Light in the Gloaming (The Gloaming Book One)

by J. B. Simmons

  “Yes, I will take that under advisement.” Lorien breathed in deliberately. Andor was alive and well enough to take back what was rightfully his. She exhaled.

  Selia smiled at Lorien with a look of understanding.

  Lorien put every air of formality into her next words. “Thank you, Selia. You have been helpful as always. I do look forward to seeing the Icarian dresses when we next meet.”

  Selia stood. “If I may be so bold,” she said, “there is one more thing I must mention.”

  Lorien motioned for her to continue.

  “It’s a message that Wren wanted me to pass along. He said you’d know it, something an old bard once said about young love. ‘My bounty’—wait, let me make sure I get the cadence right.” Selia continued in a measured voice, “The message is,

  “My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

  My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

  The more I have, for both are infinite.”

  “Thank you again,” Lorien said, fighting back a wave of emotion. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

  “Farewell, my dear lady.” Selia bowed and walked out.

  When she could no longer hear Selia’s steps, Lorien fled to her bedroom and closed the door behind her, shutting out the maids. She let go of the joyous tears she had held back. Andor was alive, and his message meant he would return and they would marry. Her Icarian dress would not be ready in time.

  Chapter 20

  FEAR MONGERING

  “The essential vice,

  the utmost evil, is pride.

  It is the complete

  anti-God state of mind.”

  Ramzi was not looking forward to Tryst’s visit. He would be in a foul mood, returning to Valemidas without the head of the Icarian leader. He would not have set off to conquer the insignificant city if conquering meant only another subservient outpost. And, if Ramzi’s reports were right, a leader had sprung up against Tryst’s will. It certainly did not help that the leader was rumored to look like Andor.

  Ramzi still could not believe that it was possible to escape the Gloaming. But what if the deposed prince had? We can recover that ground, Ramzi thought. He and his followers would find Andor and assassinate him. His god had answered his prayers before, and he would do so again. More sacrifices to the Gloaming would be needed. No more leaving anything to chance.

  Tryst’s journey had also brought successes. He had won his victory over Icaria, and there was no question that the city served him. The only question now was how obedient it would be. Those were the perfect ingredients for exporting a noble house to deal with the frozen place. And Tryst had subtly grabbed power in Albemarle. That town was a plump treasure—much finer than Icaria—and Tryst could perhaps even satisfy Sir Talnor by giving him control there. Tryst could quickly steamroll a few closer villages to clear out other nobles.

  Yes, Ramzi assured himself, we will dismantle the nobles and eliminate the limits they impose on the prince. That was the only sure way to his victory. When Tryst gained complete control, then Ramzi believed his god would give him control over Tryst. Control must reside in the ultimate source of power. Ramzi would convince Tryst to swear fealty to his Sunan people if they invaded. If they did not invade, Ramzi and his god would be the master of this city. Valemidas would be a city of power, control, and obedience.

  So it was not the nobles, the Sunans, or even Andor that troubled Ramzi most. Instead it was the weak loyalty and faith of the Valemidans. They had bristled at Ramzi’s guidance, shunning the regulations designed to make their lives better. These were little things. If they signed up for identification numbers as demanded, then the city would have a full registry of inhabitants. If he had a full registry, then Ramzi could ensure that everyone cooperated with giving first sons to the Lycurgus. The Lycurgus would be faithful to Tryst and to him, which would ensure unity and discipline and peace. Ramzi could not understand why the people rebelled—his rules were for their own good.

  Whatever their reasons, Ramzi would need to report a few failures to Tryst. It did not bode well, as the prince had already seemed less appreciative of Ramzi’s guidance in recent messages.

  He considered again the ways he might phrase his report. The word “failure” surely would not be said, nor would “rebelled.” He would explain to Tryst that the people were just taking time to come around. All of his new laws made sense, and the people would come to understand that. Indeed, yesterday Ramzi had ordered that all the older children of Valemidas be schooled in the virtues of the new system. They would be taught a more orderly life, because it would be a safer life. Maybe change could not be finished in the short time while Tryst was gone, but at least the right changes had started. If the people could not be faithful by their own willpower, his laws would make them.

