The Watchers in Exile

by Barbara V. Evers

  “I don’t quite understand how the three of you know each other.” She couldn’t imagine an odder assortment of conspirators—a poor merchant, a well-respected dressmaker, and the Protector of the Faith for all the kingdoms.

  Sariah settled into another chair and poured tea for each of them. “In difficult times, people seek out those with the ability to help. Be careful, Your Highness, people are never what they seem.”

  After serving Leera, she sipped her tea, then peered at the princess over the delicate cup. “We have learned of your brother’s whereabouts. Have you?”

  The suddenness of the statement, combined with Mother Sariah’s casual air, left Leera speechless for a moment. News of Kiffen would be wonderful, but she didn’t believe it could be so easy. She stirred her tea, trying to determine what they might expect from her. Settling into the role of courtier, the princess set her spoon on the saucer, smoothed her skirts, raised her chin, and said, “Mother Sariah, we are so pleased to hear you have news. Please continue.”

  Sariah shook her head. “Not yet. What do you know of your brother?”

  Impatience flashed through Leera’s thoughts, and she fought to squash her response and, instead, returned Sariah’s pleasant expression. “He is twenty years old, missing, and, hmm, what else?” She tapped her finger on her chin in thought, then leaned forward, giving her words emphasis. “Oh yes, he should be king, but we have no clue where he is.” Leera leaned back into her chair and regarded Sariah with a cool gaze. “So, why don’t you share your information with me? Then we will all know what you are about.”

  Calm radiated from her, but Leera trembled within. She had trained all her life for these kinds of exchanges and had, in fact, used them in flirtatious situations. But she had never felt the need to tread with care during those harmless interactions. This was a different circumstance, and she desired the taste of success more than she ever imagined she could.

  Mother Sariah’s gaze narrowed on her for a brief moment, but she turned to Gerguld instead. “What do you think?”

  He shrugged. “Mother Sariah, she’s a princess. I think she is playing with us as her mother would.”

  Fury flooded Leera’s heart. “My mother. After I saved you? How can you compare me to her?”

  The man bobbed his chin in deference. “No offense meant. I am new to this.” He paused and touched his forehead. “You gave me gracious help, m’lady, and I fear I might need more.”

  “Is that all this is? A request for more funds for your store?” Leera sat forward and yanked a small purse from her cloak. More money would place the man deeper in her debt. An advantage she liked.

  “No, m’lady.” Gerguld looked shocked. “Your kindness was more than sufficient.”

  Perplexed, Leera sat back. She studied the trio and decided to hold her tongue. Make them speak.

  Mother Sariah finally did. “My lady, we may have overstepped propriety with you. I should have met with you in private first and learned what I could of your situation, however…certain occurrences have forced us to move more quickly.”

  At last, they were getting somewhere.

  Sariah looked her in the eye. “We would like to share our information with you, but we need to ask you some things. Helmyra needs to touch you while you answer.”

  Helmyra glided over and sat beside her.

  Nausea rolled in Leera’s stomach. Her childhood nursemaid had told her stories of people who could discern truth through contact, but she had never met anyone like that. They were only a child’s fable, nothing more. “She’s a Seer?”

  The dressmaker dipped her head in acknowledgement.

  Leera felt Mother Sariah’s deep interest as they waited for her answer. A Seer changed so many things. If she truly was one, then Leera could use her to discern her mother’s true intentions. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Leera realized its absurdity. This woman would never have an opportunity to touch the queen.

  She looked at the trio again. The presence of Mother Sariah comforted her. How could the Protector of the Faith, a woman charged with caring for the people of all lands, cause her harm? For that reason, alone, she trusted them.

  She may be selling herself to the wrong camp in her mother’s eyes, but she felt sure they sought to help the kingdom, not serve their own private gain. She couldn’t claim the same about her mother.

  “What kinds of questions?”

