~*~*~*~
My prayer apparently didn’t get past the ceiling.
Sarvell stared at the plans that had been rolled out on the table with disappointment. The plans had several different angles portrayed, of course, so that the builders could see exactly what needed to be done for each section. From every angle, it was clear that the crystal had been used as the main support for the bridge. It made sense—why build supports when there’s a massive stone spanning the section anyway? But Sarvell really wished they hadn’t done it.
Jewel couldn’t see the plans, of course, but she could apparently tell from the reactions of the people around her what they revealed. When taut silence fell for several long seconds, she just gave a resigned sigh. “They did, didn’t they?” she asked the room in general.
“It be no good, lass,” Rialt confirmed her in a tone of aggravation. “They used the crystal as the main support. Shards.”
“Rialt,” Chizeld chided, “should not swear in front of two priestesses.”
“Quite alright,” Chantel assured him sourly. “I feel like swearing myself. You do realize that I’m now going to have to face the entire city council and my father and charm them into not only tearing down this bridge but building a whole new one?”
Jewel offered weakly, “Good luck?”
The chair protested as Chantel’s body weight flopped into it. “I’m going to need more than that.” Chantel let out a sigh. “Alright, I’m open to suggestions. How do I convince them?”
After a moment of silence Jewel offered, “In Bryn, I had a similar situation. I told the town council there that if they didn’t move the crystal back in its proper place, the crystal in Thornock would fail within the year and then there would be nothing to protect us from the Daath.”
A weighty silence passed for a moment before Chantel said incredulously, “You mean you told them about that? Just the bare truth, nothing else?”
“You’ve been in politics too long,” Sarvell informed her dryly. “The truth usually works, especially when it’s this dire. Granted, it might not hurt to come prepared with some numbers. Something that says that trade is going to increase, the size of the bridge will not be large enough to let large caravans pass through, etcetera.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll try the trade numbers and political angle first,” Chantel decided. “I know these councilmen. They think numbers and profits more than anything else. If they aren’t swayed by that, I’ll try your version, Jewel.”
Jewel shrugged. “When’s the next council meeting?”
“Tomorrow morning. Which doesn’t give me a lot of time. Sarvell, might I enlist your trade expertise?”
“Certainly.”
“Good. While I’m preparing…Jewel, I’m going to send you my aide. Tell him absolutely everything that you think I need to know about the Order. I’m not going to remember half of what you tell me, but he’ll take notes on all of it and put it into a prioritized order. That should speed things along a little.”
Sarvell looked at her thoughtfully. He could finally see why Chantel had been chosen. Chantel did indeed have the experience and the ability to re-build and maintain the Order here in Veris.
With a smile Jewel agreed, “Of course. It’s better use of my time that way. I’m sure there are plans for the original Order building in the archives somewhere. You might want to have those handy when they start building the new bridge. You don’t want the two buildings sharing the same space.”
“Now there’s something to consider.” Chantel gave a soft hum. “I think I need to borrow a few architects after all. Let me see if I can’t catch my father and see what help he can give me.”
If she had the mayor’s ear, she might as well.
“Alright, just sit tight for a few moments,” Chantel ordered. With a flurry of skirts, she was out the door and gone.
Sarvell sat back in his seat and considered the timeline of all of this. Assuming that a miracle happened and Chantel was able to convince the council on the first try that they needed to move the bridge, it would still take time to make all of this happen. Quite a bit of time. In fact, if it took less than three months, he would be astonished.
Could they afford to sit in one place for three months just waiting?
“I don’t think we should wait here for long,” Sarvell stated slowly, logistics flashing through his mind. “Tearing down the bridge alone will take months. I think we should wait until Chantel gets approval and then we should travel up to Jordia.”
“Think Priestess Chantel can manage crystal without help?” Chizeld sounded mildly surprised.
