by Guy Antibes
~
Vishan withstood three months, a full season, of lesson after lesson from the four scholars who had tutored his brothers at Peshakan. The one-on-one sessions had been tiring, but Vish had to admit he learned a great deal.
The scholars added even more to his burgeoning library as they visited him. He toyed with his book about the Cuminee, but Polymeer had been posted to the north of Serytar with a unit of the Imperial Guard, next to the Bomai border, so Vishan had lost his primary source.
His visits to Peleor had increased to twice a week in the evenings and he felt more secure as time went on. Both of them now practiced spells over and over again. The ice spell that he used on Teshyr in the dark could have been disaster and Peleor told him that luck had saved the day. Vish could have so easily missed with the spell.
Vishan’s studies both inside the palace and outside began to exhaust him. He had no problem learning, but the tension of living in the Imperial Palace seemed to eat away at him. He didn’t like moving up among his brothers and after his sessions with his instructors, he had less and less of a desire to manage the massive empire that his father did.
A knock on his door woke Vishan from a nap in his reading chair. He had no scholars scheduled for the morning. He had tried to read a battle history, but the drowsiness easily overcame the dryness of the subject matter.
“Message for you, sir,” the guard said.
Vish rubbed the sleep from his eyes and unfolded the paper, dismissing the guard. He closed the door as he began to read. What was his father thinking! He was instructed to travel to Hustafal, the center of Baron Fenakyr’s domain. That was it. No reason for the trip, nothing other than to show up at the Baron’s doorstep. Vishan had no desire to see the Baron in any capacity. His father signed the orders, so he had no ability to refuse them.
~~~
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
~
AFTER A WEEK AND A HALF, THE RELATIVE ARID LANDS SURROUNDING BAKU, gave way to a greener north. The rolling hills looked much different from his sojourn to the South. The farmland turned to forests and then to clumps of trees surrounded by pastures filled with animals.
Food merchants evidently flocked to Hustafal to buy livestock of all kinds. The road his hired carriage traveled went through feedlots with hundreds of animals penned on either side of the road. He could smell them coming and going. The odor reminded him of the smell of the stables, but much worse. If Hustafal smelled like livestock all of the time, he’d have yet another reason for not wanting to stay there.
He still had no idea what kind of mission his father wanted him to complete. He felt like the Emperor had ordered him into a bear’s den. Fenakyr had no love for him and his father had subsequently told him that Fenakyr was one of those nobles who had worked with Teshyr to kill his brothers. He would have to watch his every move, but then, he wondered how much time Fenakyr spent in Hustafal. He seemed to live in Baku, but Fenakyr didn’t have to be present to put Vish’s life in danger.
He adjusted the way his mail shirt hung over his shoulders. Vishan had worn it on his trip and would continue to do so. His dagger would be on his person at all times. Not only would he be living with a man he didn’t trust, but also Vish never forgot that the Tower probably still waited for the right time to assassinate him.
The carriage stopped at inns along the way. Vishan made sure the door and windows were locked to his room. He didn’t like the pressure of having to take so many precautions, but his preparations had saved him in the past and he suspected his father intended to further test him or kill him. Vish couldn’t rest for a minute. He felt more tension than he did while on an expedition surrounded by his fellow troopers. At least he knew that then someone watched his back.
More farmland displaced the feeding lots and villages began to sprout up along the road every few hours. Soon the wheels clattered on cobbled pavement and they entered the city of Hustafal. The houses looked different from Baku with more exposed stone and less plaster. Roofs were a mixture of red and black tiles. He’d never been to Hustafal before and Vishan drank in the different feel of the town. He felt like he had entered a foreign country.
They turned a corner and Vish looked up at the towers of Fenakyr’s castle. He didn’t see it again until they passed a gate and clattered over a wooden section of the road. The conveyance stopped and Vishan stepped out. The courtyard at the Imperial Palace would dwarf Fenakyr’s castle. Now that he looked up at the front, Vish noticed how much smaller the main part of the castle was. Still Fenakyr’s castle exceeded the size of the Peshakan outpost.
While he waited for his trunk to be untied and dropped onto the brick paving, a woman, with streaks of gray in her hair, walked down the steps. Vishan ignored her while he tipped the driver and wished him well. He watched the carriage depart, and then heard the woman speak before he had a chance to turn around.
“You are Vishan Daryaku?”
“I am.” He smiled hoping she would smile back, but the woman didn’t. He noticed the plain dress that fit loosely on her frame.
“I’ll put you in the North tower, follow me.”
No welcome? No dissembling Baron Fenakyr? He walked through a small door built into the large double doors. The dark hallway surprised Vish. The furnishings were old, the wall hangings were faded and shredding from age. They passed through the castle, running into few servants. His father’s palace seemed to overflow with them.
