whole weeks in which he had been unsuccessful in persuading his master that marrying her was not a good idea.

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Yes, Archis, you have made this perfectly clear to me already.”

  The king of the Ayons sat back in his chair and sighed. Varren shook his head in frustration. Samian just would not listen. Did he not realize what he was doing? The fact that the king was not even considering Varren’s argument concerned him. It was not just anxiety for his master’s safety but for his campaign and the whole of the empire if anything went wrong. He had been preparing for a great assault ever since taking up the position of general; months of discussing, forging political and military alliances, recruiting, and organizing – everything could be destroyed if King Samian let his guard down now.

  Of course, there was Prince Nildemar if the situation became dire, but the boy had only just reached his teens; he could not rule an empire, especially without the necessary years of teaching and guidance. And with Samian arguably fit enough to retain the crown, a regency was out of the question.

  “A Teronian!” Varren exclaimed. “And what’s worse – she’s been influenced by the Ronnesians! And don’t forget what she is, sir. Can we really have two leikas in the same castle? They will be constantly at each other’s throats! Please reconsider. Think of what you’re doing.”

  “I’ve thought about this for years, Archis, don’t try to dissuade me. I love her and I won’t let her go, not again.”

  Varren rolled his eyes. “There are other ways to cure this sort of lust, sir. I’m sure half the men at court could tell you where the best brothels and whores – ”

  “It’s not lust!” Samian said angrily. “I’m the perfect age to marry and if I find someone who I think is suitable – ”

  “But she is not suitable!”

  “You know her history as well as I. She’s no more a Ronnesian than either of us! She was forced into their service. Angora is not one of them. How can you deny her meaning in ripping up her oath in front of Queen Sorcha and spelling both Latrett and that Auran to get away from them?” Samian stood and began to pace the room. “You’ve seen her, Archis, you know she doesn’t mean to spy on us or kill me in my sleep.”

  “I know nothing of the sort.”

  “You will have to come up with a far better argument if you mean to poison her name,” Samian said angrily. “And until that day, she is under the protection of the crown!”

  “But what of the lies you’ll have to weave, the promises you’ll have to break when the campaign gets under way?”

  “I will break no promises.”

  “You’ve let this woman control you!” Varren exclaimed. “Do you suppose she loves you in return? Have you asked her why she accepted you?”

  “I know she loved me before and she cares about the islands.”

  “Don’t be a fool! You’re trying to hide the truth from yourself. She’ll bring you nothing but ruin.”

  “No, Archis,” the king said forcefully. “Have you ever considered that having her here could have its advantages? Think of what we could do with her on our side.”

  “Is she likely to turn against those she once served? Galenros has told me that she was almost uncontrollable for months when she joined the Ronnesians. She will be the same with us. She is not the right kind of woman to become your queen.”

  “How long have you had Galenros working to blacken her name? Are you all against me?”

  “Sire, I want to be sure of your safety, that is my primary concern, as always! You claim to know her, but that was over four years ago, when she was a child, and people can change. There is too much that remains unknown about her character. I must discover all I can before I can trust her at your side and in your bed!”

  “She is not an assassin, Archis!”

  “She has killed Ayons before! She’s not an innocent girl any more!”

  The king sighed angrily and shook his head. “No, she is no longer innocent and the Ronnesians are partly to blame for that. Do you imagine she will easily forget her time as a slave or the treatment she received while being in the Circle? Do you suggest that she looks back on those days with some kind of pleasure? She may well turn against them, Archis! She admitted to me that, despite being one of the queen’s advisers, she was not privy to all matters of state and resented her second-class treatment. To gain her trust, we must be inclusive and honest with her. We must prove to her that we are a kinder and more respectful people, that we do not judge an individual on their circumstances of birth or by events beyond their control. That should not be hard.”

  Varren considered the idea and had to admit that it was plausible. If the girl could be turned, they could use her to tip the balance. They would have the upper hand in both military and magical strength. When Vrór went into battle against Queen Sorcha’s servants, Angora would not counter him if she believed the Ronnesians mages were unworthy of her protection. Emil Latrett, Kayte Heron, Markus Taal and Tiderius Auran would be outnumbered and outmatched. He stroked the dark stubble on his chin in contemplation. The idea alone was not enough to convince him she could be trusted. He would have to be certain of her character. He would have to probe very carefully, delve into her mind when she was unaware of his presence, when her barriers were down.

  He nodded slowly. The prospect of being able to tip the balance, something that had remained stable since the strands of magic had first been given to mortal hands, was very tempting. He would devise a plan, catch her off her guard and then slip into her mind and discover her true motives. Then he would see whether she could be converted and how easy it would be.

