"Sit, Prince Elzan.” The King half-smiled when Elzan straightened at that familiar address and immediately obeyed. “You blamed me, when Lady Naya was murdered and Shazzur fled for his life. You said I had ignored the warnings from the priests and my own Seer, and blood was on my hands.” He spoke with tired tones that held no anger.
Elzan set down his goblet to keep from dropping it. “Majesty, I remember little about that time, but—"
"You spoke from youth and your certainty in what was true and right. I found no fault with you at that time, and the years have given weight to your convictions.” King Nebazz nodded and absently tore a piece of bread in two. “You hated me."
"That is treason."
"What does a boy's wounded heart know of treason? I was proud then, and proud now of your loyalty, your devotion to the truth despite what others thought of you. Many of Shazzur's so-called friends and supporters grew quiet when the winds of politics and popular opinion blew against him. No one cried out for justice for his murdered lady. As I recall, you even demanded that I provide you with soldiers so you could hunt Shazzur's kidnapped son."
"I was an impetuous, prideful boy.” Elzan offered a crooked smile. “And, I have to admit, I wanted the adventure just as much as I wanted to find Asha."
"It says much for you, that you remember the boy's name at all,” Lady Mayar murmured as she sat down to join them.
"Are you going to send me out now, Majesty?” Elzan ignored the throb of disappointment in his chest. Shazzur was returning to Bainevah, after fifteen years, and he would not be able to welcome his beloved tutor?
"Shazzur knows far more of the fate of his son than anyone,” the King said, shaking his head. “He is confident the boy is safe, and that is enough for me. No, I have a far more important duty for you to perform."
"Shazzur's return signals a pivotal moment in the history of Bainevah, and the crisis brought on us by the disappearance of the Three,” Lady Mayar said, glancing between the King and their son. “The Prophecy has been neglected because the loudest voices led Bainevah to believe other concerns were more weighty and dangerous. We find this is not true, now."
"Your mother tells me you still study prophecy and history.” King Nebazz chuckled. “And still earn the worthless scorn of your brothers."
"Sir?” Elzan could hardly think beyond the revelation that the King was pleased with him, granting him a place in his confidences.
"I hear that after Shazzur himself, you are the most versed in the Prophecy, in all of Bainevah. I give you a private charge to deepen your studies and tell me everything you know and learn and hear, no matter how unpleasant, no matter how foul a light it casts on me and my reign."
"Majesty, your will is my joy.” He was grateful for Court phrasing that put words in his mouth when he couldn't think of any response of his own.
"No—my will has not always been your joy, and there will be times in the future when it will not be a joy, but you will hold fast. That is why I treasure your service. You are loyal to Bainevah and the Mother first, then to your king, and that is proper. Never change that, even if you fear my displeasure."
"Yes, sir.” Elzan pressed his ram's head signet against his chest and bowed his head.
"It will not be pleasant dinner conversation,” Lady Mayar said with a smile, “but you had best start teaching us about the Prophecy beginning now, my hawk."
"Yes, Mother.” He glanced up and was startled when the King winked at him. Warmth flooded Elzan. He would treasure this evening, strange as it tasted, because of the closeness of that simple gesture; a shared moment; more precious to him than the King's words of praise and confidence.
Shazzur would be in Bainevah in four more days. Elzan knew he had a monumental task ahead of him, to acquaint the King with all his discoveries and theories, so no time would be wasted when the Seer and First Advisor returned to his proper place.
CHAPTER 5
A gray-haired, clean-shaven man in the dark green robes of a healer priest waited at the Merchant's Gate when the traveling party arrived in Bainevah on the fourteenth night of the journey. Challen was too achy and dry-eyed to feel more than gratitude that someone had anticipated their arrival. They wouldn't have to wait outside the gates until the commander of the gate's Host left his bed to look them over and let them into the city.
