Bardian's Redemption_Book Four of the Guardian's Vambrace

by H. Jane Harrington

  Dailan whistled when Scilio strode back into the bedchamber. “You look spiffy, Master Tosh. Almost like your old self.”

  Scilio ignored the comment and inspected Vann. His color was better, his face clean shaven and his spiky hair was trimmed neatly. “How fares my brother?”

  “Master Rel is fit of body,” Bressalin assured him. “It was the start of the fever, thankfully caught early. He will recover. A night or two a'slumber is all he needs now. Might I ask how he came about his... unfortunate condition?”

  “You might ask,” Scilio replied coolly. “Though, I'm disinclined to answer.”

  Hessalin slipped up from behind and ushered Vann up for his turn in the bath. Though Scilio did not leave Vann's side, he allowed the courtesans to complete the task without interference. He would have preferred taking the chore for himself, but he could not roll up his sleeves and risk exposing the vambrace. It would invite unwanted questions if he tried. When Vann was clean, dressed and tucked comfortably under the covers, Bressalin lifted a cup to his lips. Scilio opened his mouth in a protest that was quickly interrupted.

  “Hydration is one element of healing,” Bressalin scolded gently. “If he does not drink, he will not improve.”

  “Why do you not trust us?” Hessalin asked softly. “What harm might we bring, when we only wish pleasured outcomes for any of our guests?”

  Scilio was not quite sure what led him to admit such, but he answered against his better senses. It was spoken bitterly, without apology. “If you must know, it was a courtesan's ploy that led to the accident which robbed my brother of his able mind. If not for the Psychonic spells your kind weave, I would still have him here. If there is vengeance due for my brother's condition, it is certainly against those of temptress talents.”

  The sisters blinked, their lashes cast downward in sympathy and some rare expressions that Scilio had difficulty reading.

  “I can understand your hesitance, and your rancor,” Hessalin said calmly. “As you are ill at ease in our presence, please allow us to take our leave. Refreshment, though you may not trust it, will be provided as you require. Rest well, and ring if you need anything at all.”

  The sisters excused themselves, leaving Dailan and Scilio alone with Vann.

  Scilio was finally able to relax his shoulders.

  “You sure put up a fight, Tosh,” Dailan said. “I did too, but I wanted to give in to them. Like it would make me happy just to answer their questions and roll over to their belly scratchin'.”

  “That is the nature of their enchantments,” Scilio explained, sinking into a cushioned chair of high backing. “Courtesans weave their intent into your will and you find yourself deriving pleasure from their very insinuations. That you were able to hold out is commendable, Dainn.”

  “Feels good, don't it?” Dailan said with a crescent grin. “Being all squeaky again, I mean.”

  “Having spent the entirety of my life pampered in immaculate hygienics, I am beginning to feel the hints of my old self returning. In that realization, I must refrain from imbibing in such familiar bliss. It is my old self that brought this upon us. I dare not summon him back.”

  Dailan shook his head with disapproval. The boy could not understand how deeply Scilio's culpability was rooted.

  “You don't gotta kill the Shunatar to save His Majesty,” Dailan said. “Saiya Kunnai always says there's balance in everything. You just gotta find yours.”

  Scilio tugged the sleeve back as far as it would work to reveal a hint of the obsidian vambrace it hid. The cuff was too tight to allow the whole vambrace through, but the dragon's head was clearly visible. Fingers stroked the Kion as he pondered the complexity and maturity in Dailan's words with a deep suspire.

  “Why don't you get some sleep? I'll take first watch,” Dailan said.

  Scilio nodded, feeling the weariness creep into his bones. The sleepless night before was finally catching up to him. He put the Kion to rest under cover of his sleeve again, then crossed arms and leaned back into the chair. “Wake me shortly and I will relieve you.”

  Only minutes dissolved before Scilio succumbed to sleep, fitful and restless though it was. The thought lingered in the back of his mind that Vann was in some manner of danger, and that Scilio had walked him right into it. They were only dreams of insecurity that toyed with his fatigued mind, certainly.

