Ascendant

by Florian Armas

  “If...” Jara insisted; her back was toward the door and she did not see it opening.

  “Be silent,” Cantemir snapped. “Yes, Panait.” He stared at the Mester, both pleased and displeased by his intrusion.

  “I apologize,” Panait said. “Lady Severin,” he bowed. “We need to talk.” Panait frowned; Jara’s presence was something that he did not expect, but it gave him an idea. “The Wraith of Tolosa is in Arad.”

  “Tudor?” Cantemir asked, forgetting that he was not alone with Panait.

  Tudor, Jara thought. That’s the name Codrin is using in Arad. “Cantemir, you were talking about trusted people. The Wraith of Tolosa is such a man.”

  “Do you know him?” Cantemir asked, thinking that everything was going in a direction he did not like.

  “Yes.”

  “Tudor wants to see both of you.” Panait decided that it was the right time to make all the links.

  “Fate take you, Panait,” Cantemir said. “I will meet him.” His hand patted his chest.

  “My stand is open today,” Panait said to Jara, “ and the market is not far from the palace. I have some boxes of mefilene.”

  Mefilene... Now I am sure that Tudor is Codrin. “Thank you Panait. Vio likes them.”

  “Cantemir?” Panait asked.

  “If Mark stays in the palace, I see no reason to stop Jara and Vio from seeing the market. Please don’t ask me more.” Cantemir looked resigned; he had the feeling that he was being outmaneuvered by Panait. He glared at Jara.

  “Thank you. I will go to prepare Vio.” Jara stood up, with the speed of a young girl, eager to leave.

  “What was in your mind?” Cantemir asked, trying hard to conceal his irritation.

  “We don’t have much time. Tudor wants to take Vio away. After what happened between her and Alic... Don’t look at me like that. All Arad knows that Alic and two soldiers tried to rape Vio. I am part of the Circle too, but that’s not a reason to accept such things.”

  “I have to talk with Orban about letting Jara go to the market. Wait here.”

  Four soldiers escorted Jara and Vio to the market. Cantemir had convinced Orban to let them out of the palace. Vio’s visit to the market would counter the rumors about her being raped by Alic.

  “There was no rape,” Orban protested.

  “You know well how rumors work; each person spreading them adds something from their own imagination. Rape sounds more exciting than attempted rape. This is what we are,” Cantemir shrugged. “If they see Vio happy in the market, people will forget.”

  “Mark will remain here,” Orban said.

  “Of course, he is too young to go to the market. People will understand that. They will also understand the need for an escort to protect the young girl from unwanted attention. She must be ... scared, now.”

  For half an hour, both women walked at leisure through the market, visiting stands and booths until they arrived at Panait’s stand. As before, one soldier entered first to see the place, then Vio and Jara followed.

  “Lady Severin,” Panait bowed, “I am glad to see you here. The ladies are safe with me.” He stared at the soldier, who frowned, not knowing how to react. Panait was now the First Mester, and a known figure in Arad. In the end, the guard bent to the pressure in Panait’s stare and chose to leave the stand. “You may come.”

  Following Delia, Codrin came out from the small room at the end of the stall. “Lady Jara,” he bowed, a large smile on his lips. “Vio.”

  “Tudor!” Vio cried and jumped into his arms with amazing speed.

  “We are missing a lot of things here,” Delia whispered to Panait, staring at both Vio and Codrin.

  “We don’t have much time,” Codrin said. “I am trying to take Vio away. Sorry, but I can’t take you...” he glanced at Jara, Vio still in his arms.

  “I understand that,” Jara nodded, “and I am grateful to you for saving Vio.”

  “Vlad is with me in Arad, and I have five more soldiers waiting at an inn outside the city. We must act fast, while the preparations for...”

  “Yes, my wedding can hide your actions,” Jara said firmly.

  “My feeling is that Cantemir will cooperate. In two days from now, I plan to enter the garden just before midnight. You must get Vio there. Panait will bring Cantemir out of the palace today, so I can meet him. Does that work for you?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 15 – Jara

  Hidden by the darkness, Vlad leaned his back against the wall, and clasped his hands together. “I am ready.”

