A Prince's Errand

by Dan Zangari

  “Around midday, the day after tomorrow.”

  Laeyit smiled and walked toward Bratan. “Let’s just make sure to destroy them after we fulfill our tasks.”

  Bratan grumbled, but Laeyit’s suggestion seemed sound, though it was in no way part of his vision. This wasn’t the only deviation from what Kaescis had experienced, though nothing erroneous had transpired.

  Hurried footfalls filled the air. Kaescis turned as a soldier dashed toward him. “Your Imperial Highness,” the soldier said, hailing Kaescis with a salute. “Everyone has gathered in the war room.”

  * * * * *

  The war room in the Imperial Tent was crowded. Every officer in the Mindolarnian army was present, as well as those stationed in the navy. Several scholars were also in attendance, as were the more senior members of Mister Dol’shir’s band. The only leadership not present was that of the Wildmen.

  Kaescis eyed each of them, but his gaze lingered on Mister Dol’shir. The man’s face was like stone, emotionless and steady. Mister Dol’shir looked like a man ready to kill indiscriminately.

  The warrior’s expression must have set off the voices in Kaescis’s mind, as they began chanting for death. Now’s not the time, Kaescis told the voices. Soon, though. The voices murmured as Kaescis passed Krindal. The scholar looked upset. Kaescis, however, didn’t really care about the man’s emotional state. Krindal was of little use now. They could use him to ferry more warships to the island, but it wasn’t necessary.

  “Thank you for coming,” Kaescis said, stepping to the head of the table. Two crudely drawn maps were laid out on the table. One represented the cluster of buildings outside and the other this building—the Hall of the Guardians.

  “Grand Marshal, will you start with your report?” he asked.

  “We have only mapped this floor, Your Imperial Highness,” Grand Marshal Hezidex reported. “It seems this structure burrows all through the mountainside.” He pointed to the map. “More-detailed maps are being drawn as we speak, with exact measurements.”

  Crenai—the head scout—was the next to speak. “We haven’t found any armories yet,” Crenai said, then continued with her report of what they had found. Kaescis listened half-heartedly. He knew the armories were located three levels below the war camp, though he couldn’t tell them that.

  Others gave reports of their finds, and Kaescis ignored most of the details. He knew all of this, having experienced it in Vabenack. Soon, it was time for Mister Dol’shir to report. Kaescis looked to him with a pleasant grin.

  “Mister Dol’shir, what have you to report?”

  Cornar cleared his throat. “My last group returned a few minutes ago,” he said. “Nordal’s trio was exploring one of the other towers. They found many things they didn’t understand, things they supposed to be tevisrals.”

  “Did they bring any back with them?” Hezidex asked.

  “No,” Cornar said, and shook his head.

  Kaescis knew Mister Dol’shir was lying. In his vision, Kaescis had seen Cornar’s men pilfering objects from all across the outer buildings. Kaescis felt a twinge of betrayal at hearing the lie, but then again it wouldn’t matter. The man would be dead soon.

  “Keep searching,” Kaescis said. “And have your men bring back their discoveries.”

  Mister Dol’shir nodded, his expression still stone-like.

  With all the reports gathered, Kaescis moved on to the next task. He would have to assign everyone to their various searches across the island. Kaescis fought the urge to jump ahead to the major discoveries, but he knew that wasn’t supposed to happen.

  “Mister Dol’shir, you and your band will continue searching outside. Start with the center buildings—the elven ones.”

  The noted adventurer nodded. “We’ve been working with the scholars from the Order of Histories. May I still use them?” Cornar asked.

  “If that is what Master Krindal wishes,” Kaescis said, deferring to the scholar, who looked irritated.

  “You have full autonomy here, Master Krindal,” Kaescis said warmly.

  “On your island?” the scholar murmured.

  This is no time for an argument, Kaescis groaned. “No, our island, Master Krindal. Just because I am claiming it for Mindolarn doesn’t mean you don’t have any interest in it.” Kaescis hoped that would placate the scholar. “Hezidex, send your scouts to the lower levels. I would like to have as much mapped out beneath us as possible. Once they have finished there, they can move to the higher floors.”

