Roots of Insight (Dusk Gate Chronicles -- Book Two)

by Breeana Puttroff

  Nathaniel was silent for a long time as he studied both William’s and Quinn’s faces. William was beginning to grow impatient when he finally began speaking. “I’m very sorry for not telling you about this, I really am. I’ve never made a habit of keeping things from you, William. It’s been my privilege and joy to watch you grow and help raise you, and to share with you the things that I know. Keeping these secrets has been very difficult for me.”

  “Then why, Nathaniel?” Quinn asked. “Why bring us all the way here without telling us?”

  “There are reasons. Maintaining the privacy and anonymity of the Friends of Philip is of utmost importance. Before we arrived, and I was able to communicate with Ellen, I wasn’t sure what I was going to be able to share with the two of you. And yes, William, your father knows. He knows everything.”

  “Is Ellen someone we can trust?” Again, Quinn beat him to the question he’d been about to ask.

  “I would trust Ellen with my very life. Her goals are the same as ours, I promise.”

  “Ours? William and I are here for one reason Nathaniel. To bring Thomas safely home. What are your goals?”

  Quinn’s question startled William, but he realized that he wondered the same thing. He scrutinized Nathaniel’s face as he answered the question, but his uncle met Quinn’s gaze flatly, his tone steady.

  “My number one priority is the safety of Thomas – as well as protecting William, and you, Quinn. There is nothing more important to me than returning the three of you safely back to Eirentheos – and returning you home to your mother. Nothing takes precedence over that – nothing.”

  William could see in Nathaniel’s eyes that he was telling the truth. He hadn’t realized how rigidly he’d been standing until that realization relaxed him a little. He glanced over at Quinn. Her tight fists and shallow breathing told him that she wasn’t as convinced.

  “You are right, though, Quinn, that I have other goals.” He reached up to the collar of his shirt and pulled it aside. William gasped when he saw the joined circles – the symbol of Eirentheos melded with the circle that represented Philotheum, inked in an odd shade of blue.

  “I don’t think I understand. Why are you… How long have you been in the Friends of Philip?” Though William had no experience with these things, nothing about the tattoo looked new.

  “From the beginning of the movement, or at least from very early on. I have always been involved in the effort to oust Hector – and now Tolliver, and restore the crown to its rightful place – to restore the full connection between Eirentheos and Philotheum.”

  “Restore it to whom?” Quinn asked. “Who should actually be the king of Philotheum?”

  “When the rightful heir to the throne dies – in this case, King Jonathan’s firstborn son, it passes to the heir’s firstborn, naturally. In the absence of the heir’s firstborn, it passes directly to the next firstborn in line. For example, if something happened to Simon before he produced an heir, the crown would pass naturally to Maxwell’s first child, or then to Rebecca’s, if Maxwell didn’t have a child either. Jonathan fathered five children before he died. With no heir from Samuel, the crown should belong to the child of Ellen, who is the second-born. As she has no children, the next heir in line is Charles’ first-born daughter, Gianna.”

  “Can a girl really have the crown?” Quinn asked.

  Nathaniel shrugged. “There is nothing in our history, in the original edict from the prophet of the Maker that prohibits it. In fact, the only stipulation is that the heir must be the first-born; there is no mention of gender. Through whatever accident of nature is at work, the first-borns of first-borns in both Philotheum and Eirentheos have been born male going back many generations. We’ve never had to deal with the question – until now.”

  “So where is Charles’ heir – Gianna, now?” Quinn spouted forth her questions without hesitation – all of the things William wanted to know, as well, but he couldn’t seem to make his mind work fast enough to form the questions. He felt another wave of gratefulness for the girl’s presence. Without her, he’d probably have made it all the way back to Eirentheos not understanding half of this.

  “Gianna – and all of Charles and Thea’s children,” these words sent an electric shock through William, “reside most of the time in an undisclosed location with relatives in Eirentheos. For their safety – and the protection of the Friends of Philip – their identities are kept secret. Gianna is only ten cycles of age.”

