A walkway snaked its way through this domesticated patch of wilderness, leading from one marble bench to another, as if the pedestrians would need to stop for a break every fifteen feet. Thick, judiciously arranged séda hedges acted as walls. Some of them served as partitions, too, creating small open-air lounges with tables, benches, and fountains.
“Here it is. This is where it all happens. The traders are free to walk around and sit where they like. Auctions and displays aren’t allowed, but I don’t think we’ll need that, will we?”
“I was under the impression you had never taken part. You seem to know your fair share about it.”
“Don’t forget that this is my hometown, Grigán. It’s only natural that I should know its ins and outs.”
The warrior nodded, observing the surroundings. “Anyone can come in here with a concealed weapon,” he commented. “We won’t be safe.”
“Of course, they expect this possibility. Archers patrol along the balcony above the portico. They’re under strict order to shoot anyone who brandishes a weapon. I think it’s happened twice over the past three centuries… anyway, technically I don’t think we’re supposed to be here. I’m surprised they haven’t kicked us out already!”
The warrior took one last good look at the place, taking note of the layout and distances in the space. There were only two possible exits: one via each staircase. The heirs would be in relative safety… assuming the Züu weren’t prepared to sacrifice themselves just to get to them, which he doubted they were.
“I’ve seen enough. Let’s get out of here before we’re noticed. A few more things to check out in the neighborhood, and then let’s head back.”
It was the first time in his memory that Yan had lied to Léti. It left a bitter taste in his mouth that even the joy from Corenn’s recent revelations couldn’t sweeten. Luckily, this betrayal was only temporary. The Mother had made him promise to keep their discussion secret until she told him otherwise. Yan imagined she would grant him that permission only after he successfully passed the “test.”
He ate lunch with his companions, and then slipped away as soon as his manners would allow. Now, he was in the middle of the Lorelien forest, staring at a Kaulien coin, its former gleam dimmed and darkened by the years. Laying flat on his stomach, hands to his temples, he concentrated as hard as he could.
This morning’s attempt hadn’t lasted long. Corenn gave him some advice, and decided that it was time to go back. This was a test he had to face alone. He could end up devoting several dékades to the task before succeeding. Maybe even several moons. Years, even.
Yan couldn’t imagine he would spend that much time staring at the coin. If Corenn had successfully managed the trick, it was because it was possible. Strange, certainly. Difficult, probably, but not insurmountable. As she had told him, the key was to believe.
Only, he didn’t know where to start. Apart from fixing the coin with a stare that he hoped would make it fall over, he had no idea what to do. Having no other idea, he let his eyes focus on the coin for several centidays.
After a while, a new feeling seized Yan. He felt silly, which could be expected given that anyone who saw what he was trying to do now would think him crazy, but he quickly pushed the thought away. Corenn had warned him that he would have these feelings; it was normal. Anyone who didn’t have these doubts would be the one who was truly crazy.
He refocused his attention on the metal disk. He already knew its every detail and could pick it out among hundreds of others. A third of the coin was well worn and had two nicks along the edge. He wondered if knowing such details could help him, or if they were just ruining his concentration. He once again realized that he didn’t even know how to begin. How did magic work?
Corenn had told him that it was like a muscle of the mind, a muscle he had never used that would be difficult to awaken. Yan would be content just knowing where he could find this “muscle.” She kept talking about Will, but the idea was still vague and strange. Yan wanted the coin to fall. He wanted it to right now!
The three-queen coin didn’t budge, with its worn pattern and rough edges. It stood proud and defiant. He cursed its creation, and shook his fists at it, mumbling all sorts of nonsense. Then he stood up, picked up the hated object, and headed back. He had wasted almost a deciday of his life staring at this piece of metal for nothing. It was a complete failure.
He would go at it again as soon as possible.
Yan came into the stable just as Raji was leaving. The little man was in a vile mood. He had waited for Rey and Grigán much longer than the two men had told him he would have to wait. Yan simply gave him a polite nod, preferring to let the smuggler ignore him.
His companions were already deep in discussion when he joined them. They were all sitting around Bowbaq’s bed in a sort of improvised meeting. Grigán filled Yan in on the basics of their trip, and then continued.
“Inside the Small Palace, I’ll admit, the danger is limited. But things will be altogether different as soon as we’re outside. The guards try not to let everyone leave all at once, but one or two Züu could easily follow us. It seems like an insufficient measure, considering that people like the Züu meet in there. Not to mention the Grand Guild, of course.”
“But the Züu aren’t expecting us,” explained Corenn. “I’m sure they haven’t planned an ambush of any sort, whether it be inside the building or at the exit. Unless they systematically prepare ambushes, of course, but nothing could justify that kind of excessive planning.”
“Unless they’ve been warned about us,” Grigán noted. “Those two minions of Bellec, Raji’s accomplice, were in Berce and might have died on the island. Or perhaps not… we could very well find ourselves face-to-face with them next time.”
“Two street thugs: We could get rid of them, no problem,” Léti intervened confidently.
Corenn’s eyes opened wide, scandalized, but Grigán responded before she could start lecturing.
