Flame's Shadow

by Anna Eluvae

  "I haven't," said Dravus. He felt a small pang of guilt at that, more than for any of the other things he'd done.

  "You should," said Lexari. "I had to deliver the news of your lies to him. He was none too pleased."

  "I'll speak with him," said Dravus.

  "Wenaru believes that if he had been informed of the plans, he might have been able to provide a better reaction to Kendrick's treachery, and I'm inclined to agree," said Lexari, as though Dravus had said nothing. "Lightscour, if Nemm asks you to do engage with her in some scheme a second time, you must come to me and inform me at once. You have some loyalty to her, I can see that. You're smitten. Many men have been. But do you recall the Harbingers?" He shook his head. "I would have thought the artifact would leave some impression upon you, if not my words."

  "I'm sorry," said Dravus. "If Nemm asks me to do anything out of your sight —" Dravus remembered the conversation he'd had with her earlier about pretending at romance. He wondered only briefly whether that was the sort of thing that Lexari would want to know about, before deciding that his answer would be the same either way. "I'll let you know."

  "That's all I ask," said Lexari. "Wenaru has told me that I have four weeks before my bones are fully healed, though I think it will be closer to three. When that time comes, I will take a more firm hand in your training. I've often found Nemm to be an excellent sparring partner, but in terms of instruction I think we would both agree that I am her superior. You have not yet distinguished yourself in battle, but the time will come." He smiled. "I don't begrudge your youthfulness. If I'm harsh with you Lightscour, it's only because I want you to grow into the illustrati you demonstrated yourself to be on the day we met."

  Dravus walked down the hallways of the palace. He'd been there enough to know most of the main thoroughfares, though there was an entire society living behind the wainscoting that Dravus could admit he was mostly clueless about. More than once, he'd see a panel open up where he never would have guessed there was a door, only to see some maid or butler appear for a brief moment and then disappear back into another hidden passageway. Dravus didn't think that there was any place in Genthric that had been so ornate as Grayhull was, nor so infested with staff. He had half a mind to ask Nemm whether it was safe to have so many mostly-anonymous people running about when any of them could potentially be one of the disguised illustrati, but he assumed that this was something that had been thought of long before he'd had the idea.

  When Dravus heard the word "dungeon", he thought of a dank, dark, and cold place with chains and irons. He'd seen the inside of a jail enough to know their type, but a dungeon was supposed to be something more. In the stories, men were always killing rats to drink their blood, or shackled so tightly that they could never move, to say nothing of what happened in the catacomb-prison of the Bone Warden.

  Wenaru's dungeon had a tall ceiling, and the upper portion of one of the walls had finely made windows that would have been the envy of any shopkeeper on the main streets of Meriwall. Midday light streamed down into the room, providing ample illumination. The room itself was clean. The same furniture was used here as throughout the palace, some of it created with illustrati hands, and others simply made with considerable care. The room was larger than the bakery that Dravus had grown up in. There were two guards, who looked Dravus over closely, but they let him in without comment and closed the door firmly behind him.

  "At least it's none too bad here," said Dravus. He tried to smile, but faltered when Wenaru opened a bleary eye and glared at him. He was laying on a lounger, with a foot dangling down.

  "I'm somewhat drunk," said Wenaru. "It's not becoming on a physician, but there's nothing much that can be done about that. They're giving me all the wine that I can handle, and then some."

  "I'm glad they're treating you well," said Dravus.

  "Well?" asked Wenaru. "Oh yes, very well indeed. That's part of convincing me to stay within my prison cell. Tell me young Dravus, how much effort would it take for you to escape from here, absent any outside help and with very unfavorable assumptions?"

  "Ah," said Dravus. He looked around, at the rug on the floor, the windows high above, and then to the door itself. He could picture the two guards standing behind it; they'd been wearing armor and carrying polearms, but that meant little. If they had any standing at all, it was so minor that neither of them had been clad in even the most minor token of their domain. "Five seconds, perhaps, depending on how I wanted to get out. I think … perhaps I could make footholds of shadow and climb up to the window. Or simply jump, I suppose, if I didn't care about breaking through the glass. Fifteen feet means little to me anymore."

  "You didn't mention the guards," was Wenaru. "But of course, they're listening to everything we say and making notes for the queen, so perhaps that's prudent." He smiled slightly. "It would suffice to say that this is not where they keep the truly dangerous people. It's for those, like me, who understand that there are consequences. It's a prison of mutual agreement. Hence the furnishings, and the wine. They want me to think that being accused of a murder I didn't commit so that politically expedient theater can take place is none too bad, as you said."

  "I don't think there's going to be a trial," said Dravus. "That letter exonerates you."

  "Whether there's a trial or not has nothing to do with how obvious it is that I'm innocent," said Wenaru. "It's all about the public, and what they'll accept." He closed his eyes, and laid back. "If a peace can be brokered, do you think that my trial would simply be swept under the rug? I doubt it. It would be a fresh affront that the people of Meriwall would likely not stand for, and it would strain some peace that everyone is currently working quite hard for."