“No.” Jewel shook her head. “No, she’ll need my help to get it out of that ravine. The crystal doesn’t really weigh much for us, but it will be beyond awkward to lever it up. I can’t imagine anyone doing it alone. But Sarvell, do you think we can manage to get to Jordia, put its crystal back in place, and make it back here with time to spare?”
“We’ll likely have a full month’s time left over, even if things don’t go smoothly up there,” he assured her.
“Belike he be right,” Rialt agreed thoughtfully. “They can no just tear down this bridge, after all. A temporary bridge will have to be built to keep traffic flowing.”
“It’ll be complete chaos if they don’t,” Sarvell agreed. “And even with them working day and night, that’ll take at least two months to build. I think we’ll have time to go to Jordia and back.”
“A mighty lot of traveling in a short amount of time, though,” Rialt warned.
“Hazard of the job,” she responded with a resigned sigh. “Alright, from what I can tell, the Jordia crystal should be somewhere north of us. We’ll have to go to a temple to confirm this; it’s just a guess on my part considering where the other crystals have been. I think it’s at the very top of the clan’s territory.”
“It would have to be, in order to stay in line with the other crystals,” Sarvell agreed. “I still say we can make it.”
“Means crossing Blenkhorn Mountains. Twice.” Chizeld had a wry smile on his face.
An expression of dread crossed Jewel’s face, and Sarvell knew why. She hated mountains. All of those random rocks and roots to trip over. “You three are going to be carrying me the entire time, aren’t you?”
“Belike,” Rialt drawled. “Still game, lass?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I suppose.”
Rialt stretched out a hand and patted her head in sympathy. “You’ll make it. Alright. Sarvell, you focus on helping Chantel. We will take care of the rest.”
“Something else that needs to be done,” Chizeld disagreed. “Remember? The Red Guard was dispatched here.”
Jewel snapped her fingers. “That’s right! With everything else that has happened, I nearly forgot about that. Chizeld, will you go talk to the Red Guard Commander and figure out who gave those orders? And when you do, make it clear to him that he’s to go right back to Thornock where he’s supposed to be.”
“Wait, Jewel,” Rialt protested. “No sure it be wise to send bad guardsmen to a new priestess.”
“Er…good point. Alright, Chizeld, for now just investigate. We’ll let Elahandra tell us what to do after that.”
“Understood. Um…it will be easier to investigate if have Jewel’s seal.”
She blinked. “Oh. Good point. Alright, borrow it for as long as you need.” From around her neck, she drew up the chain and brought it over her head. With unerring accuracy, she extended the necklace right, exactly in front of Chizeld. Sarvell watched and still felt a little amazed that she could so accurately track where people were just by the sound of their voice.
“Many thanks. If trouble occurs…?” he ventured.
“You come right back and get me,” she ordered, brows furrowing into an unhappy line. “I’ll straighten them out.”
Rialt’s mouth quirked. “For their sakes, it best no come to that.”
“What are you going to do, Rialt?” Sarvell inquired. “Sin
ce that big showdown and Tamarra’s changes, I doubt we have to worry about anyone looking for her anymore. Well, except Daath assassins.”
“And Daath assassins are why I will stay right here,” Rialt responded firmly. “You two be about yon lass’s business. I will mind her.”
~*~*~*~
Chizeld couldn’t just stride through the front doors of the Rounsefell Center. When Elahandra had issued summons, Chizeld hadn’t sought out any of the commanders and asked permission to go. In fact, all had done was pack hastily, throw a saddle on a horse, and ridden hard north. The commanders here were likely to be livid at this breach of protocol.
Explaining that the chain of command had been overridden by Elahandra seemed too much of a hassle. Besides, doing so seemed like a bad idea. Hearing such an explanation might push a few desperate souls into rewriting, hiding or even destroying the records that Chizeld needed to read.
No, the front door seemed like a bad idea. The window to the library would be a better option.
