The Severed Realm

by Michael G. Manning

  We had been friends for decades, been through unimaginable dangers together, and helped raise each other’s children, yet the silence that stretched out between us was almost painful. I found myself toying with the teacup in my hand, and when I finally looked up, I was caught by Rose’s piercing blue eyes.

  I held her gaze without looking away for an unknown time. There was compassion in those eyes, a shared sorrow, and no small amount of sympathy, but her lips remained firmly pressed together. She said nothing.

  At last I found my tongue, and said what was long overdue, “I’m sorry.”

  Considering the situation, the stress I had been under, the grief of losing my wife, many people would have just let me off the hook for my previous bad behavior with a simple ‘don’t worry about it.’ Rose wasn’t one of those people. No matter how badly I had been hurting, my words had been completely out of line.

  She responded with honesty, “Thank you, but your apology is not accepted—not yet, anyway.”

  “I shouldn’t have said those things,” I added. “I didn’t really mean them.”

  Rose sighed. “You know what they say about ‘truth in wine’? The same applies to when people are overwrought. We say things we shouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t true, or sometimes that we didn’t wish they were true.”

  In a fit of anger, I had told her that now that Penny and all our shared friends were dead, there was no us, referring to our long-time friendship. There was obviously no way that could be true, so what was she implying? Who was I kidding? I knew exactly what I had meant. I had been referring to the unspoken attraction that had long underlain our friendship. Remaining friends with Rose, even if nothing ever came of it, felt like a betrayal of my wife. It wasn’t Rose’s fault, but I had lashed out at her because of it.

  Now she had done it, she had put the ugly truth in front of me. How could I respond to that? “Uh, Rose, I honestly didn’t mean it. I was just—”

  She held up one finger, stopping me. “No, Mordecai, let’s not brush this under the rug. You meant exactly what you said, so let’s deal with that.”

  “It wasn’t fair of me to—”

  “No, it wasn’t fair, but that’s not the point,” countered Rose. “The point is that you’re afraid that now that Penny is gone I’ll take this as some sort of opportunity. Do you honestly think that I’ve been a widow all these years because I was sitting around waiting for you, like some vulture? That I’ve been waiting in the wings, pretending to be Penelope’s friend, pretending to love your children, pretending to be your friend, all so I could someday snap you up as my reward?”

  “Well, no, of course not,” I muttered, unsure what to say. I hadn’t really looked at it from that angle, but now that she phrased it that way, it was obvious that deep down, that’s exactly what I had been thinking, consciously or otherwise.

  Rose’s carefully controlled demeanor was beginning to show signs of stress. Her fingers trembled, and her eyes were growing puffy. “That’s exactly what you implied. Do you have any idea how hard it was to remain here after Dorian died? How painful it was to watch you and Penny, when my own family was shattered? I didn’t do that for some stupid romantic interest! I did it for Penny, I did it for Gram and Carissa, I did it for you and your children as well. And until your words the other day, I’ve never regretted it.”

  Well damn, I really am a jerk, I thought. Rose’s eyes were damp, but I couldn’t decide whether she was about to cry or come at me with her claws out. With Penny, I had never been uncertain—it was always claws. Well, sometimes it was tears and claws, but claws were always in there somewhere. After a moment, I realized my mouth had fallen slightly agape. I was mute, without a clue what I could say to make things better.

  Rose helped, turning her head to hide her tears. She waved one hand at me. “I’m done. Now you can say what you wanted to say.”

  Feeling awkward and incredibly stupid, I got the words out again, “I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted,” she answered.

  She started to dab at her face with her sleeves, but I caught her wrist and fished a handkerchief from my pocket. “Here, use this.”

  “Thank you,” she said, sniffing. Then I started to hug her, but she shot me a warning glance.

  I froze, and then said, “I’m not making any assumptions. We’re still friends, right?”

  She nodded and then embraced me. “We’re not just friends, we’re family. You’d better not forget it in the future.”

  “I won’t,” I assured her.

  After a brief moment, she pushed me away. “There are some other things I need to talk to you about, privately.”

  I looked around to remind her we were already alone. “Go ahead,” I told her.

  “You’re certain no one can hear us?” she asked.

  “Not much is certain in a houseful of wizards,” I observed.

  Rose walked into the hallway and led me to my bedroom. “There’s still a privacy ward on it, right?”

  I nodded and opened the door to let her in, shutting the door behind us. “We have complete privacy,” I assured her, before amending my statement, “unless Moira’s planted one of her tiny spellbeasts in here again. What are you so nervous about?”

  Smoothing her skirts self-consciously, Rose took a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t want your children to hear this, but I’d rather you know first.” Her eyes briefly scanned the room as she spoke.

  Knowing Rose as well as I did, I wondered what conclusions she might draw from the state of my room. At the moment, it was uncommonly tidy, as a result of whatever had happened the night before. I walked to the dressing table and picked up Penny’s note and carefully folded it up, placing it in my pocket. Whatever Rose might guess, I wasn’t ready to talk about it.

  Rose was kind enough to keep her conclusions to herself. Instead, she kept to her subject. “Tyrion is making serious inroads in Lothion’s politics.”