  “All right,” he said, meeting Samian’s gaze. “I will give her the chance to prove her character, but you must give me free rein. I will only be satisfied when I have heard her thoughts.”

  “Archis, that is my future wife you are talking about!”

  “If I can catch her in a moment of anger, she will let her guard down. Then I will get my answers.”

  The king frowned.

  “I give you my word that I will not hurt her in the process. You know my promises are sound.”

  The two locked gazes for a moment, then Samian slowly nodded.

  “All right, bu
t if you harm her in any away, Archis…by the gods, you will regret it.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Tiderius was unnerved. Recent events had shaken all the members of the queen’s protectorate, for how could any of them have anticipated that Mayor Challan had been directly responsible for the assassination of General Carter? The queen, heading a trial with no less than ten magistrates, had severely chastized him after the guilty verdict had been announced. She had then stripped him of his position, wealth and property.

  “You have served our royal sovereignty well in the past,” she had told him, “so I will let you keep your life, but if I ever hear of you again, I will have you put to death. Are we perfectly clear?”

  He had fled the capital that same day, accompanied by two of his loyal servants and a single cart filled with necessary provisions and a number of family treasures. The last sighting of him was on the road to Londston.

  Following the trial, elections had commenced in order to instate a new mayor, but Tiderius had shown no real interest. He had been obliged to listen to nobles boasting their abilities and exaggerating their merits for the best part of three days, but not even that incessant torture had been able to expel thoughts of Angora from his mind. He had seen how Vrór had fought, using deception and surprise, and he realized that he was now more worried for Angora than he had been for anyone else in his life. He had little doubt that the fight in the skies had been a hard one and the fact that they had heard no news as to the outcome was not good. Aiyla was doing all she could to locate Angora and he felt so restless, not being able to do anything himself. He wanted to get out there and search – on foot, if he had to. He would trek every mountain pass if it meant finding some trace of what had transpired between the two leikas.

  When the gong sounded for dinner, he walked lethargically downstairs to the meeting room. The moment he entered, he drew Aiyla aside.

  “Anything?” he asked anxiously.

  “No. Nothing new.”

  “This is ridiculous!” he muttered. “Why is the sight hiding her from you?”

  “Tiderius, the sight is not a slave to our desires,” Aiyla replied wearily. “If we could see whatever we wished, then we would never make our own decisions, never discover things for ourselves. While, the sight shows us what is necessary to aid us toward a certain course of action, it does not always give us answers. Sometimes, even the smallest clue is too much.”

  “But where have you been looking?”

  “In every direction, Tiderius!” Aiyla assured him. “Even back on Teronia. I cannot find her anywhere.”

  Tiderius groaned and ran his hands through his hair. He could not understand why the sight refused to reveal her. If Angora was dead, there was nothing she could do to alter the course of the future and there was no decision he or any of the others had to make. So why would they be refused the chance to retrieve her body? No, it did not make sense – Angora had to be alive. But she had been dueling Vrór, a violent and bloodthirsty beast, and if the Ayon leika had not killed her, then –

  “Impossible.”

  “What?” Aiyla looked at him anxiously.

  He had forgotten she was there. “Gods, I think I know where she might be,” he said quietly. “You said yourself that the sight doesn’t show us our desires but what is necessary, clues to help us act and decide.”

  “Yes, but – ”

  “When you first saw Angora, it was during the fire in the Gifted Rose, wasn’t it? You saw her when her life was in danger! The Spirits wanted us to help her, but Rasmus got there first!”

  “Well, yes,” Aiyla agreed, “but I doubt she was in any less danger battling Vrór, hundreds of yards up in the air, Tiderius. Yet, they never showed me what happened.”

  “Perhaps that’s because nothing did happen!” he continued, growing more and more excited by the moment.

  “I don’t understand you.”

  “You have to ask the sight specific questions, yes? But it wouldn’t show you an answer to a question if the question itself wasn’t quite right, would it?”

  “No. I have to be very specific. But I have asked and asked, Tiderius! Did Vrór kill her or did she kill Vrór? No answers. Nothing! I’ve run out of ideas!”

  “Perhaps neither of them were killed!”

  “Tiderius, that is very unlikely. Vrór is a monster.”

  “Yes, but what if he captured her and took her back to Delseroy and she’s now, at this very moment, being held prisoner there?”

  There was a moment of stunned silence.

  “Gods, but it’s been more than two weeks!” Aiyla whispered. She moved over to the table and lowered herself into her chair, closing her eyes. “We may have very little time. The Ayons would do anything to tip the balance in their favor!”