  Codrin placed the tip of his boot on Vlad’s hands and sprang up. His fingers grabbed the edge of the wall, and in a few moments he was lying on the embrasure. “Give me the ropes.” The first one, he tied on a merlon on the street side. The second one toward the garden. “If I don’t return in an hour, run.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Vlad said, knowing that he would wait longer, but there was no need to argue about that now.

  After pulling on the second rope to check it, Codrin went down the wall, inside the garden. He was on foreign ground under the faint light of the moon. It was convenient and not at the same time. The palace garden was a square enclosure, three hundred feet wide, surrounded by walls on three sides. The fourth side was covered by the palace itself. Two walls separated the garden from other areas belonging to the palace. The last one faced the street were Vlad was waiting.

  Leaning against the wall, he took time to listen. A bunch of crickets were saluting the night, on the roof of the palace an owl was hooting, the wind was stirring some leaves. Clear, Codrin thought, and started to walk slowly, his boot testing the ground before each step. There were some lights in the palace, giving him the general direction, but he was not really sure where the door could be found. He walked until he reached the palace itself and turned right. From what he was able to guess, the door was not far away on his right. It was easier to walk on the small gravel path than through the grass. The stairs were hidden in the surrounding darkness; there were no lights at the windows around it. His left hand was touching the wall, his right was fumbling blindly in front of him until it touched the stairs. He decided not to climb and sat on the first step, his back leaning against the small wall bordering the stairs. Head in hands, he waited.

  At some point, the horologe announced two hours before midnight. “Cantemir and Vio may come any moment,” Codrin whispered, still leaning against the wall, just a few paces from the door.

  ***

  It was fully dark when Drusila entered Arad. She was not alone; a five strong Wanderer Guard was with her, and Verenius, the new Primus Itinerant Sage, with his own guards. He was the third Primus in less than a month, and still pondering if such a quick advance was a good or a bad thing. He had certain powers now, but Verenius thought that the position counted on more than his own influence. Authority is better when built slowly.

  In time, I may rise to the position, he thought, and what was bothering him the most was Maud’s reluctant acceptance – she was attached to Aurelian, the Primus who was killed in Severin, and Verenius was one of the few who knew that Aurelian was her lover. And she thought that, at twenty-seven, Verenius was too young to be the Primus Itinerant.

  “Present yourself,” the guard ordered.

  “Drusila, the First Light of the Wanderers and Verenius, the Primus Itinerant,” one of the Circle’s men announced.

  There was a hush of voices behind the open window in the postern. “We will open the gate,” one guard said.

  “Faster!” Drusila shouted. Once her carriage entered the gate, the guards tried to stop it. “Don’t stop,” she ordered, and the carriage thundered on, making the guards jump aside.

  “We are in a hurry,” Verenius tried to calm the guards without dismounting. “Put your crossbow down, Orban is waiting for us.” That was a lie, but it had the needed effect. The guards lowered their weapons, and two of them followed Verenius. They had the disadvantage of being on foot, so they arrived at
the palace gate when the troubling guests had already passed through it.

  Orban was awake. It was nothing unusual, he had trouble sleeping. “What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped when Drusila stormed into his suite without bothering to knock.

  “What a refined man,” she said, pointing at the book in his hands, derision filling her voice. “You are reading and dreaming about the woman who will join you in your bed.”

  “That’s not your problem.”

  “Cantemir is right now sneaking Vio out of the palace, where Codrin is waiting for her. Would that be a problem?”

  “I don’t think so,” Orban said, but he stood up.

  “I ran like an idiot from Leyona, to arrive here in time, just to hear that you don’t think there’s a problem.” At that moment, the horologe of the city announced one hour before midnight. Vio must be in the garden with Cantemir and Codrin, Drusila thought. I arrived just in time.

  “Come with me, Drusila.”

  They left the suite and found Verenius waiting there. Orban stared at him, but the Circle’s man just shrugged, nodding toward Drusila. “Gold alarm,” Orban said to the guards at the main door. That was the highest priority alarm in Arad. “Send couriers to both the palace and city gates: no one is allowed to leave until I allow it. Form patrols and search the palace and the garden. Bring Cantemir to me.”

  Orban opened the door going into Jara’s suite, and let Drusila enter first.

  “Oh, you suit each other.” Drusila pointed at the book in front of Jara; she was reading at a small table in the corner of her antechamber.

  “Is it too much hassle to expect a Wanderer to knock at the door and ask for permission before entering?” Jara asked coldly.

