Tabitha returned with a mug of tea, which Tayver accepted. He sipped at the simmering liquid for a moment before setting it down. “So, are we going to write Liza? Who brought the quill and parchment?”
Gib thumped the rucksack sitting in his lap. “Right here.” He pulled a quill and inkwell from within and a piece of parchment a moment later.
Joel cleared his throat as he took one final sip from his chalice. “I’m going to excuse myself. I have to go to the palace to visit my mentor.” He held out a tentative hand to Gib. “See you this evening?”
“Yes. I’m going to meet Tarquin at the festival, but I’ll be back afterwards.” Gib squeezed the offered hand and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to Joel’s mouth. Tayver and Calisto didn’t even bat an eyelash at the sight. He’d told them about Joel around the time they sold the farm, and both boys had been completely supportive. Liza, likewise, had expressed acceptance, even outright glee. It was good to know his family approved of the relationship.
Gib watched his companion depart. I’m truly the luckiest person in Arden. My brothers are safe, my sister is alive, I’m the understudy of Seneschal Koal, and Joel is home and here to stay. I’m on top of a blissful pedestal, and I couldn’t be any happier.
As he laid out the parchment and began to write, an unexplainable lump manifested in his chest. The only downside to sitting at the crest of a pedestal was that it was so very easy to be knocked down.
Joel sucked in a sharp breath as he set both hands against the closed door leading to Ambassador Cenric’s suite. His stomach was in knots and his knees felt as though they might give out, but despite that, he raised a fist to tap the wooden door.
“Come in,” came Cenric’s immediate response from inside.
Joel bit his lip and pushed through the threshold. He still wasn’t exactly sure what he hoped to accomplish by visiting Cenric. He’d told Gib earlier that he was going to get his internship paperwork signed, but even now, standing in the doorway of the envoy’s suite, Joel wasn’t sure if he actually planned to sign anything. All I know is I had about a million questions to ask Cenric and now that I’m here, I can think of none of them.
Cenric lounged upon a cushioned bench, and he wasn’t alone. A young woman around Joel’s age sat beside him. Given the fact that she and Cenric shared the same hazel eyes, round faces, and cropped brown hair, Joel found it safe to assume this was one of Cenric’s daughters. In fact, Joel was pretty sure he’d met her in passing at some court function or another but couldn’t recall her name.
“Ah, Joel,” the ambassador greeted. A mix of confusion and courteousness passed across his face. “I didn’t expect to see you today. Did I manage to forget about a scheduled meeting—”
“Oh, no, no,” Joel corrected, feeling his ears beginning to burn. “I just—my internship papers—it’s nothing important. I can stop by another time if you’re entertaining company.”
Cenric waved a hand in the air. “Oh, stop with the modesty. Come in, come in. Have a seat!”
As Joel turned to close the door, the young woman sitting beside Cenric let out a snort. “Seneschal Koal’s son is your understudy, Da? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Cenric groaned. “Gara, meet Joel Adelwijn. Joel, this is my elder daughter, Gara Leal.”
“Hello.” Joel moved closer and offered his hand for a shake.
Gara stared at his hand but didn’t take hold of it. Amusement flashed behind her green eyes. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Joel swallowed. Should I? “Uh, I—”
It must have been painfully obvious he had no idea what she was going on about because a moment later, Gara grinned and elaborated further. “Many years ago, at a particularly boring Aithne ball, you and I got into some trouble together. We stashed firecrackers in the tinder pile before the King set it on fire—”
Joel’s jaw dropped. Suddenly he remembered everything. “And the entire pyre exploded into a ball of blue flame, and everyone standing watch nearly died of fright!”
Gara threw her head back and laughed, nearly in hysterics. “Yes! It was so funny!”
“My father didn’t think so.”
“Yeah, mine either.” Gara glanced at Cenric, who was sporting a most-displeased frown. “In fact, I think King Rishi was the only person who found any humor in our little prank.”
Cenric crossed his arms over his chest. “One guess as to who Gara stole those firecrackers from. Let’s just say I never brought any more trinkets from Beihai back with me on subsequent trips to the country.”
