by Kris A Hiatt
“Indeed,” Brental replied, smiling.
“We’ll get to your money afterward,” Shamir said to Jass.
By the scowl on her face, Treace didn’t think she liked being told she’d have to wait. She didn’t seem the patient type.
“Bring them in!” the King commanded loudly.
A door opened off to the side and Treace watched as two other prisoners were escorted in. At least he assumed they were prisoners since both of them were also shackled.
“Father? Carth?” Moff asked, bewildered.
“Proof enough?” Brental asked Shamir.
Shamir only offered a nodding head as a reply.
“Moffred?” the older of the two men asked with a puzzled look on his face.
Treace assumed it was Moff’s father. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know the man’s name. Either he’d forgotten it or Moff never said it. But why was he and Carth in shackles?
“They’ve done nothing wrong,” Moff told the King. “Let them go!”
“Wendle, my old friend,” Shamir said, speaking to the older man. “You’ve done great work for me in the past. But this has me troubled.”
Treace had most certainly never heard Moff speak his father’s name before. He’d remember a name like that.
“I’ve done nothing King,” Wendle pleaded. “Neither have my boys.”
“But this one is your son?” Shamir asked, pointing to Moffred.
“Yes, sir, he is. Though he should be back at the College by now,” Wendle said sternly while giving Moffred a hard look.
“Always the cause of trouble,” Carth told Moff.
“They had nothing to do with it,” Moffred continued to plead. “They don’t even know him. I’m the one who brought him here.”
“So you admit your complicity then?” Shamir asked.
“In knowing Treace? Of course.”
Treace thought it was pointless to ask that question. It was obvious the two knew each other. They attended the College together, Brental clearly knew that.
“Not in knowing him you idiot,” Brental said. “You stole from the King and used it to try to strengthen our enemy.”
Moffred looked puzzled for a moment before sighing resignedly and lowering his head.
“How exactly did he do that?” Treace asked, not catching on yet.
“And you almost got away with it,” Brental went on, ignoring him. “If it weren’t for the good captain and myself, you would have.”
“What are you talking about?” Treace asked, not wanting to be ignored.
“He’s talking about the scroll,” Moffred explained. “I didn’t think it’d be considered as the King’s property.”
“What scroll?” Treace asked.
“Yes, that scroll,” Brental told Moff.
Treace still didn’t know what they were talking about.
“But how exactly was I strengthening an enemy?” Moff asked.
“I commissioned your father to research those names,” Shamir explained. “You withheld that information and used it to find one of those men. You took that man to Haven to do who knows what, then you return with one of Liernin’s most trusted men at your side.”
“It’s not like that,” Moff protested.
Treace thought he understood what was happening. The bad thing was that from Shamir’s point of view, he was right. Moffred used information that was gathered strictly for Shamir’s benefit and then scurried off to Haven. At least that’s what happened in Shamir’s eyes. The fact that Kint never told them anything while he was in Haven made little difference. The act itself was treasonous.
“It is like that,” Shamir assured him. “The only question that remains is whether or not you acted alone, or if your family was involved.”
“I acted alone,” Moffred said quickly.
“I had nothing to do with it,” Wendle told the King.
“You’ve never failed me, Wendle,” Shamir told the man. “As a constable or as a researcher.”
“It’s true, my King, I haven’t!”
“And you’ve completed every task with pure efficiency,” Shamir went on.
“Yes,” Wendle said, hope clear in his eyes.
“By your reactions when you first saw each other, and by your words, I’m inclined to believe you.”
“Thank you, my King!” Wendle exclaimed, nearly in tears.
Carth sighed in relief and hugged his father.
“Raythien, bring in your archers,” Shamir commanded.
Raythien nodded, then gave the order for his archers to enter the room.
“You said you believed him!” Moffred exclaimed.
“Wait!” Wendle pleaded, trying to move toward the King but was held back by the guard holding his chains. “Please, King!”
“I do believe you,” Shamir replied as the dozen archers formed a line several paces away from Wendle and Carth.
“Then why are you executing them?” Moffred yelled more than asked.
Treace couldn’t believe this was happening. Shamir just admitted that he believed them yet he was still executing them? He wanted to act. He wanted to help but he knew there was nothing he could do. He was shackled and helpless.
The guards holding Moff’s brother and father pulled their chains as far to the side as they could, keeping them taut. Treace guessed it was as much to get far away from possible errant arrows as it was to keep their victims stationary.
“Thank you for your service, old friend,” Shamir said sincerely, ignoring Moffred. “I hope you’ll accept this private punishment for your crime as my way of saying thank you for all that you’ve done over the years. I am sad that it came to this.”
“Crime? What crime?” Moffred asked, still yelling.
“First, they gave my task to someone who was not vetted,” Shamir explained. “Then they failed to report the missing document. Their willful neglect of my private information led to a traitor using that information. They are, as such, traitors.”
“Draw!” Raythien commanded the archers.