Chizeld had spent the majority of life in this city and especially in the center. As a third generation guardsman, had been toddling around its halls while father and grandfather worked. Probably knew every nook and cranny better than the cleaning ladies did. So it didn’t take much effort to formulate a plan on how to sneak in without being noticed, even though the sun still hung high in the sky.
Three streets down and two over, Chizeld reached the center. The building hadn’t changed at all in the past two months. Built like a large cross, the building stood two stories tall, made of imposing grey stone. Chizeld looked at the two open courtyards that could be seen from street level and noted that both training yards were full. That shouldn’t be the case, not with new high priestesses called. Someone should have dispatched a full complement of guards to each priestess—so at least thirty-six men shouldn’t be here.
Something was very wrong. Might be worse than first suspected.
Chizeld retreated a few steps into the shadow of an alleyway and hunkered down, eyes peeled, waiting for someone trustworthy to exit that building. The benefit of having been practically raised by the guard was that Chizeld knew that some of the older men could be trusted without a shadow of a doubt. A few had routine tasks that took place every afternoon, outside of the center. All Chizeld had to do was wait until someone left.
Even in the shadow of a tall building, the day became progressively warmer, almost warm enough to make wearing the coat a bad idea. The smell of fresh bread baking floated from a store nearby, setting stomach rumbling. Breakfast became more of a distant memory with every passing moment. Surely it was near lunch now?
Essen always left the compound near lunch hour to eat at a little shop two blocks from here. Chizeld wanted to enlist the aging guardsman’s help if at all possible. Essen had been a compatriot of Father’s, before the old man retired, so could trust the man.
Ah, right on time. Essen exited a side door from the west wing with a quick stride that belied age, bald head shining a little in the sunlight. Chizeld shifted up, moving in a casual stride that wouldn’t attract anyone’s attention. Essen, apparently oblivious, walked up the street as always before turning at the corner, heading out of sight. Chizeld walked a little more quickly, lengthening his stride, and crossed the street in order to follow Essen. Or that had been the plan, at least. The old guardsman had stopped just out of view and now stood patiently waiting for Chizeld to catch up.
Smiling wryly—Essen was apparently still as sharp as ever—Chizeld waved a hand in greeting. “Essen.”
Crossing both arms over a bulky chest, Essen quirked an eyebrow and drawled, “Boy, is there a reason for skulking in the shadows and not coming inside?”
“Several reasons,” Chizeld confirmed. “But need to find a better place to talk.”
“Heh.” Essen’s other eyebrow rose, but with a come-along gesture, turned and led the way.
Chizeld fell in step alongside, but didn’t attempt to speak as the pair wove in and around the pedestrians on the sidewalk. Essen went directly to the little café just off the main square, as if nothing were wrong. With a grunt, the old guardsman slung into a table in the back corner of the walled in garden, waved a hand at a serving girl and ordered, “Two of the usual.”
Taking the chair opposite, Chizeld had to swallow a smile. Indeed, nothing had changed. Essen would be eating the same lunch until the day of burial, likely.
Sitting back, Essen casually ordered, “Alright, let’s have it. What’s the story?”
Chizeld, half out of habit, told the full tale. (Essen had been training instructor at one point, and old habits die harder than others.) By the time the tale had wound to a finish, lunch had arrived and Essen had devoured half the plate.
“Hmmm,” the old man said noncommittally and sat in silence for a space. “Quite the tale. The reason for skulking instead of coming inside was…what?”
With a shrug, Chizeld confessed, “Too many men here. Full complements of guards should be gone, supporting new high priestesses. Not here.”
“Yes,” Essen sighed, half-resigned. “All inquiries on when guards would be dispatched came to a dead end. Something’s not right here, but apparently Priestess Jomadd knows that. Didn’t come to report to superiors, obviously, so what’s wanted?”
“Records,” Chizeld answered simply. “Specifically contract records and the records of recent orders, say from the last five years. There’s corruption in the ranks, and Priestess has ordered to find the source and clean house.”