Joel covered his red face. “For the record, it was all her idea, Cenric. I was young and easily impressionable.” In fact, that was pretty much the exact line I used to justify the incident to Father. Not that he believed me. I was still sentenced to house arrest for a solid moonturn afterward.
“I don’t doubt it,” Cenric replied. “Gara’s always been a bit of a hell-raiser.”
The young woman beamed. “I learned from the best, Da.” She leapt from the bench and took a playful bow, and it was then Joel realized she was clad in a lengthy tunic and trousers. It was no wonder Joel hadn’t recognized her. The girl he remembered from the Aithne ball had been wearing a beautiful dress and had long, flowing hair—a far cry from the boyish haircut and clothing style Gara now donned.
“Well, it’s been grand, but I’m afraid I have to go,” Gara said. She leaned down and planted a peck on her father’s forehead. “Try to come home at a reasonable time tonight, Da. Contrary to what you might believe, Ma, Nia, and I miss you—not to mention you’re supposed to be relaxing before you’re assigned a new mission, remember?”
“Yes, yes.” Cenric shooed her away. “I’ll come home right after I finish making copies of these documents I brought back from Shantar. You’d think the Crown could afford to send me a scribe to do such things, but what do I know? Now off with you. And stay out of trouble, all right?”
Laughter echoed off the walls as Gara departed.
Joel turned to give his mentor an incredulous stare. “She seems like a handful.”
Cenric went to his writing desk and sat down. “Mmm, yes. The Blessed Son gifted me two beautiful daughters. Both are—spirited. Nia’s got her mother’s disposition. Soft and gentle until someone angers her and then—” He chuckled to himself. “Well, let’s just say I feel bad for the young man who’s recently begun to court her. Gara, on the other hand, marches to her own beat. She’s an adventurer like me, though I doubt she’ll ever be an ambassador. She’s much too apt to speak her mind and cause entire alliances to come crashing down.”
“Some would call that courage,” Joel reflected. “There aren’t many people left in this world who are brave enough to say what they’re feeling.”
Cenric turned to look over his shoulder. “Oh, I’m not disagreeing with you. But an abrasive personality has no place in the heart of an envoy, don’t you think?” He took up a quill and dabbed the end into an inkwell sitting beside him. “I’ve learned over the years that patience most certainly is a virtue—as well as a quick wit and the ability to compromise. You know, Joel, you’d make a fantastic envoy, should you ever decide it’s the career path you want to take. I don’t think I’ve ever mentored a more level-headed youngster.”
Joel cleared his throat. “That’s actually what I came here to discuss.”
For several moments longer, the scribble of Cenric’s quill was the only sound to be heard, and Joel politely remained quiet while the ambassador worked. Joel gazed around the suite while he waited, taking time to gawk at just how many things were crammed into the small space.
Various trinkets and oddities littered the room. A tapestry made from fine silk and dyed with bright pigments hung from one wall, while an odd-looking stringed instrument—some kind of crude guitar perhaps—was propped upright in the corner of the room beneath a medallion constructed of beads and feathers. Oil paintings, too numerous to count, took up any remaining space on the wall—and the canvases were also stacked
in hazardous piles around the suite. Even Cenric’s writing desk was a jumble. A tall vase filled with dried blossoms sat precariously close to the edge, pushed aside by a stack of parchment paper and books, some of which were covered in so much dust Joel couldn’t even read the titles. On the other side of the table lay a strange wooden board. It had checkered squares painted onto it and small figurines that could be moved around.
“Senet,” Cenric grunted, and Joel realized the ambassador had set the quill down and turned around on his stool. “A game from Gyptia. All about strategy and wit. Games can take marks, even days, to complete. I brought it back from Gyptia after my last excursion, though I don’t know why I bothered. All the damn thing does is take up space, and I don’t have enough spare time to even play a full game.”
Joel cast his gaze around the room again. “Are all of these items souvenirs from your travels?”
“Yes, mostly. I try to bring back something from every land I visit.”
“Well, I guess it’s safe to assume you’ve seen the entire world then.”
