The Shadow of What Was Lost

by James Islington

  Caeden stared after him for a moment, then trotted to catch up, grimly returning his attention to the road ahead.

  Perhaps the Council had been right not to trust him after all.

  Chapter 41

  Wirr stared up at the palace gates with trepidation.

  In times of peace they stood open, an invitation for anyone, no matter their rank, to come before the king or one of his Judges and have a complaint heard. They were shut today, of course. Several guardsmen stood at attention in front of them, and assembled in a vaguely threatening manner when Wirr and the others approached.

  “Move on,” said one, a grizzled-looking veteran whom Wirr didn’t recognize. His tone was firm. “Only members of the court or those with appointments may enter today.”

  Aelric raised an eyebrow. “Don’t recognize me, Ethin?”

  The man stared at Aelric for a moment, then started. “Young Shainwiere!” He rescanned the group, his eyes coming to rest on Dezia. “And your sister. Of course, of course.” His gruff manner had vanished. “My apologies. Princess Karaliene asked that you and your party be brought to her as soon as you arrived, no matter the time, day or night.”

  Aelric hesitated. “I’d… hoped to get cleaned up first.” He indicated his clothes, which were showing the wear and tear of travel, not to mention the odd bloodstain.

  Ethin smiled. “No offense, Aelric, but if it’s a choice of displeasing you or the princess, you’re out of luck.” He slapped Aelric on the back in a familiar fashion. “I heard you did well at the Song?”

  Aelric grunted. “Not well enough, I’m afraid.”

  Ethin gestured for another guard to open the gate, then led them through. “Second’s still an impressive achievement, lad. And there’s plenty of years left in you, too,” he said cheerfully. He glanced across at Dezia. “I trust you’re well also, Dezia?”

  Dezia smiled. “Just glad to be home, Ethin.”

  The guardsman closed the gate behind them. “I hope we can keep it that way,” he said as they headed into the grounds. “You’ve heard about the Blind, of course?”

  Aelric inclined his head. “We crossed paths with some of what they left behind. It was not pleasant.”

  Ethin nodded, expression solemn. “It’ll be a relief once General Jash’tar has dealt with them. Never seen him in action myself, but if he’s as good as people say he was under Vardin Shal, I’m sure he and the rest of our men won’t have too much trouble.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Just a warning, though—the Houses haven’t been especially happy with things here lately. General Parathe’s in charge of the defenses now, and I think his reputation for being better at tactics than motivation is starting to show. He’s been having some issues keeping the troops that are still here in line.” He hesitated. “And the king… well, let’s just say that Karaliene will be glad to see you. She could use some friends about now.”

  Wirr listened with interest. That the Houses were causing problems was hardly surprising, and certainly nothing new… but Ethin’s tone had indicated something more was going on. Something serious.

  They made their way through the palace corridors. Little had changed; every time they rounded a corner Wirr found himself reliving another childhood memory. He’d played with Karaliene in these halls. He smiled briefly as they passed a large floral vase on a pedestal. That was at least one thing that was different; when he was a child, such decorative displays had been removed, lest they meet an accidental demise at his and Karaliene’s hands.

  But those days, unfortunately, were long gone. His smile faded as his thoughts returned to what lay ahead.

  Ethin guided them to the princess’s quarters, pausing outside to let Karaliene’s attendant know who was there to see her. After a moment inside, the woman returned.

  “The princess will see them immediately,” she said to Ethin.

  Ethin nodded. “Time for me to go back to my post, then,” said the grizzled guard. He nodded to Aelric. “Good to see you again, lad.”

  Aelric smiled. “You, too, Ethin.”

  Wirr, Aelric, and Dezia entered Karaliene’s chambers. Wirr was surprised to see that they were relatively unadorned; the princess had been fond of decorations and finery in her earlier years. Karaliene herself reclined, apparently at ease, in a chair over to one side—but the dark circles beneath her eyes, covered though they were with makeup, betrayed her. Wirr had never seen her looking so tired.

  She gave a brief smile when she saw them, a glimmer of relief flickering across her face before her usual calm, composed look was restored.

