Hoskin took the offered book. The Trials of Bethel. Inside the front cover was tucked a note.
“Thank you for finding this book, but I meant it for you. You will find it enlightening.”
Chapter 24
The Interest Of Wizards
Alana hid from Bertha, the head maid.
Bertha didn’t realize it, of course. She thought Alana was attending to the lord wizard’s needs, and Alana didn’t want that perception of reality to change.
It was true; Alana realized she should go and see what else needed to be done after she had completed her morning duties, but frankly, that was less interesting than the book she was currently reading.
Or any book really.
Alana had made a little corner of Jyuth’s sitting room into a hidey hole of piled cushions, almost at the wizard’s insistence, and now spent her free time reading whatever book had currently caught her eye.
She was no longer afraid of going to the library to retrieve a book to read, though she did try to avoid Chancellor Hoskin if he was there. She had worked out that using Jyuth’s name as a reason to be collecting a particular title would appease anyone who questioned her, and she always made sure to identify the name of the next book for the next visit.
For the past couple of days, Alana had been working her way through Flora, Fauna, and Families of the Wild Continent. Two weeks ago, she had never seen anyone from the Wild Continent, let alone knew anyone, but now there were two of them in her life every day.
Granted, they couldn’t be more different. Motega was outgoing and dashing, and he had saved her from that foul man, Win. Motega’s skin was peculiar, what with the white patches on his face, but it was also distinctive. Neenahwi, on the other hand, seemed to be in a state of flux the whole time with her father: angry at him for something, but also frustrated with herself. Oh, she seemed pleasant enough. She hadn’t shouted at Alana all of these days when visiting Jyuth. In fact, she’d directed all of her anger at her father.
So, that’s why that particular book had caught her eye, but it wasn’t keeping her attention. It was a recent work, written by a traveling scholar within the past ten years, copied for the Kingshold library. So far, the book was focused on the flora, whereas Alana was most interested in the study of the people. She could skip to that section, but the luxury of being able to read whatever books she liked was still so new it almost seemed disrespectful to the author, the copyist, and the book itself, not to read every word.
As she read through the entry for the Greater Purple Wort, her mind began to wander again. Sitting there in her little spot with the sounds of Jyuth’s and Neenahwi’s murmuring coming from the bare meditation room one room over, the book in her hand, she thought about the past two weeks that had not only brought her into contact with new, exotic people, but also brought new opportunities and dangers.
It wasn’t so long ago she and Petra struggled to put food on the table after their parents died. Odd jobs and the charity of their neighbors kept them alive and from turning to less savory ways of earning necessary coin.
Alana’s job at the palace, and then a steady series of promotions, had brought some stability to their lives and enabled her to pay back the kindness of others. And then Petra had also gotten work at the Royal Oak, and now she’d met Mareth, and it made Alana so glad to see her sister happy. She supposed one day they’d get married, and then Alana would truly be alone.
Not that Petra thought that day was coming soon. This morning some of the happiness had left her, replaced by uncertainty if she was good enough for the newly unveiled Lord Bollingsmead. Alana had laughed when Petra had brought it up after Mareth’s return. Not from a lack of empathy, of course, more at the absurdity of how her sister—who had always been the tall and beautiful one—could have discovered anxiety. Alana had reassured Petra that Mareth wasn’t like other nobles. She knew the real him.
Alana hoped that was true.
Petra was the older sister, but it had always been Alana who had looked after the two of them. Their parents loved them both, but Alana knew in some ways they loved Petra more. Petra would ask for things, small things, nothing grand, and her parents would try their hardest to give it to her. It had made her confident that if she wanted something, there was no reason why she couldn’t have it.
As a child, Alana didn’t ask for things; she asked questions, instead. But the answers she received left her unfulfilled for the most part.
Why do we live in the Narrows? Because we’re lucky for what we have.
Why can’t I keep going to school? Because we don’t need to have learning for the jobs Arloth has in mind for us.
Why do we struggle? Because some people are chosen to be kings or lords, soldiers, or thinkers. And some of us are not selected in this life, so we work hard to be chosen in the next.
All of these answers felt wrong to Alana, even as a child. They screamed she had to stay in her place. But why did she have to accept that?
She didn’t.
Surely her current situation showed her that was true. Right now, she was being paid to read books! How that would shock her mother. Alana had taken risks to get here, so why shouldn’t she take more? Could she leave her current situation behind to follow what her heart was calling her to do? She thought Jyuth would understand, she just needed to bring it up with him.
“Alana!” called the wizard from the adjoining room. “Work has made my daughter hungry and me thirsty. Bring lunch.”
Well, if that wasn’t a sign, she didn’t know what was.
She returned from the kitchen with fresh vegetables from the palace gardens, a selection of hard and soft cheeses, bread, and two roasted duck legs, along with an opened bottle of ale from the cellar. Knocking on the door to Jyuth’s meditation room, she didn’t stop for an answer, walking in and placing the tray directly on the floor between the improbable father and daughter.
“Thank you, Alana; it looks delicious,” said Neenahwi, looking up into her eyes with a smile. After their first meeting, when Neenahwi was blinded by rage, it seemed as if she had been making an extra attempt to be considerate. Or maybe that was how she normally was, but in Alana’s experience, it wasn’t true for most palace guests.