  "We'll protect you," said Dravus. "Torland can't risk going to war with the four of us."

  "Three," said Wenaru. "Everyone keeps forgetting that I'm a pacifist. More likely, it would just be two, because Nemm's connection to me has always been weak. And more likely than that, it would only be a single person fighting for me: Lexari. You, Lightscour … I believed you. I trusted you. I thought that you were stepping into the fight to protect me, to save me. I told you of my childhood, how I worked for the Iron King, the progress that I made, and I thought that you understood. But no. No, when it came down to it, it was all for show, wasn't it? Better to have a duel where you can be assured of victory, even if it throws me overboard. Taking the duel was all about increasing your own standing. It was all about putting yourself at the forefront of peoples' minds."

  "No," said Dravus. "Gael …"

  "You only came down here at Lexari's behest," said Wenaru. There was hurt in his voice.

  "There were other obligations that I had to take care of, the palace needed to be secured, we were working against a lack of knowledge and needed to —"

  "No," said Wenaru. "Answer me honestly, and know that I'll confirm it with him. Did you only come down here because Lexari told you to?"

  Dravus frowned. "Only is putting it strongly," said Dravus. "Lexari told me to come down, and that made me realize that I had been neglecting you."

  "It's not in your instinct to be my friend," said Wenaru. He held out a hand. "Let me touch you."

  Dravus didn't move.

  "You see?" asked Wenaru. "You fear me, the same as everyone else."

  "You're drunk," said Dravus. "I can return when you're in a better state of mind."

  "I'm tipsy," said Wenaru. "Enough to lubricate the truth, the better that I can disgorge it."

  "I apologize," said Dravus.

  "Do you know, if you had told me that you and Kendrick were in cahoots, I might have been able to avoid the whole thing. I would have known to look for the tell-tale signs of a faked injury. I would have been able to pull myself away from him the moment after I'd touched him. I could have kept my composure. I thought I'd killed him on accident, that's easy enough to do, but if only I'd been informed. If only, Dravus. But you didn't trust me with your plots."

  "I'll make it up to yo
u," said Dravus, though he had no idea how he would do that.

  "Go away," said Wenaru. "We'll talk later. Lexari has been yearning to broker a peace. Perhaps he'll have time to try making one between you and I. In the meantime, I have wines to drink."

  Dravus left, with a glance towards the stony-faced guards who were pretending they'd heard nothing. This was an unplanned story, one that he hoped would go no further than Grayhull, but he wasn't terribly optimistic. Dravus tried to imagine how the conversation would have sounded to an outsider. He decided that it didn't paint either of them in a terribly favorable light.

  * * *

  The negotiations between the Council and the royalty eventually happened just outside the city, on the estate of a noble who was in the unique position of having a father who came House Walton (making him of the same approximate lineage of the queen) and a mother would had come from a long line of dockworkers. Carel was generally disinterested in politics, only a minor illustrati, and rarely seen around Grayhull, even though he was welcome there. His estate, inherited from his late father, was one of the few places that had the proper symbolic meaning for both parties and didn't give either a great advantage.

  "It's a trap," said Nemm. "But even if it's not, we should treat it as though it is. We're each allowed three at the table and another three for guards. All of ours in both positions will be illustrati, and we should assume that all of theirs are too. Even if we manage to sober the Flower Queen, which I'll believe possible when I see it, she's still useless in a fight. Same goes for the vicar. That means that if the enemy is smart, it will be four against six. If they can choose their domains, we're in for a very rough fight."

  "Much of the agreement has been hammered out by courier," said Lexari. "Much of the negotiation has already been done. A peace has been hammered out, and now it's simply a matter of adding the embellishments."

  "What kind of peace?" asked Dravus.

  "A sharing of power," said Lexari. "If this were my country, I might have balked at it, but the Council wants to fold itself into the apparatus of the kingdom."

  "The Flower Queen will allow that?" asked Dravus. "Why not do that right from the start?"

  "She's unhappy," said Nemm. "But she's also been feeling the pressure. I believe there was some compromise regarding the line of succession."

  Dravus frowned, but Nemm answered his question before he could ask it.

  "You will have noted that there is a distinct lack of the pitter-patter of little feet in the palace. The Flower Queen is past fifty, and it is virtually certain that she'll never have children, baring some miracle or misdirection. For all I know, the possibility of falsifying an heir was discussed, but if it was, nothing ever came of it."

  "So who becomes king when the Flower Queen dies?" asked Dravus.

  "In the past? It would have been a succession crisis. House Walton was always a small one. The Flower Queen has no children and no aunts or uncles. There were three claimants, each with varying levels of internal support and strength of claim, but who knows which of them would be left alive when the Flower Queen finally died. If she lives as long as Laith, she has many decades of rule ahead of her. With the peace that's been reached though, she's the last queen. When she dies, the vast majority of the powers of the crown transfer to the Council, and whoever becomes king or queen will be little more than a figurehead."

