Artesans of Albia

by Cas Peace

  His head snapped up and he frowned, his eyes still limpid with tears.

  She was unable to curb her grin any longer. “Oh, Taran! Have you learned no better of me than that? You are a loved and a dear friend, as I have told you more than once. Did you not believe me? I owe my life to you and Rienne, even to Cal for his great courage in holding out against Sonten’s torment. Had he not, the Staff might well have been lost. Did you think I would not reward such sacrifice, such service? Did you really think I would abandon you, especially now, when the King has given us such support? But perhaps I have read you wrong. Do you not want to stay here and learn?”

  His jaw dropped and he stared dumbly at her. Her smile grew wider, her amusement rising, and suddenly she was laughing almost helplessly. He hurriedly shut his mouth, shaking his head with a rueful grin. On impulse, she rose from the couch and crossed to him. Before he could react, she kissed him on the cheek. Startled, he responded, but she quickly drew back.

  “Ah, forgive me, Taran, I should not have done that. Listen, my friend, and hear me well. I love you much as I love Rienne and Bulldog. It is a deep love, a true love, but it is not quite the love you desire. I am an emotional creature. All Artesans are, as well you know. We cannot help but sense the thoughts and desires of those closest to us, and your desires are very clear to me. No, do not be embarrassed. True love should be treasured, not suppressed, however inappropriate. But it should also be channeled and controlled.

  “So let me speak frankly. Should you decide to stay with us, your life would not be easy. We would have to work very closely together, and you would have to remember that my heart is already pledged. I would never betray Robin, and you would have to accept that. But if it helps you, then let me say that the true love of my friendship is yours. It is my dearest wish to have you stay and help me run the college, for I think we could be a good team. I have already spoken to Rienne, and she has given me her answer. Now it is your turn. What do you say?”

  Taran continued to stare at her, his hands trembling. It was clear he could barely believe what he was hearing. His breath rasped in his throat as he spoke.

  “This is … overwhelming. Only a few months ago, I was a directionless drifter, untutored, afraid. Now, everything I ever wanted is being offered to me. Well, almost everything. Sullyan … Brynne, I—” His voice broke, his emotions spilling over. Unable to finish, he buried his face in his hands.

  Sullyan regarded him with quiet sympathy before fetching him a clean cloth and a fresh cup of fellan.

  “Shall I take that as a yes, then?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  There was one final occasion of note that summer. A few weeks after work had begun on the new college building, a formal message arrived for Sullyan from the Hierarch. Bearing his royal seal and also the seal of Duke Marik, it informed her of the coming marriage of the Princess Idrimar to Duke Marik. All their friends were invited to attend, and Sullyan, Robin, Rienne, and Cal were also invited to share the festivities in the most personal way possible, by agreeing to take their own life mate vows on the same day.

  Overwhelmed by the generosity of this offer, there was no refusing.

  It lacked but a week to Midsummer Day when the party from the Manor rode out. Sullyan and Robin led the way on Torka and Drum, followed by Cal and Rienne, both mounted on horses gifted to them by the General. Rienne’s was a pretty spotted mare with a gentle mouth and even paces. Cal’s was a tall iron-grey with a black mane and tail. They were followed by Taran, Bull, General Blaine, and Captain Dexter, and they were surrounded by twenty men from Sullyan’s own company.

  To his unconfined delight, young Tad, who had recently been accepted as a cadet, was also there. His official title was squire, but he had been included because Sullyan had sensed the first stirrings of an Artesan’s power in his adolescent mind. On hearing this, Robin had stared at her in astonishment. He was even more surprised when she added, “I do believe you have your first Apprentice, Major.”

  The young lad nearly fainted with joy when Robin told him the news. Already bursting with pride at becoming a cadet, Tad could hardly believe his good fortune. He would be the college’s first student, but more important to Tad was being chosen as Robin’s Apprentice, as he would now spend much of his time in his hero’s company.

  Riding in a happy daze, Tad watched Robin construct the trans-Veil tunnel over the river. The party passed through in good order, emerging into scorching summer heat on the Citadel Plains.

