Rinan stared into the fireplace, watching the dancing flames. “We hadn’t decided on a name. We had several ideas, but we hadn’t picked one. We thought we had more time to decide.”
Nadia didn’t press her son for details; she was relieved he was beginning to talk about it at all. Over the last few days, she had gathered that his wife had been in an accident that caused her to go into early labor and that she had died during childbirth. Rinan still blamed himself for not protecting her, although Nadia pointed out that accidents happen, and sometimes there was nothing that could be done.
The crackling fire and the rain falling on the roof were the only sounds that filled the room for the next several moments. Then Kelvin asked calmly, “How did your wife’s family react to the accident?”
Rinan didn’t say anything at first—he just kept staring into the fire. Finally, he said, “I’m sure you knew that her mother, father, and grandfather had both died previously. Eliana had aunts and uncles, but—”
“Wait a moment,” Kelvin interrupted. “Your wife’s name was Eliana? As in Queen Eliana?”
Rinan looked from the fire to his parents. “I told you I was in charge of protecting her, so I thought you knew that when I spoke of my wife, I was referring to Eliana. We married in private, and the marriage between her and King Daimh was a sham.”
“We heard that the child had died. Who else knows that the child actually survived?” Kelvin asked, his voice taking on a more urgent tone.
“Just me, Priest Sherwyn, and Eliana’s nursemaid, Anemone. They were the only two in the castle who knew Eliana and I were married. They won’t tell anyone.”
The baby in Nadia’s arms started to stir. She began rocking him again, but then said, “Rinan, you should hold him.” She held out the bundled child to her son.
Looking somewhat uncomfortable, Rinan did his best to rock the baby as his mother had.
“Does anyone else know you came here?” Kelvin asked.
“No… I don’t think so. Why?”
Kelvin blew out a long breath. “Son, you’re not safe here.”
Rinan looked up from the baby in his arms. “What?”
“I know you have a lot on your mind, but consider this—if the king finds out this child survived, he’s going to think you kidnapped his child. If he finds out the truth, that you are the father, well, how do you think he will react?”
Rinan’s face went pale. “I didn’t think—”
“Did you bring anything with you from the castle?” Kelvin interrupted.
He paused for a moment as if in thought. “Aside from my clothes and my son, I only took my sword and my wife’s copy of the Tome of Laws. I thought it was important that our child learn to read, and it was the one book I could take quickly when I left.”
“May I see it?” Kelvin asked.
Rinan nodded, then got up and retrieved the book.
His father took it from him and opened the cover. “See, the opening page has the symbol of royalty on it. There are some words here—can you read these?” He pointed to the text and the symbol of royalty drawn next to it.
Rinan leaned over and read, “This copy of the Tome of Laws belongs to Eliana, daughter of King Kenrik and Queen Lareyna.”
“It would be best if this page wasn’t left in,” Kelvin said. “With the page gone, the ownership wouldn’t be in question, and it’s one less thing that can be used against you.”
Kelvin ripped the page out, and Rinan looked as if part of his soul was being torn away. “I never meant for any of this to happen,” he said dejectedly. “I can’t let my mistakes hurt anyone else. But I don’t know what to do.”
“Tevoil,” Nadia said abruptly, snapping her fingers.
Kelvin nodded. “Yes, that would work.”
Rinan looked puzzled. “Tevoil?”
“I had a cousin, George was his name, who used to live in the district of Tevoil,” his father said. “He passed away recently, and because he had no family of his own, we were given ownership of his farm. We were going to give it to you when you retired. It’s far back in the forest. You and your son could make a life for yourselves there. No one will think to look for you in Tevoil, and we certainly won’t tell anyone.”
Rinan looked down at his son. The baby had his mother’s blonde hair and blue eyes. “But I don’t know anything about raising a child. I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You’ll manage. He’s a good baby,” Nadia said. “Have you noticed how he likes to hear the rain? The other day, the sun was shining brightly. He was being fussy, but out of nowhere came a light rain, even though the sun was still shining. It was amazing—he calmed right down.”
Rinan felt a warm sensation wash over him when he considered what his mother had said. “That’s it.” He smiled down at his son.
“What’s it?” Nadia asked.
“You’ve helped me realize what I should name him,” Rinan said. “My son’s name is Rayne.”
CHAPTER 10
“What is it supposed to be?” Governor Eadward asked, clearly confused.
Garth stood proudly next to his latest tree sculpture. “What do you think it is?”
Eadward furrowed his brow. The tree had been meticulously trimmed, the two main branches intertwining in a complex pattern. “I honestly have no idea.”
Garth looked at Eadward, at the tree, and then back at Eadward. “It’s ‘joy!’”
Eadward crossed his arms and frowned. “You can’t sculpt joy.”
“But—” Garth motioned to the large tree next to him “—I did.”
Blinking in disbelief at the gardener, Eadward said, “I’ve been the governor of Lewyol for over two years now, and I still do not understand you people.”
“You don’t like it?”
The portly governor waved a hand to dismiss the notion. “No, no. It’s fine.” Indicating the area around him, he said, “Everything in my garden is fine. I just don’t understand why anyone would put so much effort into, well, a tree.”
