Julian finally took his gaze away from the Lady Gemma and looked at his daughter. She saw concern and surprise on his face, and she was certain agreeing with the duke’s cousin wasn’t what he was expecting. Before he could say anything Commander Fulbert spoke.
“Prefect, your daughter will be safe with me. As a newly anointed Hand of Astor her main role in our party will be at the rear to heal the wounded or sick. I can assure you there is nothing to worry about.”
Gemma looked directly at Olivia and raised her eyebrows. “The girl can fight, though, can she not?”
“I was trained since I was a child to wield the sword, and bear the shield,” Olivia retorted, returning the other woman’s gaze without flinching.
“Of course, she has been trained to fight. This is customary and you know it, but she hasn’t actually much experience and that is what worries me,” Julian said.
“As I said, I’d see to it that her positioning in the party will be at the rear, Prefect Julian. That should assuage your fear,” Commander Fulbert said.
Diamedes spoke softly. “Perhaps we should ask Lady Olivia for her opinion on the matter?”
“She has already spoken and agreed with my assessment, historian,” Lady Gemma replied.
“Her exact words referred to her readiness for the anointment and induction into the order, as well as her willingness to serve where needed. Perhaps confirm with her that the induction would be tomorrow, and that the need would be here and now. Let her speak to those terms,” Diamedes said.
All eyes gazed upon her, and Olivia felt a rather oppressive mood in the air. She regretted not letting her father speak on the matter. It was obvious that there were politics at play here, and she finally understood why her father wanted her engaged more than she had been. She was at a distinctive disadvantage in the current situation, so she decided to speak from her heart.
“Everyone here is correct. I have trained with my brother, Osric, in the use of arms and the tactics of warfare, but, as my father said, I have little practical experience with them. I am also a lowly acolyte, and only hoping to be deserving of initiation into the order as a Hand of Astor to serve her and Ulatha as well as I can. Though it pains my father, I am willing to do whatever is necessary to assist my duke and king.”
Olivia immediately looked to her father to gauge his reaction. She couldn’t care less about what the others thought, but she cared deeply for her family and she hoped that he would understand.
“Very well.” Julian sighed, lifting a hand to his forehead and looking around the table. “We will send word to Markus that we are in agreement, but the final decision about any induction into the order will be his.”
“He has already made the decision,” Gemma said. “Justiciar Basil will officiate the process of inscription into my cousin’s service, after she has been anointed and initiated into the order. Then everything will be complete, and we can dispatch a proper search party to find our lord’s champions the day after tomorrow.”
“It’s really just a formality, as you know, Prefect Julian,” Basil said, chiming in for the first time. “You’ll have to log it in the regional book as a conscription, and the term of service will be for only one year.”
Olivia felt excited at the prospect of finally doing something instead of just listening to minor disputes and disagreements amongst the citizens of this region. She hated the bickering and petty differences that so many seemed to find time for, and longed to do something special with her life—to do something to help, the way her brother, Osric, was doing. She smiled at her father and looked at him intently. “Father?”
“It may be best if you discuss this with Master Markus immediately,” Julian said, motioning for the door. “Make sure you’re home before dark. I wish to have a small gathering before all this occurs.”
“Yes, Father, I will,” Olivia said, standing and bowing to the nobility seated around the table and taking the time to look each one in the eye. “I’ll see you tonight.” She took the time to kiss him on his cheek as he stood to say good-bye to her.
Her trip over to the temple was uneventful. She was happy that she would be inducted into the order more than anything else. She had always feared that her mentor, Markus, had conspired with her father to keep her occupied, but otherwise safe, behind the villa walls of either the temple or her home. The walls felt like more of a cage, something to restrict her rather than to protect her.
Lily was most excited as usual, and could hardly contain herself with the news of current events. She had still not met Diamedes, but was assured he would stop by to visit the library before he left. Olivia didn’t have the heart to tell her she had already dismissed him the day before and that she saw him every day as he came and went from the compound with the other servants and staff.
She had to wait in the library for nearly an hour before being called to Markus’s office. She passed three of his senior staff members, all of whom were Hands of the Order, and she bowed to them as they walked by her.
“Welcome, Acolyte Moross,” Markus said, motioning for her to sit across the desk from him.
“Why so formal today, Master?” Olivia asked as she remained standing.
“It’s the last day you will be an acolyte. Tomorrow you will be officially initiated into the order and become a ‘hand’ in the service of Astor. It was a . . . polite thing to do as far as our customs go. Is there a problem with the chair?” Markus asked.
“No, Master, but I was wondering if we could discuss this in the garden instead of your office. Would you mind terribly?”
Markus looked around, and then he glanced out the lone window behind him before responding, “That would be a splendid idea—a great chance to take in some fresh air and clear my head. I think I’ve had one too many meetings in this confounded room.” He smiled.
Olivia didn’t tell him that she worried the conversations in his office were not so confidential. More than likely it was just the political rumors found in any organization, but she didn’t trust that room and she agreed the fresh air would do her some good as well.