  William swallowed hard. “So what is your plan? A child can’t take the throne.”

  “Our hope was to stave off Tolliver’s actually assuming the throne for as long as possible, while we worked on those challenges. We hoped to avoid war. Nobody in the Friends of Philip – or in your kingdom, William, wishes to fight. Even one casualty would be too much. Now, though, with Tolliver’s increasing impatience, and with what Thomas has done...”

  William nodded.

  “So it sounds like we need to just get Thomas, right now, and worry about this other stuff once he’s safe.” Quinn said.

  He could see, in the change of the girl’s posture, and the look in her eyes, that her concern had shifted. The anxious tapping of her foot, the twisting and untwisting of her sleeve – these were over Thomas. A different expression had appeared in her eyes, though, a new question. Something Nathaniel had said had put a new question in her mind. Perhaps it was the same thing that had put a new, niggling worry in William’s thoughts, though he wasn’t sure exactly what it had been.

  * * *

  The rest of the day, alone in the house with little to do, the three of them were at loose ends. Quinn felt the nerve-wracking anxiety starting to take over again. The small Gramble family stayed secluded in the back bedroom, sleeping and caring for the new baby. Nathaniel had gone in a few times, Quinn and William only once.

  Out in the sitting room, every second dragged by. William’s face was ashen, and the circles under his eyes seemed darker every time Quinn looked over at him. Nathaniel didn’t look much better. Every time there was the slightest noise outside, one of them would jump.

  She could tell that she was on the verge of losing her composure again, but she was determined not to this time, so when Nathaniel, after the fifth time he’d paced back to the guest bedrooms, returned with a deck of strange-looking cards, she agreed that having a distraction seemed like a good idea.

  “How do you play?” she asked.

  William and Nathaniel spend the next hour teaching her how to play choice. The cards were surprisingly similar to the kind of playing cards she was used to at home, except that there were five suits, and the only cards besides the thirteen numbers were the “choice” cards – on the deck they used these were marked with the seal of Eirentheos, though William told her that different decks might have different designs.

  The game wasn’t overly complicated – after an hour she won her first hand – but it was enough to keep her mind occupied. Playing seemed to help William and Nathaniel as well. Early in the afternoon, they stopped for long enough to prepare lunch and check in again with Natalie and Andrew, and then they settled down for another round in the sitting room. They were just beginning a new game when there was a sudden, frantic pounding at the door.

  Cards flew everywhere as Nathaniel and William raced to the door, Quinn right behind them. Her heart jumped into her throat when they pulled it open to reveal, not Henry, Ellen, Marcus, or Ben, but two men she’d never seen before, both dressed in the full green-and-gold regalia of the Philothean guard.

  Her heart pounded a thousand beats per minute as the two men stepped through the door and into the sitting room. William moved instantly into a defensive position in front of her as the guards walked around, noting the playing cards all over the table and floors. The guards looked very similar, especially in the matching uniforms they wore, except that one of them was taller, and clearly much older.

  “Is anyone else here?” the taller of the two men asked.

 
Nathaniel began to shake his head, but at that moment, there was a loud cry from the back hallway, as the tiny, newborn girl made her presence known. “Yes,” he said instead. “A young couple and their newborn baby are here as well.”

  The guard paused, appearing to consider his next words carefully. “Are they Friends of Philip, as well?”

  Quinn thought her heart might have stopped beating altogether. She glanced cautiously at William. Sweat dotted his hairline.

  Nathaniel seemed stunned into silence. Everything was in slow motion as Nathaniel swallowed hard, his eyes darting between William and Quinn, and the guards. The baby’s cries continued in the back room.

  Nathaniel took a deep breath, and closed his eyes for a long moment before he answered. “Yes.”

  The younger man nodded, and then looked over at his companion, communicating something with his eyes. Quinn could see now just how much younger he was. Up close, she wasn’t sure he was older than William. After a long pause, both men turned to face Nathaniel. Simultaneously, they drew back their collars, revealing tattoos.

