Sworn To Transfer c-2

by Terah Edun

  It allowed direct access to the older portion of the Archives where the large, detailed maps of the Algardis Empire were on display. Moving around the long tables and framed panels quickly, she found a quiet reading nook to curl up in. Sighing heavily, she fingered the ankle bracelet on her leg and hoped this worked.

  Five minutes passed, then ten minutes, as Ciardis anxiously waited. What if he had forgotten or deemed a court function more important than their rendezvous?

  And then she felt the familiar tug of power radiating from the bracelet and she reappeared in the Aether Realm, seated in a flowering garden bower. She stared in surprise at the blissful spring surroundings. She sat on a stone bench in a bower filled with honeysuckle - the small, delicate flower that had a trumpet shape and a sweet smell. As she broke a handful off at the stem their smell wafted into her nose and she felt the slight stickiness of resin on her hands.

  This was much more pleasant than the winter weather in Sandrin. The Aether Realm was a dangerous place, which could drain your magic if a mage wasn’t careful, but it had it’s upsides as well – beautiful spring weather in the dead of fall being one of them. She heard a twig snap behind her and quickly turned toward the only way in or out of the bower: an entrance with a rounded trellis surrounding it. It, too, was adorned with honeysuckle. Underneath the blooming arc of white flowers stood Sebastian, an awkward smile on his face. Ciardis quickly stood and moved around the fountain that took up the bower center.

  Grasping his hands before he could speak, she laid a chaste kiss on each of his cheeks.

  “It’s good to see you, Prince Sebastian.”

  He grinned and returned the cheek kisses. “What—you’re not still mad at me for ignoring you on the ship?”

  She snorted. “Was I supposed to be?”

  Narrowing her eyes and stepping back, she regarded him carefully.

  Sighing, he walked around her and towards the water fountain in the center of the garden.

  “I don’t want to have an argument, Ciardis.”

  “Good, neither do I.”

  “I don’t want to be nagged, either.”

  All of this was said with his back turned to her, so he didn’t see it when her hand came flying out and slapped him on the back of the head.

  “I don’t nag,” she snapped. “And, quite frankly, I’m not your wife, your lover, or your court flunkie. I’m your friend. So I suggest you treat me with some respect.”

  He turned around chagrined and sat down on the fountain’s edge as he looked up her towering over him with her hands placed angrily on her hips and a stormy expression on her face.

  Continuing, she said, “You asked me to come here as I recall.” She was staring down at him, her stomach knotted with anxiety, trying to hide the sickened dismay and the feeling of her heart in her throat.

  He rolled his shoulder at an uncomfortable angle – nervous in the face of her ire.

  “So I did.”

  He swallowed as he said, “When did this happen?”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “This...weird conflict between us?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. When you walked in five minutes ago?”

  “No,” he protested. “You’ve been weird for months...”

  “Wrong, Sebastian,” she said fiercely. “It’s you that’s been avoiding me. Every time I requested an audience over the summer it was denied. Not a letter or a word for months.”

  He wilted. It was true. “You don’t understand.”

  “Make me understand!”

  For a long moment his dark green eyes and her golden ones held each other’s gaze. Turmoil in one gaze. Fierce pride in the other.

  And then she collapsed to her knees in nervous laughter so that he, seated, looked down upon her. Reaching forward with trembling hands, she gathered his in her own.

  “You’ve been busy doing the emperor’s work, Sebastian,” she said quietly. “I know this. But I also know about the rumored attempts on your life. I’ve been busy with functions of my own, but I never stopped worrying about you. And wondering why...why we aren’t still friends.”

  Squeezing her hands with slight pressure, he licked his lips. “We still are. But I don’t know whom to trust. The Imperial Guard, my father...hell, even the nobles are acting oddly.”

  She gave him a wry grin. “Aren’t they always?”

  “More oddly than usual.” With a pause he continued on with a tenseness in his voice.

  “The dragon was right, Ciardis. There have been deaths,” he said.

  “Where?” she questioned, alarmed.

