The Defender

by Rachel Rossano

  “Greetings,” I said, raising my hand in a salute I did not feel. “I hope the goddess has blessed you since we last met.”

  “She has, Sept Son, she has,” the old man replied. He smiled triumphantly down at me from his perch on the middle steps. “May she bless you as she sees fit.” From the hatred in his watery brown eyes, I knew exactly how he hoped I would be blessed.

  As I greeted each of the kings in turn, from Honorus to Ilar, I prayed for wisdom from the Almighty. The anger and malice that appeared in the kings’ smiles and piercing gazes was enough to make me hesitate before lowering my head to each. Yet, if I did not show that sign of trust, any other gesture would be a sign that I found the king unworthy of rule, a declaration of war against that throne. I wasn’t about to enter into a domestic war when a larger threat loomed on the horizon. There was still a chance I could persuade them to work with me.

  Finally, I came to Ostin Ilar. Dark black eyes cursed me from within his long, angular face. His lips didn’t bother with pretending to smile. From the tightness of his jaw, I doubted that he would have been able to frown without spewing forth the anger within him.

  “I offer you peace.” Presenting my left hand as custom demanded, I waited for his move. His left came out silently to grip mine. Fingers biting into the flesh of my wrist, he continued to glare into my face.

  “What have you done to my daughter? She will not look at me without turning away. She averts her eyes as though she is ashamed of me. You have taught her to hate me.”

  “I have taught her nothing. You know that she has been under the instruction of Errol Silas for the past three years. She has only been under my care for a few weeks.”

  “Have you had her yet?”

  Subduing the anger that rose in my breast at his suggestion, I hesitated. “I am still seeking a husband for her.”

  “Good,” he sent with a bitter under taste. “I would rather kill you than have you as a son.” “Peace in return,” he finally replied aloud and released my arm. Resisting the urge to rub at the marks that would be bruising already, I bowed and returned to my escort.

  Zezilia avoided my gaze as I approached. Her dark head was bent so that all I could see were the luxurious twistings of her bound hair. Behind me, I could hear the kings filing back into the palazzo, followed by the high king.

  “Now we proceed to our apartments and prepare for the noon meal,” I informed Zezilia. She nodded, but still did not meet my gaze.

  “What was that exchange with Father about?” Renato asked as he handed the horses off to a groom.

  I didn’t take my eyes from Zezilia’s bent head. “He wanted to know if I had married your sister yet.”

  “That wasn’t it, was it?” Zezilia’s mint assailed my tongue with sadness. “He suggested that you had dishonored me, didn’t he?” She raised her head and met my gaze. Her eyes were moist. “I need to know the truth.”

  “He did. But it is what a father should ask the man entrusted with his daughter.”

  I could see in her eyes that she didn’t believe me about the appropriateness of her father’s question.

  “Then he is eager to have you marry her soon?” Renato asked.

  “Hardly. More likely, your father is trying to determine if it is worth it to break the contract with me.”

  Renato frowned at me but said nothing. His silence was enough to verify my theory that his father would consider it. Breaking contract was a sign of dishonor for the entire family, but if one broke a contract with a party who was themselves dishonorable, it could be justified. All Ostin would have to do is find a way to make me dishonorable in the sight of the royalty.

  “Come, let us settle into our quarters.”

  “In light of this new development, I would suggest—”

  I silenced Renato with a shake of my head. This was not the place to discuss anything of importance. It was too easy to be overheard.

  * * *

  Zezilia

  My quarters were more moderately appointed than the ones I had shared with my mother three years ago. There was also another major difference. They were located in the male half of the palace. Once Hadrian saw where they were located, he began giving orders. Within moments, I was ushered to my room and told to remain there with the doors and windows closed until Hadrian or Renato returned for me. In the commotion right before I was shut off from everyone, I gathered that this was not the customary place for the sept son’s entourage to be housed.

  While I waited for instructions, I wandered my temporary prison. A single brown rug covered only a small area of the yellowed tile floor. White-washed walls rose on all sides, also slightly yellowed. I couldn’t tell if the tint was purposeful or the indicator of age. A single bed stood in the center of the room. I crossed to it and sat down. The hard, thin mattress hardly gave beneath the pressure. The room’s only beauty was the set of tall, wide windows that graced the outer wall.

  I crossed to inspect the view when the sound of a key in a lock caught my attention. I turned to look at the door I had entered by but was unpleasantly surprised when it was not the source of the sound. Then, I realized there was another door. It connected to what I assumed was the next bedroom. The lock turned, and the door opened slowly.

  “Announce yourself,” I demanded, and the door hesitated. I still could not see who was hiding behind it, but the person didn’t move away.

  “I am only a friend,” a voice replied. Low and sultry, the woman’s voice sounded familiar. “I have come to free you,” she said, easing the door open wider and extending a hand into the room. The sausage-link fingers were so laden with rings that I was astonished that they could bend, but they did, flowing through the air in intricate gestures.

  “Free me from what?” I asked. I mentally reached beyond the outer door and searched for a presence that I could trust.