  Commander Barrin greeted them formally, personally leading the honor guard which escorted them to the Citadel. The lower town had been forewarned of their coming, and the Albians—Sullyan and Robin in particular—were greeted with great acclaim. Hearing their cheers, some even chanting her name, Sullyan could not help contrasting this entrance with her first arrival, when she and Robin had been subjected to suspicion and unfriendly stares. Now, it seemed that most of the trades people and residents had left their tasks to greet them, and the noise of their welcome followed the Albians through the streets.

  Three days were spent in preparation before the wedding procession finally wound its way out of the Citadel gates, heading for the stone circle on the hill. The gnarled and ancient monoliths were adorned with garlands of summer flowers and wreathed with twined leaves. Their majestic heads reared toward the sky, looking like venerable wise men spreading approval over the party. Flowering branches were positioned by each great stone, and the gently convex lawn was strewn with bright petals.

  A canopy of rich purple silk had been erected at the center of the circle, where Timar Pharikian stood. He was clothed in ceremonial robes, the gold gauze cloak he wore shimmering in the sunshine. His golden crown with its tangwyr crest glittered with fire opals on his brow. He smiled warmly at the three couples standing hand-fast before him, and the musicians and cheering fell silent.

  Pharikian approached his daughter and her lord, taking up their right hands. He spoke traditional words of binding, loyalty, and acceptance, and they repeated his words for all to hear. Turning to each other with clasped right hands, they proclaimed their vows. Then they knelt and Pharikian called on Baron Gaslek, who approached bearing two gold rings, one set with amethysts, the other with fire opals.

  Taking the fire opal ring, Pharikian gave it to Marik. The amethyst he gave to Idrimar. Ty Marik, Duke of Kymer, was confirmed in his position as second Heir to the Throne as he slipped the fire opal ring on Idrimar’s finger. He then accepted the amethyst from his bride and the marriage was done. While they stood and embraced, the whole Citadel could be heard voicing its pleasure as the horns of Pharikian’s heralds proclaimed the royal marriage.

  Then it was the Albians’ turn. Robin and Sullyan, Cal and Rienne approached Pharikian together, listening while he spoke a variant of the traditional vows. These they repeated and then spoke their own personal vows, each to their partner. Then they knelt before Pharikian, and he laid hands on their heads in blessing as rings were exchanged.

  The heralds’ silver horns rang out again, the people’s cheers added to their clarion voices. Three couples embraced, celebrating their union with kisses under the summer sun.

  There was much feasting and celebration that night, for the royal wedding was as much a state occasion as a personal commitment, symbolizing not only the joining of two people very much in love, but also the unification of Cardon and Kymer with Caer Vellet.

  There was, however, one among the invited guests who did not wish any of the happy couples well. A tall, black-haired noble from the north, this man did not approve of the proposed trade agreements between Andaryon and Albia, and he certainly was not well disposed toward the Albians present. Standing with his son on the edge of the crowded ballroom, he tried to hide his disapproval. Now was not the time to draw attention to himself. He needed to think very carefully about his next move now that both men responsible for the rebellion were dead.

  One of these he mourned, even though Rykan had slighted him. The other,
he most certainly did not. Sonten had been a sycophant and a usurper, and the northern noble had rejoiced on hearing of the General’s demise. Death by the very artifact Sonten had tried to control was a fitting fate for so grasping a man. Yet, despite losing his most powerful rival in this power game, the noble had also lost a potential source of income. This displeased him. It would have given him much satisfaction to force Sonten to pay him for keeping his treachery secret. The General’s gold would have filled the hole in the noble’s coffers left by Rykan’s untimely demise.

  However, that opportunity was gone. Of more immediate concern was the loss of contact with Rykan’s Albian ally, the Baron. The northern lord was desperate to re-establish the link, and his continuing failure had darkened his already sullen mood.

  Glancing sourly at Kethro, his Artesan son, he wished for the thousandth time that the boy had inherited his father’s quick wits and ambition. One or the other might have sufficed, but the boy seemed to lack both. Rather, he had his mother’s insipid nature, and this angered the noble. Why, he thought irritably, couldn’t his son have been more like Tikhal’s heir, Rand? Now there was a young man whose attributes matched his inheritance.

