“Orze Be Lottagre,” Sevoi said. “Yes, we know about him. He has significant military experience, both as tactician and strategist.”
“He can pass for Tyrran, if he wants.” As she said this, she felt a little foolish.
“It’s impossible for a Groygan to pass as a Tyrran.” Sevoi frowned.
“True, under daylight when one sees his hair color or his eyes. But I saw him in profile against bright light. His hair is long enough for Tyrran braids and in the dark, if he hid his eyes from direct light, no one would mark him as Groygan.”
“We watch the Groygan embassy continually. He can’t wander around the cities without our knowledge.” Sevoi shrugged.
“I bet matriarchs still maintain their emergency passages into the tunnels. Sevoi, are we sure my brother closed the embassy to that warren under the plateau?” Perinon joined their conversation for the first time.
He was referring to his brother Valos, who was King only a short time and who established the embassies after the Fevers. Similar to the Groygan embassy in Betarr Serin, a Tyrran embassy had been created in Chikirmo, although their activities were extremely constrained by the Groygan Council of Lords.
“I don’t remember exactly what was done to that estate before we gave it over to the Groygans. I’ll check the records, Sire.” Chagrin rolled off the master of arms.
She took a deep breath. Now it was her turn. “Sire, the embassy may be involved in other affairs as well. I came to give you a full report on our progress.” Although finding a traitorous leak in the City Guard and confirming the lodestone had been smuggled out of the country might not be deemed true progress.
As she gave her report, she could tell Perinon wasn’t impressed. His light gray eyes were bleak and chilling, without hope. They looked familiar, like hers had looked this morning in the mirror.
“Your source confirmed that the Groygan embassy is involved, that the lodestone was shipped to Groyga?” Sevoi asked.
“He only heard others speak of their ‘Groygan connection,’ and the port of Chikirmo was one possible destination. It’s probable that Tellina’s company did the shipping, and I’ll soon confirm that.”
“It’s important to track down this ‘Groygan connection.’ Reggis was our prime negotiator for trade—could he have been a traitor?” Perinon asked.
“I don’t know. Our source says the decision regarding where to ship the lodestone caused a split in their organization, and could be the reason Reggis was murdered. But I cannot confirm whether Reggis was a traitor to King or country,” she said.
“I see why you’re suspicious of Lottagre.” Sevoi’s face sagged. “If he can get out of the embassy unseen, he wouldn’t be noticed on the city streets. He could have easily participated in this conspiracy.”
“One more important point. The Danilo Ana hasn’t put into any expected ports, so piracy is quite probable. Yet another reason why Velenare might be desperate to get his hands on Rhobar—that brash pirate leader might know where the lodestone rests,” she said.
“Yes, Velenare is desperate. He even threatened to put an embargo on wheat, which we import heavily.” Sevoi looked thoughtful.
“Well, he won’t be getting Rhobar. Admiral Ahjo has him in chains and he’ll be brought here to the sister cities.” Perinon tone was sharp; he was finally showing some energy. “Meanwhile, let’s cover other routes the lodestone could have left by—just in case the Danilo Ana was used as a ruse. Sevoi, speak with all the embassies and ask for their cooperation in stopping the smuggling of items banned for export. Keep it vague, whether you’re speaking with Groygans, Sareenians, even Kitarrans, and remind them of our treaties in the matter of antiques, artifacts, or items of historical significance.”
“Yes, Sire. I’ll also send a messenger to our embassy in Chikirmo. They can watch for the ship and anyone who tries to pick up the cargo.” Sevoi looked uncomfortable, and even though the King gave him a nod of dismissal, he lingered. He glanced meaningfully at Draius, then hesitantly added, “About artifacts, Sire…”
“I’ve made my decision.” From the look they exchanged, this followed yet another disagreement she wasn’t privy to, and she hoped to keep it that way. Perinon then waved Sevoi away, as well as the anonymous foursome of King’s Guard, leaving her alone with him.