Cenric chuckled. “Most of it. I’ve been as far south as Gyptia and all the way into the mountainous Northern Empire in the far north.”
“Have you ever been to Shiraz?” Joel asked, thinking of the conflict on the eastern border.
“No, not Shiraz.” Cenric’s voice was flat. “The last Ardenian envoy sent into Shiraz was our late Queen Jorja—and well, we all know how that ended.”
Joel winced. Many years ago, Queen Jorja had gone into Shiraz in the hope of avoiding war, to promote peace—only to be betrayed. They’d slaughtered her entire party and thrown Jorja’s body across the border as a message that there’d be no further talking between the nations. Arden had mourned the loss of their Queen, known for her tactical mind and firm justice. Joel had been too young to remember the incident, though the Ardenian history books all praised Jorja’s final act as valiant.
Cenric cleared his throat and changed the subject. “What questions did you have to ask me?”
Joel suddenly found it hard to meet the envoy’s gaze, so he opted to stare at the various paintings on the walls instead. “Do you remember the warning you gave me right before we left for Shantar? About becoming entranced by the idea of changing the world?”
The older man nodded. “I do.”
“Well, I’ve been giving it some thought since we returned home, and I think—” Joel paused, wringing his hands. “If you have no other trainees lined up yet, I think perhaps I’d like to remain your understudy for the time being. You’re the best at the job, and I know there’s a wealth of knowledge to be learned from your wisdom.”
“Are you saying you want to be an ambassador?”
“I–I think so. I mean, I’m not completely sure, but I can’t get the idea out of my head.”
Cenric leaned back, resting his elbows on the writing desk behind him. “You know there’s more to ambassadorial work than admiring the pretty scenery, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.” Joel played with the sleeve of his pristine mage robe. “I want to do something meaningful, Cenric. If I possess these qualities you speak of, I want to put them to good use. I can go into these foreign countries with an open mind and not only share my ideas with them but also be willing to hear what they have to say. I can listen, truly listen. And be willing to make changes for the betterment of Arden. I love my country, but our allegiances are few and far between during these times of war—mostly because people on both sides of the conflict are too stubborn to sit and hear what the other side has to say. If only one person stands up and suggests compromise, surely others will follow. I want to be that person, the one who takes a stand.”
“I admire all you’ve said, Joel. You have wisdom beyond your age, and as I said before, I whole-heartedly believe you have the necessary qualities to be an outstanding envoy,” Cenric replied, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “But it’s not a decision to make lightly. You have so much going for you here in Silver—a father and mother who love you, siblings, friends—and someone dear to your heart. You’re a powerful mage. You could rise in the ranks, even sit on the council one day, all without having to leave the people you love.”
Joel bit his bottom lip. “Why are you trying to talk me out of it?”
“I’m not,” the envoy replied, shaking his head. “I just want you to be aware of the reality of the situation. The life of an ambassador is one of solitude. It’s hard to maintain friends and family while constantly on the move.”
“You’ve been able to. You have children. You’re happily married—”
Skeptical laughter burst from Cenric’s mouth. “My wife has the heart of a saint. She’s about the only woman in Arden who would deal with having an ambassador for a husband. Alas, our marriage has never been without its struggles. How could it be? I was absent from the start. When I left on my first mission, my wife was with child. I returned from the Northern Empire to a little girl almost a full wheelturn old who had no idea who I was. Do you know how many Naming Day celebrations I missed? How many memories I’ll never be able to replicate or replace? I was stationed in Galia the year Gara entered Academy, and in Gyptia when Nia discovered she had the Healing gift. I wasn’t there when they needed me most—and even if my family forgives my absence over the years, it doesn’t mean I can. I’m Arden’s most coveted envoy but the worst kind of father and husband.” Cenric’s eyes were distant as he met Joel’s uneasy gaze. “So what you have to ask yourself, Joel, is whether or not you’re willing to make such sacrifices. I’ve done great things for Arden. I’ve helped to create treaties and trade agreements. I’ve been the negotiator when both sides wanted to resort to violence and instead walked away from the table as allies. And yes, I’ve seen places most people only dream of—but all of it was at a cost. All of it.”