  “He’s already ingratiated himself as the savior of the capital,” I agreed. “It’s to be expected that he’ll have his time in the light.”

  “Unfortunately, he does not seem to be as inept at politics as I expected, based on your previous descriptions of him,” said Rose. “He has already made several allies among the other peers, particularly with the Prince-Consort.”

  “Leomund?” Somehow, I wasn’t surprised. “Birds of a feather, they say.”

  Rose frowned at me. “There’s more to this than can be seen at a first glance. Have you heard any of the rumors concerning Leomund?”

  “I know he’s an asshole,” I said glibly. “But that isn’t a rumor. It’s established fact.”

  “His hunting trips are well known to be a polite excuse to get away from the capital,” said Rose. “But the game he hunts walks on two legs rather than four.”

  “Oh, that.”

  She arched her brows in surprise. “You already knew?”

  I felt mildly gratified to have known something before Rose. “Ari told me a month ago. She isn’t particularly concerned about it. In fact, I think she would rather he stay out of the palace entirely. There’s no love lost between the two of them.”

  Agitated by my lack of worry, Rose walked to my wardrobe and looked inside, examining the clothes hanging there. “It’s far more serious than that, Mordecai. This isn’t some landed noble cheating on his wife. It’s the Prince-Consort, and his dalliances weaken the Queen’s position, eroding the faith that the rest of the lords have in her. Surely you see that?”

  “Not to make light of it,” I began, “but many of them are guilty of the same. Who are they to judge her?”

  “She’s the Queen,” said Rose emphatically, closing the wardrobe and turning back to face me. “Imagine if King Edward’s wife had cheated on him, or if Genevieve had slept with other men while James was king?”

  Looking at i
t in that light, it did seem more serious. I was already aware of the double standard. Lords were almost expected to stray beyond the bounds of marital propriety, but their ladies were not.

  Rose continued, “As Queen, Ariadne holds the power in their relationship, although Leomund is a man, his position as her subordinate makes his betrayal of their wedding vows far more harmful. Not only that, but the man has not done much to keep his adventures a secret. He practically brags about them among some of the other lords. These aren’t discreet affairs with one or two women. As far as I can discover, he’s been bringing a wide variety of young women to his hunting lodge.”

  “Young women?”

  “Very young,” added Rose. “Scandalously young.”

  “What would you propose Ariadne do about it?” I asked.

  “Ideally, she would send troops to his lodge and catch him in the act. Embarrass him publicly, divorce him, and then imprison him. Technically his betrayal counts as treason, since she is the reigning monarch. Edward would probably have gone as far as beheading his wife if she had been caught in something like this. Either way, she needs to show her strength, but instead she seems content to pretend the problem doesn’t exist. And that brings us to our other problem.”

  “Which is?”

  “Tyrion seems to be getting very close to your cousin, and she doesn’t seem to mind the attention,” said Rose flatly.

  That was a bitter pill to swallow. “It probably isn’t what you think,” I responded hopefully.

  “Mort,” said Rose, giving me a solid stare. “Think about who is telling you this. Do you really think I would mistake the signs?”

  “Is she still wearing the pendant I gave her?” I asked.

  Rose nodded.

  “Then he can’t manipulate her emotions. Surely she’ll be wise enough to make the right decision on her own.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that, Mordecai,” said Rose. “Contrary to your juvenile belief that women are unlikely to stray, my gender is just as prone to hormone-induced stupidity as yours is. Also, there’s a chance that your ancestor has found some way around the protection your pendant provides.”

  That gave me pause. “What do you mean?”

  She took a deep breath to steady herself before continuing, “I suspect that Tyrion may have tampered with my emotions before the meeting.”

  “Tampered?” Immediately my mind flashed to the things Tyrion had done in his youth, and my eyes traveled downward unconsciously to study Rose’s dress. It was a silly reflex, as though by studying the state of her dress I could determine whether the fiend had laid a hand on my friend. “What happened?”

  “I experienced something I’d rather not describe. I can’t definitively say it was caused by his tampering, but at my age I think I have a better handle on my emotions than that. It was entirely unexpected,” she said carefully, her cheeks flushing faintly.

  Hot rage flashed through me at the thought of Tyrion inducing some sort of artificial lust in Rose. My fists clenched involuntarily, and I struggled to contain my temper. “He’d have to be a Centyr to manage something like that,” I muttered.

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” cautioned Rose. “I’m not even sure it was tampering.”

  “Of course it was,” I snarled. It had to be, though for a moment I felt a wave of self-doubt wash over me. My ancestor was certainly attractive enough, in a primal sort of way. Perhaps what had happened to Penny, and now Rose, was entirely natural. I took a moment to collect my wits, glancing at Rose with some embarrassment. “Conall is there,” I said suddenly.

  “Pardon?”

  “My son, Conall,” I repeated. “I’ve been a little annoyed about him spending all his time in the capital, but I think now we can use it to our advantage.”

  Rose caught on quickly, “He wasn’t in the meeting, and the room was warded. He could detect any use of magic if he was present, couldn’t he?”

