Pariel saluted and fell into step just behind Raelen as they resumed their march. He turned down another long corridor before passing through a set of tall double doors into a room large enough to host hundreds of people. The high, vaulted ceiling made their every step reverberate with an echo that emphasized the large size of the room.
Raelen made his way over to a wooden, high-backed chair set on a velvet-draped, portable dais. He stepped up onto the platform, Gryyth taking a position just behind the dais, and to the right of Raelen’s chair. The contingent of armored guards lined up, half their number on each side of the dais. Pariel was the only one who stepped up onto the velvet-covered platform where he fell into parade rest next to Raelen’s chair. Raelen waited until everyone was in place before sitting.
Raelen addressed a servant kneeling in front of the dais. “You may bring Lord Gymal in to speak with me.”
“Yes, my prince,” the servant quickly said before rising to rush out of the receiving room.
He returned a moment later intoning in a loud voice, “Lord Tyrus Gymal of the Elridge province.
“You may approach, Lord Gymal,” Raelen said somewhat less formally.
The short, balding man was dressed in clean, but faded robes of green fabric. A dousing stone hung around his neck, and he called to someone in the corridor to enter. A moment later, a youth only a few years younger than Raelen himself, stepped into the room. His hair was black, his eyes were green, and he wore the drab tunic and breeches common to the peasantry. For some reason the boy’s hands were shackled in front of him.
A big man next entered the room, clearly a soldier as was evident by his muscled arms, and scarred face. He carried an unconscious woman, her hair hanging loosely over his left forearm.
Purple hair
It was the Allosian!
Raelen heard several gasps from the men of his guard. He shot a sidelong glance at Pariel and was impressed to find the man unshaken. Gymal scurried forward, the size of the room making it take an uncomfortably long time for him to reach the dais where he prostrated himself before Raelen. He rolled his eyes. He hated it when people did that, especially when a short bow from the waist was all etiquette required of them.
“Rise,” Raelen curtly said before the boy or the soldier would try to mimic their lord.
“Your Highness,” Gymal began, “I thank you for your magnanimous generosity in condescending to–”
Raelen cut him off. “Your letter gave me the impression that this Allosian would be alive.”
Gymal bobbed his head while trying to keep his eyes on the floor. He certainly doesn’t have much experience addressing royalty. The man was almost comically overdoing it. A minor country lord, then?
“She is alive, Your Highness.”
Wait, does he even know that I am not father?
“Prince Taris will do, Lord Gymal,” Raelen said.
The short balding lord looked up sharply.
He really hadn’t noticed.
“The king–”
“–is busy,” Raelen cut in. “But rest assured, anything you need to say to him, you can say to me. Now, the Allosian, what is the matter with her?”
Gymal hesitated a long moment before finally stammering, “C-coma, my prince. Apparently, she spell-cast beyond her strength and sleeps while her body heals.”
“How did this happen?” Raelen asked.
“Forgive me, my prince, but that is at the heart of the tale I have to tell you.”
Raelen waved Gymal on. “Then please, by all means tell me what happened.”
Jekaran kept his eyes on the floor while he listened to Gymal explain the events in Imaris that led Kairah to exhaustion, and his capture. The man could never be a storyteller as his simple recitation of facts lacked for the slightest bit of style and color.
That man is a threat, the sword whispered in his mind.
Jekaran cast a quick glance up at the bald captain standing to the prince’s right and mentally scoffed. Of all of them, you think he is most dangerous. I’d say that bear creature is the one we have to watch out for. He immediately regretted saying that as he could feel his words elicit a rising hope in the sword. No, he reaffirmed. I’m never letting you take control again. Disappointment emanated from the sword, but it was not the hurt defeat Jekaran usually sensed when he denied it. Wonderful! It thinks I’m wavering.
Jekaran unconsciously shot another glance at the bald captain who this time met his eyes. For some reason that look disturbed him. Those eyes were full of incongruous knowing. He looked away but could feel the man’s stare linger on him.