The woman took Vish up a circular staircase built into the side of the tower and quickly left. Every two or three turns, a door appeared. After rising four stories, she opened the door to a set of rooms. The furnishings looked no better than Peleor’s lodgings, but it appeared he had the entire floor of the tower, less the staircase. He pitied the servant who would be lugging up his trunk until he spied a rope hanging from a window.
Vishan opened the large windows and followed the rope up two more stories to a crane at the top of the tower. He looked across courtyard and found similar cranes on the other three towers of the castle. That made sense. He took a deep breath and smiled when he couldn’t smell livestock from four stories up. His rooms were above the rooftops in the town he glanced out the opposite window to see Hustafal all the way out to the farmlands in the distance. If it weren’t for the decidedly uncomfortable circumstances, he could enjoy the view.
His gaze went across the courtyard to an open window, showing a young woman looking at him from across the courtyard and one story down. When she realized Vishan looked back at her, she quickly retreated and shut her window, pulling the curtains shut. She had dressed too nicely for a servant. Fenakyr’s daughter? Vish hadn’t even thought the man capable of having a family of any kind.
A servant entered his room. “I’ve come to retrieve your trunk sir.” The man said no more and went to the window. Vishan noticed the rope moving and, in a few moments, his trunk arrived on a little platform. The servant leaned over and grabbed the platform, swinging it against the tower wall. Vishan helped him lift the trunk into his room.
“You shouldn’t have helped me, sir.”
“I chose to. Does this rope always hang down from the towers?”
“Oh, no sir, it will soon be pulled up and the rope and platform stored on the top floor.”
“Thank you for the information and I won’t tell anyone that I helped you pull it in. Where do I put my things?”
“The Baron’s man will be up presently to help you.”
“Is the Baron in residence?” Vishan asked.
“Only rarely, sir, he’s an important advisor to the Emperor and spends most of his time in Baku.”
Vish didn’t perceive Fenakyr as particular important, but he wouldn’t be the one to disillusion the servant. The rooms weren’t lavish, but he had as much space as he needed. He still didn’t know what he was to do and didn’t wait for the ‘Baron’s man’ to arrive before he began to unpack. The books he brought along filled the small bookcase in the room and he found a wardrobe in his oddly shaped
bedroom that was more than sufficient for his clothes.
He opened the window again and looked at the crane above. The rope had already been put away, but he could still see the pulley and the rope that looped through it before disappearing back inside the tower. The other towers had wooden shutters at the top floor and his own probably looked the same.
A man could be lowered down the rope to invade his room at any time. Then again, he could use the rope to climb out, but that would complicate his preparations. He might be able to find enough rope in the stable that he could hide in his trunk. But if he had his own rope, he could let himself down on the other side of the tower where he could lower himself outside the castle. He vowed to spend his time developing a plan of escape.
Vish walked over to the smaller window on the other side of his rooms. It opened up showing the slice of Hustafal he had admired before. The view of the town gave way to a rather pleasant view of the countryside and the mountains just to the North. He opened the window and looked down at the moat stagnating just below the tower. Vish wouldn’t mind getting wet, if it meant escaping from an attempt by Fenakyr to assassinate him. He felt better about his accommodations when he heard a knock on his door.
“Prince Vishan, I am Gornytar, Baron Fenakyr’s valet. I have come to unpack your trunk.”
Vishan let the valet in. The man was tall and thin. His thinning hair seemed painted on his head.
“I’ve done much of it myself, but I’d like to know what is expected of me.”
“That’s not for me to say, your Highness.”
No one had ever called him that before. “When and where are breakfast, the midday meal and dinner? That would work for a start. Where is the closest privy? Can I borrow a horse to ride to explore the countryside? What would Hustafal be noted for that I could experience while I’m here?”
Gornytar answered Vish’s questions in the order asked. There would be no rides until the Baron returned from Baku.
“Do you know when the Baron is expected?”
Vish could tell Gornytar struggled to come up with an answer, but he let him struggle. He took an instant dislike to the man. Fenakyr’s creature. That was how Vishan thought of him. His father had stuck him in a provincial castle hosted by a man who had conspired to kill him three or four times. He was convinced that his survival instincts would be sorely tested, if he were to return to Baku alive.
“In a fortnight or so, would be my guess. You’ll have to ask Fateem, the housekeeper, who you have already met, or his daughter Vestya. If there is nothing else, I’ll send a servant up to fetch you at dinner, but before then a servant will bring up an iced wine and fruit.” Gornytar bowed. “If there is nothing else?”
“You may go.” Vish said. So Fenakyr had a daughter, Vestya. That must have been the young woman he noted spying from the other tower. He found himself looking forward to dinner, just a bit.
~
Vishan regretted drinking most of the wine. His head spun more than it should as he followed the servant down the stairs to the second floor. The servant opened the door for him and led him through a set of corridors towards the South tower.
