by Jim Galford
“I will come down shortly. I wish to speak with my guards before I eat, if that’s not too much trouble. This shouldn’t take long,” she told Therec.
Therec agreed and left, making a point of moving wide of the smoldering table and charred remains of a painting Greth had not quite managed to save. He closed the door behind him, revealing scorch marks across much of the wood there as well.
“How many times have I told the two of you to knock before entering?” Ilarra demanded once she was sure that Therec had gotten far enough down the hall. “And again, how many times have I told you to stay away from my things?”
“About one less time than you’ve yelled at us for nearly everything else we try to do to help you in the last couple weeks,” snapped Greth, throwing the crumbling remains of the painting onto the floor as he spun on Ilarra. He shrugged off Raeln’s attempt to grab his arm and marched toward Ilarra. “Lady, I’ve had it up to here with the accusations…”
Without thinking about it, Ilarra was partway through casting a spell that would rip Greth apart where he stood before Raeln leapt between them, grabbing Ilarra’s wrists. He pulled her off-balance, disrupting her spell. Once she had lost control over her magic, Raeln released her and gave her a disapproving glare.
“How dare you?” she asked, rubbing her wrists. As an afterthought, she slapped Raeln across the muzzle. “Do not ever touch me again, beast!”
Greth snarled and started forward, but Raeln put a hand on his chest to stop him.
“We are going to dinner,” Ilarra began again, smoothing her dress and taking a deep breath to keep from shouting at the two men. “Maybe the two of you can keep from embarrassing yourselves…or at least me…for a couple hours. Act like you belong indoors this one time.”
Shoving aside Raeln, Greth walked up to Ilarra so he was glaring down his muzzle at her. “About that. I was coming here to tell you I’ve had enough.”
“Enough? Enough of making me wonder if you’re stealing from me?”
“Enough of you and this place,” the man countered. “I’m going home. It’s been months since I was captured. It’ll take me another few weeks to get back to camp on foot, if the snows continue. I’m hoping by now anyone who’s still alive has snuck back, and maybe if I’m lucky, the rodent I’m looking for is there and I’ll be out of your fur forever.”
“You said you’d be killed if you didn’t find him. Why change your mind now, if you could have gone months ago?”
Greth shrugged and scratched behind one of his ears absently. Over the last week, Ilarra had come to the conclusion that he had fleas but had yet to have him shaved to verify her theory. If he continued scratching himself in public, she might have to ask Therec to see to that.
“Listen, I’ve gone through every jail cell in this city at least twice,” he continued once he had stopped scratching. “No one I’ve talked to has seen him, so I have to believe he got away or is in a shallow grave. The last person who remembered seeing him was a soldier at the quarry, but he doesn’t even remember what happened to him. That leaves me little in the way of places to look without going home.
“I’d rather get sent back out to find him again with a few more claw scars and a lecture from Lihuan than sit around here getting yelled at and finding not so much as a clue. No offense…Raeln’s a great conversationalist, but I’m done with Lantonne.”
Ilarra felt briefly worried about Greth, but that passed almost immediately. “You’ll be executed as soon as they think you are leaving my service,” she warned him.
“They have to catch me first, elf.”
Ilarra took a long, slow breath to keep herself from telling Greth he would likely be dead within the hour if he was counting on his own intelligence to keep him alive. “Take Raeln,” she said instead, drawing shocked stares from both men. “No matter how he glares, he watches out for you as much as he does for me.”
“What? Why?” Greth asked, giving Raeln a truly uncomfortable look. “I don’t need a cubsitter. He’s yours, not mine. I don’t need a pet wolf.”
Raeln looked frantically between the two of them, his tail flicking nervously back and forth.
“He can get you there safely, if anyone can,” she reasoned, even if she did just want the peace of having both men gone for a while. “I trust him with my life and you can, too. I face no real danger inside Lantonne and don’t plan on leaving the city before he would be back. A couple weeks there, then the same back. I’ll hardly know he’s gone.”
Greth cocked his head. “What about your father? Aren’t you heading back up to Hyeth at some point?”
“Not anytime soon. Therec has men traveling up there to make sure my father’s doing as well as I am. There’s little more I can do until the king accepts I’m not working with Altis. Until then, you can come and go inside the keep, but I can’t leave this room without an escort.”
Eyeing Raeln, Greth finally nodded and struck Raeln across the shoulder. “Get your things, pup. We’re going to introduce you to real wildlings if it’s the last thing I do.”
Raeln growled and gave Ilarra a long stare, waiting for her to change her mind. When she did not, his ears flattened back and he followed Greth from the room.
“Boys,” Ilarra added before they had collected any of their belongings, “you will want to slip out while I’m at dinner. Therec will expect you there, so this is your best chance. If he finds out you’re packing, I doubt you will get far.”
The two wildlings nodded understanding and began packing. Given how little each of them had, it took only a few minutes. When they had finished, they left, going past the soldiers stationed at the door without any questions and leaving Ilarra alone in the room with her thoughts.
“I’m ready,” Ilarra announced to the silent room. “I understand what’s happening now. I’ve never wanted to hurt Raeln before, but I’ve seen it more each day. You’re right.”