  “Where is Vio?” Orban asked.

  “She is sleeping.”

  “May I see her?”

  “Why should I wake her?”

  “We are wasting time,” Drusila snapped and went toward the bedroom.

  Jara jumped from her chair, and blocked Drusila before she could arrive at the door.

  “Get out of my way,” Drusila growled.

  “Or what?” Jara moved toward her, like a giant cat, a fluid move from the Assassins’ Dance, and for all her fighting training, Drusila stepped back.

  Despite the tension in the room, Orban frowned with amusement. “I want to see Vio.”

  Without a word, Jara opened the door; in the faint light of a candle, Vio was sleeping in her bed. “You will not enter,” Jara whispered.

  Behind Orban, Drusila craned her neck and bit her lip at the same time. What went wrong with my vision? she thought. The day? No, I saw Orban signing a document, and it was today.

  “You are getting old, Drusila,” Orban said, after Jara closed the door, a malicious smile on his lips. “Your visions are no longer what they were in the past.”

  “Maybe,” Drusila said flatly.

  “Leave now,” Jara said, glaring at Drusila, fighting hard to hide her deception – the escape was compromised.

  “Sir Orban,” a voice said from the hall. “We found Cantemir. He has been wounded.”

  “Try not to kill each other,” Orban said, glancing at both Jara and Drusila, and then he walked out of the room.

  “What was this circus?” Jara asked.

  “You wanted to send Vio away. Something interfered with my vision.”

  “Maybe Orban was right, and you are just getting old.”

  “Whatever happened, he will be more careful from now on. You know that.”

  “That pleases you. Probably it’s what the Wanderers like to do now. Killing people, selling women, keeping children captive.”

  “The Wanderers have a goal, a new king for Frankis. It’s not my fault that you are on the losing side.”

  “The Wanderers have nothing, not even shame or honor. Your false vision made you act, thinking that you would stop a girl from evading her captors. A girl that barely escaped being raped a few days ago, by Orban’s son. I pray to Fate to give you only false visions. Maybe it has already started.”

  “I may negotiate with Orban, and help Vio leave Arad.”

  “We agreed once in Valeni that she would remain in Codrin’s custody.”

  “Things change.”

  “They change; since you became the First Light there is not much value in a Wanderer’s word.”

  “Do you want Vio out?”

  “Yes, I want her safe with Codrin.”

  “I will arrange that she leaves Arad in the Spring and come to stay with us in Alba.”

  “You are breaking another agreement and your own rules too. She must have a choice. At eighteen she can decide if she wants to be a Wanderer.”

  “It’s too late for that. Either she becomes a Wanderer or she stays here, with Orban.”

  “In the past, it was an honor to join the Wanderers, now...”

  “Do you want her out of here or not?”

  Yes, Jara nodded, her nails piercing her palm. “Talk with Orban.” By Spring we may have got her away, if not... It’s still better with the Wanderers than close to Orban’s son. “Now leave me alone.” She waited until Drusila left her suite, and locked the door. She tried to control herself, but her lip wobbled and her eyes filled with tears, despite her efforts to calm herself. Taking long breaths, she gradually calmed down and, walking briskly, she went to the bedroom. “Vio,” Jara whispered, and embraced her daughter. “It was so close. You may undress now.” It was only Vio’s vision about Drusila’s arrival, a vision that had happened less than half an hour before, which had saved them. How could Vio have a vision of her own future?

  Vio jumped from her bed, took off her riding outfit and dressed herself in a night gown. “Did Cantemir go to warn Codrin?”

  “Cantemir was wounded,” Jara sighed. “We may learn more soon.”

  “I hope he was wounded after he warned Codrin.”

  Jara said nothing, and embraced her daughter again. I hope so too.

  “We found Cantemir, on the stairs leading into the garden,” the soldier said before they entered the room. “I’ve already sent for a healer.”

  “What happened?” Orban asked, looking at Cantemir, who was lying in bed on his belly.

  “Leave us alone,” Cantemir said to the soldier who followed Orban inside the room. “Someone stuck a knife in my back. I think I was lucky that it hit a rib, and two servants came down the stairs before I was cut again,” he said when he was alone with Orban. “The attackers ran away.”

  “Who were they?”

  “A stranger and your son.”

  Orban closed his eyes for a few moments, then his face became like a stone again. “Drusila just came here, telling me that Vio was supposed to run away this night.”