  “You may leave us, Nelisi,” she said to the older woman, her tone polite but firm. The attendant curtsied and shuffled from the room.

  As soon as the door had closed Karaliene leaped from her chair, her smile returning. “You’re safe!” she exclaimed, hugging first Dezia, then Aelric, then Wirr. “It’s been so long, and with the Blind coming…” She let out a deep breath.

  “It was a near thing, Your Highness,” said Aelric. He waited for the princess to sit, then sat in one of the chairs opposite. He peered at her, eyes narrowing. “You look exhausted.” He paused, reddening, as he suddenly remembered whom he was talking to. “I apologize, Your Highness. That’s not to say…”

  Karaliene, much to everyone’s surprise, threw back her head and laughed. She quickly contained her mirth, but traces of amusement still played around her lips. “That might be the first honest thing I’ve heard in weeks,” she said, shaking her head. She gave Aelric a rueful smile. “You can dispense with the formalities, Aelric. Nobody can hear us in here. And, honestly, you’re no picture of health yourself.” She gestured pointedly to Aelric’s torn and bloodstained clothes.

  Aelric smiled back in relief, happy she hadn’t taken offense. “I’m just glad Ethin recognized me.”

  “That was a stroke of luck,” agreed Karaliene. She paused, looking at Wirr. “What of the others you were traveling with?”

  “Taeris and Caeden went to Tol Athian, to see if they are willing to restore Caeden’s memories,” said Wirr. He looked at the ground. “Davian… didn’t make it.”

  Karaliene’s smile slipped. “I’m so sorry, Tor.”

  There was silence for a few moments, and then Karaliene glanced up at Aelric. “You know who this is now?”

  Aelric just nodded, looking slightly abashed.

  “Good. Then I don’t need to tell you again how important it is to keep the details of your journey a secret?”

  “No. We won’t say anything,” Aelric assured her.

  Karaliene nodded her acknowledgement, then looked at Dezia, smiling. “I’ll hear all about the trip later, I’m sure… but first I should catch up with Torin.”

  Dezia inclined her head, then grabbed her brother and pulled him out of the room.

  “So,” Karaliene sighed once they had left. “It seems I owe you an apology.”

  Wirr raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “You warned me about the Boundary. Weeks before the invasion.” Karaliene grimaced. “I should have listened.”

  “You believe me now?”

  “I believe at least some of it—and I’d be foolish not to at least consider the rest. There have been no signs of any dar’gaithin, but the things we’ve been hearing about the Blind…” Karaliene shook her head.

  “And my father?”

  “Isn’t sure what to think at the moment. I told him you’d ended up in Desriel because you were investigating the Boundary, and that you’d promised to explain everything to him when you got back. That at least got him thinking about where the Blind might be from.” She looked him in the eye. “He’s going to want to know everything, Tor.”

  “I know. But I’ve already figured out how to tell him most of the story, without letting on about Taeris and Caeden.” Wirr hesitated. “I assume you didn’t tell him…?”

  Karaliene snorted. “That you were traveling with a man he’d sentenced to death? Of course not.”

  “Goo
d.” Wirr exhaled. “Because I told Taeris to come here, if he wasn’t successful at the Tol. I told him that we might be able to help… convince the Council of Caeden’s importance, if necessary.” He held up his hand as Karaliene made to protest. “Only if they fail, in which case they’ll have no other option. I didn’t offer without giving it some serious consideration, Kara. We both know that there are ways you can pressure the Tol without ever having your name brought into it.” He stared at her pleadingly, willing her to understand. “Caeden’s key to all this; we need to help them any way we can. As long as they both stay out of Administration’s sight, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Except that I will knowingly be giving one accused mass murderer, and one convicted one, free access to the city!” Karaliene looked at him in disbelief. “I said that I believed there was something to Sarr’s claims, not that I thought he was in any way trustworthy. I don’t feel comfortable with this, Tor.”

  Wirr grimaced. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to do this—hated the thought of tainting Davian’s name even just with Karaliene, who hadn’t known him. But Davian was dead, and Taeris and Caeden needed help.