She waited. Decision, dismissal, even anger would be better than Perinon’s brooding silence. After all, the City Guard let one of these conspirators operate within their headquarters for many erins. Now that she was alone with the King, she noticed how bad his face looked: drawn and tired, with dark circles under the eyes.
“Any mention of the Kaskea?” Perinon asked finally.
“Our source says Taalo never spoke of the stolen shard, but we can assume that since he has Nherissa’s papers, he has it as well. And he’s probably behind the probing the Phrenii have felt within their circle.”
“We have learned, to our surprise, Cousin, how distinctly we feel the ‘probing.’ It disrupts our sleep with visions of blood.”
She raised her eyebrows. Was Perinon using the royal “we” or the phrenic “we”? Was he losing himself, his individuality, within the phrenic circle?
“The man attempting to use the Kaskea doesn’t have the education of this Taalo you’ve described,” Perinon said. “Others push him into the Blindness with necromantic charms and blood—which is the wrong way to use the Kaskea. They are only making it harder on the wielder and, although he has Meran lineage, he’s barely holding on to his sanity. He’s only attempting this out of loyalty and fear.”
The Blindness? There was so much here she didn’t understand, but before she could begin to even frame a question, she heard ringing tones behind the doors. The heavy doors swung open, pulled rather hastily by outside Guards, and Mahri entered. Apparently the creature could choose to be silent, or it could forewarn its approach. The doors closed behind the creature as it walked down the hall to take a position behind the King’s chair, giving her time to think.
“Since this is so risky, what do they hope to attain?” Right now, procedures were not as important to her as motives.
Mahri answered her. “They hope to attain the Void, to search for the lodestone.”
The creature’s words fell past her ears like the soft pattering of rain: just as soothing, and just as incomprehensible. Attainingthe Void, to search? With the assurance of someone who could later remember every word, she tried to understand the gist of the sentence. “Can’t you prevent them from entering this ‘Void’?” She threw the question into the air, not knowing whether the wielder of the Kaskea, or the Phrenii, would answer it.
Perinon regarded her strangely, then his expression changed, becoming softer. Perhaps he sensed her frustration and when he answered his tone was sympathetic. “Few people would understand in this day and age. The Phrenii are the portals to the Void, which is the source of life-light magic. Unfortunately, they can no more prevent their use as a portal, than a door frame can prevent its door from opening.”
“Using that analogy, I would suggest that doors can be difficult to open when they become tight in their frames, particularly during the summer. Can’t you make their access just as difficult?” She directed her question to the creature behind Perinon.
Mahri cocked its head, regarding her with sparkling, faceted, golden eyes. It was impossible to tell what the creature was thinking, but Perinon’s mouth pursed, like he was holding back a smile.
“You are very perceptive, Officer Draius, which is why you were chosen.”
What did the creature mean by that?
Mahri kept speaking. “When we feel this man, we attempt to know him, to determine his motives, his background, and his identity. We are difficult, as you would say. But the more we press him, the more chance he will break and if he embraces madness, we fear the effects on another mind connected to us.”
Another mind. There could be only one. She glanced at Perinon, who looked down at the ring on his tightly clenched fist.
She became intensely aware of his dilemma. He’s already had his mind laid bare to the Phrenii, and now he must suffer some unknown criminal threatening his sanity. How he must hate being bound to that thing!
The hard desperation on his face made her step backward. She kept her own expression blank. The last thing she wanted to show was her pity. “Our source is under house arrest, Sire, with my watchmen following him. The conspirators will contact him and we’ll find the stolen shard.”
His mouth quirked; he’d noted her overt optimism. “I have confidence you’ll find it, Cousin, but I took measures to ensure the remaining shards are protected. I had them returned to my care.”
She nodded, cautiously. The rumors of his “measures,” particularly his unlikely magical powers and the humiliation of three Pettaja lineal matriarchs—just as unlikely—had spread through the streets like oil filming over water. However entertaining the gossip had been, she didn’t give the story credence when it came from the Pettaja clerks helping in her office. She waited.