  “Are we just mapping… this structure?” Crenai asked.

  Kaescis nodded. “Most of those structures outside have directories within them.” Mister Dol’shir raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “I overheard some of your men,” Kaescis said, though he knew the detail from his vision.

  That didn’t seem to satisfy Mister Dol’shir or his wizard friend. The wizard, Igan, hadn’t looked at Kaescis the same since departing Klindala. Igan’s gazes since then had been filled with distrust and curiosity.

  For the first time since hearing of Mister Dol’shir’s bleeding, Kaescis wondered what the man had experienced in Vabenack. Kaescis knew it was a battle, fought long ago. If Mister Dol’shir had told his men which battle, they were keeping quiet about it.

  And then the realization hit him, and Kaescis couldn’t help but smile. While in Vabenack he had seen himself come to a realization during this meeting. Experiencing the vision, he didn’t know what it was, nor did the Messenger of the Promise tell him. But now Kaescis knew. He knew exactly which battle Mister Dol’shir had experienced.

  Those around the table looked at him with questioning glances, and Kaescis regained his composure and resumed the meeting.

  “Forgive me,” Kaescis said, still smiling. “I’m just basking in our future discoveries.” With that, Kaescis doled out the various assignments for the following day.

  * * * * *

  After the meeting, Kaescis retired to his chambers within the Imperial Tent. He couldn’t help but muse on his revelation. He wasn’t entirely certain that it was true, but it made sense. What better way to prepare his adversary than to stoke a fire of vengeance within him?

  A tent door rustled, followed by footsteps. Who is that? he wondered. Kaescis had instructed Practil and the Praetorians to deny everyone entrance. He was not to be disturbed this night.

  Soon, the tent door to his private room within the Imperial Tent flapped open. Laeyit stood there calmly. Her face was still made up from the feast but her braid was gone and her hair was pulled back simply.

  “What is it, Laeyit?” Kaescis asked, his tone labored.

  “I wanted to be here,” she said, stepping forward and closing the door behind her. Kaescis frowned, and crossed the room, unbuttoning his jacket.

  “What happened at the meeting?” she asked. “You look like you realized something.”

  “I did,” Kaescis answered, hanging his jacket on a pole. He proceeded to undress further. “I know what battle Mister Dol’shir experienced…”

  “And?” Laeyit asked, sounding intrigued.

  Kaescis grinned and removed his ruffled shirt. “The Battle at Laelin Lake.” Laeyit looked stunned.

  “Here’s my reasoning,” Kaescis said, removing his boots. “I know we must clash. But I only know that because of the hiss’thraks and the Will. That man has neither of those things. So, I believe he was taken to Vabenack to behold the death of his father, so a fiery vengeance would begin to burn within him.” Kaescis slid the boots under his bed, then placed a hand on his belt. “I’ve noticed some of his men gazing at me with curiosity, as if they’re trying to determine who I am.”

  “That’s all?” Laeyit asked incredulously. She didn’t look convinced.

  “Yes,” Kaescis said.

  “I would imagine that seeing you slay the Butcher of Tor would be unbelievable.” He didn’t quite understand her reasoning.

  “Kaescis,” Laeyit said, stepping toward him. “They don’t know what we are. They thin
k us to be like them. Seeing you, as you are, over forty years ago will not make any sense to him.”

  “Unless it was explained to him,” Kaescis said.

  Laeyit shook her head. “I think you are assuming too much,” she said, gently resting her hand on his bare chest. Kaescis almost jumped at her touch. Laeyit had never touched him like that.

  “Dol’shir and his men have been wary of us this entire time,” she continued. “You are probably just noticing their gazes now because you’ve accepted your divinely appointed task. In a way, you can be blind when it comes to people. Sometimes you can’t see what is right in front of you.” Laeyit trailed her fingers across his chest, her touch sensual.

  “What are you doing, Laeyit?” he asked cautiously.

  “What I should have done years ago,” she answered, then removed her hand from his chest. “I’ve waited too long, Kaescis. I thought that after you recovered from Helgara’s passing that you would notice, but you haven’t.”

