“Some of what happened is best kept a secret.” Farrell turned to his right, where Rothdin sat next to Nerti. The peregrine king never took his eyes off Nerti.
“It is our opinion that you should not keep secrets from the group. The Order was established to help the Champion of the Six when Neldin returned. To do that, you need to trust them.”
“I believe Kel wanted me to keep some of what happened a secret.”
“Did he specifically tell you not to speak of what you learned with the Order?”
“No, but….”
“That is as it should be. Trusted allies deserve to know the truth.”
“I agree, but I would like some time to discuss what I’ve learned with those I trust. I don’t know these people. How can I say I trust them?”
“I trust them.”
Farrell understood the message. Still, he hesitated because he feared the reaction his information would likely evoke. “Kel left me the Eye of Honorus and the Arm of Khron.”
For an instant Farrell thought his father would give away that they were speaking.
“Even that you must share.”
Farrell heard a slight hesitation in his father’s voice. He owed Rothdin his life. And while that didn’t entitle his father to blind obedience, it did speak to the lengths the peregrine would go to keep him safe.
“My instincts say to do the opposite, but you have the greater wisdom, Father. I shall do as you say.”
The way Rothdin’s feathers moved told Farrell more than words his father’s thoughts.
“Queen Nerti.” The room shifted its attention from Nerti to Farrell.
“It’s about time. Even I have limits.”
He caught the barest of winks from his friend.
“I apologize for interrupting, but I would share with the room what you and my adoptive father wish me to disclose.” Farrell put his hand in his pocket and called for the Eye first. “Nerti’s question was an attempt to give my father time to convince me to share with the Order everything that happened.”
“I knew it!” Prince Fergus stood up and pointed at Farrell. “I could tell you held back.”
Farrell wasn’t sure how to answer, or even if he wanted to give him an explanation. The prince never gave him a chance to decide. He turned toward the king and high priest. “I told you we should have sent someone in there with him. How can we be sure he’s telling us everything?”
“The room would not have let you in with me.”
Fergus sneered at Farrell “We have only your word on that.”
Emerson put his hand on his father’s arm. “Calm down, Father. We can discuss this without the accusations.”
“Someone needs to confront him.” He crossed his arms, never taking his eyes off Farrell. “We gave him access to the room, and he admits he found things inside that he planned to keep to himself.”
Farrell placed his palms on the stone table and leaned over to glare at the prince. “The Order didn’t give me anything, and neither did you. Kel left it for me and I claimed it.”
“The Order—”
“The Order was created to assist the Chosen to fight Neldin’s evil.” Father Gedrin came to his aid. “Farrell is correct. Whatever Kel hid inside that room was meant for Farrell. We were guardians, not owners.”
“My son has given me his word he would not withhold anything from this group,” Rothdin said. “Would you question my word?”
“No, of course not, Lord Rothdin, but who’s to say he’ll keep his word to you?”
“Enough!” Markus slammed his hands on the table and stood up. “The Order has always encouraged its members to speak their mind, but civility and decorum are still a requirement. What cause do you have to question Farrell’s honor?”
“Your Majesty.” Fergus’s voice lost the angry edge, but he did not, however, appear to back down. “Farrell admitted he planned to withhold information. I do not think my questions are out of line.”
Farrell could feel Miceral tense up next to him. “Be calm, Ral. Once he stops talking, I’ll let them know what I learned and we can leave.”
“Father.” Emerson stared up at his father. “Farrell… I believe you can trust him if he’s given his word.”
“What do you suggest, Prince Fergus?” Penelope asked. “If you’re correct and he decides to keep some information private, who will force him? Lord Rothdin or Queen Nerti might be able to do it, but they seem content to trust him. So, since you don’t want to accept his word, what do we do next?”
“I like her,” Miceral said.
It took his best effort for Farrell not to smirk. “Only because she’s on my side. If that changes, I bet you’d feel differently.”
“Perhaps if you let him address us, Prince Fergus, we’ll have a better idea if we want to continue this topic.” Markus glared at Fergus until the older man bowed and sat down. “My apologies, cousin. You were about to tell us what you found inside Kel’s secret chamber.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Farrell stood up and searched his pocket for the Eye and the Arm. “Everything I recounted earlier is accurate except that inside the trunk, in addition to the books Kel wrote, I found two other objects.”
Taking out the Eye of Honorus first, Farrell placed it on the table. Feeling the stares from everyone in the room, he quickly found the Arm of Khron and laid it next to the Eye. He slowly unwound the knot on the small leather bag and pulled out the stone. The deep blue gem caught some of the wizard’s light and reflected it all around the room.
“Is that…?” Gedrin leaned closer.
“Yes, Holy Father, it is”—he raised his hand higher—“the Eye of Honorus.”
STANDING BEFORE a window in their new suite in the palace, Farrell could see the sprawling city below. Markus invited them to stay in the palace, and before they could answer, Father Gedrin informed them that their possessions had already been moved.
Comfortable and well-appointed, the rooms the chamberlain assigned them did not compare in grandeur to the ones Wilhelm had provided in Belsport. Peter was given a room adjoining theirs, and Farrell created a door between the two that remained open while they were awake to prevent the young prince from feeling alone and isolated.