“And that is how we have come to be here,” Gymal finished.
“And this boy?”
Jekaran looked up to see the prince pointing at him.
“Why is he in chains?”
“He-he broke the law, my prince,” Gymal replied, uncertainty making his voice tremble.
“You said the Allosian woman gave him the sword talis in order to make of him her protector, a role he filled effectively it seems. If that is true, then he is no criminal.”
When had Gymal told the prince that? Well, I guess that means he believed my lie. That was something, wasn’t it? Maybe Jekaran wouldn’t be facing the noose after all.
No one can kill us, the sword said with an air of proud menace.
Shut up!
“Release him,” the prince commanded.
Gymal quickly produced a key from his robe pocket and grabbed the left metal cuff of the shackles. He inserted the key, turned it, and the painful pressure on Jekaran’s wrist abated. Gymal repeated the process on his right cuff, and relief washed over Jekaran as he massaged his now naked wrists.
Jekaran deliberately met Gymal’s eyes, planning to give the man a gloating smirk when he paused. Gymal didn’t have the frustrated anger in his face that Jekaran had expected. No, his face drooped with relief? Why would the weaselly little lord be relieved that Jekaran wasn’t going to be punished for defying him? Gymal hated him, didn’t he?
“Lord Gymal, you mentioned the Allosian woman had an urgent message for my father?”
Gymal turned back to look up at the prince. “Yes, Prince Taris.”
“Tell me of this,” the prince ordered.
Jekaran decided he liked seeing Gymal being ordered about.
“My understanding is that she bore the crown a warning.”
“A warning of what?” the prince asked.
“Her brother,” Jekaran cut in before Gymal had a chance to answer, “is trying to start a new talis war.”
There was an audible–gratifying–gasp from Gymal that told Jekaran he had broken some stupid rule of court etiquette.
Prince Taris stared at Jekaran for a long moment, before finally asking him directly, “The Allosians seek a war with Aiestal?”
“No,” Jekaran said, and then he quickly added, “Your Highness.” He may hold disdain for the upper classes, but he wasn’t about to put the noose back around his neck through intentional rudeness, not when he had just slipped out of it. “Her brother is trying to cause the human kingdoms of Shaelar to go to war with each other. He is going to teach them how to make weapon talises so that they–we,” he corrected himself, “will destroy each other.”
“Teach us how to make weapon talises?” For some reason, the prince sounded as though he had just made some kind of mental connection. “How is he doing this? Does he have humans serving him?”
Jekaran shook his head. “That Allosian woman–Kairah–said her brother was acting alone.”
“And does their magic let them disguise themselves?” that question surprised Jekaran.
“Yes, my prince.” The prince adopted a faraway look–his eyes un-focusing as he muttered something that Jekaran could barely hear. Who was Loeadon?
“Pariel!” the prince barked. The bald soldier at the prince’s right turned to face his liege. “Run ahead to my father. Tell him I am coming with urgent tidings. If his chamberlain tries to deny you, tell him
that it is a matter of life and death.”
“Yes, my prince,” Pariel bowed his head and saluted fist to heart. He stepped off the dais where he shot him one last look before breaking into a run toward a chamber exit.
What was that about?
He is dangerous, the sword repeated. We should kill him quickly. Give me your will and we–
Go to hell, Jekaran thought, but this time the condemnation lacked its usual heat. Divine Mother, was he actually tempted?
He shook his head and snapped, “No!” His cheeks heated as all eyes turned to stare at him, so he dropped his gaze to the ground to avoid seeing the scrutiny, but caught a worried glance from Gymal first. Was the man afraid of him?
He should be, the sword said in a disturbingly human-like tone, one that held a distinct note of cold anger.
Rasheera, shelter my soul, Jekaran prayed.