  What was she talking about? They were friends. Laeyit had always been his friend, ever since childhood. She couldn’t be anything more than that, could she?

  Laeyit then slipped out of her boots and grabbed the bottom of her tunic, slowly pulling it up around her torso. “No female has ever stood beside you the way I have,” she said. “I’ve stood by your side through war and peace. I’ve been with you to the far reaches of the world. We share something that no other pair can claim.”

  She pulled the tunic over her head, though she wasn’t bare-chested. “You don’t see it, Kaescis. But I love you, more than any other,” Laeyit said, grabbing the thick band wrapped around her chest. “And I’m not going to wait any longer.”

  Kaescis didn’t know what to say. He had never considered Laeyit as a mate. She was Laeyit. But lately, his eyes had lingered on her. Kaescis didn’t know if that was because of the way she had acted since leaving Klindala or if it was something else.

  Laeyit removed the wrap and proceeded to undress further. He had never seen her like that. She was not the most beautiful creature Kaescis had ever beheld, but she wasn’t unattractive either.

  “This wasn’t part of the vision,” Kaescis said flatly, his eyes lingering upon her.

  Grinning, Laeyit moved to the bed. “You’re still looking,” she observed slyly. Kaescis turned away, hand still on his belt.

  “You said after the meeting the three of us would retire for the night. As we are not doing anything else, I don’t see the harm,” she reasoned. “I will awake and go about the duties you have set for me, my prince. But tonight, be with me.” Those words carried a weighty yearning.

  A conflict stirred within Kaescis. He worried about what he had seen in his vision. Could her presence here tonight disrupt events? Kaescis wondered. His actions were delicate, or so he was told. But, there had been many tiny deviations in what he had seen. For instance, most of the soldiers hadn’t sat where they had in the vision. The food on his plate wasn’t arranged the same. And more people were at the meeting within the war room than he recalled.

  But all in all, things were still moving the way they should.

  “Kaescis…” Laeyit’s voice drew Kaescis back to reality. “I am only asking for this one night,” she pleaded. “Falling through that cavern awoke me to realization.”

  Kaescis hesitated, gripping the buckle on his belt.

  “Just tonight…” she whispered.

  With the conflict still brewing within him, Kaescis looked up, as if gazing through the tent’s ceiling. He searched for the Will, but nothing came. Silence lingered for several minutes until Kaescis realized that his god’s absence was answer enough.

  “As you wish, Laeyit,” he said, unlatching his belt.

  “Deified by the men of Kalda, Cheserith claimed the world as his own. Millions upon millions worshiped him as their God. Eventually, most of Kalda fell under his reign. The sun never set on the Cheserithean Empire.”

  - From The Thousand Years War, Part I, page 32

  Pagus had gone missing sometime that morning, or so Iltar had thought. None of Alanya’s guards had noticed the boy leave. Upon further investigation, Iltar discovered that none of the acolytes had seen Pagus either. There was something foreboding about the boy’s absence.

  Iltar, however, didn’t have much time to search for Pagus, as Alanya wanted to be early to the palace. But early couldn’t accurately describe her intentions. Three hours before they had to leave for the palace—practically at the crack of dawn—Alanya rounded up the acolytes. Even Iltar was summoned. After dinner the previous night, Alanya had ordered each of them to bathe. She wanted the acolytes presentable—after all they were entering one of the most prestigious places in the entire world.

  Once the boys were roused, Alanya led everyone into one of the upper halls of her mansion. Iltar hadn’t been to this part of the mansion, but he assumed this hall housed a few of the many bedrooms. Alanya instructed the acolytes to line up in age order.

  Amused at her corralling, Iltar stood by, folding his arms and patiently watching as Alanya subjected the acolytes to what they undoubtedly thought was borderline torture.

  Once the boys were lined up per her instructions, Alanya began her inspection with little Bilda. The young boy stood straight-backed as the high duchess meticulously examined him. She started with his hair, ensuring that it was properly combed. Bilda’s hair, however, was not up to her standards. Alanya slicked the side of the boy’s head, attempting to smooth out a cowlick, but the patch of hair was stubborn.