“Well done, my girl,” said Jyuth with gusto, patting his belly in anticipation of lunch. “A perfect feast to keep the brain ticking over. A thousand thanks.”
Alana stood there looking at the two of them. Not sure if she was dismissed, but also not wanting to be. She needed to talk to Jyuth, and even though she could see he was busy, she was afraid she wouldn’t have the courage to bring this up again later.
“Yes, Alana? Is there something else?”
“No, my lord. Well, yes. I mean, if you don’t mind me taking a moment to talk about something.” Alana’s eyes flitted from the wizard to the daughter, seeing a kind smile on her face. “Or I can come back later when you are not so busy, of course.”
Jyuth laughed and patted the stone floor. “It seems like you have something to get off your chest, my girl. And I have always found it’s better to pluck a flower when it’s blooming than wait for it to wither on the vine. But sit! I’ll have a damnable crick in my neck if I have to keep looking up at you.” Alana sat cross-legged. There was no third cushion for her, but the cold stone on her legs and buttocks was calming. “So, what do you have to say?” asked Jyuth.
“Well, my lord, I don’t know if you are aware, but a new candidate is standing for lord protector. Lord Bollingsmead.”
“Yes, of course,” said the wizard, nodding. “I received a message from Lady Grey this morning. It seems like she is quick to align to a new candidate. I don’t think I have met him, though. What of him?”
“Do you also remember the night when I was attacked? How I told you I joined a meeting with a bard named Mareth and the district supervisors to see how we could organize the people?”
“Alana, I may be centuries old, but I’m not senile.”
“Of course not, my l
ord! Well, it’s just they are the same person. Mareth is Lord Bollingsmead. And Lady Grey and the rest of us convinced him to stand as a candidate we could believe in. He’s a good man.”
“Well, well, well. I didn’t see that coming. I know someone else who’s looking for a more decent candidate, too,” he said as he looked at Neenahwi and winked. “So, what of this Lord Bard Mareth Bollingsmead?”
Alana took a deep breath and blurted it all out at once, “I want to leave the palace until after the election and help with the organizing because Lady Grey said she would pay me, and I enjoy it so much, and I think I can make a difference!” She had been looking at the floor the whole time while she got her words out there, the weight of them pushing down her head. Once they were released, she felt light as duck down. Looking up, afraid to see anger on the wizard’s face, she instead saw a quizzical expression.
“My, two surprises in one day. Two surprises in five minutes! Ha! That’s why I like you, Alana. But if you were to go, who would look after me?”
The lightness evaporated. Jyuth wasn’t going to let her go.
“On the other hand, though, this Mareth could well do with an advisor like you. You have to spin the wheel to win some of the time,” he said. He sat for a moment considering his response. “How about this? You’ll come to the palace each morning, attend to my breakfast and lunch and do whatever else you do to make this place inhabitable. And then each afternoon you can do as you wish.”
A broad smile grew on Alana’s face. “Thank you so much, my lord. I will be in extra early to make sure all is in order.”
“Of course. And, of course, you’ll be able to keep me informed as to what is going on out there in the city, eh?” Now, it was Alana’s turn to receive a wink.
Neenahwi had been sitting there quietly through this exchange, her head turning to look at the servant and the master and their most unusual conversation. “Alana, can you tell me more about this Mareth?”
Alana explained all that had happened the past two weeks, meeting Mareth through her sister, their ideas after Hoxteth’s death, to the recent developments of working with Lady Grey. She explained how Mareth had been the center of the group that gathered, his voice truly enchanting at times, but also how his uncertainties appeared as strengths to her. Lady Grey was supporting them financially, with a strategy to attract the merchants and maybe some of the nobles. There was Jules, the owner of the Royal Oak, which had become headquarters for the campaign, and then there were the three adventurers who had saved her the night when she was attacked. Neenahwi listened to it all intently.
“And one of the three who saved me is also from the Wild Continent,” said Alana.
“Pardon, Alana. Did you say he is from the Wild Continent? How do you know?” asked Neenahwi.
“Oh, we were talking, and he told me so. But his skin is different than yours. It’s piebald.”
Neenahwi’s eyes widened, and she looked lost for words. Turning to Jyuth, she said, “Did you know about this, Father?”
“No, I didn’t think to ask about the people who had saved her. I was more interested in flaying Aebur’s hide,” he said calmly and with the same recognition Neenahwi had. “Well, well, three surprises all over one lunchtime. I do hope this won’t give me indigestion.”
“What is his name, Alana?” Neenahwi turned back to face her, even more interested than before.
“It’s Motega, my lady. Do you know him?”
“You could say that, Alana. You know, I think it’s time I met this bard who would be the protector. Enjoy your lunch, Father. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going to take your little bundle of surprises with me, by the way. Get started right away on her afternoon-off plan.” Neenahwi gracefully got to her feet while Alana remained seated, a little unsure of how this discussion had gone so well.
Neenahwi stopped by the door and looked back at Alana. “Well? Are you coming?” Alana scrambled to her feet and hurried after her.