  The hours that ticked by were incalculable, but at some point long after darkness had settled in through the parted curtain, a chilled breeze tickled Scilio's nose as it brushed on by. He itched at the sensation and slapped the air away. Stretching his arms upward, Scilio yawned, mentally preparing himself to rouse and relieve Dailan of watch duty. Suddenly, his raised arm was snagged just as a shroud enveloped his head to obscure his vision. He must have been caught in a Binding spell, for he could not move his appendages. The metallic clink and hiss of inhibiting binders sealed around his wrists, preventing him from casting.

  He couldn't even call out a warning to Dailan, for his concrete tongue would not budge. As he was hauled gruffly from his seat and dragged away, Scilio knew he had failed again. The blackness of his vision mirrored the dark foreboding in his gut.

  “Clamp him in the jowl,” a deep voice commanded. “I hear he's an obstinate. Gonna be a long night cracking this one.”

  -16-

  Finding Confirmation in Confession

  Vann has realized the nature of the message that was gifted him by Elder Trenen on the Pavilion of Freedom. The hue pendant, worn by the Circle members, is an alterlet meant to disguise the statesman. Drifting through common public houses, unrecognized to the average citizen, those in roles of leadership can better determine the unfiltered, unpolished and brutally honest attitudes and desires of the citizenry, without the show that accompanies interactions of statesmanship. Noble usage, that. Of course, I see an alternative employment for the hue pendant. To take on the visage of another would make for a devilish multi-purpose instrument to my evening escapades. Perhaps I shall ask to borrow the device from time to time. The role of rugged kaiyo-slayer is one I have longed to assume in nocturnal encounters, but have never had an adequate theater wardrobe to achieve. This alterlet may prove to be the ultimate toy for my midnight delights.

  - Excerpt from the journal of Guardian Toma Scilio

  The warrior's senses that had been cut on the edge of danger warned Kir of another presence. She wasn't sure how that worked, but she figured it was some kind of Naturals. Just like Creative magics could be innate, she figured the same held for some strains of Naturals, too. She didn't have to cast anything to be in touch with the environment, even if it was only subconsciously.

  It wasn't unusual to be watched in the camp, where there were a lot of eyeballs to go around. This wasn't the camp, so eyeballs should have been in short supply. Kir readied to cast out a Panorama probe with her Naturals, to get a feel for the watcher and his location. She didn't feel a malicious aura, but a spy's a spy.

  Before she could cast, something caught Kir's attention. She squinted in the twilight to adjust her vision. It might have been a flutter, or maybe a whisper of a breeze, but something had changed. A minor movement finally drew her eye to a branch a few yards away, where a hawk was perched. She knew it wasn't a messenger. It had no scroll box on its leg. For being a wild creature, it sure seemed comfortable in the presence of a human.

  As Kir studied it, trying to get a sense of its shape against the backdrop that blended together with its coloration, she recognized the variety. It was a Gander's buzzard, just like Vann's bird, Beacon. In fact, this hawk had all the same markings. If Kir didn't know any better...

  She blinked away the ridiculous notion. Of course it wasn't Beacon. Vann's buzzard was a world away, probably still with Alokien or maybe with Virnard Karmine in his austringer complex. Everything reminded her of Vann, no matter how immaterial. Kir was missing him so much, she could find him in just about anything. Still, this hawk's resemblance to Beacon was st
riking. Kir had never commanded a hawk before. It was a man's past-time and she had never been welcomed into that world. Spending time with Vann on the hunt had introduced her to the sport, but her only knowledge was what she had learned watching him. Her experience was sparing at best.

  “Beacon?” Kir called, just for kicks.

  He didn't respond. She hadn't really expected him to. Hawks did not think like humans; they had a primitive instinct in their drive. Kir sent out her Naturals to try and connect with the hawk, but he seemed to sense her invasion and lit out from his perch. His carriage in the way he flew was so similar to Beacon it was uncanny. Probably not surprising, though—Gander's buzzards were native to the area and the hawk probably had a nest somewhere on the side of the mountain.

  “Wait, bird!” she called after him. “I didn't mean to insult you. I'll call you whatever you want.”

