by Carol A Park
Tanuac nodded to Driskell and Danton and gestured toward the table. “Dal. Please.”
Danton slid into a chair next to Yaotel, and Driskell chose the seat at the other end of the table, across from Tanuac—better to see everyone’s expressions. He had a feeling he was going to want to.
He then busied himself with pulling out his notebook and pencil and trying to look like he didn’t want to slide down his chair and onto the floor.
“To recap for our newest guest,” Tanuac said, nodding toward Danton, “the Conclave is moving troops toward our northern border and demanding we turn over the Xambrian ambassador, or at the least, eject him. While they’ve stipulated no consequences if we refuse, I believe their intent is clear enough. At their current pace, we estimate the vanguard will be at our border in fewer than three weeks. How long they’ll give us after that to comply with their demands is anyone’s guess. My hope is that their primary goal is to bluff or frighten us into submission. If, however, they truly intend to attack, we’re already out of time.”
Tanuac cast his gaze around the room, meeting the eyes of each Gan in turn. Herne leaned forward with keen interest. Dillion pressed his lips together. Beatha and Fiacra were both closed, cautious.
“Our weeks of arguing about what to do about the Conclave problem have come to a head,” Tanuac continued. “If we eject Ambassador Mezzo, the Conclave will likely be mollified—for now. But Mezzo has also made it clear that if we eject him, we also reject the Xambrian offer of an alliance when the time is right.
“Unfortunately, that time is not yet right. The Xambrian alliance will only be helpful once the Xambrians themselves attack, and they have made it clear that they won’t do so until all the outer regions agree. On that note, Venetia is seriously considering the offer, and though Fuilyn is hesitant, we believe they will come around.” He cleared his throat. “Ferehar, on the other hand, is a problem. It is, as you might imagine, of the most strategic importance to this alliance. Due to its geographic proximity to Xambria, Ferehar’s failure to comply would mean another flank Xambria would have to defend when they move their troops through the pass. They are, therefore, insistent that Ferehar must agree, even if, for instance, Venetia did not. Unfortunately, Ri Airell of Ferehar has made his loyalties clear, though he’s sent no official word yet.” He glanced at Yaotel. “We are…working on that problem.”
Driskell studied Tanuac’s face. Driskell hadn’t been privy to what solutions they were bandying about to the Ferehar problem, and he was curious as to how they thought they would force Ri Airell to submit—and how Yaotel’s Ichtaca could help.
“I know you’ve been divided over what the best course of action should be, and this new development has swayed some of you to want to resign ourselves to staying under the Conclave’s thumb, lest we overextend ourselves. But as you were informed yesterday, the Xambrians aren’t our only potential allies.”
As he spoke, the four Gan’s positions and expressions shifted. Herne now leaned forward in his chair, almost eager. Beatha’s eyes shifted back and forth between Yaotel and Nahua, her posture tense. Fiacra looked cautiously intrigued, while Dillion’s scowl deepened.
Driskell noted all of this on his notepad—and the silence that followed Tanuac’s speech gave him time to do a quick sketch of each Gan.
Driskell then glanced at Nahua. Her hands were gripping the edge of the table, her knuckles white. It was the first sign she had shown of any hesitation or trepidation about the course of action they were proposing.
“I’ve asked Dal Yaotel to come here in good faith tonight to provide a brief demonstration of what they have to offer. It’s my hope that after you see for yourselves what he and his kind can offer, it might change the minds of those of you who were initially set against this option.”
Herne burst out, “Well, get on with, Your Excellency. I’ve heard enough.” He turned toward Yaotel eagerly. “What have you to offer, Dal? Let’s see it. Anything that we can use to grind these dogs into the mud would be welcome to me.”
Dillion’s gaze turned toward Herne temporarily, his lip curled in a sneer.
But as Yaotel drew out his leather case, even Dillion dropped his crossed arms to watch more closely.
Yaotel looked at Driskell. “Dal Driskell, at your leave, may I demonstrate some of our medical advances?”
Driskell swallowed, and for the second time held out his hand to the Banebringer.
