Kitalla grumbled at the reminder of her failure. “He almost has a point, Dariak.”
“Almost?” Ieran echoed.
“Yes.” Kitalla nodded. “You’re leaving out the part where you want us gone so you can stop play-acting your new role here.”
Ieran was affronted. “How dare you!”
“Enough!” Prethos ordered. “Keep this conversation focused on the matters at hand.”
“I beg to differ,” Kitalla said despite the warning look that Dariak gave her. “Once we’re gone, who’s to say you’re going to keep doing things the way we have dictated? I suppose some of us could remain here to ensure it.”
“No,” Ruhk chimed in before the king could respond. “We have set things in motion and it has been enough time for the people to adjust to it all. I’m sure His Highness will maintain things in our absence.”
“I appreciate your vote of confidence,” the king responded sincerely. “You do, of course, still have your insurance in effect, if you still worry that I might not keep to my word with you.”
Verna spoke next. “I would agree with Ruhk on this.”
Kitalla looked like she wanted to argue and Randler had seen that expression enough times to know that she was about to voice her objection, even if just for the record. He opted to supersede her comment. “It wouldn’t make sense for things to revert back to the old way here just yet anyway. Dariak has all the shards and we know how to bring them together to form the Red Jade. Once he has done so and the fighting is ended, he would come back here to reset the current situation anyway. It would only lead to some possible casualties and the king losing his throne.”
“These threats are not necessary,” Prethos assured them. “I made this agreement. For one year.”
“And two months have already passed,” Ieran pointed out.
“Have you counted the hours too?” Kitalla sniped.
“Please!” Dariak raised his voice. “Enough already.” He knew Kitalla was upset with her failed attempt out in the field and over the loss of two of her toes, but he didn’t have time for the sarcasm now. “I’ve drawn up a list of materials we will need for the journey to the border. I think it seems fitting that we return to the outpost where Gabrion conducted his experiment and use that as our focal point.”
“A good choice,” Ruhk said. “It is already a strong symbol of our success.”
“What items do you require?” Prethos asked. He took the offered parchment from Dariak and perused it. “Some of these items will take time to procure.”
Verna struggled not to bite her lip as she offered a suggestion. “Perhaps Chancellor Ieran would be able to work on getting those things while we make our preparations?”
Ieran scoffed at the notion. “There are pages for this sort of thing! Surely I’m better suited at your side, my liege?”
Prethos turned his gaze between the two of them.
“Look at it this way,” Verna added. “The sooner you get it all done, the sooner we get out of here. Who else would work so hard?”
“She makes a good point,” the king said, a hint of a smile on his face.
“Preposterous!” Ieran shouted. “I’m not an errand boy!”
“You are today,” the king said. “I agree; you have yearned for their departure daily. You would make the shortest work of this task.”
“But—”
The king raised his voice. “I have decided. You will make this your utmost priority and you will complete it without delay.”
Ieran took the parchment and examined the items listed there. “These things are absurd! Thirty-six eaglon eyes? The tongue of a tigroar? Eighteen petals each from a hundred and fifty-two roses? Whatever do you need these for?”
“I require them for my quest,” Dariak said simply. “Surely you have the large tents and other provisions closer at hand?”
“We do,” the king replied. They waited in silence for a moment while Ieran contemplated the other obscure items on the list. Prethos turned to his chancellor and cleared his throat. When the man met his gaze, the king reminded him, “I told you to begin without delay.”
“W—Wh—? Now?”
“Now.”
For a moment, Ieran seemed as if he was going to argue with his liege, but then he thought better of it, bowing his head sharply and vacating the room. Once the door closed behind him, he let out an odd noise of frustration that tempted the others to laugh.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Dariak said.
“Your father served my father well in his time,” Prethos said. “I was too young to understand much of it, but I was instructed by the histories and my chancellors. Your father never wanted much from war, but his wild imagination was applied to battle schemes anyway. I don’t know if your actions will seem any different to the historians, but I am curious. I have witnessed strange behaviors among my people these past weeks and you make me wonder about the future you envision.”
Kitalla narrowed her eyes. “That’s a fine sentiment if it’s true. But, if I may ask without seeming too skeptical, is that your only reason for your support here?”
“Kitalla…” Carrus cautioned.
But Prethos raised his hand. “It is all right. What would you have me say, Kitalla? Do you want me to confess that I’m hoping Dariak obliterates Kallisor completely so that, when the year has passed and I have my son returned to me, I can take both lands under my rule and do as I see fit?”
Her jaw dropped open. “Yes, something like that.”
The others were stunned by the near-admission but Prethos laughed heartily. “Schemes abound, as all of you know, and there is no way for me to prove to you that I mean what I tell you. My goal is the happiness of my people. I have always thought that happiness required the downfall of Kallisor so that we could allocate their resources to the people here who are struggling. Peace between our kingdoms is hard to come by when even messengers go missing between our castles.”
“Killed on both sides of the border,” Kitalla noted.
