by Kim Wedlock
The young man's intense alarm swiftly vanished, swept away by a broad smile so handsome and infectious that Aria instinctively smiled in return, forgetting her timidness in the busy, alien setting. "Karth - but please call me Anthis." Finally, he gave in to his wondering and turned to face her directly. "I'm curious: why are you here?"
"Because my daddy is," she replied quite simply, pointing proudly towards Rathen.
"Well, I suppose that's as good a reason as any - and I dare say you'll be safe in his company." Anthis looked to the inquisitor and the mage, the latter having yet to take a seat. "What approach do you intend to take with this?"
"There's only one we can: we have to see the ruins."
"Of course - but, though I assure you I'm keen and would usually be quite happy to head out right now if I was alone, spring isn't quite upon us." He nodded towards the desk. "There are a few rooms available and I'm well-liked by the keeper; I can get you some good rates for the night, and we can set out in the morning."
Rathen felt his heart sink. Though he had to agree that it would probably be a little too dark to see very clearly by the end of the next hour, he'd hoped they wouldn't be staying in the town a moment longer than necessary. The thought of spending the entire night here set his heart hammering. Aria must have heard it for she rose and hurried to his side to take his hand, though she beamed with renewed excitement at the same time.
Garon thanked him and accepted rather presumptuously on everyone's behalf, and after the historian had quickly drained what was left of his ale, folded the page of his book and pulled together his papers, they followed him to the tavern's desk, some more willingly than others.
Rathen frowned despite the smile that pulled at his lips as he tucked Aria into bed - one far bigger than any she'd ever seen, let alone slept in before, and she kicked her feet about beneath the sheets to take full advantage of that fact. "What are you grinning at?"
"Our adventure!" She giggled as he moved aside to pull the curtains together, leaving the room to the weak reach of a single candle.
"Staying in an inn and going to a ruin is an adventure?"
"It is! Oh I hope we see golems and spriggans in the forest!"
"I don't think you do. And anyway, Silverwood is too close to people for them to live out there." Suddenly he was quite grateful for the town and its populace, but as he sat down on his side of the double bed, for it was all that had been available, Aria's smile weakened and her eyes grew sad.
"I know you're not happy," she said softly, her feet still kicking about despite her seriousness, "but try not to dwell. It really will be all right."
"You sound like Kienza."
"And she's always right," she reminded him, "which means that if I sound like her and say the things she says, then I'm right, too." She nodded matter-of-factly. "So that means you should listen to me - but not like you listen to Kienza. I mean actually doing what I say, not just hearing me say it."
Laughter finally shattered his discomfort, and the only lines the candle light caught were those of good humour. Aria grinned victoriously and squeezed her eyes shut tight. "Keep smiling until I fall asleep, or I'll have bad dreams."
"I will," he said, his smile persisting.
"Promise?"
"Cross my heart."
She murmured in satisfaction as he blew out the candle, and snuggled down into the sheets, wriggling in comfort. He chuckled again and kissed her forehead, wishing her sweet dreams before settling down himself, but as comfortable as the bed was, he knew he wasn't going to get any sleep. His mind was too active, rolling through a pointless train of fretful thought, and each time he caught himself and forced his mind to clear white in favour of rest, it would just start right back up again. One thought tumbled into another, coalescing into a heavy mass that squeezed his suppressed tensions right back to the surface, and after half an hour of staring through the black ceiling, his eyes so wide he was certain he'd not blinked more than three times, he finally gave up.
He slipped out from the sheets as quietly and carefully as he could and stepped over to the window. Pulling aside the curtain, he wasn't sure why looking out over the streets below would ease his mind, but at least it would give his thoughts some direction. Staring into blackness, there was nothing to guide them but his fears.
There was little to see at that time of night, but he leaned and settled against the windowsill anyway, and after five minutes he'd spotted only one pedestrian, presumably hurrying home, and a guard making his rounds. He watched lanterns go out in some windows, light in others, and there was hardly a sound but for a couple of dogs barking in the distance and a few patrons laughing in the tavern below. But as dull as his view was, it did, somehow, settle his mind enough for him to get his thoughts in order.
First of all, now that he was out there, there was no going back, and he'd begrudgingly discovered a growing interest besides his concern that further entangled him into the matter, especially with the sudden involvement of the eager young historian. But he seemed just as convinced as the inquisitor that magic was to blame, and surely such preconceptions would only be a hindrance.
Not that the assumption surprised him. People had a tendency to accredit magic for anything they didn't understand - miraculous healing despite magic being incapable of such a thing, sudden overnight freezing due to an unexpected cold snap, or even infestations of frogs around lakes in the summer following a particularly damp spring. None had anything to do with magic but people cried it all the same, fearfully or jovially, whichever and whenever it suited them. And as for this historian's examples, it sounded as though Silverwood could be put down to simple romanticisation; the light striking just right, or a personal fascination with the place. For someone with no such care for the past or for wandering through a forest, they might well disagree with his description. And as for Loggerhead, the village stood near a pipe weed farm whose product was known to be more than simply 'calming'. If a fire swept through it and the wind blew just right...well, who was to say what affect it could have across a village so small?