  I nodded with a grim smile. “I’ll talk to him, make sure he knows to take his new role seriously. So long as he stays with Ariadne whenever another mage is around, they won’t be able to attempt anything.”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” agreed Rose. “Now let me catch you up on Tyrion’s proposal during the meeting.”

  “His proposal?”

  She smiled. “We’ve only discussed my assumptions thus far. Let me tell you about his plan to protect the kingdom from ANSIS.”

  Rose began talking, and I found myself listening intently. As she described Tyrion’s proposed solution to ANSIS, I found myself appreciating his plan. My ancestor certainly didn’t lack for big ideas. He might just be instrumental in keeping the world free of invaders, if I didn’t kill him first.

  Chapter 7

  The rest of the day I spent delving into the secrets held within the Erollith sculptures that Lynaralla had brought back, and after Irene and Karen had gotten tired of learning enchanting, Matthew and Lynaralla joined me, since they were the only others who could read them. The three of us split up, reading separate sculptures, but even after hours of work it felt as though we were only barely scratching the surface.

  There were more than fifty of the sculptures in the storeroom attached to my workshop, and each one represented days or weeks of work to read. It would take me more than a year to get through them all, and even with the three of us working, it would take months.

  It wouldn’t have been so bad if we had had some way of knowing what we could skip, but to know that, we would have had to know exactly what we were looking for. The clues to what the Illeniel She’Har had originally done to our world could be hidden within any of the writings.

  It was enough to drive a man mad. When I went to bed that night, my frustration was enough to make me forget how empty the bedroom felt—almost.

  The next morning, I made an early start, relatively speaking. I intended to go to Albamarl and have a talk with my younger son. I had told the others what I meant to do, and Irene caught me before I could leave through the portal.

  “Dad, wait,” she said abruptly.

  “Hmm?”

  She handed me a leather bag stuffed with something bulky and relatively lightweight. “Be nice when you see him.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Irene studied her feet. “I wasn’t very kind when I saw him last, but I’ve done some thinking since then. I think you should be supportive. Conall may seem like he’s running away, but he actually craves approval. He’s trying to prove himself.”

  Reaching out, I lifted her chin to look in her eyes. “And?”

  “If you yell at him, he’ll be less likely to come home,” she added. “Mom always said you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

  Actually, I was pretty sure I had been the one to use that phrase more frequently, but it was a common saying, so I wasn’t about to quibble over it. “What’s in the bag?”

  “Surcoats,” answered Irene. “They’re Matthew’s, but he never uses them. I yelled at him the other day for not wearing them while he represents the family as the Queen’s Champion. If you give them to him, and tell him you’re proud of him, he’ll probably wear them.”

  I stared at my daughter in open admiration. When did she become so wise? I wondered. She certainly didn’t get that kind of maturity from me. I had been pretty wild and reckless until my mid-twenties. Taking the bag from her hands, I dragged her into a hug. “Thank you, Rennie. This is a brilliant idea. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Don’t tell him the surcoats were my idea,” she cautioned.

  I smirked. “He’s going to know they’re Matthew’s.”

  “Tell him Matthew suggested it,” she said with a grin.

  “Does Matthew know you’ve robbed him?”

  “I’ll tell him in the workshop later. He’ll go along with it,” she said confidently
.

  With that, I left, stepping through the portal into Ariadne’s private suite. She wasn’t present, so I made my way out and went in search of my wayward son. By some luck, Harold was the first person I encountered whom I knew. “Harold!” I greeted him.

  Since there was no one else in the corridor, he returned my greeting just as informally. “Mordecai!” If there had been others present, we’d have been forced to stick to more formal forms of address. “What brings you here today?” he asked.

  Smiling, I got right to the point. “I’m looking for my son.”

  “You mean the esteemed Queen’s Champion, Sir Conall?” he asked with mock seriousness.

  “The same.”

  “He’s in the training yard,” replied Sir Harold. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “Training yard?” I said querulously. “Do you have him swinging at the pells? I know he’s a knight now, but I don’t think it would serve anyone’s interests if he wastes his talents with a sword when he’s a wizard.”

  “Tyrion is giving him some pointers,” said Harold.

  “What?” I burst out.

  “It’s not what you think. Come see,” said Harold placatingly.

  It took me a moment to regain my composure, and then I followed him through the palace until we reached the training yard. The entire place was a web of privacy wards and magical barriers set up by Gareth Gaelyn and Elaine Prathion years ago, so I wasn’t able to spot my son with my magesight until we left the building and entered the yard.

  What I saw angered and surprised me. I didn’t know what to think. The training field was a wreck: Great divots had been torn out of the ground leaving holes of widely varying sizes, along with corresponding mounds of earth scattered thither and yon. My son stood in the middle of it all, dirty, ragged, and breathing heavily.

  But I couldn’t see any wounds on him; otherwise my resolve to keep things friendly might have gone out the window.

  Tyrion circled him, stalking the perimeter like a predator. For the first few seconds that I watched, things were calm. Nothing was happening. But then my ancestor sent a series of rapid-fire attacks at Conall, bolts of pure force that were so potent they seemed to rip the very air apart.