“Yes,” the king conceded. “I will admit that I am obeying your demands under duress, but that does not mean that I cannot see the truth of what is happening around me.”
Ruhk and Verna exchanged glances, wondering if the king was alluding to the secret host of rebels Ieran was gathering under his wing, but they kept quiet.
“Dariak, son of Delminor,” the king said officially, “now that you have returned and command the unified power of the jades; if you so decree, then I will return the regency of this kingdom over to you until you depart upon the next leg of your quest.”
“A generous offer.” Dariak bowed his head. “However, it would be best for you to maintain your status and for the rules to be kept consistent. The people have had enough change already.”
“In that case, perhaps you all would like to retire for the night?”
The group disbanded and went to the quarters assigned to them. Kitalla avoided Carrus’ room, since she was still upset he had brought her back to the castle with so much other work to do out in the field. She wondered how long she would hold her grudge, and she suspected it wouldn’t be for too long; he was too entertaining a diversion for her to remain angry.
Verna and Ruhk checked in with their respective captains before reconvening in her chamber to discuss the assignments they intended to leave when the group departed. They debated about whom to leave in charge as captain once they uprooted Mzark from his post by taking him with them on the journey.
“He’ll be furious,” Ruhk warned.
“I don’t know that we can leave him here, though,” Verna said. “No one would remain behind to keep him in check, and we can’t demote him before going without causing a ruckus.”
“I don’t know. Taking the captain of the guards on the journey may also cause some problems.” They debated back and forth a while until the hour grew late and they drifted off to sleep.
Meanwhile Dariak and Randler sat together discussing some of the minutiae they h
ad learned from Delminor’s library. Randler wanted to ask about Essalia’s condition, but Dariak didn’t want to talk about his mother at all. They had barely said good-bye to her, not that she was likely to notice. Randler wondered what spells had gone awry to put her in such a state.
The thought made him wonder about something the king had said earlier. “It was interesting that Prethos spoke of history books and chancellors educating him as he grew up.”
“It is how many kings learn their place.” Dariak yawned.
“True, but he didn’t mention his mother at all.”
“Ah,” the mage muttered. “The story is, she died giving birth to him.” They sat silently for a time. “I know why you bring that up in particular. You want to know what happened to my mother, don’t you?”
“I’m curious, yes,” he said.
“She… believed in my father’s work,” he explained softly. “Pyron was my chief magical tutor, but my mother did her best to train me, too. We even visited the Magitorium together when I was young, though she brought me there in a cautionary capacity, of what not to become. At some point, I left to train at Magehaven. I had already spoken to her about following in my father’s footsteps. She knew I would leave her and travel the world. She thought it would sway me to stay if she had something to tempt me with, so while I was training, she went back to the Magitorium and tried to rip into the energies. They burned her out.”
“I’m sorry…”
“She did it for love, but of course her goal was to learn something new and exciting, not fry her mind. She was escorted back by some of the other mages who explained what happened to my father’s servants and they relayed the news to me.” He shrugged sadly. “I didn’t know what to do, and Pyron counseled me to follow my heart. At the time, my heart told me to gather the jades and save the world, then maybe I could spend some time trying to help her.”
“You’ve never talked about her before.”
“It’s hard to know what to say. Some people believe I have abandoned her, but I haven’t. Well,” he added with a deep sadness, “I suppose you best understand her situation. You’re in a similar place, aren’t you? My quest first. Everyone else comes after.”
“Dariak…”
“Maybe it’s a failing of my father’s line,” he said. “He was just as focused on his magic, even when it was being ripped away from him for war. In the end, he was never able to be there for the rest of us, the way he always had promised. It will be the same for me, you realize.”
Randler shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be.”
“I told you everything my father’s notes said about the Red Jade. It is very likely that uniting them will do to me what they did to him and to Frast. I won’t be able to live up to any other promises then.”
“We don’t even know if they can be joined right now. They’re still…” He dropped his voice to a whisper in case anyone was eavesdropping, “empty.”
“That will only affect when I bring them together, not if. When it comes down to it, Randler, you know I’m speaking the truth. You’re the one who pointed that out to me in the first place.”
The bard was lost for words, so he took Dariak’s hand and kissed it tenderly.
Chapter 32
The Grandmother
“Leave me to grieve, Gabrion,” the old woman had asked after the chaos that had brought about her husband’s death. “We will speak of other matters later.”
It was another delay for his task and Gabrion was torn between frustration and understanding. The woman had lost Yorrish, whom she loved dearly, and now it meant that her entire immediate family had perished in some form or other.
Still, they were Hathren spies and there was an anger in Gabrion’s heart that wanted to barge into the woman’s chambers and have his words with her. He didn’t know how he tolerated the prolonged mourning period, but he spent it with Perrios.
The baby had taken a couple of days to settle down from the panic in the keep. The whole place was in turmoil after the earl’s attempt to steal the child. Brallok was doing his best to take over the earl’s duties while they awaited judgment from the king. A trusted messenger had been sent, though it would be some days before an answer would return.