  “At first, we’ll ask simple questions, so I can get a feel for your responses,” Helmyra said. “Then we have some questions about the circumstances inside the castle,”

  Leera sipped her tea. Her gaze fell on Gerguld, still dressed in the same drab clothes she’d met him in a few days ago. Mother Sariah radiated peace and contentment, her round figure wrapped in a light blue dress rather than the white robes that marked her as the Protector. Helmyra was a thin, angular woman with sharp features and gray hair piled into a voluminous bun on top of her head.

  “Why do you need the Seer to ask me these questions?” Leera asked, trying to delay her decision.

  Mother Sariah smiled, a gesture Leera recognized, meant to ease her discomfort. “Your Highness, you know things are in chaos in Elwar. It’s the same in Moniah, Belwyn, and Teletia. Caution is wise on anyone’s part, including yours.”

  In the castle, Leera learned things from eavesdropping, but she knew little of the conditions outside the castle. The minute she entered a room, the conversation halted or swung in a frivolous direction. Even Taren, beautiful Taren, refused to tell her anything of consequence. Her knowledge was limited, gained from hiding behind doors. She decided to tell them what they wanted in order to find out what they knew.

  Leera gave a short bob of her head in assent, but when Helmyra reached out to touch her, she pulled back and shot a warning at the three of them. “If the direction of these questions displeases me, we will stop. To show my willingness to cooperate, you may ask three questions but then you will tell me of my brother. The rest of your questions will be answered once I’m satisfied you tell the truth.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 18

  It was one thing to accept the presence of a Seer, it was another to submit to her hand on your shoulder as you answered questions. Leera shivered the moment Helmyra’s hand touched her. Was the shiver from inside her or did some power cross through the woman’s fingers?

  Sariah asked the first question. “When did you and Adana become friends?”

  The memory brought a smile to her face. Leera could still see Adana trying to navigate between bales of hay and tripping over her skirts. “My mother had been harsh with Adana. She couldn’t do anything right when she first came to Elwar. I caught her trying to practice walking in skirts. She was horrible at it, and I laughed at her.”

  Leera paused, remembering the scene as if it was yesterday. “Mother disliked Adana, and for some reason, I decided it would be fun to befriend her. To see how mother reacted.”

  She glanced between Sariah and Gerguld, wondering why they asked something she couldn’t prove.

  Sariah nodded. “That is how Adana explained it to me. Helmyra, why don’t you go next?”

  The pressure on Leera’s shoulder didn’t change, but she felt more nervous as Helmyra considered her question.

  “That day you left my shop, whose shop did you visit instead?”

  Surprise flushed over Leera. At a time when they carried news of her brother, was the dressmaker unable to get past the fact that Leera had cost her some business? The other two didn’t seem surprised by the question, so she fought the urge to lick her lips in nervousness as she answered. “I went back to the castle and had mother summon the royal dressmaker.” She didn’t mention the anger her mother expressed over the delay created by Leera’s refusal to work with Helmyra.

  “That is true.” Helmyra’s head bobbed once in confirmation.

  Gerguld asked the last question. “Why did you decide to help me?”

  The question should not have surprised Leera.
She had asked herself the same question. Still, she fought to prevent a peevish answer. “I don’t really know why.” She played with various phrasings, and then spoke again. “Mother seemed so different, and everything had changed. I may have felt sorry for you.” She bobbed her head in Gerguld’s direction. “You seemed lost, and I wanted to help.” Her last statement carried a hint of wonder in her voice.

  “You did not plan to use this later for your own gain?” This question came from Sariah.

  “I didn’t say that.” Leera felt heat rise in her face. “Once I decided to help, I realized Gerguld might be of service to me some day.”

  “How?”

  “I haven’t determined, yet. At the time, I was afraid of mother’s behavior and wanted to know if there was a way to get out of the city.”

  “Where would you go?” Sariah said.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged, then straightened, suddenly aware they had asked more than three questions. “The agreement was three questions. We’ve surpassed that. Please share with me what you know of my brother.”

