“Brother,” Kalindinai said, slicing off a hunk of cheese and nibbling at it. “Not all jewels sparkle when you first dig them up. It takes a skilled eye to look beyond the surface and see the potential within.”
Bertrand harrumphed. “Sister, sometimes it is the brightest jewel that has the least worth.”
Sarai frowned at her uncle. “And sometimes a dirt clod is still a dirt clod, no matter how you dress it up.”
Lord Valharesh looked to her. “Yes, Niece, just so…”
* * *
Chapter Twenty-One
Meet the Healer
« ^ »
Eternals, gods, demons, avatars, great elders, heroes and heroines; I’ve brushed death so many times that a creature’s potential for harm hardly scares me anymore. Now healers on the other hand, pointy proby sticks, foul tasting potions… keep them bloody away!
—Bannor Nalthane Starfist,
Prince Conjugal of Malan
Bannor left the meal with a queasy stomach despite the lightness of the meal. There had been some veiled remarks aimed at Sarai and himself, but it was clear that any real scolding would take place at another time and locale. It was clear that Kalindinai had some inkling of what the two of them had been hinting at. Bannor was surprised that the Queen would so easily suspect her own brother.
While he had a queasy stomach, it was Sarai who was fuming as they walked down the corridor back toward Green Run. “Pompous son of sylph, I wanted to slap that superior look off his face.”
He rubbed her shoulders. “Easy, Star, they’re just words.” He gave her a hug from behind.
Sarai rocked her head back against him. “Small-minded, low-browed, long-haired peacock. I sooo wanted to pluck off his plumage.”
He kissed her on the neck. “I love it when you defend me. Crass boor that I am.”
“Well, it hurts me when that lizard runs you down,” she said.
“He was scared.”
“He was?”
“Oh yes, he almost jumped out of his skin when I said ‘morgeer’.”
“Carellion, I didn’t see him react at all.”
“He’s well trained. His threads told a different tale I assure you. If he’s not responsible for the morgeer, he knows something about it.” He gave her another squeeze and pulled her along with him. “We need to keep an eye on him.”
“How do we do that?” Sarai asked. “He’s one of the highest nobles in Malan. He has a battalion of guards, nearly as much security as Mother and Father.”
“Star, please, one thing I’ve come to accept. When it comes to our friends, where there’s a will—there’s a way. Lady Senalloy can apparently watch you anywhere… how does she do that?”
“I don’t know.”
He leaned close to her. “You know what? Another thing I’m finally coming to accept. We don’t need to know. We are all friends and family—we take care of one another. Wren is staying over tonight because she cares about you. It’s important to us, they’ll help us find a way.”
Wearing a solemn expression, Sarai nodded.
They exited the main citadel and started down the walk to the portico leading to Green Run. Corim Vale was sitting on one of the benches along the walk, legs folded up and book in his lap. As they approached he brushed back his long hair and looked up. “Friend Bannor, Arminwen Sarai.” He closed the book, rose and bowed to her.
“Corim,” Bannor acknowledged. “Need us for something?”
“Just you friend,” Corim responded with a grin. “Perfect pipes, remember?”
Bannor rubbed his head. “Oh, right.”
“Is it all right if I come along?” Sarai asked.
“More than,” the broad shouldered man answered. “He’s going to need your shoulder to cry on. He set quite an ordeal for himself.”
“Ordeal?”
“Don’t worry, Star,” he said. He gestured ahead. “Lead on.”
The burly warrior put the book under his arm and headed toward a different portico.
“So, Master Vale,” Sarai asked. “How is it you knew where we’d come out of Kul’Amaron?”
“Arminwen, the Shaladen given to me by the eternals is a wondrous tool. Tracking people and gathering information is one of its primary functions.”
Bannor looked over at Sarai and wiggled his eyebrows.
She rolled her eyes.
They followed Corim out the north portico and across the long curving bridge that arched across the churning waters of the Kymer River that wound its way around Green Run.