“Of course I am,” came Nenophar’s voice as he appeared near the bed.
“What now?”
Nenophar looked out the window. “Complete whatever social customs you have left for today and sneak out. I will teach you what you need to know, but you need to get yourself out of the keep.”
“Then what?”
“That will depend on you,” he admitted, stepping back into the shadows. Whether he had vanished or was just obscured, Ilarra could not be certain. “I will meet you at the southern gardens at midnight. So long as you remain in here, I cannot help you. Out there, we can begin our journey after I arrive.”
“Why not earlier? I can get out while the wildlings are running…”
“I would never reach you in time, Ilarra. Sundown is the soonest I can bring myself to the city as anything more than these illusions. Three hours is all I ask. Once I do arrive, I cannot stay long or I will be found out. You will need to be precise in your timing.”
The shadows where Nenophar stood deepened abruptly, and Ilarra realized that she was alone again.
*
“Are you sure they are coming?”
Ilarra smiled across the large table at Therec. Myriad platters of steaming food lay between them, but Therec had made sure to keep a path open between them so they could speak. The various other nobility or courtiers that attended regularly mostly kept to themselves; therefore, they had been placed farther down the table, allowing them to converse separately.
The two seats on either side of Ilarra where Raeln and Greth normally sat remained empty nearly twenty minutes after the meal had started.
“Positive. They said they had gotten into a quarrel and needed to clean themselves up before arriving. Raeln pounded Greth pretty badly and I didn’t want them appearing at dinner in that condition,” she lied, hoping her deception was at least somewhat believable. “You know how wildlings are. Fur and some blood every time they argue, which is far too often.”
Therec’s acknowledging smile gave Ilarra no doubt that he questioned her, but was being polite in not saying so, at least no
t yet.
“This morning, I believe you were explaining about how you came to be sent to the city for schooling. Would you care to continue?”
Picking up a grape from the platter in front of her, Ilarra rolled it between her fingertips several times. On a whim and a silent challenge to Nenophar’s claims that she could not control her own magic, she channeled a thread of energy into a very basic pattern in her mind, withering the grape until it was dry and shriveled. Looking up as she let it drop to her plate, she saw Therec’s eyes narrow briefly.
“I know you were attempting to get me to tell you more about how I became a representative for Altis,” she told him, sliding the plate away. “Having me narrate my entire life’s history will not get you any closer to proving me a liar. I have been honest about my past for weeks, and I tire of this game. Dorralt may have claimed I was his, but no matter how much you believe him, I am still not…”
Ilarra trailed off and stared at Therec as he sat up straight. She had never heard that name before and had no idea where it had come from, along with the assumption that Therec was trying to gather information. The thought had not crossed her mind. It was almost as though someone else’s thoughts had been pushed into her head.
“I’m sorry, I think I should go check on my guards.” She stood quickly. “They could be causing more trouble and the idea rather spoils my appetite.”
She did not wait for permission, but hurried from the dining hall. She tried not to meet the curious stares of the courtiers or look back at Therec, who she could feel watching her back.
Ilarra headed toward her room within the keep—the one place she was allowed to go without escort, though she knew there would be soldiers all along her path to ensure she did not go anywhere else. It was the illusion of freedom, when everyone knew it to be a lie.
Stopping in the middle of one of the halls, she realized the keep’s soldiers had not followed her from the dining hall, which left her alone in the interconnected halls of the lower floors. This was entirely normal, but given the slip at the dinner table, she had assumed there were soldiers right behind her. She could simply disappear, and Therec would be none the wiser for hours of searching. It was an opportunity she had not gotten since arriving and likely not one she would get again soon. Having it happen the same night as Nenophar’s approach was simply too lucky.
Checking the nearest arrow-slit window, Ilarra saw the sky was a deep purple in the west above the mountains. It would not be long before dark, when she could meet with Nenophar. If his earlier estimate held, she had perhaps an hour or so before he might be able to reach her.
Rather than waiting where she might be found and prevented from leaving, Ilarra picked a random hall and began making her way toward the nearest door out of the keep in hopes of putting some distance between herself and Therec’s men. The path was not one she had taken in weeks, but she knew it somehow, knowing where to pause and let guards pass before continuing on without having to look. At times, she felt as though she had a second set of eyes watching for the armed men to pass her by, but it did not seem odd at all, even if she knew it should have been.
Near the southern door from the keep, Ilarra stopped at the edge of one of the halls. One more step and she would be visible to the guard at the door. There was no way around it. Any of the keep’s outer doors would be heavily manned.
Ilarra closed her eyes instinctively, reaching out with her mind. She could sense three guards, not just the one she had expected. They were alert, making things even more difficult. She could hear their hearts beating calmly, letting her be certain they were unaware of her approach.
Several patterns for shaping magic appeared in her mind, repeating in a certain order until she had them memorized. She smiled as they faded away, knowing she had little to fear from the men she would face. So long as such powerful magic lent itself to her needs, no one could stand before her if she were prepared for them.