“You really believe that? No one is ever victor before the fight even starts! No one. And even if that were the case, we wouldn’t be able to recognize those two. They could very well pretend to bow at our feet and then run off to fetch the Guild as soon as we turn our backs.”
Léti refrained from arguing. The warrior had promised to teach her how to fight. Until then, she didn’t want to do anything to upset him or make him change his mind.
The two leaders of the group picked up their conversation where they had left off. Grigán sighed before addressing the Mother with pleading eyes.
“Corenn, do you really think that it’s worth it? The Züu will never listen to us. It would be easier to have a conversation with a daï snake than with those maniacs. As soon as they see us, the only thing on their minds will be how to stab a dagger through our hearts.”
“I know, Grigán, I know. But, unfortunately, we don’t have many other options. If we cannot meet our real enemy, for lack of knowing who it is, we must try to stop the Züu’s wrath.”
The warrior locked eyes with his companions, one by one. He knew how it was to live as a hunted fugitive. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Besides, he didn’t think his friends could survive very long on the run, even under his protection.
He answered with a silent nod, but couldn’t hold back a scowl.
The discussion would have stopped there if Bowbaq hadn’t continued, in a concerned voice. “And if the Züu refuse to listen to us? If they want to hunt us to the end? I mean, what will we do then?”
Everyone had been asking themselves these questions, but no one could offer any encouraging words to the giant, a father of a family.
“I think the best thing to do would be to go to the Baronies,” Corenn responded bleakly. “To Junine, to meet Queen Séhane. To our knowledge, she’s the only heir left alive besides us. Obviously, that wouldn’t bring you any closer to Arkary…”
Bowbaq was lost in thought. Three dékades before, his steppe pony, Wos, woke him up as he fidgeted in his pen. Now h
e was laid up in a Lorelien smuggler’s depot, his stomach wounded by a dagger. Soon he might leave for the Small Kingdoms. It had been two moons since he had seen his wife, son, and daughter. He wasn’t even sure they were still alive.
“All right,” he declared reluctantly. “If it settles things… we’ll go to Junine.”
Rey comforted him with a thump on the shoulder. The sight of such a nice, gentle soul gripped by melancholy saddened them all even more.
Léti wouldn’t let Grigán rest for very long. The warrior hardly had time to eat a light meal, which was already late, before Léti quickly reminded him of his promise. The first lesson would be today.
Grigán was a man of his word, like all his compatriots, and, even more generally, like all the natives of the Lower Kingdoms. While his education forbid him from letting a woman wield any weapon, his sense of honor, much more sacred in his eyes, forbid him from breaking his promise. Moreover, twenty years of traveling and various encounters had relaxed his faith in the rigid precepts embedded in Ramgrith traditions, and he had known dozens of women warriors.
“All right, let’s go,” he responded to the Kaulienne, whose face lit up. “We’ll do it outside.”
Léti almost ran to the stairs, only stopping for an instant to make sure the warrior was following her. From over her shoulder she could see that he was in the middle of a conversation with Corenn. Léti climbed the stairs, pouting, certain that her aunt was trying to change Grigán’s mind. She wasn’t mistaken.
Corenn told Grigán, “I have no desire to watch her run straight for a confrontation with the Züu. Please, try not to encourage her, Grigán. Don’t let her think that she could get the upper hand in a fight with them.”
The warrior looked hard at the Mother as if she had just insulted his ancestors and cursed his descendants all at once. Never had Corenn offended him so deeply. Speaking to him like he was irresponsible!
He clenched his jaw for a moment and then decided to let it go, blaming his reaction on the countless worries they were all dealing with. These last few days, they had all called him out for his oversensitivity. He wouldn’t get angry this time.
Before joining Léti at the stable’s entry, he managed the curt reply, “Don’t worry.”
He had expected that all the others would gather to watch the spectacle that this “first lesson” would provide, but Rey was the only one to join them. The actor stretched out comfortably on a hay bale, armed with a bottle of green wine he had snuck from Raji’s reserves to help him enjoy himself. Grigán was preemptively annoyed, waiting for the actor’s attempt at humorous jokes at Grigán’s expense. He decided to ignore the joker and concentrated on Léti instead.
The young woman was waiting impatiently for him to fill her in on some inside secrets of a veteran, but he had never taught anything to anyone. He had no idea what he was going to do. He even wondered, standing silently in front of her, what there was that he could say.
“The best place to start would be to give her a weapon, right?” Rey suggested, as if he had read his thoughts. That the actor had sensed his apprehension was enough to vex the warrior, who was already at his wit’s end.
Grigán grabbed his curved blade in a movement rendered natural by years of experience, and chained together a series of impressive jugglery. The warrior regretted it almost immediately. These types of performances were nothing more than useless bravado, and if he could master them, it was only because he had worn a sword since his youth. He had only wanted to prove that he didn’t need anyone’s advice, but that had been an error, because he was encouraging Léti to focus on weapons.
The young woman had watched his entire demonstration with admiring eyes. He was sure that she would attempt to imitate him as soon as she could. Damn!