  William had to put out his hand to steady Quinn, to keep her from keeling over backward into one of the low tables.

  “Who are you?” Nathaniel asked.

  The older man answered. “My name is Dorian Blackwelder, and this is my son, James.”

  “What are you doing here?” Nathaniel’s voice was still suspicious, and William kept edging closer to Quinn.

  “Where is Lady Ellen?” Dorian asked.

  “She has gone on … an errand.” Nathaniel answered.

  “When will she return?”

  “Soon, we hope. Along with her husband and two trained guards from Eirentheos.” Nathaniel’s voice shook only a little.

  Dorian paused, and studied each of them in turn. His eyes stopped when they reached William’s face, widening in recognition. “Prince William!”

  Now she knew her heart had stopped; she tried to breathe, but the air refused to come.

  “Why? What’s wrong? Where is Thomas?” Nathaniel’s voice cracked on the name.

  “The prince is… He has been injured.”

  “Where is he?” Quinn demanded.

  “Follow us.”

  Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed. “Let me see those tattoos again.”

  Quinn’s heart thumped wildly as Dorian and James pulled their collars back again. She scrutinized Dorian’s face, and as she did so, a sudden, overwhelming sense of recognition nearly knocked her over. He’d been in her dream last night.

  “Let’s go with him, now. We can trust them.”

  William and Nathaniel both stared at her in surprise, but she shook her head at them. “We don’t have any time to waste.”

  Moments later, the three of them were following Dorian and James across Ellen’s lawn and through the gate. For a brief second she wondered where Ryan, the gatekeeper, was but right now it didn’t matter.

  A short distance up the dirt road from the house, Dorian led them through a break in the trees and into a small clearing. In the clearing was a small wagon hitched to two weary-looking horses.

  Over the side of the wagon, Quinn could see two people, a man with tousled brown hair, and a woman whose long, disheveled locks were nearly black, just like William’s and Thomas’. As they walked toward them, the woman turned her head, revealing eyes that were a familiar shade of gray over her sunken-in cheeks.

  “Lily!” Nathaniel’s voice came out in a choking gasp. And he and William broke into a run.

  For a few dizzying seconds, Quinn had no idea what was happening. She stood there frozen, watching everyone around her as if it were a movie, rather than something actually happening in front of her. She hadn’t expected to be led to a wagon carrying Lily and the man, who must be Graeme. Why were they here? Where was…

  “Thomas!” William yelled, jumping over the wagon’s gate so quickly that she might have imagined the movement. Nathaniel fumbled with the latches, but had difficulty lowering the wooden plank until Graeme reached over to help him.

  Once the gate was down, Nathaniel’s face turned a ghastly shade of white before a fierce red flowed from his neck up to his hairline. It was the look on his face, somehow simultaneously anguished and furious that made Quinn start moving again, and she ran down the slight hill to the wagon.

  “What’s going on?” Panic rose in her voice as she reached the end of the wagon. William’s and Nathaniel’s bodies blocked her view. They were crouched over the still form of someone lying on the wooden floor. “Is that Thomas? Is he…”

  It was Lily who heard her terrified voice and turned to face her, her gray eyes sunken deep behind cheekbones that were too prominent in her pale face. “He’s alive,” she said. “He’ll wish he wasn’t when the valoris seed wears off again, but he’s alive.”

  Nathaniel’s head snapped up at Lily’s words. “Valoris seed, but…”

  “I know you’re worried about the Roses reacting to it, Nathaniel. And it does affect him strongly, makes him unconscious, but his pulse and breathing are strong … trust me, it’s the best we’ve had to offer him right now.”

  Nathaniel’s mouth opened, but then closed again, and he nodded. “What happened to him?”

  “We don’t … know all of the details,” Graeme answered. “He was kept separate from us most of the time. Once Tolliver knew we were all together, I don’t think he much liked the idea of us being able to talk with Thomas.”

  “I believe the official story is that he fell down some stairs.” Sarcasm was thick in Lily’s voice. “Although how someone could fall down a flight of stairs hard enough to shatter an arm and a leg without injuring his face, I’m not certain.”