And for the second time, Yaotel went through the demonstration that he had given Tanuac, Nahua, and Driskell. The only difference was that this time, instead of demonstrating the mirror-device—though he showed it to them—he let his associate, Danton, show off what he could do.
Which was pretty incredible.
He made the entire room look like a desert, changed his own appearance temporarily into that of Gan Herne—to Herne’s utmost delight—and showed them a smaller mirror-device that produced light on command.
Danton set the device aside and the light faded.
Driskell swept his eyes over the rest of the observers, gauging their reactions.
All four Gan were staring at the two Banebringers, wide-eyed. Even Dillion’s mask of hatred had slipped into astonishment.
Driskell felt strangely smug that he had already seen some of this, and thus was able to, for once, retain a more unaffected air than all of them combined.
Tanuac took back up the narrative. “This is only a small sampling of what Yaotel and his associates can offer us. He’s given me a few more demonstrations from a few other associates who are in Marakyn with him, which I would be happy to detail for you. Suffice it to say, I believe they could give us the edge we need to hold the Conclave off—and ultimately win an entire war.”
Dillion made a small noise—a grunt, a sniff—Driskell wasn’t sure—but it drew Tanuac’s attention. “Gan Dillion. You have a comment?”
He rose to his feet, pointedly ignoring the Banebringers on the other side of the table. “Your Excellency, with all due respect, this alliance cannot become common knowledge just yet.” He waited for Tanuac to acknowledge his statement with a nod, and then he continued. “Then what good will these demonspawn do us in repelling a Conclave attack? You told us yesterday that one well-trained Banebringer of the right ‘profile’ could be worth a hundred foot soldiers, but how can they be deployed without alerting the rest of the army?”
Yaotel spoke. “May I, Your Excellency?”
Tanuac waved him on.
“Those who would use magic for direct combat couldn’t be, right now,” Yaotel said. “However, with misdirection, I have healers who can support combatants and more quickly return injured soldiers to the field. Also, in a relatively short period and with enough concentrated effort and resources, we can provide better weapons and better armor. And we have tools at our disposal that will give your defending force an advantage that will almost certainly ensure a short-term victory—and with it, the additional time you need.”
Dillion glared at Yaotel but sat down.
“They offer us all of this in exchange for the small favor of providing sanctuary for them in Marakyn,” Tanuac said.
Dillion shook himself. “Small favor,” he chided. “Tanuac, you’ll doom us all, letting them in here. What if the Conclave finds out? They’re already threatening our borders merely for welcoming a Xambrian.”
Herne stood, and his chair knocked over backward. “Damn the Conclave,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I don’t need to deliberate. Let’s send those demonspawn back to the abyss where they belong and take back our country.”
Fiacra also stood, but with less dramatics. Her eyes were fixed on Yaotel and his friends. “You truly support this alliance, Your Excellency?” she asked softly.
Tanuac’s face grew grim. “Setanan ways were forced upon us two centuries ago. Few of us have forgotten that we are not originally Setanan, but it likewise seems that few remember what that really means. I have no wish to waste Donian lives in needless bloods
hed, but if, with the Xambrians and the Ichtaca, we can repel Setana once and for all, this may be a chance fate has handed us, and we would be foolish to spurn it heedlessly.”
“I will not ally with demonspawn,” Dillion spat, trembling.
Danton flinched, and he looked down at his hands, his jaw jumping. Yaotel, however, remained composed.
“Well,” Tanuac said. “We know Dillion and Herne’s opinions haven’t changed. Fiacra? Beatha?”
Driskell watched Beatha in particular. The lands she oversaw contained Ipsylanti, the largest and most populous Donian city. The support of Ipsylanti and its resources would be critical to any war effort.
“When I said we needed allies,” Beatha said slowly, “I didn’t know it would be Xambrians and Banebringers. The latter, in particular, makes me uncomfortable.” She stiffened. “But I’ve never had any love for the Conclave, and the idea of not only having to live with their temple in our midst but under their thumb as our rulers makes me sick. After seeing what these Ichtaca have to offer, I find myself agreeing that this may well be what could tip this in our favor.”