“Well, what do you want to learn?” he asked her, suddenly in a rush to finish.
“All of it. How to wield weapons as well as you can. How to attack, deflect, and retaliate. All of it.”
“You can’t just learn it. It’s a question of experience.”
“So train me.”
The warrior thought for a moment.
“We’ll start with the bow.”
“Oh, no, I already know how to shoot an arrow. Teach me to use blades.”
Grigán shook his head. This was ridiculous. If it weren’t for his promise, he would have already turned his back on this rash young woman. He swore to himself that there wouldn’t be a second lesson.
Nevertheless, he conscientiously reflected on the best advice to give. Having his blade in hand reminded him of the numerous combats in which he had used it. Little by little, a few ideas came to him. He settled on one and congratulated himself for choosing a lesson that would surely discourage Léti.
He began in a serious tone, “Before anything else, you have to conquer your fear. Your fear of being wounded, of receiving blows to your face, your bones, your skin: damage that is most often irreparable. There are scratches, burns, bumps, but also deeper cuts, fractures, and tears. And there are worse wounds, you can be sure. One never leaves a combat unscathed. Never.”
“I know. What else?”
Léti had faced these same realities on Ji. She was still suffering from them. If the warrior was trying to impress or scare her, he had failed.
“You don’t understand. I’m not trying to tell you that you may get hurt. I should hope you already knew that! I’m saying that if you’re afraid of that, if you fight to exhaustion to avoid a gash in your leg, you’ve already lost the battle. It’s that simple.”
“So?”
“So if you want to learn how to defend yourself—and I mean really defend yourself—you have to learn to keep the main goal in mind: to stay alive, and nothing else. Unless you want scars like mine, renounce this folly right now and let others worry about protecting you.”
“Out of the question. Let’s do an exercise. You’ll see.”
Léti caught him off guard. Grigán thought that such a tirade would have scared her, at least a little, but he was wrong. The young woman had something boiling inside her. He knew her sentiments only too well. He called it the warrior’s rage and knew how dangerous a feeling it was.
Oh well, if she wanted to do an exercise, she would have one, he thought. A good lesson was precisely what they needed to set things straight.
“All right,” he said while juggling his sword. “Attack me.”
For the first time, Léti looked surprised. “Just like this? With what?”
“With nothing. Me, I have the sword, and you, you have no fear.”
The young woman felt disheartened. She had never imagined it would be like this. But that didn’t matter; if the warrior decided on an exercise, she would yield to his wishes.
She tried to approach him from many different angles, but Grigán kept her a full blade-length away. She tried to surprise him with a rush, without any success. The warrior anticipated each one of her movements and protected himself behind his curved sword.
Léti was forced into attempting even more reckless attacks, running at him without worrying about the sharp steel, which was after all the moral of the lesson. But Grigán would easily sidestep her attacks, hardly restraining his curses at her carelessness.
Rey cheered her on, but there was no solution to this type of exercise. The warrior had simply wanted her to taste the bitterness of defeat, that’s all.
Rage seized her. She had sworn to never back down. Sworn to be invulnerable.
She faked another attempt, and was immediately foiled by the appearance of a steel point. Desperate, Léti grabbed the blade in a quick movement with her right hand.
Grigán’s reflexes were fast enough to not pull the blade back, but Léti’s blood already stained the metal between her gashed fingers.
The young woman reached out her free hand and slowly placed a finger on the paling warrior’s heart.
“I won,” she proclaimed.
Her voice trembled slightly.
Corenn was hes
itant to watch Léti’s lesson. She was curious—and nervous—about what was going to happen with Grigán and her niece, but at the same time didn’t want to encourage the young woman with her presence.
In the end, Yan relieved her of the decision. All day the young man had attempted to complete the test, and, of course, had failed. When Léti, Grigán, and Rey left, he had asked the Mother if they could resume their long conversation. He had some more questions for her.
Corenn happily welcomed his suggestion. Even if she considered herself a Mother more than a magician, a subject like Will could always stir her interest. Even with a novice like Yan, she would still enjoy discussing it.
Bowbaq had nodded off again, as the calming concoction, per Grigán’s recipe, took effect. Still, Corenn chose a spot far enough away from the cellar to avoid being overheard. She was keen on keeping their long conversation a secret, at least until Yan passed the test.
The reason was simple. If everyone knew what Yan was trying to do, the young man would never manage to focus for long enough to succeed. Pressure and anxiety would busy his mind, and he would fail. No, the Mother thought, right now, his Will was the only thing that needed stimulation.
Corenn prepared herself to answer all of his questions, and there were plenty.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted. “I mean, I can guess that just waiting and waiting won’t be enough.”
“No, you’re right. What have you been thinking then?”
“I get the feeling that I’m missing something… something that I should do, but I don’t know what. It’s like I have a fish on the end of my line and it’s about to get away because I haven’t set the hook.”
“That’s not too far from the truth. In fact, your Will should not be applied like a mindless, slow push. You must gather it up and then unleash it at the right time.”
The Orphans' Promise Page 6