by JL Rowan
Yes, the Guardians answered in unison.
"I thought so. I would do it if I could. I owe your father that much, at least, and the gods know we have plenty of unoccupied land."
We appreciate the gesture nonetheless, Majesty, Gaenbur said.
With a snort, Orontes threw his napkin on the table. "A gesture will not shelter or feed your people, and you may not be pleased with my alternative. You may wish to save your thanks." Pushing his chair back, he stood and strode to the window. "The unsettled OutKingdom lands in this part of the world are not habitable. Or rather," he said with a wry smile as he faced them, "not habitable for civilized people. There are uncivilized tribes beyond our borders. Some of our own more adventurous nobles have gone OutKingdom to try to claim lands to enlarge their holdings and estates. They've never returned."
"Then where does that leave us?" Arnon said. If they could not be accepted into any kingdom, and OutKingdom was not safe--
"I have a fleet of ships," Orontes said. "There are civilized lands beyond the sea. We trade with one of the kingdoms, and I know from the reports my men bring back that there is an abundance of uninhabited, safe land. I am willing to send you there on my ships, if you would like to go."
Arnon found he could not speak. Leave? The king was suggesting they leave forever the only home they had ever known? Not only could he not find his tongue, he could barely find a coherent thought.
He tried to gauge the Guardians' reaction, but their silver eyes were unfathomable. Given their silence and the glances they exchanged amongst themselves, he suspected they were speaking to each other.
Were they actually considering leaving their home forever?
Orontes seemed content to wait patiently for a response from the Guardians.
Arnon could not say the same for himself. He tried not to fidget.
Finally Gaenbur stirred. We must think about this.
"Of course," Orontes said. "I would hardly expect an immediate answer." He crossed to the door. "Simply tell Rodin you wish to speak to me when you have decided. You are welcome to stay in the palace until then."
Thank you, Majesty.
"I ask only one thing, if you decide to go." Orontes paused at the door. "My wife is a jealous woman and Darian is his mother's son. Please take Shansor and his mother with you. I fear for their lives, and I would much rather send them into exile than bury them."
Of course.
Orontes let himself out.
Arnon tore his gaze from the closed door and fixed it back upon the Guardians. No one spoke.
Dara broke the silence at last. Well, that is that.
Arnon felt the blood drain from his face at the finality in her tone. "Surely you are not considering--seriously considering--his offer?" He glanced from one Guardian to the next, but they all wore the same placid expression.
We will have to speak with the others, of course, Gaenbur said. Such a matter goes beyond the Council, but we will most likely accept.
"Leave?" Arnon said plaintively. Leave Janna and the children?
Zedric resumed eating. Where would we go if we stayed here, Arnon? We cannot stay in Anshaar; we certainly cannot go into Corrin's realm. Other kingdoms will not have us, and we cannot risk the lives of the people by living among barbarians. We must go where it is safe.
Talithia is her people, Arnon, Gaenbur said. Not the land. You know that.
He pretended to busy himself with the food on his plate, but in his mind he saw his wife and smelled the earth he'd shoveled over her. How could he leave her? How could he stay with the Guardians if they asked it of him?
She is not there, my friend, whispered a gentle voice in his mind.
Startled, Arnon met Gaenbur's eyes, forgetting in his misery that he'd given his friend permission to engage his thought-sensing abilities when he pleased.
"I know," he whispered. But the thought of never being able to go back--never being able to bring her flowers--even if it did take weeks to walk from wherever he'd be--
He swallowed the lump in his throat, washing it down with some wine. The Guardians were right, of course, the rational part of his mind asserted over his heart. The Talithians had to leave. Even if they hadn't lost most of their men in battle, they still couldn't survive among barbarians. It would not be right to ask them to live in fear. There had been enough of that as of late.
"I know," he repeated more loudly. "You're right. Talithia is her people, not the land, and we can't stay." But the words sounded hollow in his ears. "When will you tell the king?"
Tomorrow, Gaenbur said. We must consult with the others now.
Arnon watched the Guardians retreat into one of the adjoining rooms.
They would accept Orontes' offer. The Guardians would sail away to unknown lands.
But would he? When the time came, would he be standing on the deck of the ship as it set sail?
Talithia may be the people, he thought much later as he drew himself a hot bath, but the people are weary. Was it even possible for his people--for him--to journey to the other side of the world and begin again?
It was a question that chased him into the darkness of sleep and beyond.
* * * *
Ready to embark?
Arnon glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Gaenbur's voice. The Guardian was making his way from the other side of the deck. He waited until his friend was at his side before answering.
"As much as I'll ever be, I suppose." He gazed once more at the long rows of market stalls and mongeries that lined the edge of the harbor. "Though I'm not sure I'll ever get used to all this swaying."
Gaenbur chuckled. The captain tells me that we'll grow accustomed to it in a few days.
"I hope so," Arnon said. "Is everyone else settled?"
We're only waiting for the tide.
"Did Alic and Thesa change their minds?"
Gaenbur released a mental sigh. No.
He stared out over the horizon. "I would have thought that if anyone stayed behind, it would have been me." A week ago, when the announcement was made, Arnon could have predicted that the people would be surprised to learn they were setting sail for the other side of the world. He could even have guessed that they would be resistant to the idea at first, as he had been. But he could never have imagined that Alic and Thesa, two of the most prominent citizens of Talithia, would adamantly refuse to come.
Alic and Thesa had lost all of their children in Corrin's attack. Thesa still had yet to make it through a morning without weeping most of it away. Alic had distant relatives in Kartha, and they had decided to remain behind and rebuild their lives there. They would not risk the lives of future children by remaining part of a people so unusually ruled and so vulnerable to attack.