Seeing that they were heading toward the citadel grounds north gate, Sarai picked up the pace to catch up with Corim’s long strides. “Master Vale, I can’t go out into the city without my guards. So soon after the incident, Mother would have a fit.”
He glanced over at her and smiled. “You mean that guard?” He gestured to her left.
As Sarai looked over as a shape shimmered next to her. At first, it looked like nothing more than a heat image lingering over hot rocks. In moments, it became more opaque and took on color. In a handful of heartbeats, the tall figure of silver-haired Senalloy solidified. The burly Baronian woman was dressed in a sleeveless black tunic decorated with the red and white star-shaped crest of the king’s Night Slash elite guards. She wore some loose silk kick-pants, the baggie ankle cuffs tied above hill-slippers. Her long hair was braided into a tail, and the hilt of sword thrust up over her shoulder.
Just seeing her appear had made Sarai draw a breath. Bannor was certain it was her Father’s symbol that surprised her.
“Whoa, Lady Senalloy, you must really have impressed the King this morning.”
The tall woman bowed to him. “They saw my value, but it was your recommendation that carried the most weight—especially with the Queen.”
Sarai glanced back at him. “Have you been following us this whole time?”
Senalloy stepped close and leaned down to Sarai. “Arminwen, you would be surprised at how many people track your movements. I will be a few days learning who works for whom, and who I should continue to permit observing you. Until then, I will be—discrete—unless a situation like now dictates otherwise.”
“Surprised?” Sarai said frowning. “I can think of at least six.”
The violet-eyed woman grinned. “I’ve seen that many this morning alone.” She gestured toward the gate. “After you.”
With Senalloy following they proceeded to the gates, where Sarai checked in with the gate guards. At first, the two midachs demurred, but upon catching sight of Senalloy’s clothing they gestured her through.
They walked through “town” though it was not like any human city in the strictest sense. The entire community was built amongst the trees, rocks, and streamlets. Few straight lines existed in Malan, streets and walkways wove in and out of the tree growth. Some structures built above ground level, spanning the gaps overhead. It was a kind of magic that only elven patience and lifespan could create.
Elf families lived and worked here. Children played. There were merchants and shops. The biggest difference was the sound—or the lack thereof. Where every city Bannor had ever been in was tremendously loud, Malan seemed almost silent in comparison. Wind chimes and pipe music could be heard drifting through the boughs. There was laughter, and talking of course, but it was all very pastoral without the rush and tension one usually felt in the centers of human population.
Corim took them across another bridge toward the center of town and then up a stairwell that wrapped around the bole of a giant scale-wood tree.
The noises of a busy inn grew distinct as they hit the landing at the end of the stairs. They stepped into a crowded commons, where a few dozen elves relaxed, ate and drank. A few halted their conversations to stare at Sarai, obviously recognizing their princess.
Corim steered them toward the back of the room to an isolated table where three humans and two Kriar sat. Dulcere, dressed in green with her hair braided, Bannor recognized. The other Kriar, who was male, looked
strangely familiar to Bannor, a burly fellow with long dark hair framing a broad face and blue glowing eyes—not the normal black he had come to associate with Kriar. A white crescent shape was tattooed on one cheek. A leather jacket hung loose on his wide shoulders, the sleeves stitched with strange symbols. He leaned back in his chair with his legs crossed and on the table edge. He had a casual, almost careless posture, worlds different from the careful and formal Dulcere.
The humans were all strangers to Bannor. Two dark-haired women, one fair, the other with the olive skin Bannor associated with people in the south. The last was a brown-haired lanky young man in his late twenties dressed in an unbuttoned leather jacket, and black jodhpurs and polished boots. He was too well muscled to be sedentary, but the jewelry and styled hair screamed ‘dandy’.
As they approached Bannor heard part of the conversation that the olive-skinned woman was directing at the Kriar male. “…what do you mean, free? Why should we do it for free?”
The Kriar male rocked back in the chair, balancing nonchalantly on the rear legs, his hands laced over his middle. His eyes were closed and he was nodding to himself as though listening to some catchy but inaudible musical tune. “Because—I asked you to.” He said in a rumbling, but not unpleasant voice.
