More and more I found myself wishing the Simathe High-Chief were here to help me decipher this quandary. On top of that, though, I also found myself worrying about how long it was taking him to arrive. Was he all right? What was he doing? When would he come back to me?
Rumors
“You know, nobody came to see me today,” I remarked to Cole and Chief Captain Norband one day, several months after my arrival in Laytrii. “As a matter of fact, this past month things have slowed way down, and this is the fourth day in a row nobody’s come. Isn’t that weird? I can’t imagine why. I mean, has my breath gotten really bad lately?”
We were walking in the palace gardens, a beautiful spot in the central courtyard, placed directly in the middle of the sprawling palace itself. The setting reminded me of an ancient Roman villa, with doorways and balconies surrounding the enclosed retreat. The Living Tree stood in the center of the gardens, with flowers of every color, shape, size, and variety blooming all around. Shrubs and fantastically trimmed hedges framed the flower beds, and watery music played from numerous ornamental fountains. All in all, it was veritable paradise, and my favorite escape in my new home.
Neither man said anything in reply, not even to the bad breath joke—which they probably didn’t get, anyway. The silence was broken only by the sound of their boots crunching on the crushed gravel paths.
“And it was the funniest thing,” I rattled on, stooping to admire a lovely purple blossom. By now, I was pretty well used to their silence, having learned long ago that even when making no replies they were listening to me, nonetheless.
Usually.
“You know Rosean? She’s been serving me the whole time I’ve been here at Laytrii—since the very first day, actually. I thought we’d gotten to be fairly good friends, but lately I’ve noticed she’s been acting really weird. She won’t hardly speak to me or look me in the eye. She always seems in a hurry to get out of my room, too. I tried asking what was wrong the other day. She said nothing, but I could tell she was lying.”
A look passed between the two men. It was over my head since they were both taller than me, but I caught it out of the corner of my eye. Rising, I swiveled to face them, hands on my hips.
“Okay, guys, what is it? I saw that look. You know something you’re not telling me.”
Another exchanged glance. I couldn’t tell if they were discussing something in their mute, telepathic ways or if both were waiting for the other to speak first. As senior officer, Norband finally took the lead, saying slowly, “There have been rumors, my lady, of something amiss.”
“Rumors? What sort of rumors? What’s amiss?”
The Simathe Chief Captain went on, choosing his words carefully, I thought.
“Whispers abound that perhaps you are not the Artan at all. That a mistake was made in bringing you here. There are even allegations that you…”
“That I what?” I prompted warily when he hesitated.
“That you walk in shadow and are secretly of The Evil.”
My mouth dropped open. “What?”
“It is true.” Cole nodded. “Some say you were planted by the Dark Powers to overshadow the advent of the real Artan.”
At first, I was too shocked to think, speak, or move. I just stared, unable to comprehend what I was hearing. However, as comprehension dawned, my immobility was swiftly overtaken by anger.
“And people actually believe that? After all I’ve gone through, after all that I’ve lost, after all I’ve been made to sacrifice for them? They’d actually listen to that crap? Who could be telling those lies about me, anyhow? Why would they tell them? Why? Why?”
The rage fled on the last word, replaced by stinging pain. I was hurt. Who could possibly hate me enough to spread such vicious lies? Who had I wronged that they would despise me so much?
Cole must have seen what I was feeling because he stepped forward, laying a hand on my shoulder.
“Trouble not yourself, my lady. As the Chief Captain says, they are merely rumors of rumors. Whispers in the dark.”
“They can’t just be rumors of rumors,” I protested, throat tight. “It has to be more than that. I mean, the number of people coming to see me has totally dropped. And Rosean’s been acting so strange… Clearly people are believing there’s some truth in it.”
The warrior squeezed my shoulder sympathetically.
“Never fear, my lady. We will deal with this. These lies will be quelled.”