  Ramzi heard a knock on the door behind him. He had instructed his clerks to inform him as soon as the prince had gone to his chambers. “You may enter,” he said as he turned. The man who sauntered through the door was the last man Ramzi would have expected.

  “Ramzi, good evening!” Jacodin Talnor smelled of ale but had clear eyes. “You sure don’t look happy to see me. Were you expecting your dear prince?” Ramzi stared down the pompous young lord, who took a seat in the lone chair of the chamber, without asking. It seemed the night was not too young for a loose tongue and intentional mocking.

  Noticing the sword at Jacodin’s side, Ramzi first deflated his own tension. As much as he would like to belittle the noble’s son, he could not risk a fight. He leaned against the window, facing the young man. “Jacodin Talnor, I always liked you half as much as a noble’s son, and now it seems you are a knight. Did you kill any Icarians?”

  The question had its effect. “Well, no,” Jacodin stammered, “or not directly anyway, I mean, I was there for the battle. You should have seen the men of Valemidas storm the walls. We crushed them!”

  “No doubt,” Ramzi said. “But now you interrupt your celebrations to visit me. Why do I deserve such an honor?”

  “Ramzi, you’re a dark one. Never up for fun, are you? Anyway, yes, this is my first night back in Valemidas and the Prince is throwing the first feast for the nobles in honor of the victory. I was just warming up for the party when my father gave me a message. He insisted that I deliver it to you in person. It’s not about the Icarians. Whatever the point, here are the words of Sir Ryn Talnor. He said to tell you that—it was something about—” The boy belched before he could finish his sentence.

  “Out with it!” Ramzi did not have time for this imbecile.

  “My father said: ‘The gathering will be called tomorrow. House Talnor stays with you, but others are drifting. Beware of House Davosman. Much is at risk.’ That’s the message. I guess it’s up to you to figure out exactly what that means. He didn’t tell me anything else. If that’s all, then—” Jacodin stood and stretched into an arrogant pose, like a rooster about to die in a cock fight.

  “If that’s all you have for me, Jacodin, then you may leave.” Ramzi’s mind was dicing through the concerning implications of the message, and why the noble would possibly have used his son as his messenger.

  “I know I can leave, Ramzi. For a dark puppet of the Prince, you sure do pretend to have power. Don’t forget who the nobles are, Minister. I hope you’ll join the festivities tonight. You look like you could use a drink.”

  “That’s enough, Jacodin.” The boy has no discretion, Ramzi thought. He was just the kind of man who needed stronger shackles of law. “Enjoy your evening while you can,” Ramzi said as he prodded Jacodin out the door.

  Ramzi forced his mind away from the incompetent knight. The message was more important. “Others are drifting”—he pieced the words together again. They could only mean that Tryst was losing the support of the nobles.

  That could not be happening already. Ramzi’s efforts had been nothing short of groveling for the nobles. Surely they had seen his increased taxes on the people. Ramzi had not applied his laws to the no
bles’ traditions, taxes, or politics. They had served their purpose in putting Tryst in power. It was not yet time to end their purposes once and for all. No, Ramzi thought, the people must fear the prince more before he can pull his sleight of hand. Only when that fear has gripped them will the nobles be ripe for destruction. Then Tryst would truly rule this continent.

  As he began to pace, Ramzi again considered how he would present this to Tryst. It was bad enough to start with the prince’s foul mood. On top of that, Ramzi had to report on the setbacks in Valemidas. That was a simple report—the people were still learning obedience. Ramzi resolved not to mention the Talnor message to Tryst, not tonight anyway. He breathed more easily having made that decision.