Put simply, his doubt hadn't been swayed and his presence felt even less necessary. But, and in even greater spite of himself, he'd also discovered an interest in the very world he'd avoided for so long - though he supposed that was also hardly surprising. He hated people, and he hated the Crown even more, but his isolation meant that he had little idea what was happening in the world he'd been forced out of beyond Kienza's word. That wasn't to say that he cared at all for changes in politics, military activity or what was in or out of style, but he couldn't help being curious, especially now that he'd been dragged back into it. Being in the inquisitor's custody, he supposed, was a unique opportunity to see it all again, all while under suitable guard, and though his fears that stemmed from populated areas weren't unfounded, at least they could be subdued in the presence of such a figure. No one could say that inquisitors were inept.
He looked around at the small noise behind him, and smiled to himself as the moonlight brushed over Aria's soft features. He thought children were supposed to have fitful dreams, but the only peep Aria ever seemed to make while she slept was laughter.
And that was another fact he couldn't deny: Aria was enjoying herself, even if she was daunted at the same time. Of course she was excited, and of course staying at an inn overnight and visiting a ruin was an adventure. She'd been in that little corner of the forest for most of her life, and she'd been too young to remember when she had been beyond it. The latter was undeniably for the best, but there was no harm in letting her see a small part of it for a few days. She'd never said anything to suggest she was curious of the world beyond, but she probably knew he wouldn't approve of it. This was just as unique an opportunity for her as it was for him, and one she was able to embrace with far more enthusiasm. In fact, for her sake, he almost regretted that it would be over so soon. Almost.
He sighed heavily and looked back out of the window, folding his arms and tapping his fingers absent
ly against the metal band clasped tightly about his left arm. He watched a figure leave the tavern below, pause in the middle of the street and then head decisively down the western road. No, it was too late to turn back now, and five year's worth of expenses was too much to refuse.
His concerns would be laid to rest as soon as they were back in the scowles, but for now all he could do was sleep. When the morning came, he would do his job and set his curiosity at rest. If it turned out that magic really was involved, word would be sent to Kulokhar and the Order could be mobilised to counter it, and the idea of rogue mages within the organisation would also be taken more seriously. Neither Sivaan Rosh nor any of the grand magisters would allow a few renegades to force the Order into greater disrepute, so no rebellion within their borders could last for long.
A small knot formed in his brow as he wondered if Rosh was even still in command. It had been a long time, after all...
He shook his head, rattling the thought away, and stepped back from the window to draw the curtain decisively back into place. His head was organised and that was all that mattered as he headed back to bed, a yawn finally stealing over him and weighting his eyelids. The matter would conclude tomorrow and then he and Aria could head safely home; the adventure would be over as suddenly as it had started, and life would return to normal.
Chapter 4
Salus paid little attention to his surroundings as he marched through the darkened corridors, his purposeful stride weighted by frustration and weariness as he returned from yet another debriefing. People stepped aside as he approached, respectfully making way and never once looking directly at him, and while he wouldn't usually ignore his subordinates or their formal gestures, this time his mind was turned too far inwards to notice them.
The world was in turmoil. War was raging all around them, and while Turunda had managed to avoid getting involved in the furious affairs of other countries so far, it seemed that their luck was about to run out. Everyone could feel it.
No one could recall either why nor when their long-standing tensions with Skilan had formed, but they'd been dutifully maintained by at least one of the two reigning monarchs ever since, and though their King Thunan seemed disinclined to fan the flames like his father had - dark times when both monarchs had been at each other's throats - it appeared that Skilan's King Jalund had his bellows close at hand and polished for the occasion. The tensions were more than ready to snap.
General Moore had begun laying out pre-emptive plans in response, and large bodies of soldiers were moving across the country. Salus couldn't argue with this course, but, when factored in alongside the wars that had erupted in surrounding lands, his people's work was made much more difficult. Above the other challenges, intel was harder to collect and verify, and without solid information the military would be unable to act quickly or effectively. But the country couldn't risk holding the army back while they worked.
His people could handle it - if the tasks the Crown issued them were easy, other people would be doing them - and he had little choice but to work around it just the same. Setting an example was just as much a part of leadership as directing his subordinates and assigning their orders, and he'd managed a fine job over the past nine years. What was a little more complication?
Unfortunately, though such interference could be anticipated and negated, the mysterious movements of the Order could not. Strange arcane things were happening in the world, and a handful of mages had been found in such locations within their own borders, snooping around and refusing to reveal when questioned what they were up to. But the moment the Arana detained them pending investigations, the command for them to be released into the Order's custody was issued over his head without explanation, and he couldn't do a thing to stop it. It felt as if there was a tumour growing within Turunda itself, and how he was expected to do his part to protect against it if he was denied information from another body of the land's authority, he was beside himself to discover.
He growled to himself in increasing frustration as he neared his office door. It had been a long day, and at that moment all he wanted was to finish up, file away the last few reports and get home for a long overdue cup of tea.