She waited until they had cleared the rear of the temple grounds and entered a walled garden at the very back of the compound. The garden was designed for meditation, but Olivia saw it as a chance to speak privately with her master. “So did you agree to my initiation because I am ready or did you agree because of a certain family acquaintance of the duke’s?” she asked as they walked slowly amidst the flowering plants. The faint sound of water splashing from a fountain was all that punctuated the silence.
Markus laughed out loud. “You are not bashful, but then again I should expect no less from a Moross, and the prefect’s daughter to boot. Well, to be honest with you, I was ready to accept you into our order, and the order would be richer for it, but you are very perceptive. I was worried about your father, though you are wrong if you think we had some arrangement. He never expressly forbade your initiation, but he made it obvious he had other plans for you in politics.”
“My father isn’t that hard to read.” Olivia laughed, heading towards one of her favorite seats in the garden, a carved marble bench in a small half-moon-shaped alcove amongst several rose bushes. She loved the fragrance, and the sound of splashing water from the fountain was just right—not too close and loud but not so far away and faint. She imagined paradise would have a garden like this in it.
“No, he isn’t. He is a man of principle, honor, and frankness—especially frankness. I guess being the prefect of an entire region will do that to a man. So you have mastered the three tiers of healing,” Markus said, allowing Olivia to sit first before taking a seat as well.
Olivia knew that Markus had been informed of this long ago. Still she said anyway, “Yes, I have mastered all three tiers and I’ve completed the circle of elements.”
“Good—they will serve you well on your first quest. Let’s hope they are not needed, but I am sure that the duke’s commander will feel more comfortable having a Hand of Astor w
ith his unit.”
“Why didn’t they take one of your advisors?” Olivia asked. “They are all initiates and most competent to serve.”
“They did conscript them. Well, two of the three. They are leaving tomorrow for Utandra. One will head to Kesh and then to the North Lands beyond; the other will serve in the capital to allow a more accomplished initiate of the order to quest,” Markus said.
Olivia raised a brow at that news. “So you’ll be left with only one assistant for the entire region?”
“That is correct. Hand Thomas will stay. Any more conscriptions by duke or king and we will have to shutter our doors. Sometimes Tannis feels like a crypt—there are so few of our people here.”
“Where is everyone, then? I know the war is far to the north, but what is happening there? My brother is there, and we have had no word since winter started about his whereabouts or happenings. I thought a special messenger would arrive if something unfortunate happened to him, so no word means good news, but now my father is worried.”
Markus sighed and then closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It appeared to Olivia that he enjoyed the garden aroma as much as she did. Finally, after a long, uncomfortable pause he spoke. “I have no direct news, especially from the duke, but the Supreme Patriarch shared some rather troubling news with me the last few months.”
Olivia waited, but her mentor still hadn’t opened his eyes. “Master . . .”
“Yes?” he said, finally allowing his eyelids to rise. He looked at her.
“You were saying . . . about the news from the Supreme Patriarch.”
“Oh, yes—sorry, I was thinking . . . Well, I don’t want to worry you, and it would be better if you didn’t share this with your father, but our order has suffered losses. As you know, we have the ritual of death, where we lay our members to rest. This is sacrosanct and not subject to change, even by our nobles. So we bury and entomb, and if there are no remains we consecrate the ground where they fell. You know the rituals of which I speak?”
“Completely, Master—they were one of the first things I learned as an acolyte.”
“Good—then you know that this gives us a much more accurate insight into casualties, and even more information on how our members each perished in their sacrifice for justice and good. It appears that the truth, or better to say exact details of the war, have been kept from the citizenry at large. There is much more to this war than we are being told, and our members are not dying just from battles with the Drakes of the North.”
Markus paused to allow his words to sink in. Olivia started to feel that she understood more. “So that explains some of the tension between the duke’s cousin and the king’s historian,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“Yes, very perceptive of you. It runs in your family, but the king is complicit in this as well and knows what our losses are. He has tried once to rein in Diamedes, who has also discovered what we have noticed, and that worked against him, so now the king has his historian under escort from a noble—always a noble.”
“Does Diamedes know or does he suspect?” Olivia asked.
Markus chuckled. “He knows everything, but he doesn’t show it outwardly. He now works with the order to document the events around the war so that in the future the truth cannot be hidden.”
“He is working with the Order of Astor?” Olivia asked incredulously.
“Yes. Do not speak of this to anyone. Not even your father.”
“But why, Master? What do we have to fear from working with a historian, even if he is in the service of our nobles?”
“There is more to current events than you understand, little one. There are spies amongst us, and then there are more spies.”
Olivia couldn’t keep her jaw from dropping. “What are you talking about and why are you telling me this? I am soon to be initiated, and I understood there would be secrets of the order as part of my duty and responsibility to maintain, but my father is prefect here and represents the duke directly. I should not hear of these things.”
Markus gave her a look she had never seen before. It was stern and serious. “You must hear of these things because when you are initiated I have a mission for you of the highest level.”
