by N M Zoltack
His brother’s upcoming wedding.
Dudley Hill and Tatum Whittemore. A shoemaker and an alchemist. Alchemy was not a wide-spread profession, and for a female to be one typically spelled disaster. Tatum was not at all like her predecessors, who had supposedly been afflicted by a curse cast upon the very first alchemist, a female who had angered her husband by refusing to share her knowledge with him.
Knowledge was power in a sense. If anyone knew who had killed Prince Noll Rivera and also Rufus Vitus, he or she could leverage that information for a great deal of prestige, wealth, and influence. It was even possible that one or even both of the victims had learned something they shouldn’t have and had been killed for that knowledge.
But the wedding, the wedding… Edmund had spent more time lately with the new sister he would have than his brother. Tatum had such a kind, caring heart that she had needed Edmund to accompany her on a dangerous trek for a particular herb for a present for Dudley once they wed.
Why the two hadn’t married already Edmund thought strange, but then again, his brother had always been particular. His dream was to open an inn, and naturally, that required funds, funds Dudley did not yet have, which was also why the wedding had not yet occurred.
If Edmund had proposed to a lady, and she had accepted, he never would have waited so long to marry her.
It was easy enough to say what he would do, but then, Edmund had never been with a woman. He had never fallen in love, too driven by his need to rise above his station as a shoemaker’s soon. He had taken the task of becoming a knight and achieved that goal only to be assigned as a guard. Once he was a knight in name and deed, then he might be inspired to find a woman to share his life with.
A lady without chestnut-colored locks and steely blue eyes. One who was nothing at all like Tatum.
Edmund sighed. It was early in the morning, too early to be awake yet. Instead of asking one of the other guards to watch over his assignment, Edmund figured that he might have enough time to rush to the market before his duties ate up all of his time. True, at this hour, the marketplace would have limited options, but it wasn’t as if Edmund had a lot of coins himself.
Careful not to wake Jurian Hansen, the knight lying down in the bed next to Edmund’s in the bunker, or any of the other guards, Edmund slipped out of the room and under the strangely lit sky. The moon had not yet rested entirely, the sun not yet risen.
This is the time that belongs to the dragons.
Edmund shook his head. The dragons had perished nearly one thousand and five hundred years ago. Said to keep order among the humans, the dragons had been wise and benevolent. If ever there was a need for the humans to have aid and wisdom from the dragons three, now was that time.
The guard shook away his somber thoughts and selected one of the horses from the stall. Not bothering with a saddle, he climbed on and made good timing to the market, so good that hardly any of the merchants were there. Only a few were setting up their stalls, their wares in limited display yet.
Gritting his teeth, Edmund rushed off to the streets beyond the market, where a few stationary stores operated. Most were just opening now, and he had the horse walk slowly as he glanced this way and that, debating his options.
Tatum was not one for fine clothes, and he did not think she would care for jewelry either, not that he could afford some of the nicest pieces. He did linger at one shop, where the jeweler had a necklace encrusted with stones that same shade as her eyes, but he moved on. A gift like that should be intended for the bride from the groom, not from the groom’s brother.
In the end, Edmund could find nothing perfect for Tatum. She was a simple enough woman, and she had most everything she needed. Her alchemy shop, Mermaid’s Tears, was open already, and several potential customers crowded the limited space inside. Edmund hurried off, not wishing to be seen.
Simple in her needs but not a simple woman at all. Tatum was too good for Dudley. When Tatum had mentioned the inn to Edmund, the guard didn’t believe the alchemist truly wished for an inn, but she loved Dudley enough that she would do anything for him. As well she should for her future husband, but shouldn’t then Dudley also consider what his wife wished?
Not that Edmund should judge Dudley. Edmund was far from perfect, and he could not deny that he had been shocked to learn that his brother had found a woman to love and who loved him in return. His brother had never been as ambitious as Edmund, and now that Dudley had a plan, Edmund was trying to tear the dream down. Not to Dudley’s face, of course, but still. Edmund should be a better brother.
Tatum… What made her so special? Her heart. She cared for others. Her store was her means to help anyone and everyone. While she had all of the vials and flasks she might ever need, perhaps a basket of some kind might be worthwhile.
But none of the basket weavers were working just yet, and Edmund had to leave to patrol and guard.
After dinner that night, Edmund trained some with his sword as he was wont to do. Then, instead of retiring, he spied a few sturdy twigs in the nearby grass. He hunted around and collected a decent amount. Although he didn’t exactly know what he was doing, he tried to bend the twigs this way and that to weave them together. Some snapped. He gained a splinter, but for the next several nights, he worked his body and then his fingers, training and then weaving, and slowly, he made a basket. It was more oval than round, and he tied a ribbon to be the handle, completely unable to deduce how to fashion one out of twigs. Then, he placed a few rocks in the basket.
It fell apart from the weight.
Frustrated but undeterred, Edmund made a second basket, still with the ribbon, maybe more rounded this time. Gritting his teeth, he held the basket by the ribbon and placed in a rock. Another. Another. Even more than he had the first.
The basket held.