  He sat in the chair that Jacodin had occupied and stared into the fire. It was burning low and needed wood. He rubbed his hands together to keep away a growing chill. Where were his clerks, anyway? Tryst must have returned to his chambers by now. He decided he would put on another log himself.

  As he rose to his feet, he felt cold hands clamp down on his shoulders and push him back to the seat.

  “I’d suggest you not try to move from that chair. I don’t want any loud noises, either. I hope you can keep your patience better than you did with that young knight. You need to tell me a few things.”

  Ramzi’s stomach roiled at the voice of Sebastian. This was not the first time he had appeared unannounced in his room. Why did the man always have to show up at his back, catching him off guard? Being around him was like sitting in a tub of cold water, under Tryst’s shadow.

  The tall man walked around Ramzi’s chair. He was wearing all black as usual. He casually picked up a round log resting by the fireplace and poked at the dwindling flames. Fear swelled inside Ramzi as each second passed in silence.

  “You see, Ramzi, if you leave a fire alone, it goes out peacefully. The coals slowly burn away, leaving only a pile of ash. You can then toss out the ash and make ready for your next fire.” He tossed the log into the fire and crouched to watch it burn. The flames licked the edges of the dry wood and ignited it, refueling the blaze.

  Ramzi felt powerless in Sebastian’s presence. There was no doubt who would win a physical struggle between them.

  Sebastian stood, took two steps closer to Ramzi, and crouched to one knee. “If you add more logs to the fire, Ramzi, it just keeps burning. The fire gets bigger, and then it’s not so easy to put out. There’s nothing peaceful about it.”

  Ramzi could not keep his patience any longer. “You are wasting my time, Sebastian. Quit hiding behind riddles. If you have no official business here, then I will be going. The Prince will want to see me tonight.”

  “You are such a fanatic that you can’t see your excesses. The Prince certainly does not want to see you tonight. You have failed miserably as his Minister. This city is boiling with discontent. The people will not abide your yoke.”

  “I did only as the Prince and I had agreed. The changes I made are minor, designed to improve the lives of the people. The Prince will understand, even if you can’t. You lurk in the darkness. I am bringing justice—law and order as revealed by my faith, which I am giving to the people. They are the ones with excesses that must be restrained. Fighting, drinking, the public show of women’s skin, disorderly streets, loud voices, unfaithful children—these vices are a plague on the people. You must know this, we share it as Sunans.” Ramzi touched the tattooed stars by his eye, hoping to remind Sebastian of his own symbol and what it meant.

  “We share nothing but the city of our birth. You are a plague on freedom, and you have left a stain on the Prince’s reputation. For that, you will be punished. I did not come here to listen to you babble about your politics. I want answers. First, what did that message from Talnor mean? Why beware of Davosman?”

  Ramzi hesitated. “That message was for me and the prince. Before I say a word, you have to show me some authority for your questions. You have no privileged position with him, compared to me.”

  “You know my authority is from the Prince,” Sebastian responded as he leaned into Ramzi’s face. He then whispered, “But tonight you will answer my questions because I will kill you if you do not.”

  Sebastian raised a curved blade, which glinted in the fire light before his eyes. “And if you do not answer my questions well enough, I will pull the answers out of you.” He leaned back against the mantle and began whittling a piece of firewood. “I will ask one more time. What was that message from Jacodin Talnor about?”

  Ramzi stammered out the rough outline of his thoughts. He was relieved that he could say without lying that he did not know exactly what the message meant. He was more relieved that Sebastian accepted the explanation.

  Sebastian sat quietly for a while before speaking again. “My second question is about Ravien. What do you know about her relationships?”

  Ramzi could not suppress a laugh. “Come on, Sebastian, what kind of question is that? You are the spy here. I know hardly a thing about the prince’s sister. She is more secretive than you are.”

  “What do you know about her relationships?”