  “And?” Cantemir asked, his voice weak.

  “I found Vio sleeping.”

  “Sometimes, a Wanderer’s vision can be misleading, or even worse, they try to mislead people with false visions for their own purposes.”

  “We shall see. Are you able to talk? I want to bring Drusila and Jara here. After the healer sees you.”

  “Yes,” Cantemir said. I hope that I will not faint, but I want to see Drusila’s face. I am sure she had a vision. It went wrong, but how could Jara know that Drusila was coming to prevent Vio’s escape? Her mother had the Light, so maybe she has it too. Or Vio has it. It can’t be Vio who had the vision about Drusila’s arrival, as no one can see their own future, so it must be Jara. She kept her power well hidden, even from the Wanderers. He closed his eyes, feeling at peace, even content, despite the growing pain in his body. After Orban came with the healer, Cantemir, having thought things through, pretended to be too weak for a talk, and everything was postponed for the next morning. He asked that Panait, the First Mester of Arad, be present too.

  ***

  Through the door, Codrin heard hurried steps coming toward him. It doesn’t sound like a walking girl, he thought, and moved away fast, disappearing behind a bush twenty paces away from the en
trance. The door opened, and nine soldiers, carrying torches, burst out. Keeping the bush between him and the soldiers, he stepped back, without losing sight of them.

  “You three, take the left,” the soldier who seemed to be the leader ordered.

  Codrin took advantage of their distraction and moved further away, placing a second bush between him and the soldiers. I can’t run, he pondered, the light from the torches is strong, and movement will catch their attention. Half-bent, he walked fast to the wall in front of him. It was not a direct path, more a zigzag passing between scattered bushes. The wall he aimed for was not the one he had climbed to enter the garden – the space was too open in that direction.

  “You three, take the right. You two, come with me.” The leading soldier moved toward Codrin, who was now halfway between the palace and the wall.

  Arriving at the wall, Codrin tried to measure it against the faint light of the moon. It’s too tall, he mused, but feeling safe behind a thick tree, he jumped, trying to grip the edge of the wall between two merlons. He failed. I need two feet more. Walking on all fours, he moved along the wall, his hand sweeping the cold stones, trying to find a place where he could set his foot. After a while, he found a hook. It was stuck between two stones, three feet from the ground. With some hope, his hand took the measures of the hook. I can’t climb it, he decided after a while. And anyway it’s too low and too late. The three soldiers, carrying two torches, were now only thirty feet from him. Out of choices, he crouched behind a bush, waiting.

  The three soldiers were advancing slowly, searching every bush, the ones having torches walking in front. Tense and careful, they did not go far from each other, seeming to search a thirty-foot-wide band, and planning to return through another band toward the palace. It happened that Codrin was not in the center of the band, and he waited patiently. He had no other choice. On his right, a hundred feet away, another team of soldiers were advancing and, while still far from him, the light of the torches swept over him. At one point, one of those soldiers still far away saw him, but he was unsure. From that distance, Codrin looked like a mound or a bush. Alert to both parties, Codrin saw the soldiers looking at him, but he did not try to run, just pushed his body more into the bush, lowering his head. He moved slowly, an inch at a time. Called by another soldier from his team, the man shrugged, and turned away. A bead of perspiration went down Codrin’s neck, but at least now he could concentrate on the soldiers who were closer to him. Feeling covered by the bush, he straightened a bit, and his right hand went to his boot, extracting a knife. Then he unsheathed his sword and placed it at his feet, the hilt over his boot. The closest soldiers finished searching another bush and moved toward him; he glanced quickly from one man to another and to the wall. The moment the other two were looking in a different direction, his knife flew, piercing the neck of the man in front of him. The man gasped, and the torch fell from his hand. With feline certainty, Codrin grabbed his sword and sprang too. He trampled the torch, but could not fully extinguish it. Cries filed the garden, and he attacked the two other soldiers close to him, cutting one en passant, before he could unsheathe his sword. The third one threw his torch toward Codrin, who hit it with the flat of his sword, making it fly away. A clang of swords and the man died a moment later. Codrin caught him with his right arm, grabbing the sword from his hand with his left, and hurried the remaining ten feet toward the wall, pulling the dead man with him. All the other soldiers in the garden moved to surround him.