“Do you feel my efforts were wasted?” Garth asked.
“Not wasted,” Eadward replied, “just misdirected. You can’t sell the tree, and you aren’t making any money from showing off the tree, so why spend all that time on something that won’t bring you any gain?”
Garth wiped the dirt off his hands, “Ah, you do not see the tree after all.”
“D–don’t see?” Eadward stammered. “It’s right here in front… bah! Never mind.” With that, Governor Eadward turned and walked out of the garden, shaking his head.
***
Iolanthe loved her husband, Garth, but even she had to admit he was a little off. It was as if he looked at life with eyes that saw things differently than everyone else. He was smart enough to have been a savant and strong and quick enough to have been a guardian, but instead, he chose the life of a gardener.
He was quite good at it—he really was. Garth’s work had been noticed several years ago by Governor Elric and had made such an impression that he was asked to design and care for a garden at the governor’s house.
Recently a noble visited the garden and was very impressed. Word spread quickly among the more affluent people in the kingdom, and the garden had become one of the distinguishing attractions in all of the district of Lewyol. Anyone who traveled through the area made it a point to stop by and see it. Ironically, Governor Eadward once discouraged the effort put into the garden, but since it had become popular, he now took credit for it.
The garden reflected Garth’s quirky personality. The curving paths that ran through the garden often led to isolated spots where a person could sit and think—at least, that was her husband’s intention. Even though the garden wasn’t terribly large, it was big enough that you could get lost if you were not paying attention to where you were going.
On one occasion, some visiting nobles had lost their daughter for a time in the garden. They called upon Garth to help find their young child. To hear him tell of the incident, he took a mome
nt to walk the main path that led to each end, turned around, walked roughly a third of the way back in, took several side paths, and found her sitting under a large, sculpted tree, humming lightly to herself and looking at the greenery around her. The nobles were relieved, and when they asked how Garth knew where to find her, he said, “Because if I was a little girl her age, this is where I would go.”
He always said things like that. That was part of his charm, but it confused people who didn’t know him.
When they had their first child, there had been quite the discussion on what to name the baby. Iolanthe had a few ideas, but Garth didn’t seem interested in any of them. They still hadn’t decided when their baby boy arrived. Holding the newborn in her arms, Iolanthe said to her husband, “If you don’t decide on a name, I’m going to pick one.”
“No need,” he had said. “It’s obvious what he should be named.”
“Oh? And what is that?” she had asked.
“Oakleaf.”
So, they had a two-and-a-half-year-old running around named Oakleaf. The name actually fit somehow, although Iolanthe couldn’t explain why.
And now, as she was about to give birth to their second child, she wondered what they would name the baby. She had brought it up once before, and Garth’s response was, “Yes, I’m curious to know what the baby’s name will be as well.”
Another intense cramp, followed by a desire to push, let Iolanthe know she wouldn’t have to wait much longer to find out.
***
Bertram flexed his fingers, trying to ease the stiffness in his hand. He glanced at the candle on his desk and noted it had melted quite a bit since he checked it last, but this was nothing new. He often lost track of time when he was writing. Each savant was required to spend time every day copying books to be used by future generations. He was currently working on chapter eleven of the Tome of Laws, and, as instructed, was being very careful to make sure he was copying the text word for word. When he reached paragraph nineteen, he again noticed what seemed to be a missing word. He read the words again carefully to make sure.
It said, An arranged marriage will (turning the page) selected by a Shoginoc.
When he had discovered this anomaly a couple of years ago, he had checked several books, and they were all the same. It was possible that a savant from years ago had made a mistake and then it was diligently copied for years. Because the missing word was between pages, Bertram could see how the omission had been made. Or perhaps that is just the way it was written, but somehow he didn’t think that was it. Everything else in the book was written very properly, so it was hard to believe the authors would miss this.
The oldest copy in the library was ninety years old. He had checked that one, and it matched the other books. Perhaps there was an older copy of the Tome of Laws stored somewhere in the castle that he could check. But where would he start to look? Looking down at his fingernails, he tried to find one that hadn’t been chewed on recently as he puzzled over the issue.
***
The room was huge. It was so large, in fact, that it made Bertram feel rather small in comparison. The walls were lined with shelves that ran to the ceiling, two stories high. Rolled-up tapestries were scattered around the floor. Many were in front of the shelves, sometimes stacked two or three high.
“If what you seek exists,” Magistrate Seanan said, motioning to the room, “it would be in here.”
Bertram whistled. “What is this room?”
“It’s where things go that are deemed too valuable to destroy, but too old to be of any real use,” Seanan said. “Funny thing is that no one comes here except to put things in. Well, no one in my memory until you.”
The young savant looked around, wondering if it was worth the effort to sort through the contents just to satisfy his curiosity. “Any idea where I should start looking?” he asked the elder magistrate.
“Well, there seem to be more books on the right side.” Seanan pointed to the left half of the room. “But I’m not aware of any rhyme or reason to how things were placed in here.”