I sighed unhappily. “Yeah, but maybe the damage has already been done. Besides, how do we figure out who’s been starting them? Who do we even look for?”
He didn’t bother trying to reply. There were no ready answers. With a final squeeze, he released my shoulder. “Fret not, my lady.”
“Aye, we will see to this,” Norband promised solemnly.
I looked from one to the other, knowing they would indeed do everything in their power to make sure these lies were stopped. But would it be enough? The origin of rumors already this widespread would have to be difficult to trace. The realization left me depressed as well as angry and hurt. Who would do such a thing? And why?
Shortly afterward, I made my way from the gardens, head drooping. I felt mentally and emotionally weary, defeated, sore, bruised, and battered. Dejection dogged my footsteps, sending hard questions racing around my brain.
Who’s my friend and who isn’t? Who can I trust? If Rosean, who’s known me since the first day I arrived in Aerisia, now distrusts me, who’ll be next? Rittean? Garett? Elisia? And who could be spreading these rumors, anyway? It has to be a person, or persons, of some status for people to believe them so readily. Which means it must be somebody people trust, consider reliable.
The fact remained that Aureeyah had suspected the possibility of a spy at Laytrii. If she was right and there was a spy, was he or she linked to this incident? Could the spy be the one starting the rumors, or could they be allies?
Oh Ilgard, I mused sadly, wrapping my arms around myself, more than half-wishing he were here to talk this over with. If only you were here. You’d get to the bottom of this; I know you would. You could tell me what to do and who to trust. You wouldn’t listen to these rumors…you’d know I couldn’t ever do or be what they’re saying. Wouldn’t you?
Surely he would. Surely our Joining bond, if nothing else, would tell him I was innocent of these terrible charges. Surely when it came down to it, I could count on this man to back me up, if no one else.
For more than an hour I meandered through the maze of palace hallways, with no particular destination in mind. Cole and Norband followed but, sensing my mood, said not a word, maintaining their usual stoic silence. I didn’t have the heart to try breaking them out of it, like I sometimes did. Cole, anyhow. The Chief Captain I tended to leave alone. Of all the Simathe I’d ever encountered, I believed he was the hardest and most uncommunicative.
Passing a beautifully carved casement on the west side of the palace, I happened to look out, noticing as I did that the sun was beginning to set. Memories of that first meeting with Aureeyah flooded my mind, of how she’d called Aerisia the land beyond Earth’s sunsets. The reflection pricked my numb heart, and I stopped to watch the colors change in the sky. Bracing my hands on the windowsill, I leaned my weight on them, lifting my chin and inhaling deeply of the fresh evening air.
Although the world outside this window was beautiful beyond belief, secretly I was wishing I could somehow fade into that sunset right now, cross whatever barriers kept our two worlds apart, and find myself once more home on Earth, with all the dangers and difficulties of this new world forgotten. Where I could simply be myself and not have to worry about being judged as to whether I was evil or whether I was good.
Artan shmartan. My family wouldn’t care jack about any of this. They’d be happy simply to have me around. That’s all that ever mattered to them.
It’d been so long since anybody had responded to me as me, without any preconceptions or expectations of me as the Artan, tha
t I half-wondered if I’d even know how to relate to people anymore who knew me as simply Hannah Winters. Not as Hannah Winters from Earth, the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy.
Might as well get used to it, I told myself glumly. Until you get home again, if you ever do, it’s gonna be this way.
The thought was far from cheering. I was at a very low point. I don’t know what might have come of it all, had what happened next not happened when it did.
Movement below in the outer courtyard caught my eye. I shifted my focus to see a Simathe warrior walking past, leading his ebony Restless in the direction of the stables. Everything about him was familiar: the set of his shoulders, the broad scar lining his cheek, visible even from the window. And yet he wasn’t one of the men who’d been staying with me here at the palace. I racked my brain, trying to think. Then it hit me.