Alana sat at the bar, watching Neenahwi talk with Mareth at their usual table at the back of the common room. The two young women had walked through the city together, Alana surprised that Lady Neenahwi didn’t have a carriage. Alana answered many questions during their walk, about Mareth, and her life, but she found the conversation to be easy and relaxed.
After arriving at the Royal Oak, Alana introduced Neenahwi to Mareth, but she was asked to give them privacy to talk. Initially, she had felt a little put out at being excluded, but sitting on her perch, a wooden stool worn shiny through years of use, while drinking a cup of watered wine, had given her a few precious moments to relax.
“Who is that, Alana?” asked Jules from behind the bar, walking over after dealing with a group of merchants sitting down for a late lunch.
“That’s Jyuth’s daughter. Lady Neenahwi.” Alana’s gaze remained fixed on the two.
“His daughter? Is she a wizard, too?”
“I’m not sure.” Alana turned to face the landlady. “I haven’t seen her do anything, but I don’t know if I would want to either. She does spend a lot of time meditating with Jyuth, so I would wager so.”
“And what does she want with our Mareth?”
“I’m not sure. I think she may have met with all of the other candidates. I guess she gets a vote, too. She was very interested in him, and it didn’t sound like she was a fan of the others.”
Jules made a little noise of acknowledgment, and then carried on looking after her customers. Alana turned back to the talking couple when she heard the door open behind her back.
Neenahwi looked up and over Mareth’s shoulder in the direction of the main entrance, maintaining her gaze, clearly distracted. For a moment, Neenahwi didn’t say anything, and Mareth, too, twisted ’round in his seat.
“Florian! Trypp!” Neenahwi called across the room.
Swiveling on her stool, Alana saw the tall, dark-skinned Trypp mouthing a curse to the big fighter.
“And where is my brother?” asked Neenahwi. Florian stepped aside, and Motega appeared, flipping down his hood.
“Sis!” he said, smiling. “I was just about to come and visit you.”
Neenahwi held his gaze. She wasn’t smiling.
Chapter 25
Reunions
He actually had been intending to see his sister.
At some point, anyway. He wasn’t going to leave the city again without at least seeing how she was doing. But he thought he’d have time to prepare himself for that talk.
Motega had played it through his mind multiple times since he’d boarded the ship from Carlburg bound for Kingshold, and the funny thing was the more he thought about it, the worse the twisting in his stomach became. He wasn’t one to be nervous before a battle, or fighting some beast, or conducting some daring heist, so it was confusing as to why the prospect of seeing the person he loved more than anyone else in the whole world filled him with dread.
He guessed it was because he was afraid he was a disappointment to his sister.
But when he saw her, sitting there at the table under which his feet had started to feel comfortable, he was only filled with joy. This was his sister, even more grown into womanhood now, but to him, she was still the girl who had comforted him as they’d fled the destruction wrought on their village and who had planned with him how they would have their revenge.
She looked the same, just more so now. More confident. More dangerous. More like she was ready to kick his arse.
“Sis! I was just about to come and visit you!”
“Bullshit, little brother.” There never was much hope of tricking her, and that lie was pretty transparent. “You and I need to have words. Stand there and don’t move.”
Florian and Trypp both turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. The looks on their faces read a combination of ‘good luck’ and ‘you’re on your own’. Funny how the pair of them had always been afraid of her, too.
Neenahwi turned her attention back to Mareth. “Bard, thank you for the time. You’re an inte
resting man. I don’t know you yet, but I think you might hold some promise. Can we talk again soon?”
“Of course. It’s been a pleasure to talk to you, too,” Mareth said, giving a little bow, “and I’ll do whatever I can to secure your support. We have a lot to do and not a lot of time.”
“That’s very true,” she said, and then walked over to Motega. “Now you. Do you have somewhere here where we can talk in private? Not that it’s not lovely to see you two,” she said to Florian and Trypp. “I’m delighted to see you both are still in one piece.”
“We have a room upstairs. Follow me,” said Motega. “Trypp, can you give Mareth the update in case I’m not able to make it downstairs after she’s done with me?” Still smiling, he took Neenahwi’s hand and led her up the stairs to the room he shared with his friends. “Neenahwi, you are looking radiant.”
“Save the flattery. But you are looking well, too. Shit, Motega, you’ve grown up! You were a stripling when you left.” They entered his small room, the three beds distributed around the chamber, with a chest at the foot of each. The beds were made and gear put away. It almost looked vacant. “Well, this is a lot tidier than your room used to be. You have changed.”
“Florian’s a bit of a neat freak. That’s probably a good thing, though. In rooms this small, it can get real messy real quick.”
They looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then Neenahwi took a step forward and wrapped her arms around her brother. He returned the hug.
“I missed you so much.” She sniffed.
“I missed you, too, Neenahwi,” he croaked, a lump in his throat making it difficult to get the words out. They embraced for a while, Motega thinking about all of the times he’d fallen asleep in her arms over the years, how she smelled the same, felt so familiar even after ten years away. Then she pushed him gently by the shoulders and looked into his eyes again, tears streaked down both their faces.
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