  CHAPTER 35

  Angora stood on the highest balcony and opened her arms to the wind. It was slightly chilled and damp, rolling in from the north where ominous storm clouds were gathering about the peaks. She could smell the promise of rain and smiled. She had not imagined that she would be able to feel so content in a city. Two weeks had passed since she had left Te’Roek but it felt so much longer. Every day was filled with activities and Samian always had something new to show her within the castle grounds. Te’Roek and the Circle were rarely on her mind and she was glad of it. Delseroy was her home now.

  In the rare moments she was alone, she would walk the castle wall and gaze down into the courtyard below and the upper city buildings beyond. Samian would not let her venture beyond the wall, for a great mass of civilians constantly gathered at the gates, hoping to catch a glimpse of their future queen. The wall encircled the castle grounds completely and many sections of it provided beautiful views of the city below. Guards walked the ramparts and, in passing, she would say a few pleasant words to them in response to their deep bows of respect.

  Yet, with every day that passed, a terrifying conflict waged within her. The hatred she felt for the Ayons since their invasion of Teronia was fighting fiercely with her newfound liking of them. They were pleasant people, not at all how the Ronnesians had painted them; the Ayons treated her like one of their own and she did not feel the need to hide her heritage. “I see our king has made a very good choice in selecting you as his bride,” one lady had said to her, smiling. “Modesty is not a virtue very common among royal folk.”

  Angora was also uncertain about the man she was going to marry. The shock that he was the king of the Ayons still tormented her. When she was alone, her anger would flare, only to extinguish the moment he smiled at her. Perhaps she was wrong about him too. Perhaps he was more like her Sam than he was willing to reveal to his advisers and servants. In the moments they stole together, he would talk easily with her, whisper flirtations in her ear and run his fingers across her exposed skin. He was slowly but surely breaking down her defenses.

  There was a light tap behind her and Angora turned to find Lillian, her maid, rising from a deep curtsey by the balcony door.

  “The king is expecting you for supper in the royal suite, milady.”

  “Thank you. I will go directly.”

  She had grown accustomed to her maid never being far away and was even growing less embarrassed at being dressed each morning and night. There were some things, however, that she felt she would never get used to – including Samian’s advisers.

  Admittedly, Igmund Lhunannon behaved like any other man at court, polite, refined, willing to discuss any subject. He was a mine of information and even smiled and joked with her. He went out of his way, in fact, to converse with her and showed an uncanny knack of picking subjects in which Angora was already interested, such as herb lore, the art of healing and birds. Their discussions were often lengthy and fulfilling, leaving her with the feeling he genuinely found her to be pleasant company. Though he shared the same power as Emil, he thankfully did not share the shaman’s temper and countenance.

  But Samian’s other advisers made her nervous and uneasy.

  Tarvenna M
ei, the witch from the western lands, had spoken few words to Angora and kept her eyes averted. The dark-skinned woman had given Angora the impression that she was disinterested in her master’s future marriage. The only thing in which she seemed to take pleasure was magic. On the one occasion that she and Angora had been alone, Markus Taal’s double had conjured a little ball of blue light and sent it flying around the room.

  Eron Galenros, the seer, passed more time delving into the possibilities of the future than occupying himself with the present, so his eyes were frequently black and unfocused. When she saw him out of a trance, which was rarely, he was almost always talking with Varren in low tones. He spoke sparingly to anybody else, which made conversing with him awkward and difficult.

  Archis Varren himself, however, was not immediately frightening – until she was subject to one of his piercing stares. Icy blue-gray, his lingering gaze provoked a feeling of unease within her. And then, when Varren’s fury was raging, an occurrence Angora had already witnessed twice, white fire would flicker at the corners of his eyes. Never truly having understood the powers of the mages, she wondered whether this trait was exclusive to him or whether Kayte Heron, if provoked, might also fly into such a fury.

  Vrór Saranov hated her, that much was obvious. She supposed this was because he had been refused the opportunity to kill her, and now she was out of his reach. The two leikas avoided each other as best they could, but some occasions brought them together and Vrór would narrow his eyes and hiss his greetings at her behind a forced smile of pointed yellow teeth. He was still something of a mystery to her. Having succeeded in digesting his physical appearance, she began to wonder how in the world he had become so deformed. She knew, from what Samian had told her, that he had once been a pure man, but there was now very little evidence of this. She knew nothing of self-changing and, after glancing at Vrór, she was unwilling to experiment. However, she wondered just how many other avenues of her gift there were of which she was ignorant. Perhaps it was a blessing that, now, she would not need to face Vrór and discover just how powerful he was.