“Cole, Norband, look! It’s Lord Contrey,” I exclaimed, pointing down at the man. “They’re back!”
Sudden, bright joy flooded my being, driving away the gloom. I knew if Lord Contrey was here, so was his High-Chief. And if there was anybody in this world—this crazy, mixed-up world—who not only knew me as the Artan, but also me as Hannah, it was him. Maybe I’d once resented him having this knowledge; maybe part of me still did. But right now, I simply needed reassurance, and I had to go to him.
Even as, at my excited cry, the two warriors stepped forward to take a look, I ducked by, dashing down the hall. Servants, Council members, and noblemen alike stared in astonishment as I flew past, but I didn’t care. The excitement welling in the pit of my stomach drove me forward, telling me to hurry before I lost my nerve, hurry before I second-guessed myself, hurry before I overthought this, hurry before this moment was gone forever.
Finally, I made it to the main hall. I didn’t slow but tore through it and then the huge, thick, double doors safeguarding the palace entrance. Slipping outside, I pulled to a stop at the top of the stone steps leading down into the outer courtyard, searching eagerly.
Where is he?
There! I saw him, still too many paces away, leading his own mount toward Laytrii’s stables. At the mere sight of him, all worries, doubts, and fears instantly fell away. He was here. All of a sudden, I knew everything would be all right.
“Ilgard!”
I called out to him. At the sound of his name he paused, turning toward me.
Not content to wait, I dashed down the steps and flew across the courtyard, relief and happiness giving wings to my feet.
Reunion
As they journeyed toward Laytrii’s palace, her presence strengthened with every passing mile. The void created by her absence was beginning to fill; the effects of the Joining, dimmed by distance and time, restored themselves. Soon he would see her again, and, seeing her, would be able to lay aside the disquiet of not being there, watching over her himself. The sensations were, he knew, a derivative of their Joining, but that did not make them any less real.
At last, they passed the gates of Laytrii’s palace. He could feel her now as strongly as in the unbelievably intense moments when they’d first been bound together. He detected sadness, worry, dejection, and wondered over the cause. Within her, consuming her, he interpreted a deep longing for something—no, someplace—else.
Then, a quick burst of excitement.
The Simathe lord, having already dismounted, was leading his horse to the stables when he felt her approaching. She paused, called his name. He turned.
She stood at the top of the palace steps. A light breeze teased the fine curls escaping from her upswept hair and stirred her hem about her ankles. The pale green sleeveless overdress, laced up the bodice, was worn over a simple white skirt and a blouse with long, full sleeves. The color heightened her complexion, while the sprig of tiny white wildflowers tucked behind her ear set off her dark hair.
She stood still like that for only a moment, a moment that would be branded forever in the Simathe’s memory. The light of the setting sun splashed against her skin, burnishing it gold, glinting off the hidden flames in the dark depths of her hair. Then she was off the steps, running toward him.
This was the last thing he had expected her to do, but, dropping the reins and leaving his mount, he began walking toward her. He progressed only a few steps before she was there, not stopping, flinging herself against him with a little cry. He heard her gentle panting, felt her heart pounding against his chest, and for a split second was unsure what to do. At last, almost of their own volition, his hands came up to clasp her shoulders, pulling her gently against him.
Time stood still as she embraced him fiercely. More than a few seconds crawled by before she finally eased back, lifting her chin so she could look into his face. He saw, then, the tears shimmering in her mismatched green and brown eyes—tears reinforcing the anxiety flooding their bond.
“My lady, what troubles you so?”
“Oh Ilgard…” Her lower lip trembled as she spoke. “Things have been so crazy around here. First the Adragon, then all these people coming to see me to tell them what to do. I don’t know what to tell them—I’m no judge! I haven’t even finished college! And now this—they’re not coming, because they’re saying I’m not the real Artan, that I’m actually a part of The Evil! Can you believe that?” Indignation flashed across her face.
