Artesans of Albia

by Cas Peace

  “Get down! It’s going to—”

  A massive boom rolled over Rienne, throwing her to the ground. Taran tumbled on top of her, wrenching her arm as he was flung head-over-feet. The rushing sound turned into a whirlwind that whipped at her hair and clothes, pelting her with bits of twig, soil, and small stones, flinging bundles of shredded leaves in her face. She rolled onto her belly, raising her arms to cover her head, and prayed it would stop.

  The ground bucked as another loud boom sounded, but then everything went quiet. Unsure if it was over, Rienne cautiously raised her head. When things remained still, she pushed herself to her knees and looked back over her shoulder. General Blaine and Robin were staggering to their feet, and she could see Bull helping Taran to rise. The Adept had a nasty bruise on his temple, but he seemed alright.

  “Brynne?”

  The sound of her own voice surprised Rienne. She hadn’t intended to speak. She strained her eyes, but there was no sign of the trans-Veil tunnel. No sign of Sullyan, either. All she could see was Blaine and Robin standing there, staring at something on the ground.

  No, not on the ground. As Rienne rose with Bull assisting her, she could just make out what looked like a depression in the earth. She stumbled closer, Bull and Taran trailing her. Just as she got close enough to see, Pharikian and Deshan appeared out of a portway some distance away. They sprinted toward the Albians, none of whom could believe their eyes.

  A huge crater, its steep sides and smooth floor glittering with a blue-green sheen, had appeared where the tunnel had been. Rienne stared at the faces around her, each one mirroring her confusion and fear. A light pall of dust rose into the air from the crater, but of Sullyan there was no sign.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was a grim party that assembled in General Blaine’s office later that morning. Pharikian and Deshan sat with their heads bowed, untouched fellan by their sides. Both had drawn faces, fatigue having taken its toll. The General sat behind his desk, taking refuge, Rienne thought, in the familiar. Bull and Taran sat close to Robin, both watching the stricken young man carefully. He was holding himself together for the moment, but Rienne could only wonder how long his strength would last. He had already pushed himself to his limits helping the two Andaryans scour the Veils for signs of Sullyan. They had found nothing, not even the tiniest clue, and when they had finally admitted defeat, Robin had had to be forcibly dragged back to the Manor.

  For herself, Rienne took what comfort she could from Cal’s embrace. He was being very attentive. His presence was a support, but even his loving care couldn’t ease the ache in her heart. She couldn’t begin to imagine what would happen now.

  The Hierarch spoke into the strained silence, his voice sounding harsh and old. “Will you send a runner to King Elias? Will he cancel his visit?”

  The General lifted his head, his eyes unfocused. His hand strayed automatically to his mug, fingers wrapping around it as if seeking answers from the warmth.

  “I have already sent a runner to intercept his Majesty’s party, informing him of today’s events. I don’t expect him to cancel, though. Major Sullyan’s … disappearance will not affect the Manor’s routine.”

  “What?”

  Robin’s sharp tone made Rienne jump. The young man had straightened from his slumped posture and now stared incredulously at the General.

  “How can it not affect the Manor’s routine? You can’t seriously expect us to carry on as if nothing has happened? You can’t expect us to put on a show for the King, entertain him and line up for inspection, and just forget the fact that we’ve lost her?”

  His words caused a lump to rise in Rienne’s throat. An image flashed in her mind, the memory of that empty, smoking hole in the ground. They had lost her. Sullyan was gone. It was impossible to believe.

  Blaine cleared his throat and stood. Everyone gave him their attention. “Your Majesty, gentlemen, that is exactly what I expect. We have our duties. Major Sullyan would be the first to acknowledge that. The arrangements for tomorrow still stand. Once the day is over, we will resume our search for the Major.”

  Robin leaped to his feet. “And in the meantime, she could be anywhere, suffering gods know what!” Bull tried to restrain him, but the Captain flung him off. “Well, I for one don’t intend to abandon her. I don’t care if it takes the very last ounce of strength I possess—I will not stop looking until I find her. Or die trying!”

