The Orphans' Promise

by Pierre Grimbert

  Yan closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and focused on the coin. He didn’t know what else to do to pass the test. Up until now, he hadn’t achieved anything. He pictured the object as clearly as if he were staring at it. He knew its every detail. Every nick, imperfection, variation in color: every point of its surface. He would still remember it even in his dying days. He was spending more time with the coin than any of his friends, he thought, as he tried to regain his concentration. He was beginning to hate the shiny disk.

  He imagined it standing up perfectly straight along its edge, a shameful monument, standing tall, symbolizing his numerous failures. He concentrated all his thoughts, all his Will, all of the force in his mind, on a single thing: the image of the coin falling on its side.

  After an indeterminate period of time, he opened his eyes again. He was weak as he lifted his tired eyes, feeling exhausted as if waking from a night of bad dreams.

  The coin still stood tall, taunting him.

  Yan extended his finger and gently tapped the upper edge, finally causing it to topple over as he had imagined it doing countless times.

  It only needed such a small amount of force. Why couldn’t he do it?

  “Let’s not stay so close,” Rey whispered to Léti. “We might get ourselves noticed, standing in front of the palace for too long.” Léti observed the Zü tunic the actor was wearing, wondering how they could possibly make themselves any more noticeable. While no one dared to come near them, each time a flash of red fabric appeared, they imagined themselves the target of every glance.

  “I would have liked to get my hands on an Ithare mask,” Rey said regretfully as they wandered between the display stands. “The hood can’t be doing that good of a job hiding my face. I’ll end up getting recognized.”

  “You sound like Grigán!” Léti said, laughing. “Don’t worry, it looks as if everyone’s trying to avoid looking at you straight on.”

  “Even the women? I’d better take this thing off right away!” he joked.

  They wandered about aimlessly, though their eyes never wandered from the front door of the palace. Léti thought to herself that under different circumstances, she would have enjoyed letting Rey show her the city, its wealth, its character, and the characters in it. One such character was a man who went from stall to stall, escorted by three burly lads carrying a dozen or more purses at his belt.

  “Is he a collector?”

  “Surely not! The collectors would never risk it in town with such a small escort. He’s a currency trader. He buys or sells terces for other currencies.”

  “That’s a job?” she replied, surprised.

  “Of course. And quite lucrative even, albeit risky. The currency traders have everyone on their backs: the collectors, the Guild, the merchants, and even their own clients.”

  “I don’t understand how someone can make a living that way.”

  “Me neither. I tried for a while, but I had to give up,” the actor admitted with a smile. “The Goranese crowns, the Ithare disks, the moons from the Baronies, the Kaulien queen moons, the beads from the Lower Kingdoms, the Rominian monarchs, plus each of their specific denominations; I mixed them all up. One time I was even offered Wallate and Thalitte coins I’d never seen before! I had to get out before going completely bankrupt.”

  “You’ve had an odd career path,” Léti said, with gentle mockery. “Smuggler, currency trader, actor…”

  “Waiter, knife thrower, public writer, and even a sailor for a short dékade,” Rey finished. “Sailing was the worst. Eight days on a boat without a single woman aboard!”

  Léti punched him on the shoulder out of mock disapproval, but she was full of gratitude for the actor. When she was with him, he always managed to put her anxieties to rest. Today was no different. Around him, she felt good. He was ten years her senior and carried himself with a sense of assuredness, which made her feel reassured. She had found him charming from the very moment they had met. Perhaps, she thought, he could manage to make her forget Yan…

  Rey didn’t leave her any more time for reflection and pulled her along with a mischievous grin.

  “Come on. I’m going to show you something you can only find here in Lorelia. The only line of work I was actually good at for a while.”