  Sariah glanced at Helmyra. “Are you comfortable with how to read her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Helmyra pulled a sheet of parchment from her pocket. “We received this from your brother. He is safe at the Border Keep.”

  Leera accepted the letter from Sariah. Kiffen alive! At the keep.

  She fought to stop the tears that sprang to her eyes as she tried to study the missive. It was in some code, most of it indecipherable to her, and therefore, to any of the wrong people whose hands it fell into, but the handwriting was his. When had Kiffen become so clever?

  “When did you receive this? What does it say?”

  “Yesterday,” Helmyra said. “The information is crucial. He directed us to locate and assist you.”

  “Assist me? In what?”

  Helmyra held out her hand for the letter, and reluctantly, Leera gave it back, her gaze following it until the woman tucked it into an inner pocket of her dress.

  With a smile, Sariah said, “We can help you, and we will, but first, we must know more of what’s happening in the castle.”

  They knew something wasn’t right in the castle. Leera glanced between them, aware that the changes in her world had somehow become known in the city. Maybe not to everyone, but to those who were trying to…to do what? Again, she considered the odd trio.

  “You are tense. Have a sip of tea and a biscuit. We only have a few more questions.” Helmyra held a plate out to her.

  Leera turned toward the woman, again fighting the urge to lick her lips in worry. She had told the truth, so why did this woman say she was tense? “You didn’t believe my answers?”

  “On the contrary,” Helmyra said. “You have been completely truthful with us.”

  Leera relaxed and bit into a biscuit. It tasted like her father’s favorite treat, poflas. Sadness eased into her soul as she caught the inevitable crumbs in her gloved hand. “I’ve never had poflas outside the castle. Where did you get them?”

  “There was a time when your father was just a traveler.” Helmyra picked up one of the biscuits and bit into its crispy, brown texture. “My mother learned to bake them for him. Later, she taught me.”

  The stories about her father didn’t include his days as a traveler before he married Queen Roassa. What had he been like? The sadness seeped deeper into her soul. She might never know unless she asked this woman before her.

  Before Leera could say anything else, Mother Sariah said, “Let’s finish with the questions. Helmyra?”

  Helmyra’s hand hovered over Leera’s shoulder. “May I?”

  Leera nodded and sat back. This time the woman’s hand was cool and comforting in the heat of the sun.

  Sariah said, “You said you were afraid of your mother. Why?”

  Leera squirmed. She had anticipated this question once she admitted her concerns. To answer seemed disrespectful to her mother, even if it was becoming second nature to her.

  “She seems pleased. Even more. Overjoyed at the loss of my father. The castle is in shambles, and she doesn’t seem to care. She only wants—”

  “What does she want?” Sariah leaned in, her gaze intent upon Leera.

  Leera tugged at her ear. “That’s what I’ve been trying to determine. It’s obvious she wants to rule. But I think she wants something else. Glory? Satisfaction? Revenge? I’m not positive. Whatever it is, Lord Sarx is part of it…and his nephew.”

  “Taren?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you know of Taren?” Mother Sariah asked.

  A blush crept over her skin and heated her to the core. She blinked in surprise when Gerguld swore under his breath.

  “Forgive me, m’lady, for using such language,” the man said, contrition in his voice.

  She ignored him. “He is the son of Sarx’s sister, a Lisseme baroness. He is charming and clever, and I believe they want me to marry him.”

  “Do you want to marry him?”

  Oh yes, thought Leera, but caution returned. “I don’t know how he fits into their schemes.” Leera’s voice dropped, and she spoke in slow, painful words, realization of the truth coming to her. “If he wants the same power as my mother, then I will say no. But if mother decides I should marry him, I will have to do so.”

  Mother Sariah clucked her tongue but continued with the questions. “Have you heard them mention anyone else?”

  Leera thought for a moment and shook her head.