Everyone looked at Fiacra. She was silent for a moment. Her eyes roved back and forth between each of the Banebringer faces, and then Tanuac, and Nahua, and then back on Yaotel again.
She swallowed. “We might muster enough troops to repel the initial force the Conclave has sent our way. Certainly, we would have a chance to do so in Marakyn, or”—she nodded toward Beatha—“even Ipsylanti. But my lands will be overrun. And what then? When the Conclave sends its next, larger army? Can Donian forces alone fight against the combined might of Setana? I think not.” She pressed her lips together. “If His Excellency will not eject the Xambrian, then this may be our only hope.” She lowered her eyes to the table. “I will accept the wisdom of our Ri in this matter.”
Tanuac nodded. “We must decide, or the decision will be made for us. Do any of you require further deliberation, or are your answers tonight firm?” His eyes swept the room, but they settled on Dillion.
“I believe we are decided, Your Excellency,” Herne said, and none of the other Gan contradicted him.
“Very well. Dillion, your objection is noted, but in this case, overruled. I will accept the majority opinion.” He stood. “Whether you agree or not, I expect complete discretion on all of your parts; this is not to be public knowledge yet.” He looked at Yaotel. “Dal, we’ll work out the details in the coming days, but we accept your offer of aid in exchange for protection of any Ichtaca who will officially apply for sanctuary in Marakyn.” He nodded toward Driskell. “Driskell will draw up the paperwork.”
He would? He didn’t think any such paperwork existed. He hid a grin. Which meant he would also have to create the paperwork. Tania thought he was strange for enjoying such challenges, but there was something about seeing all those little boxes lined up so neatly, filled in with the proper information…
Yaotel stood up, more slowly. “I’m pleased we could come to an agreement.” Then, he held out an arm to Tanuac.
Tanuac looked at Yaotel’s offered arm. He flicked his eyes to Nahua, and then Driskell, and then his Gan. Then he set his lips in a line and grasped the Banebringer’s arm in a traditional sign of friendship.
Driskell could not tear his eyes away from the sight of their two arms clasped, both brown, but one that would bleed silver and the other, red. He had the odd feeling he was watching a turning point in history as it happened.
He wondered if it would ever be preserved for future generations, or if it would be forgotten—or erased.
Well. He supposed that depended on who won.
Chapter Fourteen
The Chest
Six days after their flight from Calqo, Ivana and Vaughn arrived in Eleuria.
Ivana had had almost four weeks to prepare for this moment, and now that she stood on the main street of the town, she didn’t even know what prepared meant.
The trip through Ferehar itself had done less damage to her psyche than she had worried it would. Her only previous trip along that route was a blur in retrospect; it might as well have been the other side of the continent. Even the nightmares that had been haunting her had ceased.
But this…this she recognized.
The same stones paved the road, the same shops lined the street.
Indeed, the same apothecary stood on the corner, with the same sign.
Now that she had come to it, she felt…
Numb.
Well. That wasn’t so bad. Numb, she could handle. It was everything else she couldn’t.
Vaughn was talking to her.
“What?” she snapped.
He glanced at her, his eyebrow raised. “I said, where to now? I’ve never been in this town before.”
She shook herself and glanced at the sun. It was only just past noon, so they had plenty of time yet. “The woman owned the apothecary on the corner,” she said, pointing to the shop.
Vaughn held back, waiting for her to move first.
It took her a moment. What if the same woman really was there? What if, after all this time…the chest was there too?
Having her mother’s old journal fall into her lap had done enough to unhinge her, though she had recovered well enough. What would finding her father’s old chest do to her?
She locked her jaw. She had come this far. There was no turning back now.
She marched down the street, Vaughn trailing behind, and pushed open the door.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had expected to find the apothecary exactly as she had left it, almost fifteen years ago.
Her first hint that this might not be as easy as Vaughn hoped was that the entire shop had been remodeled. Even the counter was in a different spot. It was more spacious; rather than shelves and shelves crammed with meticulously labeled boxes and bottles, there were display cases featuring two or three ingredients or tonics at a time, arranged tastefully as though they were decorations, accompanied by lists of other available ingredients, priced by the ounce.