  “Murders, we think. In the Ameles Forest.” He amended, “So far they’ve been scattered occurences. Infrequent attacks, really. But they’re adding up. If it’s not taken care of we could have a revolt from the local populace. And what’s more the envoy that the residents of the Ameles Forest trust most is dead.”

  “You don’t mean...”

  He nodded.

  He was referring to the dead Princess Heir, Marissa Algardis. Prince Sebastian’s aunt, who had been trying to have him removed from the inheritance rights of the Algardis throne by draining his mage core since he was five. When that tactic was thwarted by Ciardis last spring she had tried to kill Ciardis in retribution while vowing to do the same to Sebastian. Sebastian and Ciardis, together with his loyal guard, had managed to kill her instead. But only at the expense of quite a few lives, including that of Damias Lancer, Ciardis’s tutorials instructor and a man she had considered a friend.

  Ciardis swore enough to make a sailor proud. “I knew that bitch would come back to haunt us.”

  He laughed wryly. “In more ways than one.”

  “But surely there’s not someone out there deliberately attacking the kith?”

  “My father thinks there is,” Sebastian said slowly.

  The kith were the magical races of creatures who were the original inhabitants of the Algardis Empire. Over the centuries they had grown to cohabit with humans peacefully. But the Ameles Forest held a special significance for many of the kith. As a consequence, a large portion including the mythical griffins and the cardiara called it home. If they were being attacked and murdered, it was a concern for all of the Ameles Forest kith and the surrounding communities.

  “Something must be done,” she said.

  He nodded. “And something will. My father has ordered me to travel with an official presence to the forest in the coming weeks. Lord Meres Kinsight will be going ahead in the next week with others as an advance party.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  “But the forest deaths are just one concern among many,” he said bitterly.

  “And the other concerns are?”

  “Well, my uncle the Duke of Cinnis wants me dead, and the Western Isles are demanding a new treaty enforced by the Lord of the Windswept Isles.”

  “The first I can see as a problem. But the second?”

  “The treaty between the Western Isles and the Algardis Empire has always been negotiated by the heir to the throne directly with the representive of the Western isles. The fact that they’ve asked for the Lord of the Windswept Isles as an intermediary is an insult.”

  “Hmm, yeah, that could be a problem. What has the emperor said?”

  “My father stands by my side. He assures me that I will be present for the negotiations.”

  Ciardis took that in stride. But she knew that having a presence in the room wasn’t the same thing as being a negotiator at the table.

  But first things first. “So tell me more about this duke.”

  They spoke long into the afternoon about his uncle, Duke of Cinnis. A distant relative of Prince Sebastian’s, he seemed out for his nephew’s blood. Before Prince Sebastian had to leave, they agreed to meet at a local tavern later in the week, as traveling to the Aether Realm was magically taxing. The bracelet she wore on her ankle had limitations and, as far as Prince Sebatian could tell, could only be used once a week before it went inactive.

>   When Ciardis returned to the Companions’ Archive, she decided she needed to do some snooping of her own. This Duke of Cinnis was trouble. Regardless of the fact that he was Sebastian’s family, he was clearly not feeling familial enough to avoid trying to kill him. Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she slipped on a cloak and strode out into the rainy mist. Slipping through the outer gates which barred entrance to the Companions’ Guild in the mid-afternoon wasn’t hard.

  The flurries of snow had given way to a light, icy rain that made the guards less likely to venture outside of their gatehouse to interrogate individuals who were seeking to leave the Companions’ Guild. They’d reserve their treks in the bitterly cold rain for those who wanted to obtain entrance to the castle grounds.

  This worked in Ciardis’s favor as she headed for the nearest available conveyance that would take her to the Imperial Courts. She had some friends she needed to talk to. As she descended from the carrier she’d taken, she made sure to walk to one of the palace side gates instead of the main one. She didn’t want to attract attention. She just wanted to get inside.

  She flashed a sunny grin at the guard on duty, whom she knew from weapons training, she said, “Hello, Morris. Cold afternoon, isn’t it?”