  Quinn tasted bile in the back of her throat. Shattered? Thomas’ arm and leg shattered?

  “Is it safe to take him back to Ellen’s house?” Dorian asked. He and James had finally joined them and now stood near the wheels of the wagon. “We heard rumors that Tolliver was in the area yesterday.”

  “Yes, he’s gone, headed north late last night. Ellen’s gatekeeper, Ryan, followed after him. He sent a message this morning that he didn’t think he’d be headed back this way anytime soon, but he’s been staying in Merinth to keep an ear out, just in case.”

  Quinn raised her eyebrows – she hadn’t known any of that.

  “Then we need to get him back there, and quickly,” Lily said. “We were only barely able to get his leg stabilized for the journey – his femur is in bad shape.”

  She didn’t know what they were talking about, but it didn’t sound good. She started to climb up on to the wagon’s gate, wanting to see Thomas for herself. Graeme held up his arm, blocking her as he looked over at Nathaniel and William.

  “It’s all right, Graeme. Let her up,” Nathaniel said softly.

  Graeme frowned. “Who is she?”

  “This is Quinn. She’s a … friend of William and Thomas.”

  Graeme moved his arm and allowed her on to the wagon, but Lily shot Nathaniel a look that was accusing and wary. “What is she doing here?” she hissed. “Bringing her into Philotheum? Into this?”

  The expression on Nathaniel’s face as he looked back at Lily surprised Quinn. There was something behind it that was clearly serious, but she had no idea what it was. “Leave it be, Lily,” he said, his voice cold and commanding.

  The short ride from the clearing back to Ellen’s home was excruciating. When she got close enough to Thomas to get a good look at him, nausea twisted her stomach again.

  There were no visible injuries on his face, but it was far too thin, as was the rest of him. His eyes were sunk far back into their sockets and she could see the blue veins underneath them. Several scrapes and bruises dotted his right arm; both his left arm and left leg were splinted and wrapped too completely to see at all. Wide white bandages tightly circled his torso. Although he never fully woke, there were several times that a jolt of the wagon tightened the muscles in his face.

  When she could no longer stand to
watch him in such pain, Quinn turned her attention to the newcomers, Lily and Graeme. They, too, were sallow and thin, and both of them looked like they might fall over at any moment. They were uninjured, except for a fading bruise over Graeme’s right eyebrow.

  At one point, on the road just outside of Ellen’s gate, she noticed a glint of sunlight off the chain around Lily’s neck. A hot lump formed in Quinn’s throat. Thomas had gotten Lily’s pendant back to her.

  William followed her gaze, and his eyes met hers, her own emotions were mirrored in his expression. He reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. She squeezed back.

  Once Dorian and James had brought the wagon to a stop right in front of the door, they came around and lowered the wagon gate.

  “Where should we take him?” Dorian asked.

  Nathaniel looked at Lily, anguish and helplessness in his expression. “We have to get this leg stabilized.”

  She nodded. “His fractures have started to heal badly – some of them need to be re-broken to be set properly.”

  All of the color drained from Nathaniel’s face. Despite the hot day, Quinn felt cold. William’s hand in hers was clammy.

  “The sooner we do it, the better,” Lily said. “But we’re going to have to open his leg to reduce the fracture in his femur – and he’s already lost so much blood.”

  Nathaniel sighed; moisture was building in the corners of his eyes.

  “We’re going to have to do what we can. His femur … we have to save his leg.” He looked up at Dorian. “The dining room table would be best. We’ll need a firm surface.”

  Terror churned in Quinn’s stomach as Dorian and James carefully lifted Thomas from the wagon. He let out a cry when the movement jostled his leg.

  “William, go down into the basement and go through the crates,” Nathaniel said in a strained voice. “Bring up everything you think we might need for surgery. He’s definitely going to need something stronger than valoris seed. There’s probably not much, but hopefully there will be something. We’re going to need whatever blood we can get our hands on, too, so bring up supplies for that.”