The olive-skinned woman scowled. Her dark eyes flashing as she glared at him. The Kriar seemed totally oblivious to her irritation.
The other man who was sitting next to woman rubbed her shoulder.
The pale girl sat quietly. Looking around the room with apparent interest, but not involved in or bothered with the conversation. On second glance, though the woman seemed rather ordinary with her long face and straight hair, there was something odd about her. Her pale gray eyes were particularly intense, not hostile or benevolent, but watchful and… hungry? He didn’t know why his instinct jumped to that. Hungry? Not for food… but what?
Though everyone save Dulcere was a stranger to him, it was Sarai who was humming in surprise. “Keshira Shadowstalker, how interesting to find you in the borders of Malan. We had heard you and your brother Nevarr had died.”
The man who was sitting next to the dark woman scrambled out of his chair and bowed to Sarai with a practiced flourish. “Caldorian Illkaren Felspar at your service Arminwen.”
Sarai nodded to him and glanced back to the woman who simply met her eyes. She sniffed but still lowered her head slightly in deference. “Arminwen Sarai. I—” She frowned in the direction of the gold man. “I had not expected to see any of the royal family—here. As to Our being alive—that was a near thing. We had quite a time hopping from city to city along Canth and Pedon. We finally took up in Ivaneth about seven summers ago. That’s when I met my husband Caldorian.”
“Married into the Felspars is it?” Sarai asked.
“Happily.” She leaned her head to one side. “Apologies, but I find it surprising for you to be with a human.” Her attention turned to Senalloy. “A Baronian—Shael Dal and Kriar no less. Rather progressive—not at all like the policies of T’Evagdurans I remember.”
“Star, you know this woman?” Bannor asked.
Sarai nodded. “Certainly, this is—” She tilted her head. “Was—the princess of Drakmourne, one of the most powerful Kingdoms in Silissia. They provided the mercenary shock troops in one of Corwin’s misguided attempts to press our western border.”
Bronawyn made a dismissing gesture. “It was just business, Arminwen.”
Sarai narrowed her eyes. “I’m certain that’s what the Ariokeen mercenaries said when they chopped off your Father’s head.”
The woman came up out of her chair like a shot, sword shrieking in the scabbard on her side.
As fast as she was, the male Kriar was standing in front of her with a hand on her wrist. Bannor didn’t even see him move. He just instantly filled the space. At the same time, Senalloy stood like a wall between Sarai and the table.
Sarai looked up at the huge woman shielding her. She glanced over at Bannor. She stepped to Senalloy’s side and folded her arms. “Keshira, ware when you make light of the commerce of death, lest you become its next customer. I lost several friends in that business of your father’s and it’s neither funny nor an excuse.”
The woman snarled. “Let go of me, Eclipse.”
The young man also took hold of her arm. “Bronawyn, we’re in bloody Malan. You draw on her and we’ll rot in jail.”
She stopped struggling with the two males but her gaze didn’t waver from Sarai. “Be that as it may. I’ll have an apology for that.”
Sarai smiled. “You’ll have it—the moment you take back that crass remark of yours.”
“Isn’t it nice when princesses get along so well?” Eclipse said. He extended a hand across the table to Senalloy. “Eclipse Shargris, Talonlancer legion Tarkath.”
Senalloy took his hand and dipped her head. “Cada. Senalloy Moirae Corresont currently a member of the Malanian Night Slash elite.” She paused. “Isn’t being a guard bit beneath the station of a Kriar high commander?”
Eclipse shrugged. “I’m on vacation. I could say the same of a Baronian war-witch.”
She sighed and glanced at Corim. “I guess you could say I’m on vacation too.”
“Would you two stop ignoring us?” Bronawyn growled. “And let go of me.”
“We were being civil,” Eclipse said, letting go of her.
“You should make her apologize,” Bronawyn said with a sniff.
“It would serve you right if I let you across the table and she smacked you sideways. Your coarse remark was undignified and not fitting your station.” He leaned over. “Not to mention we are on her front porch. Have some sense, Child. Do you want to get the whole family ousted from Malan? Cassandra will beat you, and Desiray and Loric will stand in line to take turns.”