  “Aye, it is. Bloody cold weather.”

  She nodded, “I’m here to see Varis Turnfeather.” No sign of recognition crossed his face.

  “Lord Varis?” she clarified.

  “Have an invitation?”

  “No,” she said slowly, trying to think of a way to get entrance, “but it’s just a quick visit.”

  “Lass, you know I can’t let you on palace grounds without a palace invitation. Not with all the deaths and whatnot within the past three months.”

  “Oh, I know,” she said quickly. “But perhaps you could summon him for me?”

  “That I could do.” He turned aside quickly and put two fingers in his mouth, whistling sharply. The earsplitting screech was directed at the gate barracks just around the corner. Ciardis couldn’t see it from her vantage point, but she certainly heard the crash of metal upon metal that rang out.

  Morris cursed and shook his head in disgust. “Boy was probably napping on the job. Was supposed to be hammering nails.”

  That last bit was said loudly enough for the spindly boy rushing around the corner to hear. His red hair stuck up every which way as he hurried over, and a red flush spread from his neck to the tips of his ears.

  “Sorry, Morris,” he said hurriedly. “I just knocked some pails over. Nothing big.”

  The glare Morris leveled at the bony boy said it was a problem if he said it was problem. The boy hunched his shoulders like a whipped dog and ducked his head.

  “You’ll be cleaning that up,” Morris advised. The boy immediately turned to rush back to the barracks and pick up the scattered nails.

  “Not now, numbskull.”

  “Right.”

  Morris sighed in irritation. “Go and get Lord Varis. Tell him Mistress Weathervane is waiting at the gate.”

  As the name emerged from Morris’s lips, the boy turned toward Ciardis in awe.

  “The Weathervane?” he said.

  “Get GOING!”

  Ciardis giggled into her hand as she watched the boy scramble away.

  Within minutes, Varis Turnfeather was escorted to the gate. Smiling as he wiped his hands on a handkerchief, he said to Ciardis, “Well, what an unexpected pleasure it is to see you today, Mistress Weathervane.”

  Ciardis looped a companionable hand into the crook of his elbow as they proceeded to walk across the main street in front of the Imperial palace.

  “I know, but I’m glad it’s a pleasant one,” she said as they reached the other side of the street and walked into the city’s public gardens. It was the only green area maintained by the Imperial household, a gift from the emperor to the city’s inhabitants.

  “Well?” he said, tapping an occasional rock in their path with his long cane.

  “Haven’t you ever heard that patience is a virtue, Milord?”

  “Yes, but it’s not one of the virtues that I’ve known you to be even passable at.”

  “That’s true,” said Ciardis as a rueful smile graced her lips. Looking up towards the sky she couldn’t help but admire the wits of the tall, but gangly man who towered above her with long gray hair falling to his shoulders.

  “I need your help, Lord Varis,” she admitted. “Just with information.”

  “There’s nothing just about seeking information, Ciardis Weathervane. Particularly in the Imperial Courts. What is that you wish to know?”

  “Why is the Duke of Cinnis trying to kill Prince Sebastian?”

  “He’s not.”

  “But...”

  “He’s trying to kill you.”

  “That’s impossible. There have not been any attacks on me...not recently, anyway.”

  “That you know of,” he pointed out.

  Varis looked down at her thoughtfully and then said, “That information was free, Ciardis. Ask me another question.”

  She stood flummoxed for a moment, but decided there was only one question that was pertinent now. “What can I do about it?”

  “Not why? Very good. You can run...”

  Her stiff expression told him what she thought of that idea.

  “Or you can fight,” he said.

  Ciardis nodded. “The latter will be more to my style.”

  “And the most likely to get you in trouble,” he said dryly. “Well, my dear, according to the ears I have on the ground, no one has made direct moves against you yet.”

  “And indirectly?”

  “Rumors circling around. Some courtiers of the Duke have been whispering unpleasant things about you to receptive Imperial ears. Not the Prince Heir’s mind you, but the ears of those he must pay attention to if you catch my meaning.”