When he could, Gabrion stood with Brallok in the earl’s audience room, and there he helped the page build a stronger sense of confidence with his new de facto post as earl. It wasn’t easy deciding the fate of others around him, and he anxiously awaited the word of the king.
“You won’t always be able to rely on others to make your decisions for you,” Gabrion warned him, rocking Perrios in a crib off to the side of the audience hall. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Prethos turns over the Undying Stone to you.”
Wide-eyed, Brallok gasped. “You don’t think he would, do you?”
“Truth be told, I would be more surprised if he didn’t offer it to you.” The warrior stepped over to the page and clapped his shoulder warmly. “You proved your fealty clearly, as far as I can see. The earl would have taken Perrios away without your help. You preserved the king’s desire and have held to those original orders.”
Brallok let out a low sigh. “I suppose, but I’ve only ever acted as a messenger. I’m not fit for leading this place.”
“I’m sure you have been involved in a fair share of decisions, too. But except for random events, what real decisions would you need to make here? This fort is relatively self-sufficient and highly defensible. Keep your people fed and the rest should fall into place.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
Gabrion shrugged. “I’m sure there is more to it, but I believe you’re capable. So, if the offer comes, I hope you would accept.”
“Your belief in me means something. Thank you.”
Gabrion then played the role of Brallok’s page as he opened the doors to the hall and admitted the few petitioners of the morning, announcing each in proper fashion. Mostly, they were people who had been inadvertently caught in the recent subterfuge and wanted compensation for their troubles. In some cases, the petitioners sounded like collaborators of the earl’s, but Brallok did a fair job of balancing the food allotments over the next few weeks. The rest of the visitors made offerings for Brallok’s continued support of their ways, and by the end of the session, the page felt he actually could handle this task.
Alosia arrived with food as the afternoon set in and Brallok and Gabrion settled at the table to eat while the nursemaid tended to the baby’s cleanliness. Her effort to protect Perrios in the underground caverns had earned her some time each day with the child. She never tried to take him out of Gabrion’s sight, though that was never something they had discussed. He wondered idly if perhaps she finally believed that he did want what was best for Perrios, or perhaps she believed that only Gabrion had the ability to truly protect the heir. Regardless, it was one less thing for Gabrion to worry about.
After quarantining herself for over a fortnight, Meriad finally emerged from her room in the keep, dressed all in black, clearly weakened from her grief. She hadn’t eaten much of the food that had been left for her each day, and in some ways she looked ready to join her husband at any time.
One of the guards summoned Gabrion and he gathered up Perrios and met with Meriad in the rock garden. He hadn’t yet visited the site, for it seemed odd to have a garden of rocks within an entirely stone keep. He hadn’t expected the lush amounts of sculpted life within the garden.
True, all of the specimens were stone, but they were intricately carved into vines and flowers with delicately painted hues that glimmered in the sunlight and gave the impression that they were waving in a gentle breeze. Several paths sprawled outward, each a different color, guiding him to unique sections within the maze-like area. The garden was bathed in sunlight yet the paints showed no signs of fading, and Gabrion realized it was because artisans constantly renewed the space to keep it fresh and alive.
The sapphire-hued path led toward the northeastern edge of the garde
n to a shadowed nook with huge arching stone trees protecting a beautifully ornamented bench underneath. Carved birds were perched upon a faux fountain that boasted a glimmering azure coating inside to give the impression of clear, sparkling water on a bright blue day.
In contrast, Meriad sat upon the shadowed bench, her body hunched over, her very presence sapping the joyous, calm mood of this corner of the garden. Gabrion took a seat beside her and waited for her to speak, bobbing Perrios in his arms.
“I don’t even know what to say to you, young Gabrion,” the woman started. Her voice rankled as if she were twenty years older than her nearly sixty winters. “It is like you are ten people all rolled into one and I don’t know to whom I speak.”
“Similarly, I don’t know what to say to you,” he admitted. “However, there are some things that need to be said.”
“Yes.”
“Why were you a spy for Hathreneir?”
Her voice went sour. “That is why you have persisted in speaking to me? I would have thought there would be some other reason.”
“There is. But I need to understand why you were in my village when you held no allegiance to us. I need to know who you are before I can give you my sincere condolences. If I offered them now, they would be false, for you are not the woman I knew in Savvron.”
She lifted her head and peered at him with tired eyes. “You don’t sound like a lovesick child anymore. Might that be because you murdered my dear, sweet Mira?”
“It was…” he wanted to say ‘an accident’ but he couldn’t, for in some way that was a lie. “…unfortunate.”
The woman barked a foul laugh. “Unfortunate that you showed up and cut the life out of her defenseless body.” She pulled her shawl tighter around herself. “I don’t know why I agreed to speak with you.”
“You agreed, I would guess, because I am Perrios’ keeper now. And he is your last tie to Mira.”
“As well as yours,” she pointed out. “Is that why you kidnapped him from the king?”
“That is only one side to the story and you know it. The king sent his best men with me to protect the child while the others take care of things at the castle. There was too much turmoil there and it was no place for him to be.”
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