  Robin stalked from the room. He managed to avoid slamming the door, and Rienne was almost sorry. The noise would have been a distraction.

  “I’ll go after him, General,” offered Bull. “The strain has affected his judgment. He didn’t mean that bit about abandoning her.”

  Blaine made a weary gesture and Bull left the room. The General sat back down, lines of worry etched deep on his face.

  Pharikian sighed and caught his eye. “No one will abandon her, Lord Blaine, not until we have done everything we can think of. We will not give up, I can assure you of that.”

  Blaine nodded and his shoulders sagged. “Will you return to Andaryon now, Majesty? I am sure you need to rest. And Elias would understand should you wish to postpone tomorrow’s trade negotiations. He will be as disturbed as the rest of us by today’s events.” His gaze went to the door through which Robin had disappeared.

  Pharikian and Deshan stood, the Hierarch seeming to have lost some of his vigor. “We will return tomorrow as agreed, my Lord. You were right; Brynne Sullyan would not thank us for allowing this situation to interfere with improving relations between our realms. Especially if this was the intention of the Staff’s creator. We cannot permit renegades to dictate our actions.”

  “I agree, Majesty, and thank you. I know King Elias will appreciate your dedication. All will be ready for you on your return. The Manor is honored to host this most auspicious occasion.”

  Blaine summoned an honor guard and left with the two high-ranking Andaryans, personally escorting them from the Manor. Rienne, with Cal and Taran, made her way to their suite of rooms, heart sore for Sullyan and wondering what would become of them now she was gone.

  + + + + +

  Baron Reen sat his pacer just to the rear of the King’s horse. Elias’s honor guard ranged around them, alert as ever for signs of danger. They had made good time since leaving Loxton Castle, cutting the normally three-day journey down to two. There was an eagerness to Elias that had been absent at the Castle, and Reen could only assume that the Queen was right, that Elias enjoyed his visits to the Manor. The Baron supposed any excuse to take a break from the everyday business of ruling Albia was welcome, and Elias was bound to feel gratitude toward the man who had helped him quell the civil rebellion ten years ago. By all accounts, Prince Elias, as he was then, might well have been killed along with King Kandaran had Mathias Blaine not championed his cause.

  What favors might Blaine secure from a grateful King? What liberties might such a favored man take? What influences might he exert? Surely those influences could extend to gaining the King’s tolerance toward those with arcane and blasphemous powers? Or was it Elias’s own inclination to tolerate them?

  These thoughts took the Baron’s mind from the tedium of the journey. He preferred a carriage to riding horseback. It was far more dignified. Why Elias felt the need to expose himself to the weather like this, Reen could not understand. But then, he understood little about Elias. His Queen, on the other hand—ah, she was a different story.

  Just ahead of the Baron, the thirty-year-old King Elias sat his charger with ease. He was dressed soberly, his dark red riding cloak only subtly trimmed with gold. His left hand held his reins lightly, while the other rested on the pommel of his sword. He glanced about him constantly as he rode, adding his vigilance to that of his Guardsmen. Although he had lost some of the tension he often exhibited at the Castle, his body still radiated alertness. Reen might have his suspicions concerning the piety of Sofira’s husband, but he knew he should not underestimate Elias’s lively mind.

>   When the young Elias unexpectedly succeeded in reclaiming his murdered father’s throne, Reen knew that many influential lords were dismayed by both the acuity of the new King’s mental faculties and the liberality of his attitudes. Some of these lords had been involved in Kandaran’s murder, and many of them came to regret the untimely death of his father. Elias discounted nothing that might be useful to him, refused to be blinkered by prejudice, and laughed in the face of superstition. He was also a shrewd judge of character. Most of his closest councilors supported him wholeheartedly, and those who did not learned very quickly to guard their tongues if they wanted to keep their positions.

  Yet the machinations of lords and councilors interested Reen very little. He needed no other support than that supplied by his position as Sofira’s mentor and confidante. No. Reen’s interests lay in protecting and promoting Albia’s foremost religion, the Faith of the Wheel. He was a regular visitor to Port Loxton’s Minster, the seat of Albia’s Matria Church, and counted Arch-Patrio Neremiah among his closest friends. He and the Queen attended every service the Arch-Patrio led, and Sofira did her best to see that Elias attended too.