“I’ve decided to disperse the remaining shards to guardians I trust. Sevoi, even though he has criticized this scheme of mine, has still agreed to carry one of the shards.” Perinon paused. He fumbled inside a vest pocket, being dressed casually today, and pulled out something on a chain. He abruptly held it out, silver links dripping over his fingers. “I’d like you to take custody of another one, Cousin.”
“Excuse me? Are you cra—” She bit back the words, which came out with a sharp tone one should never use with one’s sovereign. This was the reason for his addressing her as Cousin. He was hoping to take her back in time, and he did. For a moment she saw the young Peri, before he was Perinon, before he was King, wheedling an extra sweetmeat from the big-hearted baker near the square. He managed to feign fatigue for sweets back then, being altogether too cunning for his seven years.
“Draius?” His voice was low. “Will you protect one of the shards?”
She jerked her head up sharply, caught between past and present. This was her King, although he was asking her, not ordering her to do this. Was there any difference, coming from a sovereign? She looked at Mahri, a creature who could only incite shame, remorse, and guilt within her, and felt her stomach heave. Bile pushed into the back of her throat. “I can’t,” she said. “I can’t bind to them.”
“You don’t have to. Besides, I don’t think it’s possible. I am the only one connected to them, the only one in rapport. This is a charge to protect the shard, nothing more.”
“The master of arms.” She looked at his hand, seeing a locket, not a gray shard. “He doesn’t approve, because I’m Serasa-Kolme?”
“Sevoi doesn’t want to disperse the shards so widely; he’d rather keep them all in the royal armory.” Perinon cleared his throat. “And it’s not the change of lineage. He doesn’t approve of using City Guard, rather than King’s Guard. But you’re my cousin, I grew up with you, and I know you.”
He continued to hold out the shining jewelry, all wrought in silver, the noblest metal even if it might not be the most valuable. She hedged. “I have more Meran blood than Sevoi, perhaps as much as you, Sire. Will I interfere with the circle, the phrenic mind, just like the conspirators?”
Perinon shook his head, but it was Mahri who answered. “The shard is protected by silver, making it difficult to touch. Even then, the mind that wishes rapport must volunteer, as well as exhibit great need, purity of motive, honorable purpose, steadfast heart—”
I get the point. I’m safe from qualifying for rapport. Ignoring the rest of the creature’s monologue, she took the chain and locket. The links were well formed, tight, and strong. The locket was obviously crafted by a master artisan. It was flat and circular, as wide and high as her two thumbs. She fingered the raised Meran-Viisi emblem on the face, the constellation of major stars, caressing Cessina last of all. Pressing the small catch at the side, she popped the locket open and looked carefully at the flat shard of the Kaskea inside. Its color and texture was like slate and it was wired against the back of the locket. Mahri was right; it’d be difficult to accidentally touch the shard, if that was part of the bonding process.
“Keep it with you at all times, Officer Draius. Keep it safe.” Perinon now formally charged her with her duty.
“Yes, Sire.” She snapped the locket shut and put the chain about her neck. Her bruised skin quivered as she laid the cold metal around her neck. The locket slid down her breastbone to rest hidden underneath her collar ruff and uniform vest. I’m simply exchanging one madman’s charm for another, she thought, and suppressed a hysterical giggle. She waited—and felt nothing. The locket might have held a lock of hair, rather than a piece of the most powerful artifact in Tyrra.
With a sigh of relief, she bowed. Perinon made a gesture of dismissal, but Mahri decided to impart another lecture and she had to pause.
“The lodestone must be found, Officer Draius. It is still capable of un-making us, and it holds the power of much torture and death. The possibilities are endless if it falls into unscrupulous hands. The future it will bring fills our nightmares.”
As the creature spoke, Perinon’s face twisted, perhaps from memories of phrenic visions. She didn’t bother to answer the creature—the lodestone was no longer retrievable by the City Guard and if the Phrenii didn’t realize this, then it’d be up to the King to deal with them.
She pushed open one of the high doors and paused to look back at Perinon, King of Tyrra, Holder of the Phrenii’s Promise. He slumped in his chair and looked far older than his twenty-four years. She saw little resemblance to the cousin she’d seen crowned in haste, except the feeling of estrangement that he often radiated even before he suffered the bond of the Kaskea. Not everything should be blamed on the Phrenii, she thought as she walked out of the Palace of Stars.