  Grigán and Corenn weren’t the first to arrive in the Small Palace’s gardens. Twenty or so merchants were already walking around its paths, and there were at least that many behind the séda hedges that traversed the courtyard. As predicted, jelenis patrolled under the portico that circled the place, while archers on the balconies were on the lookout for the smallest sign of a scuffle. These precautions, which should have reassured the warrior, made him feel uneasy. In his preparations, he had neglected a deadly possibility: What if the Züu had infiltrated the Lorelien guard? Or bribed them?

  “Would you mind waiting for me here, Corenn? I won’t be gone long. Stay hidden in the shadows beneath the portico.”

  The Mother nodded her head while Grigán headed for the center of the garden in slow strides, keeping an eye out for any signs of aggression. The people he passed stopped their conversations until he was out of earshot. Doubtless, they took him to be one of the Crown’s many spies who patrolled the market.

  The gardens of the Small Palace, where you could sell just about anything, had become the obligatory route for all illegal affairs over the years. All the products and services that were forbidden in the rest of the kingdom were available here with complete impunity. You could hire a company of mercenaries from the Guild, or some Züu. Slaves, drugs, artwork stolen from the various cults were all sold in the gardens between the hedges and under the shade. People made secret alliances, conspired, bargained on neutral ground. It was an inexhaustible source of revenues for the Crown, and a place where Lorelien spies roamed, trying to gain any information they could about her subjects.

  After some time Grigán figured he had distanced himself too much from Corenn and returned to her. He supposed that if no arrow had nailed him to the ground, there wasn’t a Zü hidden among the archers. This reassured the warrior, but only slightly.

  “The reigning logic in this place is really disturbing,” the Mother declared, when he had reappeared at her side. “I randomly happened upon some conversations. That man, over there, is looking to sell a cargo of precious salt that he got from pirating. The little one, next to him, is the previous owner of this treasure; he is trying to buy back the cargo and the boat that the first one stole! They are in the middle of agreeing on a price. Don’t you find that extraordinary?”

  “What would truly be extraordinary would be if the Züu even agree to listen to us,” the warrior responded with a frown. “Let’s finish this as quickly as possible, Lady Corenn, I beg you.”

  They took the footpath and walked past small groups in the middle of heated negotiations. About half of the merchants were Lorelien; the rest were from Goran, Romine, or Jezeba.

  A parade of offers were made to them: a relic from Yoos, eggs from a daï snake, a map of the Kolimine Palace (which of course marked the treasure room), and a big man carrying Soltan’s emblems offered them a cask of human blood. Corenn tried not to think about its source or its use. Finally, a man from Yérim, with a baleful look, insisted on selling Grigán a nubile slave, whom he made a point of describing as exceptionally obedient. The warrior shot him a dark look, but it was Corenn who chased away this final unwelcome offering with her most severe tone.

  They came to a stop at a detour in the trail. They had just found two of Zuïa’s messengers. The Züu.

  The assassins were a few paces back in the hedge, seated on a marble bench, avoided by the majority of merchants. They sat there, waiting.

  They stood as the heirs approached. They recognized Corenn and Grigán.

  Yan took a break from his attempts to overcome the “magician’s test” to spend some time talking to Bowbaq. Per the young man’s request, the giant had talked about the heirs’ former reunions, tying in several anecdotes a
bout their friends, especially about Léti’s younger years.

  They enjoyed a moment of laughter, in large part thanks to the story about Rey starting the fire fifteen years earlier. Yan pointed out that it was certainly the only time the actor got himself caught.

  But the break was over now, and Bowbaq was assigning himself the chore of brushing the horses and giving them some exercise. He could no longer bear lying down with nothing to do, and keeping his hands busy would also keep him from thinking too much. He’d had more than his fair share of agonizing thoughts.

  With Bowbaq busying himself with the horses, Yan got back to work with the coin. He walked into the forest, stretched out flat on his stomach, and stared at the coin. Weary from the start, he started counting how many decidays he’d already spent on the exercise, but the increasing sum scared him. He interrupted his calculation and thought to himself that he had to be more serious, more focused, more determined.