  “I know next to nothing. I know that she wants me to know next to nothing. I will admit this, because I think many have the same story. Long ago she rejected without compromise my attempts to entreat her. No man in this city can ignore the stunning woman, but she operates as if men don’t exist, except for her brother, of course. I would love to know about her relationships. Once upon a time, I would have loved to be a part of them. But all I know about Ravien is that she holds her cards closer to her chest than anyone.”

  “What do you know about a merchant named Wren?”

  “Less than I would like. I know that he was part of the opposition to Tryst, before he became prince. I haven’t heard a thing about him in a long time. Again, you are the spy here. Why are you asking me these questions?”

  Ramzi’s question lingered unanswered. He wondered whether there was some connection between Ravien and Wren. He doubted it. She would never stoop for a merchant, particularly a greedy one opposed to her brother. Ramzi was more intrigued by Sebastian’s questions—signs of weakness. Maybe this was all bluffing by the spy. He should know better than to seek answers from the Prince’s advisor. The advisor analyzed information and guided the prince. It was Sebastian’s job to provide the information in the first place.

  Sebastian interrupted his thoughts. “One last question, Ramzi. What do you make of these rumors that Andor showed up in Icaria?”

  Ramzi jumped to his feet. “Andor is gone!” He shouted. “He is in the Gloaming, and Tryst is our prince. Even if Andor came back, he would have no power, because my god, our Sunan god, would personally see to it that he dies. His Excellency in Sunan commanded it!”

  Sebastian’s eyes burned with excitement. “Thank you, Ramzi. We are finished here. Tryst is not going to be pleased.”

  Ramzi lunged forward in anger, which was a mistake. He saw the punch coming too late. Sebastian slammed the hilt of his blade into Ramzi’s head, knocking him unconscious.

  ***

  Sebastian was pleased that Ramzi knew less than he had feared, but it was better to leave him incapacitated on the floor than free to maneuver this night. The traitor moved on to his next mission—kidnapping the prince’s sister.

  Chapter 21

  BECOMING ONE

  “Let me not to the marriage

  of true minds admit impediments.

  Love is not love which alters

  when it alteration finds.”

  Lorien thought she would never see this day, and never like this. Sebastian had appeared in her room after dusk, drugged her maids to sleep, and rappelled out of the tower with her in his arms. She had left the city hooded on the back of his horse.

  She had envisioned months to prepare for a wedding with thousands crammed into the Valemidas Cathedral. The people would have craned their necks to see her in this dress. It was structured at the top and freeform at the bottom, with infinite l
ayers of silk spilling to the ground from the bodice. A diamond pendant plunged down from her bare neck, and a silver diadem framed her hair.

  Running her hands along the white fabric, she thought of her mother who had given her the dress. It was a pleasant memory for a blink, before her thoughts bounced from her mother to her father to her half-brother. I will not let Tryst spoil this night, she told herself.

  “What ill thought just swept over your face?” Ravien asked.

  Lorien had almost forgotten she was not alone. The small stone cottage seemed like a solitary haven outside Valemidas. It had a single room, with a mirror and a fireplace. The setting did not matter. As her mother would have said, a princess wears her royalty inside, and she brings it everywhere she goes.

  Looking into the mirror, she thought that her mother would have looked a lot like this on her wedding night, with the same long curls framing her face. Lorien turned her glance to a deeper place in the mirror, at the other face. It was sharper, darker, but with the same mouth and the same eyes.

  “The thought was of our brother,” Lorien said. “It came, and it is gone. I will not be thinking of him again tonight.”

  “Tryst will recover,” Ravien whispered as she began to tie the delicate ribbons that stretched from Lorien’s back to waist. “He shares more of my blood than yours, and I believe he holds to truth in his core. But you are right, no more thoughts of him. Tonight is about you and Andor.”

  “I wish I knew more about his past months,” Lorien said. “It has been too dangerous for us to communicate beyond a few sentences here and there. Whatever happened to him, Yates and Selia hinted that it has drained something from him, leaving him more humble and melancholy.” She turned to face her sister. “Still, he will defeat Tryst and rule again.”