Wonderful. Edmund felt pleased until he realized he had been hiding the basket from the other guards for fear they would think it senseless and ugly. Would Tatum merely pretend to like it? Maybe he should have bought her something, anything.
No. Tatum would appreciate the effort at the very least.
Although he had been sleeping poorly ever since that Vincanan had been killed, that night, Edmund rested well and even woke with a smile on his face.
Now, if only Dudley and Tatum would get married.
7
Queen Sabine Grantham
The time since the ball had been a wicked, torrid affair, and Sabine could scarcely believe just how quickly everything had collapsed. No one wished to take part in her joust, and hardly anyone wished to show up for her feasts. Food was wasted, and she felt sick to her stomach, so much so that she could hardly eat.
Everything depended on their finding the true killer of Rufus Vitus, but without a confession or a means to tie only a single person to the knife used, they would not be able to appease Marcellus Gallus. Without appeasing the man, all of Vincana would rise up against Tenoch. It would be a disaster unlike any other.
To say Sabine was in a foul mood would be a vast understatement. She had just had a meeting with Aldus Perez. The advisor had disappointed her. Given that they had arrested a servant for the murder of Noll when they both knew he was not the true killer, Aldus had suggested that they did the same in this instance. Sabine had nearly struck him in her blind fury. As if Marcellus would not grill the person they claimed responsible. As if he would not uncover the truth. Perhaps she should be thanking the Vincana was launching an investigation of his own. All that matter was that the murderer was found. She might even give the killer over to Marcellus to let him and his people do with him as they would.
Him. Was the killer a him and not a her?
Regardless, the notion of having the Vincanans handle the murderer of one of their one, especially should the killer be from Atlan, would not look well for the crown, most specifically on her. She would seem weak to the rest of the world even if it may bolster her position over Vincana. Which had been the reason for her inviting them to the festivi
ties in the first place.
Then again, the people of the island to the south may well decide that if they could punish those who did them wrong as they sought fit, they may well start to think they did not need a ruler on the Atlan throne to dictate their moves.
A conundrum that she could not see a way to resolve peacefully.
But then I am dealing with a murder, and murders are anything but peaceful.
One person who had been avoiding Sabine as of late was her own mother, which was most perplexing. Her mother, generally speaking, tended to have her grubby paws in every matter concerning the crown but not this one. Why? Was she involved somehow? But if so, why hadn’t her mother informed her? Her mother had killed Prince Noll in front of her, and Sabine and Aldus together had covered it up.
Curious, Sabine asked around and found her mother was out in the courtyard. The guard who trailed Sabine was nothing more than a nuisance she wished to avoid at all costs. Rosalynne had so generously offered to provide guards for both Sabine and her mother, and Sabine was no fool. She knew the young queen was attempting to spy on them. She really needs to take lessons from my mother if she wishes to be deceitful.
Sabine waved her guard to stand by her mother’s, who waited near the walls of the courtyard where he could watch over Greta but not be near enough to hear a conversation. Sabine’s mother was smelling a flower as Sabine approached.
“Ah, yes. The queen finally graces me with her presence.” Her mother slowly straightened and eyed her. “You’re still frowning too much.”
Sabine smirked. “I am not worried about wrinkles.”
“No? You should be. Beauty fades over time, and beauty is the only weapon you possess. You haven’t the courage to do what must be done.”
“Like kill Noll? Do you mean to kill Rosalynne too? And what of Rufus?”
“What of Rufus?” her mother repeated airily, indifferently.
“Did you…”
“Are you asking me if I stabbed the poor handsome man in the back? I should have. He did not even bother to look at me, and he eyed almost every woman at the ball. He was just like that Queen Aldith. He never would have been faithful. Good for a romp or two but that’s all. Certainly not kingly, not in the slightest. Now, that Marcellus, on the other hand…”
“Is furious enough to start a war because of his friend’s murder,” Sabine said coldly. Didn’t her mother care that the peace Sabine needed to ensure her power remained intact might be soon shattered?
“Yes, well, that’s a pity. You really should be talking to him and not me.”
“I will help him with the investigation,” she vowed, deciding to do thus on the spot.
“That is well and good and all, but you should get him into your bed.”
“Because I’m sure he wishes to sleep with someone he barely knows instead of investigate his friend’s murder.”
“You had better find a way to get him on your side and devoted to you, or else you will only find yourself more and more reasons to frown and worry.”
“Just answer me,” Sabine said. “You say you did not kill Rufus, but did you have him killed?”
“I did not,” her mother claimed.
Truly, the words did sound convincing, but Greta could lie and deceive like no other. That she had been willing to kill a prince proved her to be ruthless beyond measure.
“Furthermore,” her mother continued, “I don’t know who killed him. Honestly, why did you not come and ask me this earlier?”
“Because I did not think you guilty,” Sabine lied.
A moment later and with hardly a farewell, Sabine returned to the castle and sought out Aldus Perez once more.
“You are looking into the matter, aren’t you?” she demanded once the two of them were hidden away in the tea room they frequented discussed matters and other things.
“Into the murder of the Vincanan? I can if you so wish me to.”