The river through the center of the gate startled Challen. This was the Thread River, the largest of the two which ran through Bainevah, larger than the Loom River by the Memory Gate. She stared at the water, sparkling in the starlight and the crescent moon. Asqual had said the rivers were dangerously low, and it made Challen slightly queasy to imagine three times as much water rushing between those banks. She turned from the river to the open gate with light spilling out through it.
The priest stepped out to meet them and soldiers in the armor of the Host of the Ram followed, half of them carrying torches. Their regalia gleamed in the torchlight, spattering brilliance as they saluted Commander Asqual. The priest saluted Shazzur with a bow, the fingertips of both hands pressed to his forehead. Then he turned to Challen and spread his hands wide, palms up in the welcome of a peer.
"High Priestess Mayar, Lady of the Healers Temple, First Concubine of King Doni'Jazzan'Nebazz'Dayona bids a mother's welcome to Kena'Shazzur'Challa'Naya. If the King's Seer wishes, she will shelter Lady Kena'Shazzur within the temple."
"The King's Seer wishes it greatly and expresses his gratitude to Lady Mayar,” Shazzur rumbled after only the slightest pause.
It took Challen a moment to work through the Court phrasing. Studying it was one thing, but use was another. Lady Mayar offered quarters in the temple for Challen until Shazzur's household was established. Simple enough, but underneath was a warning: to Shazzur, that he had enemies; to the enemies, that they should ignore Shazzur's daughter.
Now Challen understood her father's maxim that politeness was a deadlier weapon than a sword, with longer-lasting results.
"This is farewell for now, Sweetmeat,” Commander Asqual murmured as he helped her down from her horse. He squeezed her arm and tugged the hood of her desert robe forward, so it hung around her face in multiple folds. “In a few days, we'll go for that long tour of the city."
"I would like that very much, Uncle.” She met her father's gaze as Shazzur dismounted and joined them. He nodded slightly and tugged on her desert robe to shake dust out of it. A warning to leave the past behind, to walk carefully, or some other warning she would have to interpret later? Or all three?
"Walking, not riding, eh?” Asqual winked at the green-robed priest as he and Shazzur walked with Challen to meet him.
"We will appreciate time on our own feet for a change,” Shazzur said. He gave a formal bow to the priest, from the hips, arms folded inside his sleeves; the greeting from one dedicated servant to another. The priest's mouth flicked a smile at one corner and he returned the bow.
"My gratitude and blessings on Lady Mayar and the loyal servants of the Healers Temple,” he continued, raising his voice to be heard above the crackling of the torches and the warm wind that hissed around the base of the city walls. As if, Challen realized, he wanted unfriendly ears to hear. “My daughter, my heart's delight shall be safe in her care. I bid my daughter devote herself to what she learns here, so the gifts inherited from her dear mother will blossom in Mother Matrika's design."
That was an admonition if Challen ever heard one, directed more to her than anyone. Illness cared little for rank or wealth and ravaged the noble as hungrily as the slave. She would see people stripped of their veneer of manners and fashion and learn how they truly were. Challen realized her father was right; if she was obedient, Mother Matrika would grant her desires and overflow her opportunities.
"May I be a dutiful daughter, my heart and mind open to all the Temple wishes to teach me,” Challen said, bowing and giving her hand to the priest.
"Welcome, Lady,” he murmured, and squeezed her hand.
His was warm and dry
, sensitive and thin, the fingers streaked with tiny scars and burns. She guessed he was a healer who worked with herbs, healing with the gifts of the land rather than with powers granted by the Mother.
"Is it a long walk to the temple, Master?” She returned his welcoming smile. His gray eyes were friendly, like lamps shining from a clean room.
"Long enough for a pleasant talk, Lady. Welcome back to Bainevah, Lord Seer, Commander Asqual, soldiers of the Host of the Ram.” He bowed to Shazzur and Asqual, then shifted Challen's hand to his elbow and turned, leading her from the gate. Four soldiers, their faces hidden in shadows and helmets, followed while the rest stayed with Shazzur and Asqual.