  He disappeared silently into the trees.

  “There you are, Kir,” Melia said. Her head was poked through the back tent flap. “Malacar was beginning to fret.”

  “Wenchin furies. Can't even get a moment's peace, can I?” Kir muttered.

  “Not so long as Malacar draws breath.” Melia seemed amused with the situation, even if it was only her eyes that said it.

  After the supper trays had been taken for cleaning, Kir paid a visit to Corban's chow wagon to collect some offal and organ meats. She returned to the log where she had seen the buzzard.

  “Hawk?” she called, glopping the sticky organ meats on the branch where he had been perched before. “You're probably back to your nest already, but I read somewheres that raptors can hear for leagues. Hungry?” Kicking up her Naturals, Kir tried to conjure a mental picture of the meat. When she was convinced that it was the yummiest gunk in all the aisles, she sent the image out, hoping the hawk was receptive.

  She wiped her hand off on a handkerchief. It may not have been Vann's Beacon, but in some way, the act made her feel like she was doing something useful. Kir had expected the creepy feeling of being watched to disappear with the bird, but it hadn't. It hung on the air and raised the little hairs on the back of her neck. Someone else was out there, watching. A human someone.

  There was the smart Vann thing to do: return to camp and have Rendack track the spy. Then, there was the spontaneous Kir thing to do: save time and find him herself. She went with the Kir option.

  Since the watcher wasn't likely to move and draw attention, Kir decided to take the high ground for a better view. Tree climbing was a talent and fondness of hers that she rarely had time or reason to engage in lately. She scanned for the best climbing tree and scurried up it quickly. Being so nimble and agile made for easy going. The branches of this particular gnarly oak seemed Gods-crafted for limb scalers. It was almost as easy as taking stairs.

  Kir was about a quarter way up when she took a scan of the canopy for a sense of which route and which branches would be the most efficient. It stunned her when that scan put her in direct eye-lock with the very spy she had been climbing up to seek below. The slender body, long black hair and crimson eyes belonged to a person all too familiar.

  “Lili? What in Blazers are you doing up a tree?” Kir called.

  Lili's chin tucked. She looked as sheepish as Kir had ever seen her. She descended a few branches nimbly, with such grace and expert ease that she might as well have been gliding across a dance floor. Lili seemed as comfortable slipping between the branches as Kir was. It wasn't far, so Kir hoisted up to meet her halfway.

  “I might ask the same question of you,” Lili said when they were a length away from each other.

  “I felt eyes and was trying to gain the upper ground to seek them out,” Kir reported. “I didn't expect them to be crimson. I suppose it's you been stalking me for a while. This isn't the first time I've felt like I was being watched.”

  “It was meant as a precaution, nothing more,” Lili assured her. “If I can't be with you physically, at least I can watch out for danger from afar. I should have done better to mask my aura. You're too seasoned a warrior not to notice.”

  Kir had known for a long time that Lili was more than a simple attendant. There was no extraneous movement in her form. She hid an uncanny speed that could only be mastered in years of specialized training. Lili was Ulivall's spy, that much Kir knew, but the deeper story of Lili's background was a mystery that hadn't been uncovered yet.

  The water bladder at Kir's hip dangled, thumping against a branch. She unlaced the cord and handed it up to her mysterious Second Lady.

  “I've been wondering where you trained,” Kir commented as Lili took a swig.

  “Trained?”

  Lili looked so innocent Kir might have thought she had been wrong after all. It just meant that Lili was that good a thespian—so gifted that she could rival Scilio and Vann.

  “I've never known an attendant that could catch a teacup midair like you can, Lili. Or one could navigate oak limbs with the grace of a Drabackian acrobat. You were placed in the royal party as Ulivall's spy, so you're obviously a lot more than an accomplished house servie. I haven't asked before because your past is your own and it didn't seem like my business. But if you'd like to tell me now, away from prying ears, I'd appreciate it. I think I'm owed it to know who walks with me, but mostly because I need to know what my assets are. For when trouble comes.”