But when he opened the door and his eyes fell upon the finely dressed man sitting in the chair before his desk, his shoulders sagged, deflated in weary defeat. This was just what he didn't need.
He forced his feet to keep moving as the door closed behind him, watched all the while by his esteemed guest. Though he did a perfect job of keeping it from his face, he was far from pleased to see the king's liaison. But he wasn't surprised. He had been avoiding him and cancelling meetings all week, and with how his day had been going, of course it would catch up to him now. But the king needed to be kept informed of their findings, so he was well aware that he'd brought this on himself. Not that that made the situation any more bearable.
"I'm sorry to drop by so late, Salus," the old man said mildly, choosing as ever not to address him by his title of Keliceran, and looking him directly in the eye while paying the disrespect, "but I had a moment and I didn't think you'd be busy at this time of the night."
"No, of course," Salus replied with a brief smile, the ease of biting back his sour tone coming with great practice, and he offered him a neatly bound folder from a pile on his desk as he went about finishing his own work despite the company. But the old man waved it away with a bony hand.
"I've already read it."
Again Salus bit his tongue at the man's brazen impertinence. The Arana - 'Crown's Fang' as it was referred to by the few more common members of the king's advisory privy to its existence - was hardly open to being snooped through on a whim, by king's decree or not, and that went doubly for the keliceran's own office an hour away from midnight. The information contained within its walls went beyond 'sensitive', and if any of it were to fall into the hands of Turunda's enemies, it could spell certain disaster for her people. The office - the whole building - was under close guard for that reason. But, of course, the liaison had access to a private entrance and the guards were under orders from the king himself to stand aside when his representative arrived. So it was, quite irritatingly, all too easy for this man to waltz right on in and do just as he pleased.
But Salus straightened and forced the fact aside, as he always did, and placed the king's monthly account back on the table. It took notable restraint not to slam it down.
"Your latest detainee has been released into the Order's custody."
Salus's jaw tightened as he lowered himself with even greater control into the chair behind his desk. "What a surprise." But such had been the case with all three mages so far, so why not the fourth? He turned his blue eyes, devoid of kindness, back onto the man and his voice emptied into formality, turning to business so that he might leave sooner. "King's orders?"
"Anything new you can give me on the ever-changing state of the wars," he replied, crossing his legs beneath his fine robes and making himself quite comfortable, his air that of undisputed importance despite his sickly appearance.
"Neither Antide nor Dweron are making any headway against one another," he replied dutifully, "that much hasn't changed, however we do know that Doana will be ready to sail east to Voent in two days, and that they've recruited mercenaries to bolster their numbers. They'll be heading over in the first wave. Ivaea has begun brokering a treaty with Kasire, and Skilan's war with Kalokh is spiralling to a close, as I'm sure you're already aware. My people have been doing what they can to shift the favour towards the weaker Kalosians, but it doesn't seem to be working. It won't end well for them."
"Nor for us, it seems." The older man sighed, running his hand through thinning hair.
"I intend to pull back for the most part - prepare for the worst rather than continue to use up resources. If Skilan does turn their attention our way when they're done with Kalokh, they'll be so low on resources and man power that they'll only be securing their defeat, but lives will still be lost in that battle, b
rief as it may be. I'd prefer to focus on reducing those losses."
The liaison nodded. "The king would agree. Approved."
"Thank you." Salus hid his surprise. He hadn't expected an immediate answer, let alone approval, and especially not without further questions. "I've issued the order for operatives stationed in the west to increase their observations over Skilan's forces. They can calculate the plans of any approaching force based on number, direction and supplies, and, as you know, there are already a few deep-cover agents planted in Skilan's force itself."
Again he nodded, but a thoughtful crease had deepened in his forehead. "Keep a few of your men in Skilan," he suggested. "Have them hassle the force and give the deep-cover agents a chance to pass on what they can, and then have them do whatever they can to delay any movements towards Turunda."
"Block passes, burn bridges, pay off dockworkers and captains," Salus clarified.
"Indeed. Otherwise, all we can do for the moment is reinforce our borders and safeguard our assets and trade routes. Guard patrols along main roads and around farmland are already being increased."
"A wise idea. And I'd also like to increase the Arana's presence along the borders--"
Now the liaison shook his head. "No. That will only distract the soldiers and the watchmen already stationed there."
"The soldiers are only patrolling," Salus frowned, "and the watch don't have the eye for such detail, not to mention that the watch towers themselves are extremely obvious. No one would approach from those points unless it was a bluff or distraction. I don't think I need to remind you that if a single detail is overlooked, we could be opening the door to their vanguard."
But he was already shaking his head again.
"My Lord Malson, forgive me," Salus said calmly, though his confused and irritated frown sharpened, "but the soldiers stand out like a sore thumb! They're the perfect distraction for the enemy; they won't be looking for my people if their eyes are caught by glinting armour or peering up at watch towers - and I'm sure I don't need to remind you that the spots the soldiers and watch can't reach always provide the better intel."