Through a gap in the buildings, Farrell could see the old city walls surrounding barely a quarter of the city. From what little he could see, most of the inner city had been converted to government buildings. Miceral moved closer, wrapping his arms around Farrell.
“I thought Yar-del City was impressive, but Dreth is beyond anything I imagined,” Farrell said.
“It looks… plain.” Peter stood at the other open window. “All the buildings look the same.”
“Dumbarten’s bureaucracy is probably the largest in the world.” Farrell sank back against Miceral, happy to be held following four days in the infirmary. “Building the space to house it probably didn’t allow for the array of architecture that Belsport’s much smaller workforce required.”
Peter stared for a minute, then turned back into the room.
“Why is he still here?” Farrell asked without turning around. “Wasn’t the plan to send him home as soon as we reached Dumbarten?”
“Aside from the fact we were all a bit preoccupied helping a certain someone get better, who did you think would send him home? Me?”
Farrell tried his best to keep his tone neutral. His partner wouldn’t think about using magic the way a grand master would. “He could have gone to Haven using the same Door that brought Rothdin, Nerti, and Klissmor here.”
“True.” Miceral hugged him a bit tighter. “But like I said, we were a bit busy at the time. No one thought about sending him home.”
“No harm. Inside Honorus’s temple, he’s as safe as in Belsport, but we should figure out how to send him home soon.”
“He won’t like that, you know.”
The first thought that came to him, he didn’t voice. Instead he tried a softer approach. “Peter’s wishes aren’t for us to consid
er. Wilhelm expects us to send him home. Peter can take that up with his father.”
“You’re right, of course. I was just preparing you for his reaction when you tell him.”
“Me?” Farrell twisted until he could face Miceral. “Why is this being dropped in my lap?”
“Someone has to do it.”
“Why can’t we tell him together?” Farrell had delivered unpleasant news to people before, but he didn’t want it to always be his responsibility.
“That’s fair. Did you want to do it now?”
Farrell shook his head. “No, let me speak to Wilhelm first.
“What are you two talking about that you don’t want me to hear?”
When he looked over Miceral’s shoulder, Farrell saw Peter staring them. Before he could decide how to answer, Miceral spoke first.
“Assuming we were speaking in private, the whole of that was so you didn’t hear what we said.”
“So you’re talking about me and don’t want me to hear it?”
Farrell’s eyes narrowed at how Peter spoke to them. “Two things. First, don’t presume you’re the center of the world. Did it ever occur to you we might like to talk about things that we’d like to keep private? Miceral is my life partner, after all.”
“I know where you’re going, but don’t.”
“Why not?” He kept his eyes on Peter. “Just because we pretended to be his guards doesn’t give him the right to speak to us like the help. If anything, he needs a lesson in how to be tactful around other peers.”
“He’s been through a lot too. Just let me handle it.” Miceral didn’t wait for Farrell to agree. “Peter, yes, we were talking about you, but it’s wasn’t bad. Our agreement with your father was to send you home when we reached Dumbarten, but things haven’t gone as planned. And now that we’re in the palace, it makes sense for you to stay for a bit. But that’s not our decision, it’s your father’s. So we were talking about contacting him to check if he is in agreement with you staying for a time.”
“So much for sending him home.”
“My way is better.” Miceral kissed the top of his head. “Wilhelm will want him home, so we won’t look like we’re sending him away.”
The logic of Miceral’s answer made sense, but Farrell suspected things never worked out quite that simply. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and cringed.
“Let’s go restart our training. I lost too much weight while I was unconscious.”
AFTER TRAINING, Farrell sent a message via Haven to Wilhelm, requesting a meeting. When the message arrived from Haven less than an hour later that Wilhelm wanted to speak as soon as possible, Farrell had to check to be sure he had the time difference right. He hadn’t expected an answer until after the dinner hour, given Belsport’s location almost exactly halfway around the world.
“It appears Wilhelm is eager for his son’s return.” Miceral wrapped his towel around his taut midsection. “You said it’s still a couple hours ’til dawn in Belsport.”
“It is.” It took some effort, but Farrell pried his eyes off his partner’s nearly naked body. The effect had already started, so he adjusted his pants and stood up. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll let Peter know I’m about to make contact with his father.”
He left the room before he acted on his desire to undo the towel. Much as he wanted the time alone and the intimacy he’d missed during their ocean voyage, duty required he put it off a bit longer.
The door he’d created between their room and Peter’s stood open, reminding him that he and Miceral still had no privacy. Peter sat on the bed, shirtless and without boots. He stared out the window and didn’t seem to notice he had company until Farrell tapped lightly on the doorframe.
“Sorry to disturb you, Peter, but your father responded already and wants to talk to me as soon as I can arrange it.”
When Peter slipped his tunic over his head, Farrell noticed he’d started to fill out—or fill out as much as one with his bloodline would. Wilhelm was only slightly less wiry than Farrell. To give Peter a bit more privacy, Farrell walked toward the open window.
“Is there something wrong?” He turned to see Peter pull on a boot. “You seemed far away when I knocked.”