  This festive occasion, however, was not the time to allow his grudges to get the better of him. Tearing his gaze away from his son, who was watching the dancing and probably trying to screw up enough courage to ask one of the young ladies to partner him, the Lord beckoned imperiously to a wine bearer. He was forced to swerve abruptly aside as a laughing pair of dancers whirled past him, nearly colliding with his arm. He cursed and scowled in disapproval, barely acknowledging Cal’s apologetic nod. His outraged expression drew a curious glance from Cal, but the young Albian was apparently enjoying the day far too much to allow a stranger’s disgruntlement to depress him. With Rienne giggling in his arms, Cal continued the dance.

  The northern Lord glared at the Albians with hot eyes. He dragged his son across the room, attempting to disguise his hatred by joining in the celebrations. He knew his thoughts were making him morose, and he couldn’t allow his demeanor to draw unwanted attention. Once his plans were fully realized, however, it would be a very different story.

  + + + + +

  The midsummer sun did little to warm the atmosphere in Queen Sofira’s solar. Her mood, depressed ever since the Baron’s return from the Manor, was not susceptible to the pleasures of sunlight. She was living in a constant state of fear, and the attentions of the Baron did nothing to assuage it.

  That morning, despite the advanced stage of her pregnancy, she had attended the Minster and listened to a lengthy sermon from Arch-Patrio Neremiah on some new aspects of the Faith his clerics had discovered in the archives. Normally, Neremiah’s pious tones and air of certainty had a soothing effect on Sofira, but lately all he did was irritate her. What was the point of him harping on about the importance of Albia’s primary Faith when she, High Queen and wife of Elias, couldn’t even get her husband to attend? Her failure in this and her fear of discovery dispelled any comfort she might derive from her loyalty to the Church.

  There was a tap at her door, and she listlessly turned her head. “Come.”

  It opened to admit the Baron. She frowned at his air of suppressed eagerness. Lately, he had been as dour as she, so this was something new. Faint hope stirred her as she watched him approach.

  He bowed to her and kissed her hand. His touch made her tingle, as it always did.

  “Madam, I bring news that might help lighten your mood. May I sit?”

  She glared at him for acting so formally when there was no need. They had known each other far too long to stand on ceremony when alone. She waved him irritably to a chair and pushed a goblet and decanter toward him.

  “What news, Hezra?”

  He irritated her further by pouring wine and sipping it before speaking. So, he wanted to play games, did he? Well, she could play them too.

  “I didn’t see you at the Minster this morning. Had you forgotten about the new tenets Neremiah found?”

  The Baron glanced at her over the rim of his glass. “I had not forgotten, Madam, and I apologize for my absence. I will attend the evening service. I had other things on my mind this morning.”

  “Well? How long are you going to make me wait?”

  He gave her a sly smile and her heart gave a jump.

  “I decided recently that the time was right to re-establish ties with our remaining outlander contact.”

  She gasped, outraged. “And you did not think to tell me this before?”

  He held up a placating hand. “I did not want to raise your hopes, Madam. It has been some time since we last spoke, and I did not know whether he would still be amenable to aiding us.”

  “And was he?”

  “Oh yes, Madam. I would hazard to say even more so than before. So much so, that I outlined our plan.”

  She scowled. “Was that wise, at such an early stage?”

  “I had to gain some kind of indication as to its feasibility, Madam. I needed his insight into their customs. I am pleased to say that I see no reason why the plan should not work. In fact, it might even be superior to our original scheme. I really can’t see how anyone could interfere with it once set in motion. Not even your husband’s favored Colonel Sullyan.”

  Sofira’s hard grey eyes narrowed at the name. “But you are still going to deal with her?”

  “Yes, indeed. She’s too dangerous, too close to the King. To that effect, the letter I received this morning from our associate at the Manor was most informative.”

  She raised her brows, pleased to hear that her latest expenditure of gold had at least bought them some advantage. “I take it he was able to provide us with answers to our questions concerning the destruction of the Staff?”