  He threw himself into the exercise for two whole decidays, trying not to drive his Will anymore, but to unleash it instead like Corenn suggested. This suggestion, however, was merely an abstract idea beyond Yan’s grasp, and he didn’t have the slightest clue how to proceed. He felt like a bird being asked to fly before his wings could support him. He was powerless, and the coin remained unmoved.

  Despite his failures, he managed to exhaust himself in trying. And he came out of each unsuccessful attempt with his mind empty and his body weak. His efforts were real, and he felt that he must have been producing something, even if it was insufficient.

  He laid down closer to the coin standing on its edge. Fruitless. Even though he hadn’t explicitly asked Corenn, Yan had already figured out that the distance between the “magician” and the target was unimportant, so long as the latter was visible.

  He couldn’t stand the coin anymore. The surface worn halfway down, two nicks on the edge; its flaws annoyed him. He had never hated an object so much, he thought. And this feeling certainly wouldn’t help him succeed…

  For a moment he pondered changing coins, but dropped the idea, realizing he would inevitably end up hating the next coin just as much. It was impossible for him to continue with any Kaulien coins. He had pinpointed a problem—he needed an object other than a coin. He couldn’t concentrate until he resolved it.

  A sudden impulse reminded him of the little blue queen moon that hung around his neck. A gift from Léti. This was an object he would never grow tired of staring at. He carefully untied the shell from its leather lace and set it upright in the coin’s place. The exercise would only be more difficult, the wider base rendering the object more stable. But it would also be more tolerable…

  He regained his focus, this time thinking about Léti…

  The young woman followed Rey through the labyrinth of stalls, curious to find out where he was taking her. The actor was smiling like a child, and he took Léti by the hand so that he could guide her more easily. Blushing, she let him. They left the Riders’ Square to plunge into a street that was less spacious but just as busy. Rey crossed this new street before heading down a side street congested with carts.

  “Shouldn’t we stay close to the palace?” Léti timidly tried to remind him.

  “We aren’t going too far away. It’s up here on the left.”

  They arrived shortly thereafter and found a very lively spot. It was a full avenue, a street where people mingled rather than simply passed through. Plenty of people lingered at one of the many patios, where there were little tables set up right in the middle of the avenue.

  “The Courtyard of Games,” the actor announced with pride. “Games of Ithare dice, of course, but also tarot, the strategist, spinning tops, the columns of Corosta, catch, jerpe, and all sorts of other gambling games. Here, fortunes are made or lost day and night, without pause. All of this under the collectors’ watchful eyes, of course. I made a living off dice for a whole year, once.”

  They approached the little tables where players and observers gathered. Piles of money changed hands, with cries of joy or defeat. Léti observed a group playing guéjac, but quickly got confused by the rules—her poor understanding of the Lorelien tongue not helping. She moved over to watch a fight between two bellican spiders, which were fighting in front of a crowd that had placed large bets, but she walked away in disgust when the victorious insect devoured the head of its victim.

  Throughout the whole street, people were talking, playing, laughing, drinking, and shouting—the air was alive with noise. Sounds of vigolas, bent flutes, and stringed moons drifted through the air, mixing with the cacophony, giving the whole scene an impression of a continuous party. A fascinating place, Léti thought. Yan would have loved to see this, she daydreamed before she remembered Rey.

  “Why did you stop playing? A losing streak?”

  “On the contrary, the collectors only bother with the winners, and they started to stick too closely on my heels. I hated it. One day, a ‘friend’ introduced me to a guy who was looking for an experienced actor for his troupe. I lied to him, and ever since I’ve been an actor.” He finished with a wink.

  Léti let herself succumb to the actor’s charms. He was so sure of himself, and she was so lost…

  She took his hand to lead them back to the Small Palace. Rey let her.

  Corenn, Grigán, and the two Züu stood face-to-face for a long time; a little too long, thought the guards responsible for monitoring the red killers. They both wondered if there would be a fight, and, if so, when it would break out.