  Sighing, Alanya moved on to her next order of business—Bilda’s face. Alanya gently grabbed Bilda’s chin and inspected every part of the boy’s face. She then sniffed the air around him. Alanya lifted the boy’s left arm, wafting air. Her face tensed as she continued sniffing, then lifted Bilda’s other arm. After that, she smelled the boy’s hair, then patted him on the shoulder.

  “Not bad, Bilda,” Alanya said, then moved on to Tigan. “But have your hair washed again.” Bilda, however, remained straight-backed and looked to Iltar with a wide-eyed expression of surprise. He probably hadn’t expected the inspection to be so thorough.

  Alanya continued inspecting each of the boys, ensuring that their hair was properly combed, their faces washed, and their body odor expunged. She gave her critiques after each inspection. None passed flawlessly. The boys seemed a little perplexed. Some glanced to Iltar with the same wide-eyed astonishment as Bilda.

  After everyone was inspected, Alanya’s next order of business was to have the acolytes dressed. She was disappointed that they didn’t have any formal attire. So, after Iltar’s announcement the previous night, Alanya had sent out Hazais and several servants to purchase matching clothing. Iltar didn’t dare think about how much it had cost. He actually found the impulse to be ridiculous.

  Alanya stepped past the boys, motioning for them to follow her. They came to an open door not far from where they were gathered.

  “The tailors are in there,” Alanya said, and gestured to the door. “They’re going to fit your clothes properly.”

  “But we did measurements last night,” Tigan complained.

  “Those were crude measurements,” Alanya said. “And when you wear something formal, you want it to fit just right. They’ll be making alterations before we leave. Now hurry, we don’t have much time.”

  Agen was the first to enter the room, and then the others fell in behind him.

  Now alone, Alanya turned to Iltar. “Why are you looking so smug?” she demanded playfully.

  Iltar chuckled. “I’m just amused at how you’re mothering them.”

  Alanya gave him a sullen look. “You don’t see me as the motherly type?” she asked sternly.

  “You’re too beautiful to be a mother,” Iltar said.

  “Oh really?” Alanya chuckled, stepping closer to him. Iltar didn’t know what to say. He just looked at her and smiled.

  “Sometimes you can be awkward.” Alanya grinned, then stroked Iltar’s face. Her e
xpression turned pensive. “You need to shave.”

  “I shaved last night,” Iltar objected.

  “Shave again.” She squinted, examining his hair.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “Need to comb that better…” She trailed off, running her fingers through his hair. “I’ll have to fix it.”

  Iltar shook his head. “Now don’t start mothering me.” Alanya burst into laughter.

  “I can take care of myself,” he added.

  “Oh good. Then I don’t have to dress you.”

  “I’m already dressed,” Iltar looked down at his usual attire—his black tunic and pants.

  “You’re not going like that,” Alanya said with a tone of finality. Iltar stared at her blankly. She could dress up the acolytes all she liked, but he was a totally different matter.

  “Now, why don’t you go shave,” Alanya suggested. “Then you come back here, and we’ll have you fitted. In the meantime, I’ll be with my children, thank you very much.” Alanya winked at Iltar and followed the boys into the bedroom.

  Women… Iltar sighed.

  * * * * *

  It had only taken two-and-a-half hours to get the boys presentable.

  Iltar waited outside the mansion with Elsia, standing beside Alanya’s carriage. They were both wearing formal attire. Iltar wore a ruffled shirt of beige and gold topped by a black-and-red jacket with tails. His pants matched the coat, with a red stripe that ran down to red-rimmed cuffs. His boots were a polished black and reflected the gleaming sunlight.

  The entire outfit was a tad too much for his liking.

  Unlike Iltar, Elsia embraced her gown. Her bare-shouldered dress was elegant and tastefully showed off her every curve. Embroidered red flowers were arrayed all across the dress, clustered in patterns of seven. Elsia’s face was extensively made up to match the elegance of her gown. She wore heeled shoes—what kind Iltar couldn’t tell—but she stood even with his chin. Normally, Elsia reached only to his shoulder.

  “So you haven’t seen him?” Elsia asked, raising an eyebrow. She looked fierce with the extra makeup.