  “This could be extremely important. The mention of someone may have been generalized to keep others from understanding.”

  Leera’s mind traversed the last few days, looking for half-heard words during her efforts at eavesdropping. One particular incident frustrated her. The conversation sounded critical, but one of her mother’s burly guards interrupted her eavesdropping before she could make sense of it. She closed her eyes and tried to picture it again.

  The gardens were still overgrown, so the plants provided some coverage. Her mother had been upset over some information she had received, and her voice and Sarx’s had carried beyond the arbor where they sat.

  “He says he has the boy in his control, but the child is a simpleton,” her mother said with a snarl. “Can he keep him focused on our ends?”

  “The lord knows what he’s doing.”

  “Hmmph. That name. If it wasn’t for us, he would still be stuck—”

  “Hallo Mistress! Your latest conquest seeks your company.”

  Leera had whirled around at the voice and missed whatever else her mother and Sarx said. The guard, in his impudent way, had led her away to meet Taren who seemed quite anxious about not finding Leera in her chambers when he came to call on her.

  Sariah, Gerguld, and Helmyra sat back and contemplated this fractured piece of information. With surprise, Leera noticed that Helmyra was seated and had not been touching her during the last question.

  “Which lord do you think they mean?” Gerguld asked.

  Helmyra shook her head. “I don’t think it’s meant that way.” She retrieved the message from her pocket and studied it again. “According to this, he is calling himself Lord. I believe they were referring to him.”

  Mother Sariah nodded, worry creasing her forehead. “This confirms it. Which means King Donel’s murderer—”

  “My father’s murderer? Who?” Leera’s throat convulsed at the thought of the person who stole her father’s life.

  A weak smile crossed Sariah’s face. “Child, I’m sorry. I was thinking out loud and not considering your presence.”

  Leera did not know how to react. So many people had failed to behave as they should around her, but this seemed less disrespectful than the others. “You mentioned my father’s murderer. You think you know who killed him?”

  Sariah sighed and brushed at her skirts before meeting Leera’s gaze. “The actual person? No. But I have my suspicions as to who set it in motion.”

  In shock,
Leera recalled her mother’s words when she’d asked why she didn’t mourn her father: “If you only knew. No, I will not ruin your cherished memories of your poor, departed father.”

  “You think my mother was involved?”

  Sariah gazed sadly at Leera, her voice apologetic. “I suspect she had something to do with it.”

  Leera thought about the rest of her mother’s conversation the day she met Taren. “She says I am the heir to the throne. I believe they want Taren to become king by marrying me.”

  Gerguld swore again and darted an embarrassed glance at the princess.

  Sariah pursed her lips. “Have you ever heard them mention Maligon?”

  “Maligon?” Leera popped out of her chair. “What has Maligon to do with any of this?”

  Helmyra laid a hand on her arm, the touch much different from the act of a Seer. “Your brother says the Lord is what Maligon calls himself now.”

  It was as if all the air left the patio. Leera sank into the chair, gasping. Gerguld rushed over with some water and knelt before her. “There, there, Missy. Take it slow.” He shot a dark look at Helmyra. “We should have waited to tell you.”

  Helmyra sniffed. “She had to know. Waiting would not have changed the effect.”

  Leera found herself taking deep, slow breaths like she’d done in the garden the other day. With each breath, the chaos seemed to fade, and calm settled over her. When she trusted her voice, she smiled and said, “Thank you for your concern, Gerguld, but I’m afraid Helmyra is right.” She shot a look at Sariah. “A few more minutes, or even days, would not change the shock of it.” She thought about this revelation for a few moments, recognizing how it all seemed to fit together. “So Maligon wants Elwar and Moniah?”

  “He’s already taken Belwyn and Teletia. It looks like Lisseme is in his sights too.”

  “And my mother is conspiring with him.” Leera shook her head. “No wonder the betrothal between Kiffen and Adana infuriated her. What do we do?”