Rounding the corner, Ilarra brought the first pattern into reality, draping the entire doorway area with an aura of deathly silence. Even her footsteps went still, and the three men that turned sharply at her approach opened their mouths without a sound coming forth.
The next spell was far more difficult. In the silence, Ilarra could not whisper the words that normally shaped magic into the physical world, forcing her to use the much more intricate pattern in her mind to create magic without words. Her father had often spoken of wanting to learn this trick as she grew up, but she took her cues directly from instinct, using the skill from past experience…though not her own.
The spell hit the three soldiers and their eyes rolled back. One by one, the men collapsed to the floor, asleep. They would wake eventually, but Ilarra’s only concern was getting past the door. She could deal with them if they did manage to come after her. Likely, she had more than enough time to be several blocks away before they woke or were found.
She stepped over the men, dismissing the unnatural silence as she reached the door. Instantly, the men’s soft snores seemed to fill the hallway, making her smile with amusement at how easy it had been to get past Therec’s defenses and walk out of the keep. For all Therec’s fears about her, he had done little to protect himself or the city.
One flip of the latch on the door and Ilarra headed out, letting the door close behind her as she went.
The cold winter air hit Ilarra immediately, making her wish she had grabbed a cloak, or at least proper boots. The dining dress and simple shoes she wore did nothing to protect her from the bitter winds, and by the time she was out of sight of the keep’s doors, her feet felt half-frozen. Still, having already assaulted three guards, she hardly felt it wise to abandon the trip. There would likely be no second chance for some time.
She hurried through the mostly abandoned streets, passing several small groups of people—nearly every race she had ever heard of, as was Lantonne’s way, though she steered clear of the wildlings and orcs that seemed determined to always be too close at hand—making her way to the southern gardens.
With winter in full swing, the gardens were hardly a popular place in the city, making it perfect for her meeting. Several inches of snow covered rows of dead plants, with a poorly cleared path through the middle of the gardens. From what she could tell, the path was little more than a shortcut some people in the city used to avoid having to go around the large garden area.
“Nenophar?” she called out, stopping at the middle of the garden.
The distant sounds of conversation drifted from the lit windows of a home nearby, but aside from that and the whistling of the wind through the buildings, she heard nothing.
Wrapping her arms around herself to try to stay warm, Ilarra hopped up and down and slowly turned in place, searching for the strange man. He appeared in her room anytime she did not want him there, but now that she wanted to talk to him, there was no sign he was coming.
A strong wind from behind buffeted Ilarra, nearly knocking her off-balance. As it passed, she heard a weight come down behind her on the stones of the plaza outside the garden, as though a boulder had been gently set down and the stones were settling to accommodate its weight.
Spinning, she found Nenophar stood at the entrance to the garden, still wearing his simple shirt and pants, though he no longer wore the Lantonnian armor. He wore no jacket or cloak, but appeared entirely at ease in the cold, unlike her.
“Where have you been?” she demanded, marching up to the man. “I was freezing out here.”
Nenophar looked up at the sky, then at Ilarra with an eyebrow raised. “I had thought a little more trepidation could be expected when facing someone who you do not know or understand. Perhaps you must be killed to eliminate one more threat to the fabric.”
“I don’t fear you.”
That seemed to surprise the man, and he paused before asking, “Why do you believe I mean myself? There are others who would kill you, now that you resist their plans.”
“You want me to be afraid of you,” she
snapped, suddenly feeling anger toward Nenophar like the misplaced frustrations she had felt lately toward Raeln. “Your kind always does. Neither you nor Therec can hurt me anymore.”
Nenophar’s neutral expression sank rapidly to an angry frown. “What would you do to me if you thought you would not be found out?”
Ilarra’s shivering ceased and new patterns for spells came to mind. These were incredibly complex, but she could see the immense destruction they would cause. No matter what Nenophar might be, she could surely strike him down with any of them. With time, she could tear the whole city to the ground around him.
She raised a hand to strike, a pattern flowing across her thoughts that would incinerate half the plaza. Hundreds might die before the flames abated, but she had only one desire: to see this man burn.
The spell fell apart as Nenophar caught Ilarra’s wrist. All of the patterns and the anger that had come with them vanished and a sense of utter calm washed over her. Along with it came the cold with an abruptness that made her shake violently.
“Now, what would you intend to do to me?” he demanded, pushing her backwards until she ran into the garden’s low walls. “Speak with your own voice, not theirs.”
Tears filled Ilarra’s eyes as the enormity of all she had said and done over the last week hit her. Every argument with Raeln, every hateful thought, every time she had looked at the keep’s servants as vermin that were beneath her. Despite the cold and snow, Ilarra pulled from Nenophar’s grip and collapsed, weeping into her hands as her legs froze in the wet snow.
“Help me,” she pleaded, kneeling before the elven man. “This isn’t me…they want me to kill you.”
“I know it’s not you,” Nenophar told her gently, reaching down to touch the back of her head. “You needed to see that.”
“What am I, Nenophar? What did they make me into?”
Taking a knee in front of her, Nenophar answered, “I can tell you what you were and what your life was to mean to the fabric. What you are now is something else entirely…you are more like my kind, sitting outside the constant action and reaction of the mortal world.”