  It seemed to the Baron that Elias found far too many excuses not to attend. Surely Albia’s High King should set a better example to his people? How were they to convince the populace to attend services if their King rarely did? And how could the Church encourage faithfulness, loyalty, and piety in its followers if the King showed favor to those who practiced blasphemous and arcane arts?

  His horse snorted and snatched at the reins, and Reen made an effort to unclench his fists. He hadn’t realized he had let himself go that far. He really ought to be more careful. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger in his breast.

  He started as he heard a cry from up front. Elias’s hand went up and the entire company came to a halt. Reen nudged his cob to the side so he could see past Elias. A man in combat leathers drew rein in front of the Guardsman and bowed his head to the King. “Urgent message from General Blaine at the Manor, your Majesty.”

  The Commander took the leather-bound packet the rider offered and passed it to Elias. Reen tried to edge his horse closer, but Elias shielded the parchment with his body so Reen couldn’t see. It didn’t take the King long to read, and what he read clearly didn’t please him. His movements as he re-rolled the parchment and passed it back to the Guardsman were abrupt.

  “Please return to the Manor with all speed and tell Lord Blaine that we will be there as soon as we may. The arrangements are not to be changed.”

  “Yes, your Majesty.”

  The messenger inclined his head, wheeled his horse, and galloped away. The King gestured to his honor guard and they picked up the pace, urging their mounts to a canter. Reen’s stocky cob was not built for speed and it lurched with every stride. Reen cursed it even as he mused on the contents of the message. Clearly it was serious, otherwise it wouldn’t have been grounds for altering the arrangements the King had made. Maybe it was something Reen could work with, a reason to get the King away from the Manor earlier than he intended. Maybe it even concerned Elias’s subversive ideas for trading with outlanders. Perhaps something had happened to the demons.

  Reen could only pray that it had. This dangerous notion of the King’s could well provoke another civil rebellion. Reen intended to do all he could to prevent such an agreement taking place. His plan to stop all such trafficking only lacked one final, crucial detail….

  Chapter Twenty

  The Manor personnel rose early on the day of the King’s official visit. Robin, who had spent much of the previous day and night scouring the Veils for Sullyan, was forced to call a temporary halt to participate in the preparations. His anger had faded to a dull but persistent ache in his chest, and he went through the motions of his duty with scant interest.

  He drilled the Major’s company mercilessly in their parade march, as much to divert his mind as to familiarize his two new recruits with the procedure. General Blaine had given permission for Taran and Cal to join the company as honorary members, but despite receiving all the help and encouragement they could wish for, they needed constant practice. Robin kept the company so busy that none of them were aware of the arrival of the two monarchs around midmorning.

  Elias’s party arrived first. The welcoming ceremony went smoothly. The horses were led away, the honor guard was shown to their quarters in the barracks, and Elias was ushered into the Manor.

  Baron Reen followed Elias as the King strode eagerly through the corridors and up the sweeping stairs. The General’s manservant showed them into the pleasantly appointed third-story hall where Blaine himself stepped forward to greet them. Reen observed how the King clasped Blaine’s hand warmly and spoke to him as an equal. Clearly, the General was still exerting some kind of influence over the most powerful man in Albia. Reen would have to make the Queen aware of this.

  The second man in the room was introduced as Colonel Vassa, the former Lord of the Downs. He was known to Elias, but Reen had never met him. He did know some of the man’s history; how he had lost his family and his holding to outland raiders, and how Blaine had mustered the locals to fight back, thus saving the Downs, an important agricultural area, from being ravaged by outland brigands. Lord Blaine had suffered severe injury during this time and reportedly nearly died. It was thanks, so the stories went, to a small child named Sullyan that he had survived.

  Reen didn’t believe this tale for an instant.