"My clothes,” Challen murmured, then bit her lip. Now was not the time to question. Even something as petty as wondering what she would wear to bed, or where she would sleep.
"The Lady waits and all is prepared."
Challen nearly stopped short as she realized for the first time since childhood, she would not be within the range of her father's voice when she went to sleep and when she woke. She could not imagine the world continuing if she could not bid him good dreaming and hear his morning blessing.
The soldiers were silent, two walking ahead with a torch to light their way, the other two behind. The faint hiss-click brushing of their armor, metal plates against leather, was almost a comforting sound.
* * * *
Elzan gritted his teeth in frustration. He had put on a disguise and insinuated himself among the soldiers meeting Shazzur's party specifically so he could get close to his old teacher, to greet him and exchange news without half the Court knowing. Then Vandan had chosen him along with three first-year officer trainees to act as escort for Shazzur's daughter. Elzan couldn't very well break his disguise to protest and demand his own way. That would defeat his purpose.
Well, he would simply have to rise early and hope Shazzur arrived at Court before everyone else, so they could talk.
To add to his frustration, he had been assigned to the back of the company. All he could see of young Kena'Shazzur were the voluminous folds of her dusty white desert robes. Not even a glimpse of hair. He couldn't tell if she were slim or round. He hadn't even been close enough to hear her speak to Vandan and her father. He bit his lip to muffle a groan and wished he had stayed in his bed instead of climbing onto the roof and risking being speared by a guard when he took the back ways out of the palace complex.
His mother had made him swear to protect Kena'Shazzur as his own sister, hadn't she? Lady Mayar would be pleased he had escorted the girl safely to the Healers Temple, even if that hadn't been his intention.
* * * *
"May I ask your name, sir?” Challen ventured, when she had lost track of the turns their little company had taken, winding through the merchant section of the city.
In the darkness, with lamps lit only at the meeting of streets, it was hard to tell the character of the sleeping city. She knew the Healers Temple lay in the juncture between the merchant, artisan and noble class sections of the city. They passed through many streets of the market area now, all closed shops and empty booths and fountains bubbling quietly under the cloudless, vast night sky.
"Vandan, Lady.” His arm tensed under the weight of her hand. Through the thin summer robe, Challen felt lean cords of muscle. “I knew your mother. She was my teacher when I came to the temple as an orphan. For her sake, I asked to wait for you."
Challen caught her breath, feeling tears pressing hot against her eyes. “You honor me, Master Vandan."
"I loved her greatly.” He chuckled and she heard the weariness of several nights of waiting through the dark watches. “All the little boys loved her. She was that rare woman who was mother, playmate, and teacher, the one we vowed to die for from the moment she first smiled at us. We admired your father despite our jealousy, for we knew only a truly great and good man could win the heart of Priestess Naya."
"Can you—is it permitted for you to tell me of her?"
"I will perhaps be able to show you my memories, Lady.” Vandan pressed two fingers briefly against Challen's forehead. The tips vibrated against her skin and she felt a hum in the center of her skull. “My sole gift is the ability to find gifts and strengths in others. You carry your mother's gifts. Perhaps you carry the talent of a mind scribe, like her, to reach into the thoughts of others and send your thoughts to their minds. The music of your spirit plays on many levels, so I know there is much potential waiting to be released."
"That's what Father says constantly.” Her face heated at the chagrin in her tone, which earned a chuckle from her guide.
"As one must listen many times to a musical piece before he can separate and identify the instruments played, much time and attention must be paid to your many gifts and strengths before they can be identified and appreciated each individually."
"I have many, so that's why it's hard to develop one?"
"I believe so."
That concept occupied her thoughts for the remainder of their walk, which took one more turn and then crossed a plaza filled with fountains. Because of the drought, even the deep water tables under Bainevah's capital were affected. The fountains that should have jetted above the rooftops spattered a few handspans above the heads of their stags and rams and eagles. Still, here was more water in one place than Challen could recall in her entire life. She wanted to go to a fountain and splash in barefoot.