  He took a deep breath. “Taeris made a false confession, three years ago. He didn’t kill those men.” He quickly, bleakly explained the true events of that day to Karaliene, who listened to the story in silence.

  “You believe him?” she asked once he was finished.

  “Yes. It all fits—everything from why Administration thought he’d broken the First Tenet, to how he got his scars.”

  Karaliene sighed. “It would explain much,” she admitted, still sounding reluctant. “It’s hard for me to make a judgment for myself—but if you honestly believe that’s the truth, then I will, too. Should Taeris and Caeden require it I will reach out to some of my contacts, see how much we can lean on the Council without them knowing who’s behind it.” She frowned at him. “But before I do that, I expect to speak to your new friends. My help will be conditional. And I hope neither of our fathers find out, else fates save us both.”

  Wirr exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Kara. I owe you,” he said sincerely. Then he leaned forward in his seat. “How is your father?”

  Karaliene looked sick. “What have you heard?”

  “That he’s been ranting against the Gifted. That it doesn’t seem like he will be willing to change the Tenets, no matter the cost.” Wirr frowned. “It doesn’t sound like him.”

  Karaliene sighed. “It’s not,” she said, pain evident in her voice. “He’s… sick, I think. I can’t explain it. One moment he’ll be fine—almost normal—and then the next he’ll fly into a rage. He’s always tired, and paranoid about everything and everyone. Especially Tol Athian. When word of the invasion came, he thought it was a trick. A trick by the Gifted to get him to change the Tenets.” She shivered. “That was his first thought.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “I don’t know.” Karaliene rubbed her forehead. “He refuses to believe the Blind are a real threat to the city, despite what they’ve done so far. He virtually ignores your father, and I’m finding it harder and harder to get past his guards to see him, too. He won’t even listen to Laiman Kardai half the time, and those two have been friends for near twenty years.” She hesitated. “He sweats, his skin is gray, he often doesn’t eat his meals. People are saying it’s just stress, but… I’m worried.”

  Wirr felt a chill. “You think the Blind have something to do with it?”

  Karaliene gestured. “I don’t know; that’s the problem. I tried talking to him about it, and he just laughed it off.” Her face twisted. “And I daren’t bring it up with any of the Houses.”

  “Not if you don’t want a coup on top of everything else,” agreed Wirr.

  Karaliene nodded tiredly. “So there you have it—it’s been a long couple of weeks. But fates, it’s good to have you back. I’ve missed you.”

  Wirr grinned. “Missed you, too, Kara.” He raised an eyebrow. “So what now?”

  Karaliene gave the ghost of a smile. “Now, we get to have a feast to celebrate the return of Torin Andras, back from his glorious triumphs in Calandra. I’m sure the generals here will be dying to hear of your exploits.”

  Wirr groaned. “Is that really necessary? There is an army coming this way, after all.”

  Karaliene shrugged. “The Houses will think that more of a reason, not less. Partly because everyone wants a chance to become your new closest friend, of course. And partly because most of them are fools, and they’ll welcome any chance to ignore what is happening rather than confront it.”

  Wirr laughed. “It has been a rough couple of weeks, for you to talk like that.”

  Karaliene rolled her eyes. “You have no idea. They’re vultures, Tor. You would not believe the number of none too subtle offers I’ve already had to make me queen if I tell the Assembly my father’s unfit to rule. At a price once it’s done, of course.” She shook her head in disgust. “Regardless. They will all want a feast. And it will look suspicious if you return to too little fanfare.”

  “Wonderful,” said Wirr drily.

  Karaliene raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to get used to this again, you know.”

  “I know.” Wirr bit his lip. “Speaking of which… I should probably go and see my family. No one else knows I’m back except for you.”

  Karaliene smiled, her expression softening. “Of course. You must be eager to see them. And I know they will be delighted to see you. Your father’s been so worried, Torin.”

  Wirr grimaced. He wondered exactly how much trouble he was going to be in for going to Desriel. At least it would be a private scolding, he consoled himself, and only after the—hopefully happy—reunion. “Lead the way,” he said.