  “You’ve come from Ji, haven’t you?” the smaller Zü asked coolly, while the other fixed them with a hateful stare.

  “That’s exactly right,” Corenn answered after a pause.

  There was no reason to lie. She was hoping that during the meeting they would lay all cards on the table. The heirs had a lot to win… or lose.

  “Let’s sit down,” the Zü continued, in perfect Lorelien. “I’m sure you have a lot of things to ask us, don’t you? Standing tends to cause the Bondrian archers to lose their cool. They’re… afraid, you see, that we might breach the rules of this neutral ground.”

  “That’s surprising,” jabbed Grigán, taking a seat next to Corenn.

  He deliberately put himself between the Mother and the assassin priests, noting their every move with a watchful eye. The Züu wouldn’t kill an heir today, or if they did, they were going to have to kill two.

  “I’m happy to find an attentive ear,” Corenn began. “I’ll admit, I was afraid I’d meet someone more close-minded and not open to a discussion.”

  “I would be lying if I didn’t acknowledge my surprise,” the red killer responded in the same polite tone. “But I’m quite curious to hear you out… although I can already guess your requests.”

  Corenn drew in a deep breath, searching for courage. She had become a queen in the art of diplomacy on Kaul’s Permanent Council, but never had she participated in a debate where the stakes were nothing less than six of her friend’s lives, and where the odds of coming out on top were so slim. She thought through her “plan of attack” and started in on the offensive.

  “How did you recognize us?” she asked, nonchalantly, as if it were of no consequence.

  The Zü hesitated for a moment, undecided. His sidekick kept a close eye on the heirs in the same way that Grigán was on guard against the Züu. The fight between Corenn and the polite assassin was cordial, but no less deadly.

  “Why would I answer?” he finally replied with a light smile on his lips.

  Corenn swallowed her disappointment without showing it. She had lost the first battle. Her adversary was no novice; that much was clear now. She dropped the subject, as if it were hardly of any importance. The Züu documents they had found already proved that the signaling of victims was passed along in writing. The killers had an excellent system established.

  “You’re right,” the Mother conceded, “you don’t have to divulge your secrets. My apologies.”

  The Zü gave a subtle
nod indicating that he accepted her apology. The conversation was now an open playing field. Corenn had just overtly ceded a victory to the Zü, which meant that he would be more inclined to cede in turn, but perhaps, inadvertently, on a more crucial point.

  Diplomacy was a difficult art. Corenn felt that now more than ever. And its similarity with military strategy was obvious to someone familiar with both disciplines. The choice of words and arguments was the preparations for war. Intonation, facial expressions, and the rest were the battle. How you managed silences, interruptions, and all outside interferences was how you commanded. The two parties could win or lose ground, get killed, call a cease-fire, launch counterattacks; everything was at stake.

  For the moment, the Zü held a heavily defended, solid castle, and Corenn was attempting to lead an attack with a measly wooden sword. Her only chance was to get him to open the doors from the inside.

  “The Goddess’s disciples are continually growing in number,” she pointed out casually, to introduce the subject. “Soon every capital will have a temple dedicated to Zuïa. I mean one that’s out in the open. To keep the messengers underground, as current governments are doing, is definitely the worst solution for everyone.”

  “I share your viewpoint,” responded the killer, plainly.

  The door was still closed. Corenn set the bait. “Which has made it extremely difficult for us to meet,” she continued. “To the point that it was almost too late to explain ourselves to one another and settle this worn-out disagreement that has pitted us against each other.”

  Grigán admired the way Corenn was handling herself. Certain subtleties of this invisible battle might have escaped him, but he appreciated the way she presented their fight to the death as an already forgotten quarrel.

  Corenn’s trap for the Zü was a gamble, but one she made without flinching. Either the Zü would fall for it, in which case the rest would be easy, or he would see through it, which would force Corenn to reveal the weakness of her army.