  Elias barely had time to introduce the Baron when one of the sentries appeared at the door to announce the imminent arrival of the Hierarch of Andaryon. Reen saw Elias’s head come up eagerly. The two monarchs had only communicated through messengers thus far, so Elias would be looking forward to indulging his curiosity. Open as he was to new ideas, Elias was intrigued by the Hierarch’s unprecedented initiation of these talks. Not much was known about the Fifth Realm in normal circles, and Reen wanted to keep it that way. He wouldn’t stand a chance if Elias learned about the Andaryan mines that produced rare gems and metals not found in Albia.

  Footfalls could be heard in the corridor outside, and the General’s manservant opened the door, bowing low as a tall, patrician figure entered the room, followed by a young page and another man. Reen felt nausea swirl in his stomach at the sight of the outlander king. He was older than Reen had expected, and quite thin, and there were deep lines on his face. But what affected the Baron most were the creature’s alien eyes—shockingly yellow with slit pupils like a cat’s. He nearly choked with revulsion and had to feign a light cough.

  Fortunately, the outland ruler didn’t notice. The other man with him, a much shorter man with a long face and a hooked nose, spared Reen a speculative glance. The Baron drew himself up and ignored him.

  General Blaine stepped forward and greeted the outland king. “Welcome back, Majesty. I trust your honor guard has been housed to your satisfaction?”

  Pharikian inclined his head. “Their quarters are more than satisfactory, Lord Blaine, I thank you.”

  Blaine then turned to include Elias, and Albia’s High King came forward to make his counterpart’s acquaintance. The two monarchs shook hands cordially and took a moment to size each other up. Elias spoke first.

  “Majesty, I am pleased beyond words to meet you in person, and intrigued by your suggestion that we should conduct talks. In my opinion, such a meeting is long overdue.”

  “I agree, your Majesty. May this be the first of many.”

  Not if I can help it, thought Reen. Don’t get too enamored of each other. This could be a very short friendship. He managed to nod politely when presented to the outlanders, and was puzzled when the second man turned out to be a healer. Why bring a healer to a trade meeting?

  But the healer, it appeared, had not come for the trade meeting. Instead, he asked the General if he might speak with either Captain Tamsen or Healer Arlen. Neither name meant anything to Reen, but the request clearly didn’t surprise Blaine, who called in one of the
swordsmen stationed outside the hall.

  “Please take Master Healer Deshan to Hal Bullen. He will know where to find Healer Arlen.”

  “Very good, General. Master Healer, please follow me.”

  The short man with the hooked nose laid a hand on his ruler’s shoulder and nodded to Blaine and Elias. “I wish good fortune on your talks, gentlemen.”

  He followed the swordsman from the room and Reen waited for someone to explain. No one did, and he wondered if it had something to do with the message Elias had received yesterday. No matter. He was sure he would have an opportunity to find out later, if it was important. Blaine ushered Elias and the outland king toward comfortable chairs at one end of the room while Colonel Vassa turned to Reen and offered to guide him around the Manor. The Baron was irritated at being so blatantly excluded from the monarchs’ meeting, but could hardly protest. He agreed with scant grace and allowed Vassa to precede him from the room. A tour of the Manor facilities was preferable to making forced conversation with Vassa, and he might overhear something of interest.

  + + + + +

  Rienne sat in one of the small rooms in the infirmary, trying to shake off the strange headache she had suffered ever since waking that morning. She had no recollection of having spent a disturbed night. Indeed, they had all slept deeply, exhausted by the events of the day before. Yet she felt hagridden, as if nightmares had plagued her slumbers. Images flashed into her mind at random moments; a raging fire, a dark tangle of trees, the face of a boy, crumpled in either pain or fear. None of these images meant anything to her and the sharpness of them faded fast until only a vague awareness remained in her mind. It disturbed her, and so she had come to the infirmary seeking solace.

  The Manor’s infirmary had become as familiar to Rienne as the cottage in Hyecombe she had shared with Taran and Cal. In the short time she had been here it had taken on the feel of somewhere she belonged, a place where she was valued and needed. The other healers had accepted her without hesitation, and her skills and willingness to work at whatever tasks she was given had earned her their respect. Her association with Robin and Sullyan had gained her a special place in the eyes of many of the fighting men. Normally, just being here gave her a sense of security.