•••
After Draius left, Perinon stared down at the floor. He could see the pity rolling about in his cousin—after all, Mahri had been standing beside him. He hated seeing the pity, but the determination he saw might just help her capture the group he privately called necromancers.
Above all, he didn’t want to continue to lie sleepless through the night to forestall the nightmares, the strange minds entering his dreams, and the terror experienced by someone lost in the Blindness and refusing help…
With a start, he realized he had some free time. His secretary was not in sight, meaning there were no pending appointments and he was left alone with Mahri, with his Guards outside. This was the closest thing to privacy that he could have.
Rapport had advantages. When he wanted to think, or have quiet, Mahri would know immediately and retreat. The creature faded from his consciousness, and Perinon reached for the book he had been carrying surreptitiously in a pocket. He opened up his slim copy of To Have and Hold Power.
The author, Avo Cabaran, now languished in a Forenllas prison because of his previous publiction. His protector, Lorenz Dimoni, had been killed and while the Dimoni family still held Forenllas, Lorenz’s successor was offended by Cabaran’s Discourse on Forenllas. That work exposed the power and corruption of that Sareenian City-State, as well as the church.
Cabaran’s works were banned in all the Sareenian City-States, regardless of which family was involved. Urbano Dimoni, who held Forenllas, was said to be a despot and tyrant, while the Danta family of Illus and the Seguira family of Paduellus were considered benign. Of course, the rest of the world only knew this from Cabaran—a man who could bluntly write things like “Sareenians are irreligious and corrupt above all others” and “our Church and her representatives set the highest examples of immorality.”
Cabaran’s latest publication examined the means by which principalities held rule over men. He blatantly analyzed how countries or states could be held, whether they were obtained through arms, good fortune, or wickedness. Cabaran enumerated the desirable qualities a ruler should have; he encouraged sovereigns to arm their people, to exhibit liberality rather than tyranny, and to av
oid being despised and hated. Perinon thought the reason the book truly shocked the world came in a late chapter, where Cabaran stated that it was unnecessary for a ruler to actually have all the good qualities he expounded, but the ruler should appear to have those qualities. A head of state should always appear to be merciful, faithful, humane, religious, and upright, but above all, a ruler should be flexible and when necessary, use duplicity to maintain power.
Perinon grinned. This was no surprise to him. He noted all the names of leaders the author listed in the chapter, but at the end of that section Cabaran wrote, “There is a ruler of the present time, whom one is not allowed to name, who never preaches anything but peace and good faith, while to both he is hostile.”
To whom was Cabaran referring? Perinon closed the book and tapped the cover. Then the answer dawned. Cabaran was referring to the Sareenian Church of the Way, with a leader, kingdom, and subjects, yet abstract in its borders. Perhaps the church, which had expanded significantly into Tyrra in the past few years, bore some examination.
Onni comes. Mahri entered his mind like a cool spring breeze wafting through a window. He looked about and slid the book back into his cloak pocket. Mahri wasn’t in the room. Onni appeared at the door and cleared her throat.
“Yes, Onni, enter.”
She dragged her feet a bit as she came to present herself. Onni was ten years older than Perinon, but she showed an innate timidity whenever she spoke with him—despite Aracia’s attempt to eradicate it. Onni’s eyes were clear, almost peaceful; a recent change, and Perinon knew the cause. He was closer to the dealings in his household than Aracia realized, so he was well aware that Onni had recently taken a lover, a man of her own choosing and acquaintance. Perinon hoped she would remain childless for a while, because once she bore a child, Aracia would end her happiness.
“Lady Aracia wishes to inquire after your health.”
The fact that Aracia hadn’t bothered to ask him herself while she was in his presence meant she knew Perinon’s excuse of stomach pains earlier that morning was false, merely a way to avoid his Markday breakfast with her. Due to his nightmares and sleeplessness, he’d been too tired to deal with her.
A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) Page 24