“What kind of mission?” she asked hesitantly.
“You will be our spy,” Markus said simply.
Chapter 5
Initiation
Olivia was sipping her drink on the veranda while friends and acquaintances were scattered about, socializing and discussing the latest happenings in Tannis. Her father had invited them to their villa as a sort of party or get-together to celebrate her initiation into the order. This didn’t mean he approved of it—quite the contrary, he was against it—but as he was the prefect of the region, protocol demanded that he follow appropriate Ulathan social customs, even on short notice.
The news from her mentor and master, Markus, put her in a very delicate and uncomfortable position. Up until this very day she had always imagined that the objectives of the order were in line with the objectives of the realm. It was now obvious to her that the two would never be fully congruent, even though their interests aligned in many different areas. She couldn’t believe that she was to report directly to him on the doings and whereabouts of every noble in the group. Spy indeed.
She sipped on some summer wine, a vintage that was getting rarer and rarer as the war dragged on. Production of many items was already lagging behind prior norms, and the luxury items always seemed to go first.
“May I?” Diamedes asked, approaching her from behind. She was sitting with her back to the party, facing the outer, darker grounds of her villa’s walled compound, where there were a few people walking and chatting with one another.
“Of course, please do me the honor,” Olivia said.
“The honor is all mine,” the old man said, sitting next to her and setting his own glass on the table. “Markus informed me that you have been enlightened about our situation.”
Earlier that day, after their serious discussion, Olivia and Markus met with his senior staff and they performed the actual initiation in secret. She was shocked to learn that the ceremony tomorrow was for those not in the order and more of a show to create a bit of pompous gallantry for the commoners, and even for some nobles, who had to have a way to celebrate or otherwise mark such events.
“Yes, we did, and are you aware of my . . . current status?” Olivia asked as she wasn’t told what the famous historian knew about the order and didn’t know. She didn’t want to accidently inform him of the order’s internal workings, unless he already knew, and then she could discuss some things with him.
“Yes, I am not a member of the order, but there is a title within it known as an associate. I am considered an associate and must maintain the same level of confidence with regards to information that I obtain through that status; however, I am a historian first, and I do record facts and figures from, and about, the order as I receive them in my position as a scholar,” Diamedes said.
“I am aware of your status, Associate Diamedes, and am pleased that you have it. It will make conversation with you more pleasant now.”
“More relaxed, I think you mean. It is always hard to keep a secret. In fact, the old axioms about secrets are wrong. Tell someone else anything that you know, and you alone knew it, and it no longer becomes a secret. It is out of your control, and you must rely on the trust and goodwill of someone else to keep it.”
Olivia took another sip, sat her glass down next to his, and looked around to see if they could be heard. “And secrets would be a good topic of our conversation—if you don’t mind?” Diamedes simply nodded, so she continued. “Why do Markus and the order fear the nobles? I thought of our nobles as just and righteous. Is there something I’m missing?”
The old man nodded. “Just politics, young lady—the realm is good; it is an inherent trait that finds its source of strength not in the nobility but in the citizenry of its people. Individuals can be flawed, and some can tu
rn to evil, or worse, but the culture of a society is different. It emanates from the collective moral conscience of its members. Ulatha is, for all intents and purposes, ‘good’, to use your word, and so are the nobles in general. But war is a terrible thing, and desperation, coupled with power, can make good men do questionable things.”
“I am feeling as if I am a student in a class of one.” Olivia smiled.
“Most kind of you to say. We only stop learning when we die, though there are those of us who fail, or refuse to learn the lesson, despite taking the test their entire lives.”
“I know a few people like that.” Olivia laughed.
“I’m sure you do. We all do. I must do something I don’t like to do much, especially unsolicited.”
Olivia perked up at that. “Pray tell?”
“To offer advice.” The old man allowed a moment for her to understand before continuing. “Advice is a dangerous thing to offer. What is good for one person may not be good for another. Also the acceptance of any advice is not a guarantee for a beneficial outcome, nor is the execution of any acts associated with the advice.”
“So what are you saying? What do you mean?” Olivia asked.
“Things are not as they seem. We do not know for certain what lies in the Kero Swamp so near to this town, but it has an ill reputation, and with the information we’ve been given by the Kesh we have reason to believe that the Drakes of the North are not confined to that area. They may be anywhere, and they may rise at any time. We need to deal with this issue quickly before it’s too late.”
“But that’s ridiculous! There has never been a dragon sighting in the south for as long as anyone can remember.”
“For as long as we can remember, yes. Our memories are short, too short. You’ve heard the stories of the disasters that have occurred during the transits of Dor Akun?” Olivia nodded. “Well, my research has shown that preceding, during, and especially after each transit event, drake activity increases dramatically. Somehow the event and their activity level are intertwined, but I’ve yet to be able to determine an exact cause or factor. The mere time span between events prevents any human with a normal life span from gathering any empirical data via personal observation.”
The Black Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 1) Page 5