Joel swallowed even as his stomach twisted into uncomfortable knots. He’d already known that by becoming an envoy his relationship with Gib would be strained—but the thought of losing Gib altogether had never crossed his mind. It would be selfish to ask Gib to put his life on hold if I decide to make a career as an envoy. Daya, I’m not sure I can leave him again. We’ve been through so much together. I don’t know if I could ever find happiness without him by my side.
Joel blinked in contemplation. “You’ve given me much to ponder.”
Cenric turned and fished through the pile of parchment paper on his desk. At last, he pulled a couple of documents from within the clutter. “These are your internship papers.”
Joel took note of the blank space at the bottom of the page.
“Why don’t we just leave them unsigned for the time being?”
Joel forced a smile. “Thank you. My head’s feeling a bit full. I’ll go home and—think things over now, if that’s all right?”
“Of course.” Cenric gave him a gentle pat on the forearm. “Take your time. I’m in no rush to get rid of you just yet, understudy.”
Mustering another smile, Joel stood to take his leave. I’m going back to the estate and talking to Gib about this. I’m done with secrets. He deserves to know what’s going on—and I need his insight. If he doesn’t want me to go then—
As Joel reached for the handle, someone pounded the door from the outside. The loud bang surprised him enough to take a step backward.
“Oh, now what?” Cenric groaned from behind Joel. “Never a moment’s peace! Well, go on. Let the fiend inside!”
Following his mentor’s command, Joel pulled the door open and was surprised to see a pair of royal guardsmen waiting outside.
“Is Ambassador Cenric Leal here?” one of the sentinels demanded.
Joel looked over his shoulder in time to see Cenric rise from his stool. The envoy came to the door and peered out. His joyful demeanor hardened at the sight of the guards. “Gentlemen, what can I do for you?”
“Ambassador Cenric Leal, by order of King Rishi Radek, you’ve been summoned to the council room.”
“Now?”
>
The guardsman’s voice remained flat. “I insist you follow us immediately, Ambassador.”
A horrible chill found its way up Joel’s spine. What is this about? Why the urgency?
Cenric’s mouth pulled back into a grave frown as he glanced at Joel. “Well, understudy, it looks like you aren’t going home quite yet. Come, let us see what’s so important that the King has requested my company.”
Cool winds gusted, blowing Gib’s hair all about his rosy cheeks.
Tarquin laughed and gave his friend a pat on the back. “Should have brought a bonnet. Your fair curls are looking a mess.”
“Ha-ha, very funny.” Gib pulled his cloak tighter. “Let’s find a cider stand and buy a drink.”
Tarquin followed close on Gib’s heels as the two friends wove their way through the crowded streets of Trader’s Row. The annual Harvest Festival was in full swing, and vendors had their carts lined up to sell their wares. Gib never had a lot of pocket money, but he had enough for a warm drink and some food.
“I can only stay out for a little while. Cal asked me to come help him with his reading later,” Gib said as they walked.
“How has his first sennight of Academy treated him? Does he like his classes?”
As tall and gangly as Gib was short and stout, Tarquin fumbled along while trying not to bump into anyone. Honestly, Gib had no idea how someone who’d completed two years of sentinel training could be so clumsy on his feet. He supposed it had to do with how quickly his friend was growing up but not out. Tarquin was currently all knees and elbows. I just wish I’d grow upwards first. I’d even take the knocking knees.
They stopped at a stand and purchased two mugs of steaming cider. “Oh, well enough. He’s making friends with his roommate.” Gib accepted and paid for his drink and then waited while Tarquin did the same. “He helped me write to Liza just this morning.”
Tarquin blew air on his drink before tasting it. “Any word from her yet?”
Gib shook his head, and silence stole across them as they drank. Being a soldier posted on an active border was no task for the faint of heart, and Gib knew he could receive word of Liza’s death just as easily as a letter from her hand. Calisto and Tayver knew too but, thus far, neither of them had said as much.
Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden Page 7