Raelen’s father would be furious when Raelen interrupted his council. Especially when he had expected Raelen to attend to the matter of Lord Gymal’s message himself. But this couldn’t wait. It really was a matter of life and death, and if Raelen got some satisfaction by discomfiting his father, so much the better. He smiled to himself. It was un-princely and petty, but Raelen loved to nettle the king whenever he had the opportunity. Every subtle rebellion he could manage was a tribute to Saranna, Raelen’s way of striking back at their father for driving his sister to suicide.
It took them almost another hour to reach the throne room, and the boy with green eyes made a few odd outbursts along the way, as though he were arguing with someone who wasn’t there. Mind sickness. He’d seen others like that, children of his father’s nobles who would cry out obscenities during formal functions as though they were possessed with demons. One constantly cried and cut himself, and another would not talk or react in any way to those around her. And the worst part was the healers could nothing to cure them.
There were talises aplenty that could mend the body, but for some reason no talis worked to heal the mind. Perhaps that was because the mind was a part of the soul? Raelen didn’t know. He just wished he had something that would’ve cured Saranna’s melancholy. Maybe then, she wouldn’t have killed herself. Maybe then, he would still have someone to confide in. He glanced at Gryyth. Well, someone human.
Raelen entered the hall feeding into the throne room where he was met by Pariel. The man looked ashamed, and Raelen immediately knew why. “You were denied entry?”
Pariel nodded sharply. “My apologies, Prince Taris.”
Raelen gritted his teeth and pushed past the bald soldier. He shot warning glances at the guards posted outside the throne room, and so they did nothing to bar his way. Raelen threw open the twin doors and proudly entered the throne room trailing his guards, Lord Gymal, the boy, and the mercenary carrying the fey woman. He locked eyes with his father and could see the storm of anger begin to brew behind the king’s mask of calm. It didn’t last long however, as gasps from the assembly drew all eyes to the unconscious Allosian. Raelen made certain to find Loeadon so that he could scrutinize the man’s reaction at seeing the girl.
“What is this breach of decorum?” the chamberlain demanded. “His majesty expected you to be able to handle this matter on your own!”
Raelen ignored him and spoke directly to his father. “This,” he waved to the woman, “is an Allosian.”
That evoked a new round of gasps and whisperings.
“She has risked her life to come here in order to warn us of a plot contrived by her brother. A plot to incite the nations of Shaelar to war with one another.”
The chamberlain opened his mouth to say something else, but Raelen didn’t give him the opportunity. “Her brother intends to restore to humans the lost art of talis-craft in the hope that we will make weapon talises and annihilate one another in a new talis war.”
More gasps.
“Shall I go on, Father?” Raelen said in barely restrained impudence. “Or shall we proceed with this discussion in private?”
The storm was back behind his father’s eyes. He stared at Raelen for a long moment before finally turning to the chamberlain and saying, “Clear the room of all but my top advisors.”
The chamberlain nodded and began ordering the removal of most members of the assembly. Loeadon was one of Raelen’s father’s top advisors and therefore would be allowed to stay. He let his burning stare linger on the tall man with the long dark hair. Could he be the fey woman’s brother in disguise? He couldn’t think of a better suspect. The man had risen to power quickly, seemingly coming out of nowhere. His knowledge of talises was second to none, and he had miraculously produced the circlet that would allow him to use the Allosian tome to start crafting talises. It had to be him.
But Raelen needed proof. Even the prince of Aiestal couldn’t call a man to face justice without sufficient proof. For some reason his father was passionate about that. The king styled himself a man of the law, and crime and punishment seemed to be the only thing Raelen’s father did care about.
Saranna
Raelen made certain Pariel was not evicted and when the room was emptied of most of Aiestal’s high lords and military officials, Raelen relayed the full story of the catastrophe in Imaris to his father as Lord Gymal had told it. The king listened stoically, eyes flitting between Raelen and the Allosian. When he was finished, Raelen’s father remained silent for almost a full minute before finally asking. “Do we know specifics of how this Allosian’s brother intends to bring about his plan?
Raelen looked at Gymal who–in a display of shameless cowardice–quickly turned to Jekaran. The youth looked startled as though he had not been paying attention.