And the young woman who stood behind the counter, an open box and a scale in front of her, was not the same woman.
The woman looked up and then smiled. “Good morning. It’s not often we see new faces around here. May I help you?”
Ivana forced her feet forward. “I’m looking for Da Patli?” The eerie similarity to the same words she had spoken so long ago coalesced inside her, sending a shudder down her spine.
The woman’s brow furrowed. “I’m so sorry. Da Patli is my mother, but she gave the shop to me and my husband three years ago.”
Vaughn shifted. Ivana stole one glance at him, enough to see his own brow furrow. “I see. Does she still live around here?” she asked.
The woman shook her head. “She moved back home to Weylyn with my brothers.”
Weylyn. That would take far too long for Vaughn’s deadline. If they had gone straight from Fuilyn, yes, but they hadn’t. And in any case, she doubted Patli had taken it with her. More likely, she had tossed it long ago.
She exhaled and turned to Vaughn. “Well?”
He scratched at his beard, frustration darkening his eyes, and shook his head.
The woman leaned over the counter to catch their attention. “Is this about a tonic or medicine? She left me with a rather long list of instructions for customers who might come in looking for tonics she had custom mixed. Most of them have come in by now, but if you tell me what you need, perhaps I can help?”
Ivana hesitated. Perhaps Patli had left the chest with her daughter, in the unlikely event Ivana would return. The shop was so neat and tidy, it didn’t look like Patli’s daughter was the sort of person to hold on to what she would perceive as random junk. Even so, it couldn’t hurt to ask. “I realize this is a stretch. But about fifteen years ago, I left an old chest with her. I always intended to come back for it, but circumstances…changed.”
Patli’s daughter tapped her chin. “An old chest? Cedar? About…” She mimed the measurem
ents with her hands. “This long, this wide?”
Ivana blinked, hardly able to believe her ears. Apparently, it was going to be that easy. “Yes. That sounds exactly like it.”
The woman nodded. “I do have it. I was going to throw it out, but my mother insisted I keep it, just in case. It’s been tucked away in the cellar for years.” She gave Ivana an odd look. “Were you the one who sold her the microscope, too?”
“I… Yes, I was.”
Her face lit up. “Then I have you to thank! Mama held on to that old thing for years and years, hoping to have the opportunity to sell it, and one day about seven years ago, a caravan from Donia came up this way, headed to Cohoxta. And—can you believe it—a Donian scholar was part of the group and offered to buy it off my mother! It was just enough to give her the boost she needed to start saving to move home, and three years ago, she finally managed it.” She beamed at Ivana. “Never would have happened without you.”
Ivana wasn’t sure what to say. My father died to finance your mother’s dream?
That didn’t seem appropriate. “You stayed here?”
The woman shrugged. “I always wanted to inherit the shop, and I never minded this ‘backwater’ place, as Mama used to call it. I made friends, met my husband.” She lowered her voice. “Though if I had known that things would be what they are now…” She shook her head. “Maybe I would have made a different decision.”
Vaughn, whose attention had drifted to one of the display cases nearby, focused again on the woman. “‘What they are now’?” he asked, repeating her words back to her.
The woman shrugged. “I shouldn’t complain, I know. I have it better off than most. But there’ve been several other shops here in Eleuria that’ve had to close recently. I had a woman in just the other day from one of the smaller villages. Some of the Ri’s men came through and roughed up her place when she couldn’t produce the taxes they wanted on demand. Took a beautiful necklace that had been passed down for generations.” The woman’s face flushed and her eyes flashed. “There’s no call for that sort of thing. I never thought I’d say this, but that new fool in charge is worse than Ri Gildas was. He’s a bully and a tyrant, and—” She twisted her apron in her hands and glanced around the shop, as if expecting to see one of the Ri’s men burst out of the corner. “Listen to me, yammering on. I’ve let my mouth run away with me again.” She cleared her throat. “Let me get that chest for you. Might take me a few minutes—I have to remember where I stashed it.” She flashed a sheepish grin at Ivana. “I know it looks organized, but if you saw the cellar…” She shook her head and moved off without finishing the sentence.