“We cannot arrest a false man, and well you know that. Will you do a more capable and accurate investigation than you did for the prince’s murder?” she snapped.
Aldus gave her a curious look, almost but not quite a smirk. He was amused?
“Do you truly want me to do that?” he asked.
To divert his attention and hoping she wasn’t flushing from embarrassment and anger, she asked, “I have noticed you have been spending more time with my mother.”
“Why, my dear, are you jealous?”
“Your amusement is not appreciated.” Sabine crossed her arms, annoyed.
“You do not need to worry,” Aldus informed her.
“I’m not worried.”
“Good.” Aldus leaves forward, but she stood and walked over to the door, rejecting his desire for a kiss or even more.
She might not be worried, but she might be soon, and she most certainly was anxious and uneasy.
8
Olympia Li
A week at sea already and Olympia was disgusted by the thought of eating more fish. Alas, her supplies of fruit, berries, and bread had been consumed already.
At least the waves are gentle.
If her course was correctly aligned, she should shortly reach Maloyan. That wasn't her final destination. Eventually, she would make her way to Atlan, to the throne her father had sat on. It would be hers again. Should she find her twin first? What if he wished for the crown? Perhaps they could jointly rule.
That was a long while away yet, though. Olympia had to reach Tenoch. Then, she could determine her next move. She felt moved to leave. It was past time for her to return home. Why did she need to remain on the island farthest from Atlan and her birthright? Yes, technically she was not twenty-one yet, but the people would long for her to rule. That woman on the throne currently, Sabine Grantham, was nothing more than a wicked, ambitious woman who deserved to rule nothing and no one. Olympia wanting the crown had nothing to do with ambitions. Not at all. She merely wished for what was rightfully hers. Her parents had been murdered, but that did not lessen the royal blood running in her veins.
As for Rosalynne, she seemed far too ignorant. Hadn’t her father, the hateful man who had betrayed his throne by killing the king and queen, taught her anything? Olympia wasn’t much older than Rosalynne, but she knew much more of the world than the young queen appeared to understand.
The people need a queen who will not rule them but be their champion. They need someone who knew them, who cares for them.
That someone was Olympia. The world was at a tipping point. She knew that war might have coming soon. The turmoil in Atlan between all of the royal deaths meant that the other islands might be as ready to uprise against the throne as those she had left behind in Olac.
The sun went down, and the waves began to agitate. A storm was coming. Olympia had to struggle to keep afloat, but praying to the Fate of Peace and the one of Life gave her the courage to steady the ship. Her hand guided the ship away from the storm. Soon enough, the stars revealed once the storm clouds rolled away that her course had been altered but not as terribly as it could have. Although her eyelids grew heavy, she would not allow herself to fall asleep until after she had corrected her course.
It was her hope and dream that the world could be united and that peace could be widespread. All she wished for was to be the one to bring about that peace.
Would she kill the queens and the princes and any others who stood in her way? No, that was not the Li way, had never been the Li way. Rotting bones from corpses of prisoners had collected in their dungeon cells, but they had only imprisoned those who had killed others. Those who stole were not imprisoned. Those who spoke against them were not imprisoned. Those who did any number of crimes were not imprisoned. Instead, they became servants working to gain their freedom. Once they were determined to be ready to be reintegrated into society, they were given a second chance. Any crime that they would then commit, if one were to be committed, meant that the person would be imprisoned for a period determined based on the nature of their crimes.
The more violent, the longer. They were allowed to leave the cells alive. A third strike would mean they would have been imprisoned until they died.
Never once had anyone needed to be imprisoned for a third strike, and only twice ever had someone needed to be detained for a crime.
Olympia, however, was considering imprisoning Rosalynne and Sabine. No. She would not imprison Rosalynne for the crimes her father had committed. He had died and not pleasantly from what the news had said. Good for him. He had been a murderer and a thief. Never had their lived a man with less honor than he.
As for Sabine, well, either queen, if they should prove to abuse their authority and the power invested upon the throne of Atlan, then she would imprison them, but only then. Only if they earned.
And she so did hope they would both earn it.
9
Rase Ainsley
The boy wasn't about to return to the Jolly Snapdragon tavern. Not after what had happened last time between that nasty Linton and that vicious fight that broke out. Son of a baron or not, Linton had held a blade to Rase Ainsley's throat. And Rase was only twelve years old and looked like he was just seven. What kind of man did such a thing?
Not a true nobleman.
But Rase wasn't going to worry about Linton or any other gamblers. He had asked his friends, asked the poor, the peasants, the nobles for help. Well, not everyone in Atlan, but some. Enough to realize that no one would help the Ainsleys.
They were poorer than poor. Rase needed money and badly. He had been working at the Jolly Snapdragon, having acquired the position almost by accident. His pa gambling with Linton and his goons had proven a disaster. Ever since, Pa was out stealing to bring home food for the starving family.
At first, Rase had condemned his pa for stealing. It was wrong after all, but no one would hire his pa. He had no training, no knowledge, no experience. His parents had failed him, and Pa was doing the only thing he could to ensure he was at least providing his family nourishment.