  She saw the tightening of Reen’s facial muscles and knew that no matter how brave a face he maintained before her, the Baron still felt the same fury as hers at that catastrophic event. Only the complete success of their plan would ever wipe it away.

  “He was, Madam, and in some detail. I think you will agree that he has more than earned his gold when I tell you that I now know exactly how to accomplish our goal.”

  He raised his goblet to her and, as she did likewise, the same dark smile twisted both their lips.

  The End

  This concludes the first trilogy,

  Artesans of Albia

  The story continues in the second trilogy:

  Circle of Conspiracy

  The story concludes in the third trilogy:

  Master of Malice

  Glossary

  Albian Characters

  Adyn. The Manor’s quartermaster.

  Amanus Elijah. Taran’s deceased father, an Artesan Adept.

  Baily. A Captain at the Manor under Colonel Vassa.

  Beris Anton (major—deceased). Sullyan’s former commanding officer.

  Bethyn Sullyan. Brynne Sullyan’s mother, now deceased.

  Brynne Sullyan. A Major at the Manor under General Blaine.

  Bull, aka Bulldog, aka Hal Bullen. Major Sullyan’s aide.

  Cal Tyler. Taran’s Artesan Apprentice and lover of Rienne Arlen.

  Dexter. A Sergeant at the Manor under Captain Tamsen.

  Dyler. A farmer from Hyecombe, friend of Jaspen.

  Elias Rovannon. Albia’s High King.

  Emos. Major Sullyan’s valet.

  Falkerk. Weaponsmaster at the Manor.

  Goran. Master cook at the Manor.

  Hal Bullen. See ‘Bull.’

  Hanan. Chief Healer at the Manor.

  Harker. Senior Sergeant Major at the Manor.

  Hezra Reen. An Albian Baron from High King Elias’s court.

  Hyram. General Blaine’s valet.

  Izack. Baron Reen’s personal Commander.

  Jaspen. A farmer from Hyecombe, friend of Dyler.

  Jerrim Vassa. A Colonel at the Manor.

  Jessy. Sister to Robin Tamsen, now deceased.

  Kandaran. High King El
ias’s father, murdered during Albia’s civil war.

  Kinsey, Lord. Chamberlain to High King Elias.

  Mathias Blaine. The Manor’s senior officer and General-in-Command to High King Elias.

  Milo. Keeper of tavern on the way to the Manor.

  Morgan Sullyan. Brynne Sullyan’s father, now deceased.

  Morin. A sergeant at the Manor under Captain Parren.

  Neremiah, Arch-Patrio. Senior cleric of Albia’s Matria Church.

  Parren. A Captain at the Manor under Colonel Vassa.

  Paulus. Elder of Taran’s village, Hyecombe.

  Rendan Levant, Lord. First Minister to High King Elias.

  Rienne Arlen. A healer and Cal Tyler’s lover.

  Robin Tamsen. A Captain at the Manor under Major Sullyan.

  Rusch. A sergeant at the Manor under Captain Parren.

  Sofira. Queen to High King Elias Rovannon.

  Solet. The Manor’s stablemaster.

  Sullyan. A major at the Manor under General Blaine.

  Tad Greylin. Young kitchen boy at the Manor.

  Taran Elijah. An Artesan who is desperate to learn his craft

  The Baron. Mysterious ally of Rykan, Duke of Kymer.

  Wil. A corporal at the Manor under Captain Tamsen.

  Andaryan Characters

  Aeyron Pharikian. The Hierarch of Andaryon’s son and Heir.

  Almid. One of a pair of giant twins, members of Ky-shan’s pirate band.

  Anjer, Lord General. Officer in overall command of the Hierarch’s forces.

  Arif. A Lieutenant in Rykan’s forces.

  Arlow. An Andaryan Baron, chamberlain to the previous Hierarch.

  As-ket. A member of Ky-shan’s pirate band.

  Barrin. A Lieutenant in the Hierarch’s forces.

  Calder. A jailor at Duke Rykan’s palace.