  Karaliene hesitated. “First let me arrange for some quarters so that you can rest. And bathe,” she added, taking in his weary expression and ragged clothing. “Your mother would likely faint if she saw you in this condition. Another hour or so of waiting won’t kill them.”

  Wirr grunted. “Good point.”

  He trailed after Karaliene, mentally steeling himself for what was to come, the whirlwind of attention and false smiles that he had dreaded for so long.

  There was no turning back now.

  * * *

  Wirr waited nervously.

  He had just spent the last two hours being clucked over by the palace tailor, an older man who had nearly had a heart attack when he’d seen what the prince was wearing. First Wirr had been bathed by some servants—a most uncomfortable experience in and of itself—and his hair had been cut to the latest style of the city. His beard, which had grown out to be quite scraggly since Thrindar, had been trimmed down to a neat goatee.

  Then he’d been given a torrent of information regarding the latest news from Calandra, most of which he doubted he’d remember if anyone quizzed him. Still, it was enough to get by. He could always plead tiredness if the questions became too in-depth.

  Now he was waiting for his family—his father, mother, and younger sister—to come and greet him. He didn’t know whether to feel excited or anxious. Would they have changed in the last three years? Would they still see him as they once had, or had the time away colored their opinions of him?

  He fiddled with his sleeves again, frowning at the lace on the cuffs. The entire suit felt odd, uncomfortable, against his skin after so many years. It made him feel like a child again, no longer able to choose what he wore.

  The sound of the door opening made him flinch. He spun to see his father’s familiar blue-cloaked frame in the doorway, with his mother and Deldri peering in behind. They all stared for a moment, silent, each as if surprised to see the other was really there.

  Then there was a blur of motion and he was being swept up in a fierce hug by his father, squeezing out a laugh as the pressure on his ribs made it hard to breathe. Elocien had always been so reserved; this was an unexpected display of emotion, though not unwelcome. They were soon joined by t
wo more bodies as Geladra and Deldri joined in the hug, his mother emitting a couple of sobs as she held him in her arms.

  Suddenly he couldn’t keep from smiling. As much as he had dreaded returning here, he had missed his family—even his father, with whom he had never truly gotten along.

  “It’s good to see you,” he said, grinning, as they all finally separated.

  Geladra gave him an affectionate smile, dabbing at her eyes. “We’ve missed you.” She stepped back, examining him. “Calandra has been good to you, Torin. You look strong and healthy.”

  Wirr nodded, still smiling, though the comment sent a pang of guilt through him. His mother and Deldri hadn’t been told where he’d been—didn’t know, even now.

  “The last few years were more than worthwhile,” he said honestly. “You got my letters?”

  “We did,” said Deldri, her tone reproachful. “You could have described some of your battles in them, though.” Though neither his father nor his mother looked much different—a little more tired around the eyes, perhaps, and his mother with slightly more gray in her hair—the changes in Deldri were dramatic. Gone was the chubby nine-year-old, and in her place was a slim, confident-looking girl who was tall enough now to look him in the eye without craning her neck.

  Wirr smiled. “There wasn’t much to tell, really. Sometimes the barbarians attacked our fortress, but they were never organized enough to pose a real threat.”

  Deldri nodded. “I heard you came back with Aelric Shainwiere,” she said suddenly.

  Wirr blinked in surprise. “I… yes, we met on the road back.”

  “What’s he like?” Deldri leaned forward, her expression eager.

  Geladra sighed. “You can harass your brother for gossip another time,” she said in a stern tone, rolling her eyes. “We have much to catch up on.” She sat down, and everyone followed suit.

  They talked for an hour or so, soon lapsing into the comfortable style of conversation that Wirr knew came only with being related. He kept talk of Calandra to a minimum, instead focusing on what had been happening in the others’ lives. His mother and sister did most of the talking; Deldri especially chattered on for quite some time, much to Wirr’s astonishment. When he had left, she had been so quiet that he would often forget she was even there.