  “From the sept son’s grip,” the woman crooned as she peered around the door. A fall of ratted black hair fell over half a round, fat-framed face. If the woman had been thinner, she would have been beautiful. The delicate features beneath the rolls of flesh would have dazzled with less dressing. “He will only drag you into his heresy, my child. You do not wish to be compromised in such a manner.”

  She pursed her lips and shook her head. “The goddess has marked him for death. Even now, poison flows through his veins. It will only be a matter of time before it will reach his heart and bloom into death. You don’t want to be united with a corpse, do you?”

  The door opened further as a second hand appeared, trailing a scarf of red silk. Suddenly, I realized with whom I was speaking. She was the sibley, the future-teller of the goddess. A shiver of fear flickered up my spine.

  Almighty, please protect me.

  “Come with me, and I will bring you to a more appropriate husband, my child.” Her husky voice wavered with excitement. “He is far more manly and desirable than your betrothed.”

  With sudden clarity, I realized what she was trying to do. Touching my amoveo and raising all my defenses, I was instantly aware of her presence within my mind. She wasn’t sending, but she was there, touching with the barest pressure. I didn’t know how I had missed it before.

  Now that I was aware of it, her taste, a bitter herbal flavor, grated on my senses, but I didn’t thrust it from me. I needed to know who this other man was that she was referring to. It was obvious that she was speaking of me marrying someone other than Hadrian, but the questions were who and why. I didn’t touch her or do anything to alert her to my knowledge of her being there, but I did build a temporary barrier around what appeared to be her goal, my sub-consciousness.

  “He is tall and golden like the northern men,” the sibley whispered and waved her scarf in what was obviously intended to be a seductive manner. “Powerful and rich, he would see to your every desire. Imagine a life of ease and pampering without a worry. All he will ask in return is children, little ones with his beauty and your grace. Just envision it, child.” The woman glided across
the floor toward the window.

  “Who is this man that you speak of?” I asked.

  “A god among men,” she replied, languishing against the wall next to the window.

  “But I wish to know his name,” I pressed. Then thinking of Galatea, I added a reason. “A girl can tell so much from a man’s name.”

  For a moment, the sibley hesitated in puzzled confusion. “Why do you care about a name?”

  My searching beyond the room lighted on a familiar taste. The rich flavor of Hadrian mixed with the sibley’s herbal. It was a nasty combination, but I held the connection and sent an impression of what I was seeing. Hadrian’s response was instantaneous attention.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No, but please send Renato.”

  Then I dropped the connection because the woman was advancing on me with a dangerous glint to her eye.

  “You have been naughty, child,” she rasped as she drew a gisto from her robes. I recognized it from drawings in one of my text books. “You are sending with someone.” She brought the weapon to bear on my chest. “We shall just have to make sure you cannot do that again.” She grinned and squeezed the trigger.

  I caught the dart with my energy as it emerged from the gisto, stopping it in mid-air. Seeing it, the sibley screamed. The sound echoed through my head and shook my whole body. I closed my eyes and brought my hands to my ears, but it was useless. The sound was within my head, reverberating around my skull, feeding upon itself, and swiftly deafening my senses to anything else.

  Just when I thought I was going to go mad, the sound suddenly ceased, and my Talent senses went black. The silence was blissful. I opened my eyes half expecting that it was stracken, an amoveo-supressing extract, flowing through my veins and closing down the Talent, but the stracken dart lay where I had dropped it when the sibley screamed. My head pounded. A moment passed before I realized I was alone again. If stracken wasn’t the cause of my Talent blackness, I quickly surmised that I had ConPropped again.

  Thanking the Almighty for His grace, I reached within and touched my amoveo. Energy flooded around me in a thick green haze. I could suddenly use my energy-sight again, though it hurt to do so. I pulled my knees to my chest and called the dart to me. Catching it between my fingers and being cautious to only touch the feathered end, I tucked it beneath my boot. I wasn’t going to take any chances that someone would try to use it against me again. Then, I closed my eyes, solidified my energy around me, and waited for Renato to arrive.

  As my temples throbbed to the beat of a silent drum, I prayed that he or Hadrian would be able to teach me to protect myself from that kind of attack. Nausea sloshed in the pit of my stomach. I never wanted to feel this way again.

  * * *

  Chapter II

  Hadrian

  Renato was arguing with the housing master when I received Zezilia’s summons. The two of them were both set on making the other budge. The old man had already apologized for the error, but he was refusing to give us enough new rooms to accommodate our entire entourage. I interrupted Renato’s current speech on the proper protocol for visiting dignitaries, mid-sentence.

  “Would you excuse us, Master?” I asked the older gentleman. He blinked at me in surprise.

  “What is wrong?” Renato asked.

  I continued to address the housing master. “If you would just give us the keys to our new rooms, there is something that needs our attention immediately.”

  “Just take the keys,” I ordered Renato.

  “But, Hadrian, there won’t be enough beds for—”

  “Take the keys, Renato. We have to leave now. Zez needs us.”

  Renato nodded and held out his hand to the man. “Yes, the keys.” Looking slightly triumphant, the man laid a ring with seven keys in Renato’s palm.

  “Thank you, Master Ilar.”