Bronawyn made a hissing sound.
Sarai tilted her head and tapped her toe. She seemed to greatly enjoy the other princess’ discomfort.
The young man stepped behind Bronawyn and massaged her shoulders and whispered something in her ear that Bannor didn’t hear. At the same time he saw threads of energy twine out from Caldorian’s hands and play through the Silissian woman’s body.
Bannor raised an eyebrow. It was very similar to what Wren was doing to Sarai to nourish the baby.
Bronawyn closed her eyes and let out a sigh, her body went lax and she leaned back against him. “Dammit Cal, I hate when—ummm—I hate when you do that.”
He kissed her on the neck. “You need to relax my sweet—you’re entirely too tense.”
“Urgh.” She rolled her eyes. “All right, damn it.” She jerked her shoulders away from his hands. She took a deep breath and shot another irritated glance at her husband. Her lip curled as she stared at Sarai.
Sarai brushed her hair back and tilted her head the other way.
“My—” Bronawyn seemed to choke. “My apologies, Arminwen. I was inappropriate in my words.”
Sarai raised an eyebrow. “My apologies as well, Keshira. I let my feelings sway my sense of diplomatic propriety.” She raised her chin. “As the Felspars are welcome in Malan, so are you.”
“Arminwen,” Eclipse bowed. “Pardon my failure to introduce myself. I am Eclipse, Bronawyn’s guardian.”
Sarai nodded. “And her adviser it would seem. Well met.”
He dipped his head again, smiling. The blue glow of his eyes brightening.
“Master Shargris was it?” Bannor asked.
The big Kriar nodded.
“I don’t know if Lady Dulcere mentioned it, but I had a fair run-in with another Kriar I think you know—Quasar.”
The Kriar man visibly stiffened. “No, she hadn’t mentioned it.” He glanced to Dulcere then looked back to him.
“Perhaps at a different time in different company—I might share with you some troubling revelations.”
“Revelations?” The Kriar frowned. He bent down and picked up Bronawyn’s chair and offered her a seat. He focused back on Bannor.
“Of what kind?”
“I think you would prefer to discuss it in private.”
“Ah.” The Kriar dipped his head. “Understood.” He turned to Bronawyn. “Shall I?”
The Silissian princess leaned back in her chair. “Be my guest, you’ve so graciously given away my money. You might as well talk for me too.”
“You’ll live,” Eclipse told her. He turned back to Bannor. “Dulcere and I discussed your request and I conferred with Mercedes. She would be the one doing the procedure.” He gestured to the dark-haired woman who had been silent throughout the exchange. “She informed me that it would not be difficult to do.”
“Mercedes?” Bannor repeated.
The solemn woman nodded. Her pale gray eyes met his and Bannor felt an itchy sensation all over his body. The sensation made him look at her again with his Nola senses. The woman’s threads were incredibly complex. Not even the ancient Dulcere and Eclipse began to approach the bewildering depth of her tracery. Was he mistaken? It was changing moment to moment as he watched. How was that possible? Dulcere had said she was some kind of living artifice. What he saw before him was very definitely alive—more alive than himself in many ways. A truly amazing creature, he didn’t know what to make of her. Why did he sense loneliness from her?
“Bannor? Are you okay?” Sarai asked, shaking his shoulder.
He blinked. “Oh, sorry.” He bowed. “My apologies Lady Mercedes for staring.”
The corner of the woman’s mouth quirked up. “You find me interesting?”
“To be truthful, yes. I’ve never seen anyone quite like you—you are so—alive.”
Mercedes raised an eyebrow, this time giving him a genuine smile. She raised her chin and looked toward Bronawyn with an arch expression.
The olive-skinned Keshira scowled back at Mercedes. “Fah. What does he know?”
The pale woman focused back on him. “I have retrieved all the necessary information for you. It will take about a quarter bell to perform your request.”
Reality's Plaything 3: Eternal's Agenda Page 38