  "So … they won," said Dravus. "The Council gets exactly what it wants."

  "If control of the kingdom some decades from now is what they want," said Nemm. "Most men don't work towards goals they won't see accomplished in their lifetimes. Hence my skepticism."

  "It will be fine," said Lexari. "We will be there to stop any attack."

  "You like our odds, four against six with unknown domains?" asked Nemm.

  "It won't come to that," said Lexari. He held out his hand, and a spear of light materialized there. "But if it does, then my concern is not whether we will win, but whether we can do so while protecting the queen."

  The estate covered a large area, but was small as these things went. There was an orchard in the back, a garden of flowers that left a sickly-sweet scent in the air, and tall hedgerows to keep out passersby. The place had been nearly emptied of people, and the small ballroom had been appointed for the negotiations. A coach carried the Council members in from Meriwall. Dravus watched from the door as it trundled its way down the smooth flagstones that made up the central entrance.

  When the coach came to a stop, only three people came out of it.

  "You seem to be somewhat short," said Darkheart. "Are the others coming?"

  The man who'd gotten out first, an elderly fellow, had a smile on his face. "Oh, I had thought the guards were in poor taste. Weapons to use against each other doesn't make for good conversation, I've found. We've brought only those of us with a talent for speaking." All three of them wore simple clothes; the other two were young, a man and a woman, neither of which seemed like they could have had much experience. The woman had her hair drawn up into a tight bun that sat on top of her head.

  "You have me at a disadvantage," said Darkheart. "The Council has thus far kept their names hidden, your, ah, Phoenixes aside." If he noticed the lack of formality on the old man's part, he said nothing about it.

  "Chester Welling," said the old man with a pleasant nod. "And of course you understand that secrecy was something of a priority. The members of the Council have families and businesses. It would be unfortunate to lose those things should the kingdom feel threatened. But no, I think the moment has passed for that. No use making another martyr, eh?"

  "I don't like this," Nemm whispered to Dravus. He could feel her hot breath on his neck, and was momentarily startled by the closeness before remembering that they were supposed to be playing at having a greater familiarity.

  "Well, we hope to bring this whole business to a close," said Darkheart.

  "It has been so very difficult," said the Flower Queen. She had sobered somewhat, thanks to the efforts of those around her, but this had left her morose. It was widely agreed that Darkheart would do the talking.

  They went into the ballroom, where a long table had been set up, with a variety of documents. There were two scribes, who had been agreed upon by both sides. It was somewhat accepted that this process would take at least a day, even though the framework was already in place for it. Dravus, Lexari, and Nemm stood off to one side, carefully watching for sudden movements, hidden blades, and or hints of something untoward. There was nothing.

  The negotiations themselves were tedious. Dravus heard them as nothing more than a stream of unintelligible words shortly after the first twenty minutes had passed. He would snap to attention every once in awhile and correct his posture, but he had no practical experience with guard duty. He now gathered that being a guard was mostly about staying awake and alert even when there's nothing going on. For the most part, it was the old man who did the talking. He hammered out each word, offering suggestions or minor changes that would clarify, or corner cases where their agreement might cause problems. In large part, he was the one driving the conversation, with Darkheart keeping pace. The Flower Queen slumped in her chair, and after her first two suggestions were shut down, she became silent and sullen.

  After two hours, they took a break. What waitstaff remained at the estate brought in platters of food, one for each side of the table.

  "I've never had such fine food in my life," said Chester. "There are many benefits to knowing the right people, I suppose."

  "It's not polite to gloat," said the Flower Queen.

  "Was I gloating?" asked Chester. "I was only making an observation. Besides that, the purpose of this agreement is not that I have won in some respect, only that we are moving towards a mutually beneficial understanding."

  Nemm came closer to Dravus, and whispered in his ear. "Come with me?"

  Dravus nodded, and followed her across the ballroom to a spot near a pair of wide windows. "What is it?" he asked, keeping hi
s voice low.

  "This doesn't feel right," said Nemm. "If the Iron King is involved, what does he stand to gain from this deal?"

  "Nothing," said Dravus. "He's going to go before the Flower Queen does. To me, that points to him not being involved."

  "Then where did the Phoenixes get their power from? What support were they given, and by whom?"

  "I don't know," said Dravus. "These aren't new questions. If it's a trap, they'll have to spring it here. If it's a distraction, there are illustrati back at Grayhull who have pledged their support in stopping whatever happens." They both knew how much that support meant though. "And the deal isn't so terrible for them that it has to be a trap of some kind. It doesn't always have to be violence." Dravus's roaming eyes caught sight of Lexari, who was looking at them with a raised eyebrow. "You should speak with Lexari about this."

  "His mind is less twisted than yours," said Nemm. "I mean that in the kindest possible way."