Fate's Star

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  “He did not.” Narthing closed his eyes and breathed through the pain.

  “You’re hurting,” Ersal said. “Let me fetch Dominic and—”

  “He’s gone to Edenrich for the day,” Narthing said. “He’s being considered for a position in the Church.”

  “Good riddance,” the constable muttered.

  “He’s a skilled healer,” Janella said.

  “He’s an arrogant prick,” Ersal replied.

  “And I’m to eat something before I can take more for the pain,” Narthing said. “How long was he here? The Chaosreaver?”

  “Never left the courtyard, and gone just that quickly.” Ricard reassured him.

  “Thank be to the Lord of Light,” Narthing offered up a heartfelt prayer. “But why did he come?”

  “Lord Verice didn’t say,” Ersal said.

  Narthing sighed, and picked up his broth again. “There’s nothing good at hand when that one roams the world.”

  “The seer was with him,” Janella offered.

  “That’s no cause for comfort,” Narthing managed a sip. The broth was warm and flavorful, but it was still just broth.

  “Lord Verice must have done something, said something to her,” Ersal said. “You should talk to him.”

  Janella rolled her eyes. “He didn’t listen to any of us for months after the attack. Warna is here for what? A week? Ten days? And she’s got things returning back to normal.”

  “Except for the keep,” Ricard pointed out.

  “Except for the keep,” Janella agreed. “But it’s only a matter of time.”

  “Do you think it was the humans? From the village that was destroyed?” Ersal asked. “Did they say something to upset her?”

  “I don’t know,” Ricard shrugged. “But she seemed odd after she talked to them.”

  “Now she’s humming sad songs under her breath,” Janella said. “All the time.”

  “The Festival’s in just a few weeks,” Ersal said. “What are we going to do?”

  “Nothing,” Narthing said firmly.

  “Nothing?” Janella stared at him. “But—”

  “Lord Verice’s relationship with Lady Warna is none of our concern,” Narthing said, only to be cut off by Janella’s glare.

  “I think she’d be good for him,” she declared, as others agreed.

  “Even so,” Narthing said. “That’s between the two of them, and I can promise you that our meddling will not aid that process. There’s nothing to do but wait and see. Something will give, one way or another. M’lord has enough on his shoulders without us raising this issue. Let them be.” Narthing lifted his cup and gave them all a look as he finished his broth.

  “Aye,” came the chorus of reluctant agreement.

  “But to my way of thinking,” Ricard said. “We owe a debt to Lady Warna for all that she has done for us. If naught comes of this or them, we’ll still see her safe.”

  The ‘ayes’ to that statement showed they were all in agreement.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Thwack, Thwack.

  Warna woke in the darkness of her room above the bakery, warm under her blankets, and blinked at the dawn just starting to spill through her window. Verice was back at weapons-practice again.

  No. She couldn’t call him that anymore. Lord High Baron Verice was back to his normal routine, now that matters had settled down. He’d rise early, eat, then take to the pells and practice grounds until the sun rose. He’d fallen back into his old habits, now that they

  weren’t...doing what they had been doing.

  Whatever that was.

  He’d done the same before she’d arrived, and likely be the same after she left.

  But now she could also hear the workers in the bakery below and smell the faint scent of kav in the air. The castle’s Lord may have fallen back into old ways out of frustration, but the castle was returning to its old routine with intent. Warna smiled into her pillow wearily. At least in that aspect she’d done well.

  Thwack, Thwack.

  She stretched, then curled onto her side, hugged her pillow, and closed her eyes. If she lingered until he was done, he’d be gone before she finished her morning kav.

  But the noises continued, and in her mind’s eye she could see him, wielding his sword, face so focused and intent...which was not conducive to sleep.

  Warmth flooded through her, and she shifted in the bed, trying to still the ache in her chest. Damn the mael. Damn his kiss, for awakening something in her that she put aside as lost to her. Something she didn’t want to have to think about. For all that she had tried to avoid Verice - Lord High Baron Verice - it was impossible not to be conscious of his every move, every action. Even if she didn’t see him, she heard of him from the people around her.