Bertram took a few steps into the room. Near the ceiling were windows that let in bright beams of sunshine, dust visibly swirling in a mist. Turning in a circle, he tried to decide where to begin. Nothing grabbed his attention, so he decided to start at the top of the shelves and work his way down.
He grabbed a ladder. “Thank you again for your help, Seanan. This may take a while.”
The elderly savant chuckled. “Oh, yes, I’m sure of it. It would take years to go through everything in this room.”
***
Anemone touched the guardian’s hand, and even though she did so gently, the young man flinched in pain.
“Just relax,” she said, taking his hand again. “It appears your index finger is broken. Let me guess—it was from today’s sparring contest.”
The guardian bit his lower lip and nodded.
Anemone sighed as she retrieved a length of cloth from one of the dresser drawers and proceeded to wrap the guardian’s first two fingers together. “It may never be the same,” she said while tying off the cloth, “but at least this will help it heal somewhat straight.”
Leading him to the door, the nursemaid said, “No more contests for you for several weeks.”
As she let the guardian out of the room, Anemone was surprised to see Priest Sherwyn waiting for her. “Sherwyn, what brings you here? Are you in need of care?”
The bald man smiled sheepishly before he stood up and came to the door. “I’m afraid that I am.”
“Come in, come in.”
Sherwyn thanked her upon entering the room.
“So, what can I do for you?” Anemone asked, looking at the priest from head to toe.
He held out his hand. “I was walking down the stairs and slipped. When I grabbed the railing, I was able to catch myself, but not before getting this sliver under my fingernail.”
“Well, at least it isn’t an injury from one of the weekly contests.” Anemone frowned. “I swear that ever since Captain Sullivan took over, the contests have become more violent. Poor Royal Guardian Benjamin even lost a finger off his right hand last week.”
Sherwyn grimaced. “I heard about that. Have you also noticed a change in how the guardians are acting?”
Anemone inspected the priest’s fingernail. “Yes, I have. It’s as if they are no longer focused on helping others, but are more interested in flaunting their supposed power.”
“I’d say that is an astute assessment,” Sherwyn said. “And since Councilor Abrecan has nearly doubled the number of guardians in the last few years, it seems you can’t go anywhere without being harassed by one of them.”
The nursemaid went to the hearth and removed a pot of warm water. “When I went into town the other day to get more blankets and bandages, I saw a guardian backhand one of the local merchants. From what I could tell, the merchant was complaining about his taxes being nearly doubled, and when he grumbled about it, the guardian hit him. Of course, when the issue was brought up in court, Abrecan supported the guardian’s actions.”
Sherwyn hung his head. “I’ve heard similar stories.”
She poured the warm water into a bowl, then moved the priest’s hand into it to soak. “The tricky thing about slivers is that once they get imbedded, they can be hard to get out. If left unattended, they can cause a sickness that spreads throughout the body.”
“I tried everything I could to get it out, but nothing I did seem to make a difference,” he said.
Anemone smiled. “Sometimes it takes something you wouldn’t expect to solve the problem. We’ll soak your hand in warm water until it becomes wrinkled, and then soak it in cold water. You’ll find the sliver will eventually be expelled by your body.”
***
Seven remarkably beautiful young women stood in a line, each smiling her prettiest smile. They wore long dresses of a similar cut, each a different color to reflect the girl’s home district.
“Welcome, eve
ryone!” Abrecan said to the crowd assembled in the large field usually used for the yearly guardian competitions. His greeting was answered with cheers, though not at all exuberant.
“Today we will find out who will have the honor of marrying your own King Daimh.”
Another half-hearted cheer seemed to be largely ignored by Abrecan.
“Congratulations again,” he said, turning to the women in front of him. “You were selected as the most beautiful women in your districts. It is a great honor for you to meet the king and have a chance to become his wife.”
The women tittered nervously.
“I know you are all anxious to meet King Daimh. Remember, he will be selecting a bride based on the impression you make on him. Good luck to all of you.”
Abrecan stepped back and motioned with his hand. A couple of guardians opened the flaps of a large crimson tent. Wearing his crown of gold with sapphires and holding an ornate ruby-studded silver scepter, King Daimh strutted onto the field. A group of minstrels broke into song as the king walked.
To OUR great King Daimh, we sing!
Of HIM, we spend time boas-ting!
His deeds are renown,
He honors the crown.
He IS quite sublime—our king!
The seven young women all stood a bit taller, several arching their backs slightly as the king approached. Daimh flashed a grin, his deep dimples showing prominently.
“Hello, ladies,” he said. “I have two simple questions for each of you. First, what is your name? And second, why do you think I should choose you?”
The king started with the woman on the far right, whose bright orange dress indicated she was from Grenoa.
“My name is Azalea, Your Majesty.” The red-haired beauty curtseyed slightly. “You should choose me because with your help, I will make Bariwon a better place to live for everyone.”
Daimh moved down the line, the candidates’ answers varying from wanting to help rule the kingdom to being a devoted wife, and one even commented that she had always wanted to live in the castle.
The Hidden Sun (Bariwon Chronicles Book 1) Page 11