This was happening way too fast. Treace wasn’t sure it was real. It was like some sort of terrible dream. It couldn’t be real. There was no way Moff’s family was going to be executed right in front of them.
“Damn you,” Carth said resignedly to Moffred.
“No, no, no!” Wendle kept repeating.
“May Kaden frown upon you,” Shamir told them.
Brental nodded to Raythien.
“Loose!” Raythien ordered.
Chapter 20
“You look tired,” Yelsn told him.
Drevic knew the man wasn’t being rude with his comment and was only making an observation. “Exhausted,” he admitted without looking up from the book he was reading. Never before had he known so much about Kaden. He wondered why the history of the man wasn’t taught at the College. It would be in the future.
“I think it went very well today,” Yelsn said.
“It did,” Drevic agreed. He looked up at Yelsn then. “Do you believe he’s from the Westerlands?”
“Who?” Yelsn asked with a confused look on his face.
“Kaden.”
“Well, you’re further in the book than I thought you’d be. You’re a fast reader,” Yelsn observed. He nodded his head a few times before answering the question. “I do.”
“Why is it that no one’s been over there?”
“I’d imagine it’s the mountains,” Yelsn replied. “It’s been a few years, but a few members attempted to go over them and into the Westerlands. They never came back. We assumed they perished in the mountains.”
“Yeah, probably,” Drevic said. He wasn’t sure he believed it, but he said it anyway. Snow didn’t adorn the peaks year round. There had to be a way over them. Kaden reputedly found a way over them. It made sense that others could as well.
“It was good to see the baron in the crowd too,” Yelsn said, changing the subject.
“Yes, sorry,” Drevic replied. He was caught up in hi
s reading and didn’t bother to think that Yelsn came to him for a reason. It wasn’t to speak about Kaden. “It was good for him to be there. He’s showing his support hoping it will help others believe in me.”
“There wasn’t an empty seat. I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. In fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh, go on then.”
“I think we need to offer services more frequently now,” Yelsn explained.
“Really? Isn’t every Celebrae typical?”
“Yes, but these aren’t typical times. Liernin’s been enlisting more and more men to prepare for war. People are getting scared and need an outlet for those fears. If we are to succeed, we need to be that outlet.”
“What are you suggesting?” Drevic asked. Yelsn was an intelligent man. There was no way the man didn’t come in here with an idea or two in mind.
“We offer services every seven days instead of every fourteen.”
Drevic began shaking his head immediately. There was no way he was going to agree to that. The first truly important decision of his new role was not going to be to interrupt the thirteen day mourning period for Kaden. They mourned the man’s death for thirteen days and then celebrated his life and what he stood for on the fourteenth. “That’s not happening.”
“It is our best course of action,” Yelsn argued.
“It’s not the best course. I don’t know what is, but I do know that what you are proposing is not. The people haven’t warmed up to me yet, or if they have, it would sour quickly if I changed the way they participate in Celebrae.”
“Most people have the seventh day off from work and spend it with their families anyway,” Yelsn said.
“Then let them keep their time with those important to them instead of us.”
“Kaden is important to them.”
“I’m not saying that he isn’t,” Drevic clarified. “I’m saying that they need to spend as much quality time with each other as possible. Besides, as I said, I’m not ready to make grand changes just yet.”
“Consider it at least?”
“I will, but don’t expect my mind to change,” Drevic told him.
“Very well,” Yelsn conceded.
Drevic didn’t think Yelsn cared for his response. To the man’s credit, though, at least he didn’t try to tell Drevic that he wasn’t the true leader and push to get his way. Drevic had agreed to confer with Yelsn on most of the decisions regarding the Church and defer to him on occasion. This was not something Drevic was willing to defer, though, so he was glad Yelsn didn’t push the subject. Though he did think he should soften the blow a little. “Where are you celebrating?”
“Here, I suppose. There are many people still outside who have questions. I don’t have all the answers, but the least I can do is listen.”
“You are a good man,” Drevic told him honestly. While the majority of the city would be feasting, drinking, and having a good time, Yelsn would be listening to people and families talk about their fears of the not so distant future.
“What about you?” Yelsn asked, taking the compliment in stride.
“I’ll get a glass of wine and continue to read. As good of a celebration as any in my mind.”
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Yelsn said before turning to leave.
“Has anyone questioned my role?” Drevic asked, stopping him. He wasn’t going to ask the question. He was going to wait until someone else brought it up to him, but curiosity got the best of him.
“Not openly. But after the public anointment and support from Liernin, I don’t think anyone will.”
There were some murmurs from those gathered during Drevic’s anointment as Archbishop, but mostly centered on what happened to Vrindel and why he’d left. Many were unfamiliar with Drevic but there wasn’t any public outcry when he was named. He had wondered if there would be, but in the few days since he officially took the title of Archbishop, he had heard very little. At least openly. The fact that he had Yelsn’s full support helped, not to mention Liernin’s. “What about privately?”
“Would it matter if they did?”