  Thwack, Thwack.

  Warna rolled over and buried her head in the pillows. Her emotions churned. Angry, hurt, bewildered, she wasn’t sure what she was feeling.

  At least, Verice - Warna gritted her teeth - Lord Verice had named a new Seneschal. Ersal was very nervous, but determined to do well. He’d come to her at once, asking questions and she’d aided him in the organizing of the castle’s needs. They’d been going over the lists of supplies when Mayth had come to ask if she’d wish to settle with the humans of Birch Cove. Ersal’s eyes had gone wide. “But she’s not yet done here,” he’d blurted out. “The keep...the Festival…”

  Before Warna could say a word, Mayth had nodded his agreement. “But after,” he said. “Just something to think on. We’d be glad to have you.”

  Ersal had opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap.

  It was all well and good for everyone to look to her to continue, but no one was much help with the ‘how’. And now that she and...Lord Verice were no longer...well, whatever they had been, they weren’t it now.

  Confusingly, that hurt. She flipped her pillow again, and punched it with her fist.

  She didn’t have any real idea of how she was to open the keep. Return the castle to working order.

  Warna reached out and plucked at a bit of fuzz on the hem of the blanket, seeing again the Great Hall, with its shattered window, the stains on the floor, the spilled tables and broken dishes. Verice’s face, as he stood within, holding out his hand to her. So much pain.

  The silence from outside finally cut through her thoughts. Lord Verice would have started to summon his men, and would be opening the portal soon for his regular patrols.

  Warna sighed, threw back the covers, and shivered in the cooler air. She’d promised to aid Ersal with his accounts; she’d best be about her day.

  But that ache was still in her chest as she washed. An ache that had settled there as soon as she’d left Lord Verice standing at the garden door. An ache for something she’d lost, or something she was in the process of losing, if that made any sense. A wistful dream, a hope, a desire, slipping away like the mist in the full light of the sun.

  Warna huffed at herself as she dried her face. Foolish thoughts.

  At least this room at the top floor of the bakery had a few of the niceties. A privy of its own, and a large comfortable bed. Even a dressing table, with a mirror. Clouded with age, but still a mirror. And she’d acquired a few more clothes in the past few days. Dresses and tunics and skirts, underthings, and new shoes. All sturdy and well made. Although there’d been bright colors available, she’d stuck with muted grays, and browns. Both her parents had frowned on full formal mourning, but Warna hadn’t the heart to wear the jeweled colors she’d been offered.

  She’d combs now too, and hair pins, and a brush. Some cream for her face and hands. Moonpads, and by her reckoning she’d have a need for those soon. Little things, true enough, but it meant so much to have them in her small lidded-basket.

  She dug out what she’d wear, and paused when she heard the crinkle of paper within. She couldn’t help herself really. She pulled out the note and read it again, as she had done a thousand times since she’d received it.

 
; Warna,

  The barrier has been removed. You are free to move about as you will.

  Verice

  Short, succinct, to the point. But in his own hand. Warna carefully folded the note, and returned it to the trunk.

  She settled herself at the dressing table, and started combing her hair, working the tangles out. The noises below were louder now, the scent of kav and bread stronger. She would see to Ersal, then talk with Janella about the keep. Perhaps she would have some ideas. It promised to be a full day, full of things that needed doing.

  She started to pin up her hair, humming under her breath.

  All it would take to open the keep would be one legitimate reason. Something that was a need, not a want. A meeting that needed a large space, or the visit of a dignitary. Warna frowned, pins in her mouth. Weren’t there foodstuffs stored in the keep, in case of siege? Or the mice she’d seen. That might be reason enough. Mice led to rats, and that wasn’t healthy. If they could use that to open just one door, Warna was certain the rest would flow naturally. The keep would be open to all, and her work here done.