  Lili handed the water bladder back and parked herself against the trunk. She let her feet dangle. Kir sat beside her, straddling a thick branch.

  “You have every right to know, Kir. Quite honestly, I should have told you when you named me your Second Lady. The role I play at your side began as per my orders from Ulivall, but I no longer serve as your personal attendant on obligation. Now, I am here purely as your friend. Were Ulivall to order me on another assignment tomorrow, I would refuse in favor of remaining by your side. As long as you will have me.”

  “I'm glad to hear that, because I can't think of anyone I'd rather have stalking me from the forest canopies. How'd you get so good at climbing?”

  “Have you ever heard of the tengugate?”

  “Ten-goo-gah-tay? Heard of, yes, but I don't know anything about it. I think I remember Master Kozias mention it when he was trying to figure out how to train me. He said I would be a good candidate, but he didn't know any tengugate masters to pass me off to. That's when we came up with the forms based on the Dimishuan fire dances.”

  “Your Master Kozias was right. You would have been an ideal candidate. The warrior class believes it holds a monopoly on warfare, but the styles they favor are more suited to brute force and forward assault on the battlefield. There are other forms of combat that are lesser known. The tengugate is one of those. It was patterned after the tengu birds that live deep in remote wetland regions of Hili and Arcadia.”

  “Tengu birds. They're kaiyo, aren't they?”

  “Large, humanoid kaiyo, but they're not as intelligent as kaienze. Their feathers are hard like armor, making them difficult to fell, and they have long beaks and eyes adapted to darkness. They are skilled at moving through treetops silently, slipping into shadow and attacking in opportune moments. The tengugate is a style based on the stealthy movements of the tengu.”

  “An ideal style for a spy. Or an assassin,” Kir realized with a crescent grin.

  Lili acknowledged with a gliding nod. “My childhood was unconventional for a Dimishuan. I was born in Arcadia and chosen at a young age for training as a dokainin. That's the Arcadian name for a master of the tengugate. The method of training dokainin is... difficult. Not many survive it. We were brainwashed early with Psychonic invasion, regularly dosed with potions to ensure that our loyalty was undying. So much so that our collars were not active. We were able to access our magics fully, which made our tengugate techniques that much more deadly. My master Immins dealt in assassinations and espionage. He was not upper-born but he became very wealthy on the blood money of many contracted dealings. His dokainin were quite excellen
t at our jobs. We were never once revealed.”

  “It scares me to think how brilliant that idea is,” Kir admitted with a forced breath. “Place seemingly innocent young girls in the slaveholds of wealthy nobles and you have an instant spy in the enemy's house, without a soul suspecting it.”

  “Exactly. One worthy spy is worth a thousand armored men,” Lili confirmed.

  “How did you end up in Hili, then? It sounds like you were set in your position.”

  “I was, and Immins thought of me as one of his favorites. He sent me on assignment to infiltrate Hili when I was seventeen. I was to pose as an escaped libertine from a warrior class hold and ingratiate myself with Ulivall. After obtaining all the intelligence I could gather, I was to eliminate him.”

  “You were sent to kill Ulivall?” Kir whistled. “I never would have figured that. What stopped you?”

  “When I arrived in Hili, I was amazed at the civilization I saw there. It was the first time in my life I realized that Dimishuans could hold the key to their own collar. Of course, I was loyal to my master and I never dreamed of abandoning my mission, so I planted myself in Ulivall's army and rose to service as his aid. I grew to love Hili, but those feelings were stifled as a weakness. On the night I was set to assassinate Ulivall, something made me hesitate. I stood over his sleeping form and could have ended him in a blink, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. To this day, I can't explain what stayed my hand. Ulivall awoke and found me there, tear-streaked and torn, with my poisoned hairpin at his neck. In the interrogation, the healer recognized the potions and the Psychonic anchors that were fixing my loyalty to Immins. It took some time, but he was able to successfully purge them from my system, leaving me free of will. Free of Immins. The first failed assassin in that hold.”

  Kir had been holding her breath, riveted through Lili's story. “What about Immins? He must have been furious when you didn't return.”