The plaza surrounded the Healers Temple on all sides. Octagonal, many streets fed into it. The temple was round, seven stories high, in tiers so each level had gardens planted in massive troughs of soil. The healers grew their many medicines in those gardens. Even in the starlight, Challen noted the garden terraces were vibrant green, compared to the yellow, withered look she had seen in the countryside the last five days. Was that health attributed to these fountains, or a special blessing, or the healing power of the priests?
The massive temple doors opened, spilling golden light down the white steps as the six approached. Ten priests in two lines emerged, carrying torches. A lady with long, dark hair and a pale face walked between them. Challen's heart skipped a few beats in a curious mix of awe, apprehension, and a sense of homecoming. This was Lady Mayar, High Priestess of the healers, equal in power with High Priest Chizhedek. She was First Concubine, and according to Shazzur, should have long ago become queen when King Nebazz designated her son as his heir.
But the prince was not the heir yet. Why? The King could only marry the mother of his heir, and was permitted seven concubines. From those concubines came more sons to contend for the throne and trouble the future.
Challen wondered what was wrong with the King, that he waited so long to choose. Was there something wrong with all his sons? She couldn't imagine every prince so perfect in mind and skill the King couldn't choose the best from among them.
"Welcome, my child,” Lady Mayar said, cutting off Challen's train of thought. She laughed when Challen dropped to her knees before her. “No, Kena'Naya, you must never bow to me. I would have made you my daughter if your father and the King had permitted, and you shall have that status now among us."
"Lady—Highness—” Challen kept her head bowed as she responded to Lady Mayar's hand on her arm, raising her to her feet. “I only know Court manners in theory, not in practice. Please forgive my clumsiness. I shall likely shame you many times until I become used to moving among strangers."
"And that is why you are here.” She caught Challen's chin with two fingers and gently tipped the young woman's head up so their eyes met. “You have your father's eyes and hair, but your mother's face and her glowing spirit—ah, and her strength. I was right, was I not, Vandan?"
"Very right, Lady.” Vandan winked at Challen. He signaled to the soldiers escorting them. Three of the four left; the fourth moved up the stairs behind the waiting priests and went into the temple. Challen had no time to wonder why.
"You are home now. Naya brought you here only a moon after you were born and the living fl
ame leaped nearly to the ceiling when you came before it.” Lady Mayar linked her arm through Challen's and they started up the steps. “Your mother and I were delighted at that sign of many great and wonderful things awaiting you. Are you still called Challen, or has your father altered your familiar name?"
"Challen, Highness."
"Ah, none of that. If you must, call me Mistress or Lady, for I shall be your teacher. I would rather you call me Aunt.” She chuckled when Challen flinched at the mere suggestion of such familiarity. “You won't allow yourself that, will you?"
"I cannot, Lady. Everything is so new and I am unused to grand and formal ways.” She tried not to hesitate as they stepped through the open doors into the temple, but it was hard. Challen decided she preferred the open city to the enclosed vastness of buildings filled with unfamiliar colors and scents and shapes. “It is better to creep on my hands and knees in a world where I cannot see clearly."
"There speaks your father. Shazzur is wise enough not to have created you in his image, but what other example have you had?” Lady Mayar gestured up the stairs along the right wall. “Come. We shall bathe you and feed you and give you a soft bed. When day comes, then there shall be more than enough time to decide the first steps in your new journey."
* * * *
Challen couldn't sleep. She refused to sleep, with so many sights and sounds all around her, even in the dead quiet of the plaza surrounding the temple this late at night. The temptation of those fountains called to her. Even the luxury of a deep tub of cool, scented water to bathe in, and a soft bed and the weariness ground into her bones couldn't dilute the allure of those fountains. There was no one about in the plaza at this time of the night. No one would see her. She wouldn't detract from her father's dignity, would she? Smiling, silently calling herself a silly child, she climbed out of bed.
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