"I can't fault them for their decision." Arnon understood the temptation to walk away from Talithia only too well. He'd felt that way the first night after Corrin's attack, and again the day Orontes made his offer. But even with all of his unanswered questions, there was one that rose above the rest: where would he go if he left Talithia?
Talithia was all he had ever known. The community was his life, and in this past week, he'd had to choose if it would continue to be his life. Though the Lady had sent the Guardians to rule Her people, She never forced Herself on anyone. Talithia was always a choice.
I'm glad you chose to come with us.
Arnon said nothing. Even though he had made his choice, he didn't know how glad he could be for it. Was happiness even possible anymore? He shook his head. Time--he needed time. They all did.
"What will happen to them? They are alone here."
Arana does not forsake Her own. They need healing, as we all do. Kingret is remaining behind with them.
"But Kingret is our high priest!"
He feels Arana is calling him to do this, and we concur. Orontes has agreed to allow him to establish a temple to Her in Kartha, and Kingret is one of the few priests who knows the sacred texts by heart. They will not forget their heritage.
/> "And the sacred relics? Kingret saved them during the attack. He will not keep them, will he?"
Of course not. Kingret is only keeping copies of the sacred texts. The relics come with us.
Arnon felt relief wash over him. The relics had been with Talithia since its founding nearly two hundred years ago, and always under the care of the high priest.
He didn't blame Alic and Thesa--or Kingret--for their choice, but he would miss them. "Perhaps they will join us someday."
Perhaps, Gaenbur allowed, though his dubious tone belied the hopeful word.
"Lovely evening to set sail, isn't it?" said someone behind them.
Arnon looked over his shoulder to see Shansor, the bastard son of Orontes, approaching. "It is indeed. Are you and your mother settled?"
Shansor rested his forearms against the railing. "We are, thank you."
"You seem to be taking your forced exile quite well." Though he'd been busy helping Orontes' men bring supplies to the ships, Arnon had observed the boy as much as possible. Having a would-be assassin traveling among the people did little to improve his peace of mind. Shansor had kept to himself for a time after he boarded the ship, until, it seemed, he learned that only Arnon and the Guardians knew why he traveled with them. How he found out, Arnon didn't know, but he came to life and threw himself into the daily routine of the ship. He surmised that Shansor had managed to charm most of the people on board.
Shansor grinned. "Given the alternative I was facing, this is paradise. Adventure, excitement--what more could a man want?"
Arnon smiled indulgently upon Shansor's youthful enthusiasm. Time, he knew, would temper much of it. "But won't you miss your friends?"
Shansor shrugged eloquently. For a brief moment, Arnon saw a hint of true emotion escape through the braggadocio and dim the brightness of his smile. "They're all jealous of me anyway."
Whatever his friends may have felt, Arnon doubted that jealousy numbered highly among their emotions, if at all. But he only maintained his smile, and did not move to contradict the boy. Time would care for this as well.
A woman called out to Shansor. "That's Mother," he said. "It's time for evenmeal. I'd better see to her. Have a pleasant evening."
"And you." Once the boy was out of earshot, Arnon said, "Aren't they concerned that he'll escape and attempt to kill the prince again?"
No. Orontes told me the council put a price on his head that could purchase a small village. Should he ever set foot on Ansharran soil again, his life is forfeit to anyone who recognizes him. This ship is the only safe haven he has, and he knows that.
Arnon watched his retreating form. "I'm surprised the council hasn't sent someone to assassinate him."
Who's to say they haven't? The maneuverings of Orontes' court run deep. But I promised Orontes we would keep watch over the boy and his mother.
"Oh?"
It's the least we could do. If not for his generosity, we'd be living among barbarians.
Arnon raised an eyebrow. "True."
"Cast off lines!"
Arnon started at the captain's call to get under way. The tide was taking them out.
I'd better see to Dreisa and the kits. Knowing Dariel and Seledryth, they're ready to climb the masts and play lookout.
Arnon watched the Guardian cross the swaying deck with enviable grace before turning back to gaze over the harbor one last time. For all that he had reassured his friend, he wasn't sure he would ever be ready to leave. One thing was certain, however. He wouldn't miss the heavy odor of dead fish that seemed to cling to the harbor and its environs, getting into a man's clothes and hair. A week in the midst of it had been more than enough for him.
His smile fading, he allowed his thoughts to return to those that had originally drawn him to the rail. He stared into the growing twilight--beyond the harbor, beyond the city and borders, deep into the heart of the forest. For a moment, he was home by Janna's side, and she was laughing at him in her teasing way.
He felt in his pocket for the small square of embroidered linen.
"Someday," he whispered with longing.
For the barest of moments, he felt a breath of Janna's spirit brush against his soul, as if to confirm the holy promise.
The moment gone, he turned from the rail to help set up for evenmeal.
* * *
About the Author
J. L. Rowan has been reading and writing fantastic tales since childhood. Her love of far-away, magical places drew her to both personal and formal study of all things medieval--and the SCA, where she can pretend (if only for a moment) that the ideals of Camelot truly exist. Her love of the medieval, combined with her love of felines and other talking animals in literature, led to her creation of the Guardians and the world of Talithia, where high fantasy reigns. She has a B.A. in English, and MLS in Archives, with training in rare books bibliography at the Folger Shakespeare Library. Her love of rare books, old libraries, and Shakespeare all influence her current Talithian work-in-progress, To Tread Upon Kings. She has had two other Talithian stories published in Deep Magic, and an excerpt of To Tread Upon Kings won the 2007 Novel Excerpt Contest put on by award-winning author Tosca Lee. When not writing, she enjoys practicing the book arts. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with two mischievous balls of feline fur.
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