Peter shook his head. Without meeting Farrell’s gaze, he picked up his other boot and stared at the dark brown leather. After waiting for his friend to look up, Farrell sat next to him on the bed. “Want to talk about it?”
“You’re sending me home, aren’t you?”
“I’m not sending you away. I’m doing what your father requested.”
“You could tell him no.”
“No, Peter, I can’t. You know that.” He put his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “What’s bothering you? And don’t say nothing, because I already know it’s something.”
“I don’t want to go back to Belsport. I’d rather stay with you and Miceral.”
“Ah.” Farrell nodded while he tried to find the best way to respond. Before he could add anything more, Peter moved away.
“You’re mad.”
“No, I’m not mad, I….”
“You don’t want me around, do you?” The hurt in the teen’s voice tugged at Farrell’s emotions.
“That’s not true. You’ve been a good friend and traveling companion. But I don’t get to decide. Your father isn’t just an ally. He’s also a friend. We agreed from the start of this journey we’d send you home when we reached Dumbarten.” When Peter tossed his boot down and moved to look out the window, Farrell joined him. “How can I tell him I’m keeping his son and heir?”
“Tell him I don’t want to go back.”
“It isn’t my place to tell him you wish to stay.” Farrell gave Peter some time to work through what he’d said.
“I’m dressed.” Miceral’s voice made him nearly jump.
“Give me a few moments. Peter doesn’t want to go back to Belsport.”
“We assumed he’d say that, but did he say why not?”
“I’m still trying to get him to tell me that.”
Peter kept silent, so Farrell did likewise. It made sense to send Peter home before they continued their search for Kel. Especially since Farrell had no idea where he needed to go next. Peter hadn’t been a burden on board the Rose, but even in the middle of the ocean, it hadn’t been safe. On land there’d be more opportunity for Meglar and his allies to attack them. Despite that, he still felt his friend’s pain.
“Why don’t you want to go home?”
“I like being with you and Miceral. You treat me like a friend, not a child.”
Farrell stifled a laugh but couldn’t hold back a smile. “You are a friend, Peter, but parents will always treat their children differently. Even when they’re not children anymore.”
“I know, but in Belsport I have to watch what I say and how I act. Guards follow me everywhere—even the bathing chamber, though at least they stay outside. I have no real friends, only people who think it’s useful to be around me. I like being just Peter around you and Miceral.”
Farrell sympathized. He’d long tried to avoid the formalities of court. “I wish I could offer you some hope, but you know from being in the Citadel, it will only get worse when you are on the throne.”
“You and Miceral aren’t stifled like that.” Peter turned away, picked up his boot, and plopped down on the bed.
“That’s true, but our situation is unique. The Muchari don’t stand on formality, probably because they serve the peregrines and unicorns. And wizards respect ability, not a title.”
“But you’re also a prince.”
“In name only. Haven isn’t a true kingdom, so my role isn’t as defined as it would be if I were king of Yar-del.” He left out how much he shirked his duty. Peter wouldn’t have the same ability to turn over his responsibilities.
“I’d still rather stay here.” Peter pulled on his other boot with a sharp tug. “But I understand you can’t tell my father no.”
“I wish I c
ould give you a better answer, but if you can convince your father to let you stay, I’ll tell him we have no objections.” At least, he hoped Miceral wouldn’t object.
Farrell didn’t want to see Peter’s reaction, so he moved to a blank spot on the wall and pulled his staff from his back. When he locked in the last point of the Door, he focused on the royal library in Belsport and pushed out with his will.
The inky-black space shimmered and was replaced with the book-filled room. A haggard-looking Wilhelm stood behind a tall chair pushed under the table. Darius sat near a small fireplace, cradling a mug in his hands.
Farrell started to move forward, but Wilhelm held up a hand and walked toward them. “I’ll come to you.”
Darius rose slowly and followed the prince into the small bedroom.
“Hello, son.” Wilhelm’s smile washed much of the tension from his face. “You look well.”
Peter bowed. “Thank you, Father.”
“Come,” Farrell said, pointing to the rest of the suite. “The sitting room is more comfortable.”
They met Miceral on the way. He greeted their guests during the walk.
Wilhelm stood in front of his son. “It’s so good to see you. You’ve filled out some while you’ve been gone. Grown a bit too, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Miceral and Farrell made me practice every morning and work with the crew in the afternoon.” Peter’s eyes twinkled as he looked over his father’s shoulder. “Miceral, however, says you need to hire a better weapons master. He doesn’t think much of my previous masters.”
“Is that right?” Wilhelm laughed. “First time a mercenary told me what to do and remained in my employ.” He winked conspiratorially at his son as he spoke.
“But I’m no ordinary mercenary, am I?” Miceral bowed foppishly. “Your Majesty.”
Miceral’s antics lightened the mood for everyone.
“Incorrigible.” Wilhelm turned to his chief wizard. “What was I thinking, sending my only son on his coming-of-age voyage with these two overgrown children?”
“It was the best option available.” Darius shrugged. “Had I more time, I could have found more suitable guards.”
Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2 Page 62