  “Don’t thank me, Master Tourtos,” Renato replied as he closed his fingers over the metal pieces. “The high king will hear about this.” He then turned his back on the servant and presented the ring to me. “These are all the rooms to be had, Master.”

  Without a word, I turned back the way we had come. There were three floors between us and where we had left Zezilia.

  “What is going on?” Renato demanded the moment we turned the corner, and the empty corridor stretched before us.

  “Zez sent me an image of the sibley. I think the woman was with her in the room. Then, she asked me to send you.”

  “Then why are we both going?”

  “I don’t trust the sibley. Something is wrong with that woman, and anything to do with the mesitas makes me nervous.”

  “Can you sense Zez?” Renato asked as we descended the first set of stairs.

  I reached out toward where I knew we had left Zez. I was relieved to find her where we left her, but I was startled by the intensity of her emoting. I increased my pace to a run. “Something has gone wrong with Zez.”

  Renato nodded and fell into step behind me as we raced through the nearly empty hallways. Servants hurriedly backed away at our approach, and fellow guests called angry retorts at our backs, but we ignored them. It wasn’t as though I had much popularity to lose at this point.

  Finally, we entered the men’s quarters. Three young dandies in expensive dress cursed us as we rounded the last corner and almost bowled them down. Leaving Renato behind to make our apologies and explain our rush, I approached where we had left Zez.

  The defender in charge stepped forward from the line of four at my approach and saluted. “All was quiet, Master,” he announced.

  I frowned. “I have reason to believe otherwise, Plantonio. Please open the door.”

  “But, Master, we saw and heard nothing.” He turned, despite his protest, and began unlocking the outer door. “Defender Ilar didn’t call out.”

  The door swung open to reveal an empty room. Everything appeared to be in order, and for a moment, I thought the worst. My chest tightened with the fear that Zezilia was dead regardless of the fact I had sensed her only moments before.

  “Zezilia?” Renato called as he came up behind me.

  Movement brought my eyes to focus on the floor just beyond the foot of the bed. Before our eyes, she flooded into visibility as she lifted a pained face to regard us with relief. She crouched on the floor with her knees clutched to her chest.

  “Finally,” she whispered and pressed a hand to her forehead as though it ached. A tear slipped down her cheek. “Can you make the pain stop?” she asked me. Then, without waiting for my answer, she dropped her head back down to rest on her arm.

  I crossed to kneel before her, Renato at my elbow.

  “What hurts?” he asked, stretching out a hand to touch her arm.

  “Search and secure the room,” Plantonio ordered his men.

  Amid the following flurry, I reached for her mind and slipped into it. Immediately, I saw the source of her pain.

  “It looks like a mental scream with a nasty backlash. What happened? I haven’t seen one of these in years.”

  “A mental scream?” Renato frowned at me. “Are you sure? That’s remedial stuff.”

  “But if she hasn’t been taught to defend against it…”

  Renato nodded knowingly. No matter how well trained a Talent was, there were always holes in the training. They didn’t appear until the Talent entered active service, which was why new defenders were usually paired off with veterans for the first three years of service. The veteran would fill in the gaps for the novice.

  “Zez.” She lifted her head and met my gaze from beneath lowered eyelids. I could only guess at the ache that was throbbing in her head at that moment. “I need you to let me into your mind, all the way into the center. That is the only way I am going to be able to stop the backlash. Do you understand?”

  She nodded and then hid her face again.

  I touched her consciousness. This time, I found no resistance as I pressed through the outer layers and into her center. Locating and removing the pain plan
t was easy; however, what I found with it caused me to hesitate.

  There, twisted within the subconscious, was a sloppily placed command. Just looking at it, I could see that removing it was going be simple. What concerned me more was how it got there. Taking my time, I untwisted the command and did what I could for the pain. When I finally withdrew, I was surprised to realize that Zez was fully aware of me and watching my face.

  “What was it?” she asked, her dark grey eyes scanning my face.

  “It looks like you were a victim of a simple mental scream with a nasty backlash. Your head will hurt for a few more hours, but then the pain should go away.”

  “No, I meant the thing that surprised you. Something surprised you before you removed the backlash.”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t about to discuss that now. There was the more pressing matter of how it got there. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened while we were gone, every little detail.”

  “Will you explain later?” she asked. Her mint was only a hint as it brushed through my thoughts. The sending wavered slightly.

  “I promise.”

  She nodded and launched into a full accounting of the time we were gone. The sibley’s words were a puzzle, but her actions were clear. As Zez described the scream, I nodded.

  “The best defense for a mental scream is to cut off the connection with the screamer.”

  “But I did.”

  “Not until after she had left,” Renato pointed out. “She screamed and left while you were stunned by it. You didn’t ConProp until after you were feeling the effects of the backlash.”

  “The echo and vibrations were part of the backlash?” She looked to her brother for confirmation, which he gave. “But, what about the headache, nausea, and pain when using my Talent?”

  “Those are side effects of the time it took you to cut off the backlash. If you hadn’t ConPropped when you did, you would have it much worse,” I explained.

  “And if someone can’t ConProp?”