“On top of everything else, I was worried about you and your men,” she went on. Her fingers fumbled nervously, unconsciously, with the ties of his jerkin. “Maybe it’s silly, but I couldn’t help it. You were so far away, and I hadn’t heard anything from you in so long. Nobody would tell me where you were or what you were doing. I wanted you to come back because I thought if you were here… Oh—” She broke off, pressing her face into his shoulder, muffling her next words. “Never mind. I’m just glad you’re back.”
Mystified, he held her, attempting to puzzle out the gist of her speech. The approach of his Chief Captain, accompanied by Cole, caused him to look up. Whatever they thought of seeing their Artan and High-Chief in this unusual position, they did not betray but wisely held their peace.
Of what does she speak? he questioned his subordinates silently. Something has gone awry?
Much, replied his second-in-command, frowning. Your timing is impeccable. It is well you have returned.
While he washed off the dust from his travels, the Simathe he’d left to watch over the young Artan in his absence filled him in on what had transpired during his absence: the Adragon, the Artan’s visitors, the rumors. By the time he was ready to sit down with her and hear her version of events, he possessed a better grasp of what was troubling her. Some of it, anyway. Some of what she’d said earlier still made little sense, but as soon as he seated himself facing her in her own private sitting room, she unleashed a torrent of words.
Among other things, he perceived her insecurities at being thrust into the position of judge, lawgiver, and peacemaker. Perhaps it was unfair of the people to lay this burden upon her shoulders. She was but newly come into her own and had much to learn. However, it was the nature of humans to seek help from those they identified as the highest authority present; he could only warn her she should expect her role to be a complex one.
“At this point in my life, I hardly need any more complexities,” she grumbled, and he hid his amusement.
Strange, but he’d thought much the same about his duty of safeguarding her.
Carrying on, she elaborated on the problem of the Adragon and of her distrust for them, which she could not quite put into words. She fretted that she might be unfairly condemning them since no one except Lady Elisia seemed to find fault with the newcomers. There was little he could say beyond reassuring her that he would personally look into the matter and not to let her feelings, either of guilt or mistrust, cloud her judgment.
“The truth will come out,” he counseled her.
She was hardly mollified, but she let the matter drop, going on to discuss what he deduced was troubling her the most: the whole, sorry tale of the v
icious rumors people were far too willing to believe. Underlying all this was something that troubled her even more deeply, something he sensed her gathering her courage to ask. At last, with her fingers twisted in her skirts and her eyes lowered to her lap, she said, “Ilgard, since we’re Joined, if I were a part of The Evil… If I was bad, like that, you’d know it—wouldn’t you?”
At first, he was taken aback by the halting question and knew not how to respond. Gathering his wits, he inquired gently, “Why do you ask, little one?”
Even the term of endearment slipped by unnoticed as she struggled to formulate a reply.
“Well I…I just thought that maybe, someway—through Jonase or something—the Dark Powers might’ve tainted me or my abilities. Is that possible?”
Her once clenched fingers were now anxiously twisting and untwisting. Leaning over, Ilgard placed his own hand atop hers, effectively stilling their movement and bringing her distressed gaze to his.
“My lady, had the Dark Powers some sway over you, we would both know it. Shadow catches no victim unawares—its followers welcome it.”
“What do you mean?”
Lifting his hand, he went on, trying to explain the matter. “The seeds of good and evil reside in all our hearts. It is we who choose which seed will flourish and which path we will walk.”
She frowned a little. “Are you saying that even good people—like, for example, Rittean—have an evil seed in their hearts? And even though they choose not to let it grow, the seed is still there?”
He nodded agreement. “Aye, still there and still troubling us. That is why we all sometimes speak words or commit actions we regret.”
A mischievous smile bloomed. “Even you, Ilgard? Don’t tell me you’ve ever been sorry for something you’ve said or done.”
Unbidden, his mind flashed back to the kiss he’d once stolen from her.
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