He hesitated a moment before finally answering, “No.”
Raelen nodded approval at the boy in an attempt to set his mind at ease, for he looked like a frightened mouse cornered by a dozen hungry cats. Raelen was sure the boy had no knowledge of courtly etiquette, and probably thought speaking out as he did to be punishable by death. Well, in some cases it was.
Saranna
The king leaned back in his throne. “Well, we will have to wait until she wakes in order to interrogate her.”
Raelen thought he caught a flash of anger in the green eyes of Gymal’s peasant but wasn’t sure. For some reason his instincts told him he didn’t want the boy to get angry, which was odd considering that he didn’t look like much of a threat–not without his sword talis, anyway. Still, the uneasiness that told him the boy was dangerous persisted. And besides, from what Gymal had explained, the Allosian woman was their ally in this.
“Father,” Raelen began, and he caught a disapproving frown curl his father’s lips. “Your Majesty,” he corrected himself. “This Allosian woman risked her life to bring us this warning, against the will of not only her people, but of her own blood. I implore you to not regard her as a captive or an enemy.”
“She is dangerous, my king,” a voice at Raelen’s left cut in, a voice that belonged to Loeadon. “Allosians are powerful spell-casters. It is by Rasheera’s blessing that she comes to us incapacitated, and I pray that you keep her in such a state as long as possible. At least until we have mastered the use of the spell-casting talis.”
Raelen shot the dark robed man as baleful a look as he could manage. Could the Allosian woman identify her brother if he was in disguise? If that were the case, it would make sense Loeadon would want her to remain unconscious.
“We need to know what she knows,” Raelen snapped at Loeadon. He turned back to face his father. “That is, if we are to have any hope of foiling this plot. Is it not clear that her brother has been at work here? Have we not acquired, somewhat miraculously I would add, new and powerful talises in this past year?” He shot Loeadon another look, but the man didn’t appear to catch Raelen’s implication. “We need her on our side!”
The king nodded thoughtfully. “Your judgment in this thing is sound, Raelen.”
Was that a compliment? Raelen was so stunned he almost missed a scowl from
Loeadon. The look vanished as quickly as it had come, and Loeadon bobbed his assent.
Something else surprised Raelen; a feeling of elation at having been commended by his father. He quickly tamped it down. He thought himself long since passed the point of craving his father’s approval, but there it was, and it felt good. Saranna! He reminded himself. He drove Saranna to death!
“Chamberlain,” the king said to the robed man standing at his left, “Have the woman taken to one of our guest quarters and attended to by the palace physicians. Also see that the maid servants clean her up and dress her in some clean clothing.”
“Yes, my king,” the chamberlain said as he stepped down from the throne dais, and began snapping orders at some of Raelen’s bodyguards.
The prince’s men were loyal, so loyal he had to nod his approval of the chamberlain’s orders before they would leave his side. He watched as one of his men took the Allosian woman from Gymal’s bodyguard and carried her toward one of the room’s many side exits.
“Now,” his father began, “let me see this sword talis that you’ve spoken of.”
Raelen watched as Lord Gymal ordered his man to produce the weapon. The short little lord took it, unbundled it, and presented it to the king handle first. Raelen saw the boy–Jekaran–look away, as though he couldn’t bear to watch. His pained look made Raelen think of a man watching a former lover wed another man.
“Yes,” the king said as he studied the emerald-peppered blade, “this is a fine weapon.” He looked at Gymal and asked, “What does it do?”
“It makes one into a fierce warrior, my king,” Gymal said with his eyes on the floor.
Raelen watched his father test the balance of the blade. He startled him when he stood and took a swipe at the air. “Definitely Allosian make,” the king muttered. “But the talis isn’t responding to me. Why?”
Gymal hesitated a moment before finally saying, “I do not know, My King.”
“Loeadon,” the king called.”
“Yes, King Taris,” the man bobbed another bow as he took a step toward the throne.
The Lure of Fools Page 34