  What will it look like, she wondered, not for the first time. All lit up, with candles and mage lights, those colored windows all aglow, the shattered window restored to its glory. Verice seated in the high seat, herself at his side, a feast before them and friends all around. Laughing and dancing, with his arm around her waist, twirling about—

  With a cold, sick feeling, Warna looked at her hair in the mirror and realized she was trying to cover the tops of her ears.

  Her hands dropped to her lap, letting the pain wash through her. Tears came unbidden, and for long moments she didn’t bother to wipe them from her face.

  But after a time, she took a deep breath and removed the pins, letting her hair fall around her shoulders. She’d wear it loose today, tucked behind her ears.

  Then she washed her face again, to remove the evidence of her tears.

  “Narthing.”

  Narthing looked up from his breakfast tray, startled to see Lord Verice standing there, fully armed and armored, his face grim. The mael had just been out at the pells, Narthing had heard him. What had brought him to the Healing Hall this early? “M’lord?” he asked.

  Verice crossed to his bedside. “Look at this.”

  Narthing took the open scroll, careful to keep it out of his porridge and frowned at the seal. “A message from Valltera?” he asked, working his way through the formal elven wording.

  “Worse,” Verice growled. “A politely worded summons from the Coeval. And see whose attendance is required?”

  “Yourself, of course,” Narthing hazarded the safe guess, then sucked in a breath as he read the words. “Lady Warna?”

  Verice’s face was grim. “I’ve sent messages out, summoning my most trusted political advisors. If you’re up to it, I will see if Dominic will allow us to carry you to my chambers. If not, we will meet here to determine our response. This needs consideration.” Verice turned to go.

  “And Warna?” Narthing asked. “You’ll summon her as well?”

  Verice paused, his eyes hooded. “We’ll see.”

  Chapter Forty

  By mid-day, Warna was still wrestling with the accounts, determined to slay the beast, but Ersal was far more curious about the activities outside his office window.

  “Well, something is certainly happening,” Ersal said, gazing out toward the Healing Hall. “Portals opening and closing, and messengers coming and going all morning. What could it be about?”

  “Ersal,” Warna said, keeping her voice patient and kind. “These accounts will not balance themselves.” Her head was down, her eyes focused on the figures on front of her, for all that she wanted to jump up and run to the window.

  “Something’s happening,” Ersal said.

  “Yes,” Warna said. “Your accounts don’t balance for the last three days and they need tending.” She continued to compare the tiny numbers.

  “But don’t you want to know?” Ersal asked, crossing over to plant himself back on his stool.

  “Yes, of course.” Warna turned the page of the ledger. Of course she wanted to know why Lord Verice hadn’t left this morning, and why his advisors were being summoned and escorted to Narthing’s room. Lord of Light, the entire castle was abuzz with curiosity. “I am sure we’ll be told what we need to know when we need to know it.” She strived to sound aloof and above idle curiosity. “Now, is this entry accurate? Did you really order this many candles?”

  He examined the lines she was pointing to. “That can’t be right,” Ersal scowled and started digging through the pile of documents at his side of the table.

  “You’re going to need help keeping this organized, Ersal.” Warna said. “A clerk of your own, maybe two.”

  Ersal gave her a sharp look as he pulled forth the chandler’s statement. “You won’t be staying?” he asked. “I’d thought perhaps—”

  “Here’s the correct figure,” Warna interrupted, not wanting to talk about her staying or going. “See?”

  Ersal whooshed out a relieved breath. “I knew it couldn’t be right—”

  A cough had them both looking up, startled.

  The constable stood in the doorway. “Lord Verice asks that you both attend him.”

  Narthing’s room was crowded with people and chairs. Warna hesitated in the doorway, recognizing many faces in the crowd as Ersal pushed his way in. Even Dominic had managed to squeeze himself into the room.

  From his bed, now moved into the corner, Narthing caught Warna’s eye. “Here, Lady Warna,” he said loudly, and gestured to a chair placed next to the headboard.