Drevic supposed that it didn’t. The people seemed to outwardly accept him so far, he couldn’t control if they secretly questioned him, nor would it surprise him. He supposed he’d privately question his ascension if he were in their shoes. He shook his head.
Yelsn nodded and closed the door behind him as he exited.
Drevic leaned back in his chair and thought about not only his new role, but what Yelsn had proposed. The thought of more services in itself wasn’t a bad idea. If the assembly hall was full today for his first sermon, it would continue to be full for future ones, most likely not having enough open seats for everyone. At least he thought that would be the case. But the idea of changing a tradition that people have been used to for centuries wasn’t something he was ready to do just yet. If it became a problem, he’d address it. For now, though, it was only an assumption of one.
~~~
“Archmagister!” someone called after him as he walked toward Liernin’s palace.
He slowed his pace so the speaker could catch up.
“Archmagister,” the man Drevic recognized as Brother Bergor said again as he caught up.
Drevic thought it was an unfortunate name. The way it sounded when combined with his title made it stick out. He’d acquired the name of Beebee from some of the other members of the order, combining the first letter of each his name and title. Drevic had at first refused to call him by his nickname, but the man seemed taken by it, so he felt obliged to use it. “Yes, Brother Beebee?”
“Magister Kelvrin wishes to see you, sir,” Beebee informed him, huffing to catch his breath.
Drevic didn’t dislike the young man. He was quite overweight and out of shape, not to mention that, to be blunt, he was uglier than most. Yet while his physical attributes left little to be desired, there was no one that knew him that would doubt his kindness, intelligence, or command of magic. He had joined the College only a few years after him, yet he was nearly ready to become a magister himself. No small feat considering Drevic’s historic rise in the order. “Why didn’t he come himself?”
“He’s teaching, sir, and sent me instead.”
“But it’s late afternoon,” Drevic told him, knowing full well classes should be over by now.
“Yes, sir, and he still has another after this,” Beebee said quickly between breaths.
“Did he start late?”
“No, sir, he started first thing.”
That didn’t make any sense. No magister has ever taught classes that late or for that long. Drevic stopped walking and turned to face Beebee. “What is he teaching?”
“Everything, sir.”
Beebee’s face was flush from effort and he was hitching in breath’s trying to get air into his lungs. Drevic thought the man had better exercise more or else he would die a much younger age than needed. “What about Edas?”
“He’s still in Kilindric I presume.”
“Kilindric?” Drevic asked, bewildered. He just saw the man a few days ago. At least he thought it was a few days ago. Now that he thought about it, the last time he saw Edas was before he spoke to Liernin about becoming the Archbishop, and that had been over a week ago. The days were going by too quickly for him. Even so, what was Edas doing in Kilindric? Did he decide Brental was the better choice?
“I’m sorry, sir. I thought you knew,” Beebee told him.
“No, Beebee, tell me.”
“That may be better for you and Magister Kelvrin to discuss,” Beebee replied cautiously.
“Now,” Drevic commanded.
“He went to Kilindric to try to convince others to join us here.”
“Without my knowledge or approval?” Drevic asked, furious.
“As I said, sir. That’s a discussion for Kelvrin.”
“I suppose it is,” Drevic told him, turning to leave. “I’ll see him when I’m finished with Liernin.”
“I’ll let him know, sir,” Beebee said as he walked away.
~~~
“We didn’t want to bother you because you’ve been so busy,” Kelvrin explained.
While he was glad to hear that Edas didn’t go to Kilindric to be a permanent member of Brental’s new version of the order, Drevic wasn’t in the best of moods. His meeting with Liernin wasn’t fruitful and for some reason people were giving him odd looks on his short trip back to the priory. Kelvrin had finished his last class of the day and had just sat down across from him. “I have been busy, but that doesn’t mean protocols get ignored. Policies are in place for a reason. We must adhere to them, regardless of perceived available time. It is better for us all to be on the same page, wouldn’t you agree?”
Kelvrin sighed. “If you were asked, would you have let him go?”
“Doubtful.”
“Which is why we didn’t involve you.”
“We? Do you mean to tell me the two of you planned this together?”
“Yes,” Kelvrin admitted.
“So it wasn’t that you didn’t believe I had time for you, you just didn’t involve me because you thought I’d say no.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“Do you really feel that strongly about getting some of our old members back?” Drevic asked. He didn’t like that the men went behind his back, but he was willing to listen to the entire story before passing judgement.
“Of course not,” Kelvrin replied. “That’s just a fabricated tale we told the students. He’ll try while he’s there, but that’s not the main purpose for the trip.”
“Then why is he going?” Drevic asked. So much for what Brother Beebee had told him.
“The journals of course.”
Drevic understood now why the two didn’t involve him. He would have said no. As much as he wanted those journals, he would never agree to thievery. For a moment he wished he didn’t tell them about those journals and what Nimbril hinted they contained. “So he plans on stealing the journals. Which, of course, you knew I wouldn’t condone, so you didn’t involve me in the plan.”
“Exactly.”
“I didn’t think either of you would be up for stealing either,” Drevic told the man.