Essen snorted. “About time someone did. Alright, wait here. Won’t take any time to fetch the books and come back.”
Chizeld gave him a casual salute of acknowledgement before digging back into the (admittedly delicious) lunch spread out on the table.
Proving to be a man quick on feet, Essen indeed reappeared with the books in hand before Chizeld could polish off dessert. Without a word, both men cleared the dishes off and stacked them onto one corner of the table, making room for the books.
Chizeld started with the orders book, which contained a copy of every formal command that the guard had received in the past five years. Most of the orders were standard—moving here or there, orders for relief of command or new postings. But a disturbing trend started to develop quickly. Most of the orders were not given by a high priestess, but by members of the Thornock Council. With every page flipped, Chizeld’s uneasiness grew. When had Thornock gained such a stranglehold on the Guard?
Essen watched in silence as Chizeld set that book aside and grabbed the next, the book that contained every written oath that each guardsman had taken. The book was a formality only—a simple way to keep track of when a man had sworn into Elahandra’s service and when that same man retired. Chizeld ran across the oath signed by own hand midway through the book.
Then, abruptly, the contents changed.
The oath had been replaced completely—instead, the wording here read more like a simple contract of employment. In fact, the terms listed didn’t have anything to do with loyalty to…well, anyone, really. Chizeld flipped page after page, growing faster each time, eyes wide with disbelief.
“What is this?!”
“When the Guard last deployed to Belthain, the oath was replaced,” Essen remarked neutrally. “Didn’t know?”
Chizeld growled in the back of his throat. “No. Didn’t have time to review all the records after sent back home.”
“Thornock’s been slowly changing Guard’s policy for generations,” Essen added, looking suddenly older and much more tired. “But none of the priestesses tried to stop it.”
Chizeld let the book thump back to the table and raised both hands to press against throbbing temples. “Doubt priestesses were even aware of it. Too busy fighting politics with Thornock’s ministers.” Actually, that was a thought… Chizeld lifted the book again and thumbed back through the pages, looking at the authorizing signatures. Ah, sure enough. “The same ministers that supposedly swore these men al
so were the ones that signed off on orders.”
Essen just shook his head, not surprised. “Men in power like to stay in power.”
That certainly wouldn’t happen, not after Chizeld reported all of this to Jewel. Jewel would no doubt report it all to Elahandra, who would give Tamarra Matthison further orders, and no minister alive could fight that woman and win. The thought brought a smile to Chizeld’s face.
“Alright. Next question is, how many of the guard actually swore the oath and how many are just employees of Thornock?”
“Need to make a list,” Essen suggested after eyeing the thick tomes.
Yes, truly. And that would take time. “Will anyone miss these books for a day or so?”
“Likely not. No one even noticed them being borrowed, after all.”
Good. “Will come officially when the list is compiled,” Chizeld promised.
“Didn’t doubt that.” Essen gave a crooked smile before standing. With a pat on Chizeld’s shoulder, the old man walked out of the café, calling back over one shoulder, “Take care of the tab!”
Crafty old man… Well, lunch seemed a fair trade for fetching the books. With a shake of the head, Chizeld threw some money on the table, gathered up the books, and headed back for the mansion.
~*~*~*~
They spent a full day doing nothing but planning and making notes. Jewel focused on the task that Chantel had requested of her, but she heard snatches from the other side of Chantel’s study. The new priestess and Sarvell were gathered around a table and making a plan of attack. The figures, projections, and trade negotiations the two discussed quickly went over Jewel’s head. Still, they sounded as if they were quite happy with their numbers and figures.
On the day of the council meeting, Jewel only felt vague surprise when a summons came from Chantel. Piers delivered it in a long-suffering monotone that tickled Jewel’s sense of humor. “The mistress extends her greetings and inquires if you are willing to attend the meeting this morning with her.”
Jewel had only just tucked into her breakfast so she paused with the cup halfway to her mouth. “Now?”
Midnight Quest Page 26