  Heads turned to stare at her. Warna felt her cheek grow hot as people stood and shifted to allow her to pass. Warna threaded her way through with soft apologies. “Narthing, what’s happening?” she asked urgently as she took her seat.

  Narthing opened his mouth, but a sharp knocking silenced the room.

  Verice stood in the center of one wall, and commanded everyone’s attention. “Now that Seneschal Ersal and Lady Warna have joined us, let’s review the situation.”

  Warna drew a breath. She hadn’t been this close to him for some time. His face was set, hard as granite and yet he appeared tired to her eyes. Weary, even. She swallowed hard, and looked away.

  “You’ve all had a chance to read the missive from King Barathiel of Valltera. We can all agree that the wording—”

  “Warna has not,” Narthing said firmly.

  Verice seemed to catch himself, as if forcing himself to slow down.

  “It would not be bad, to review what we know,” Lord Mayor Pernard said mildly.

  Verice nodded. “To summarize then. This morning, when I finished with the pells, a message from King Barathiel awaited me on my desk.” He nodded to the parchment on Narthing’s lap. “It contains a polite but strongly worded summons to attend upon his Majesty today ‘to discuss the welfare of my person and Tassinic’.” Verice’s blue eyes drilled into hers. “The Lady Warna is also included in the summons.”

  “What?” Warna couldn’t quite take that all in. “Me? But—”

  Narthing had pushed the parchment into her lap, and she stared down to where he pointed. She could see her name clear as day in one of the lines of spidery, thin script.

  “The document extends me the privilege of opening a portal to the Royal Household this noon, and implies that the visit will be a short one, given that it fails to mention servants or retainers.” Verice grimaced. “Our worries stem more from what it doesn’t say, than what it does.”

  “So, the question becomes,” Narthing said. “do you accept this invitation?”

  “Observations?” Verice said. “We’ve little time to debate, and no doubt that is by intent as well.” He paused, then gave them all a rueful expression. “You’ve advised me well in the past. Give me the gift of your wisdom now.”

  Pernard rose from his chair. “M’lord, King Barathiel has not once contacted you since the trouble
s began within Palins, has he?”

  “He has not,” Verice confirmed.

  Ersal gestured to Warna, and she passed him the invitation to read.

  Pernard frowned. “Yet he has brought up troops to our border. Not of a strength that we would fear invasion, but enough to cause concern. I do not know what that portends, but I say do not go. Exchange messages, yes. Use scrying bowls, yes. But do not go.”

  An older woman rose, someone Warna didn’t know. “And I would argue that point. We do not know the intent of this. King Barathiel has not been openly hostile and the borders remain open for trade and travel. They know that if Tassinic falls, they will have to deal with the Usurper, and they don’t want that.”

  There were many nods at that.

  “Still, I do not like this,” Ersal next rose. “The summons is almost worded as if to a vassal, and you are not a vassal of the Elven King.”

  “True,” Verice nodded. “I was released from my oaths and allegiance to Valltera before I swore fealty to Palins and Tassinic. King Barathiel has no claim on me.”

  “Yet still, he summons you,” Ersal said. “Don’t go, m’lord. Send another in your place. Plead illness, plead necessity, plead the coming Festival. Do not place yourself in his hands.”

  “Any excuse given must be legitimate,” Dominic protested. “Lest they discover otherwise and take offense.”

  Verice raised an eyebrow. “I am not without my own abilities.”

  “True enough, m’lord,” Dominic bowed his head. “But the Royal Court is quick to take offense at any violation of protocol or etiquette. Once there, you must dance to their tune or risk their wrath.”

  “Well I remember,” Verice snorted. “My mother ever feared suffering the consequences of my actions.”

  That was met with chuckles and nods all around the room.

  “It’s not just you, m’lord,” Narthing shifted in his bed. “All of Tassinic goes with you through that portal. Not to mention Lady Warna.”