  She did. If the Duke had enough clout to poison the Emperor’s thoughts against her it was no wonder that Prince Sebastian had been avoiding her for months.

  “But it doesn’t seem to have the desired effect. Prince Sebastian has closed his ranks, has begun relying only on trusted advisors,” Varis said in a lower voice. “And he hasn’t renounced his intention to make you his Companion. Despite significant pressure.”

  Ciardis nodded, trying to keep her face impassive. To be honest, she hadn’t been aware that was even a consideration.

  “The duke is not appreciative of your influence on Prince Sebastian.”

  “Well, I’m not appreciative of his butting into my personal affairs.”

  Vardis sighed and cautioned her, “Be careful. You aren’t protected by Imperial forces. And the duke is quite sure the Prince Heir’s bold endeavors in the matters of the Imperial Courts are a direct result of your whispers in his ear.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Why? One would think the rumors are true. You are practically his unofficial Companion and it’s said that he invites you to the Aether Realm for private consultations.”

  Ciardis frowned, while partly true she didn’t feel like opening up about her relationship with Sebastian. They’d just gotten back on friendly terms. “It’s not relevant.”

  As they headed back to the palace, Varis left her with whispered warnings.

  “Most of all, Ciardis, keep your head down. The duke shouldn’t attack if you don’t strike first. And stay out of trouble. Your court escapades over the summer have angered quite a few, the Duke not least among them.”

  Chapter 6

  The next morning Ciardis rose bright and early. A light fog had drifted in on the coast and she watched it silently from the balcony of her apartment. Staring out at the sea, she quietly gathered her thoughts. She knew, deep down, that many things were about to change.

  For better or for worse, she couldn’t tell.

  The door to her bedroom banged open with a loud crack.

  Starting now.

  Turning swiftly in her gown and robe, Ciardis confronted the
person who’d barged into her room. She stared in shock at Stephanie, a transfer Companion with the talent to copy and deliver a specific talent from one person to another. Ciardis hadn’t seen the girl in almost half a year—not since they’d made the transfer deal for the Sahalian language at the very beginning of her arrival at the Companions’ Guild.

  “What in a demon’s ass do you think you’re doing?” Ciardis demanded in outrage. She swiftly strode forward, intent on pushing the woman out of her room. But then Stephanie stepped around the bed and Ciardis stopped in her tracks. She held a loaded crossbow in her hands.

  Hastily backing up a step, she said, “I mean...Stephanie, it’s been so long.”

  She saw the second weapon she’d been training with out of the corner of her eye: her glaive. It stood in the corner, a wooden staff built of the finest hardwood with a wicked sharp curved blade on the end. She was as good at wielding the staff as she was at firing a bow and arrow. But it was something to defend herself with. Ciardis lunged for it and brought the weapon up so that the sharp end was pointed at her opponent. Standing with the glaive in her hands, her feet spread for traction and swift movement and her nightgown fluttering in the morning air, she didn’t look like the greatest warrior. But it didn’t matter so long as she came out of this alive.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” Stephanie said with exasperation.

  “Oh, well, then I guess I should put the glaive down.” She wasn’t stupid; the weapon didn’t move an inch.

  Sighing, Stephanie tossed the loaded crossbow on the bed and held her hands out by her sides.

  “Better?”

  “I’ll ask you again: What in a demon’s ass do you think you’re doing?”

  “Saving your neck.”

  Stephanie lunged towards Ciardis’s bed and grabbed her loaded crossbow in a smooth movement. Turning toward Ciardis, she fired a bolt. Ciardis dropped to the floor, evading the shot but unfortunately putting herself at a disadvantage. The glaive had fallen. And the way her body lay facedown made it hard to use the staff for any sort of defense. As she pushed herself off of the floor, keeping an angry eye on Stephanie, she frowned at sudden wetness on her hand. Bringing her hand up to her face, she stared in horror at the red blood dripping down her fingers.