He noticed a change in state of the decor. This must be the family’s space in the castle. The servant stood in front of an open door, leading to a sitting room. Vish recognized the unfriendly woman reading a book by the glow of a sorcerer’s light. Did Fenakyr have a sorcerer on his staff? The lights didn’t last for long, at least Vish’s didn’t.
“Good evening,” Vish said as he entered.
The woman looked up and erased an irritated look from her face. “I trust your quarters are satisfactory?”
She called his rooms ‘quarters’ as if he was a military man. “I like them very much, especially the view.”
“The view?” Vish turned around at the feminine voice. The young woman from the window stood behind him, with a book in her hand. “You mean me? I saw you inspecting me this afternoon.”
Vish didn’t know quite how to answer her question. “I’m sorry if I intruded on your privacy. I referred to the view of Hustafal’s rooftops and the farms and mountains beyond. The only building with any height in Baku is the Imperial Palace and my rooms there are on only on the second level. I grew up in a house with a single story. So I quite enjoy what is, to my perspective, a bird’s eye view. I am Prince Vishan Daryaku, by the way.” They both would know who he was, but he didn’t want to play games with his identity since the woman, Fateem, the valet named her, refused to do more than acknowledge his presence.
“And I am Vestya, daughter of Baron Fenakyr. Perhaps we can learn flag codes like they do in the army and communicate between towers.” She smiled.
Vishan returned her smile and liked the tinge of sarcasm. It also seemed like a peace offering and that promised more interaction. He still didn’t know why his father sent him to the house of a man so intent on killing him. Did the entire castle join in Fenakyr’s hate?
“Alas, I never learned signaling at Peshakan, where I served in the Dakkoran military.”
Gornytar opened one side of a double door other than the one that Vishan still stood in. “Dinner is ready,” He turned and disappeared.
Vishan walked over to Fateem, “May I escort you into the dining room?”
The woman stood and walked past him. Vish couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. He’d never had a woman treat him with such rudeness before. Even his nursemaid, who always seemed to view him with distaste didn’t exude the hostility that this woman did.
“You can escort me,” Vestya said.
He didn’t know what served as proper in the Baron’s castle. His sisters would always require a chaperone and yet it didn’t seem that Fateem cared in the slightest about any proprieties with Fenakyr’s daughter. Vestya took his arm and they walked the few paces to a dining room with seating for twenty in the fashion of the North. At the Palace and at home, dinner was usually eaten from couches that were not much higher than pillows on the floor.
The table was set for three with none sitting at the head. One place setting faced the other two. Fateem had already taken her place, leaving Vestya to sit next to the head of the table. Vish pulled out Vestya’s chair and walked around to seat himself facing both women. Gornytar appeared from the side of the wall to assist Vish. He hadn’t even noticed the valet.
“What brings you to Hustafal, your highness?” Vestya said.
“Both of you can call me Vishan. I’m not much for formality. I finished a stint in the army not long ago.” Vish noticed a stiffening in Fateem’s posture. “My father sent me here.” He gave the women a tiny shrug. “I don’t know why.”
“I know why,” Fateem said. “You are betrothed to Vestya and you tell me you really didn’t know?”
Vishan’s face burned. Betrothed? He couldn’t reply since his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. His father could have warned him in some manner. The move didn’t make any sense until it dawned on him that one way to fend off Fenakyr would be to make Vishan a son-in-law, and his daughter a possible Empress. His father’s game-playing never ceased to amaze him. “I’ll let you read the message my father sent. The instructions only told me to travel to Hustafal.”
Did Vishan hear a faint chuckle behind him? If Gornytar thought it amusing that made him much more appealing than he might have thought. But then, what if the valet had laughed at him? He’d have to figure that out later.
“So, perhaps we really should learn to signal to each other,” Vestya said. “I imagine we shall need to get to know one another better.”
Vish didn’t know what to say. Now he had to make sure he had sufficient rope to let him escape the castle. Perhaps Fenakyr now might rather have him under lock and key so he couldn’t get away. These people knew more than he did and Vish couldn’t let that continue.
“Is a wedding day set?” Vish said. “I’m obviously the last to know. I’d like to have some small say on something anyway.”
Fateem glared at Vishan. “
You really don’t know, do you?”
Vish shook his head.
“Fateem has counted on her son marrying me ever since we were small. Your arrival has put an end to her dreams.”
Vishan was surprise that Vestya would reveal such a personal matter at dinner, but then he had no idea what the family dynamics were. He’d have to have a long talk with Gornytar, if the man would be willing to reveal anything of use to him. Vish had never felt more detached from control in his life. How could he make proper preparations for disaster, if he didn’t even know what kind of disaster might befall him?
“I am sorry to have spoiled your plans,” Vish bowed his head towards the housekeeper.
Two servants laid the first course at each place. Vish looked down at tiny bird legs sitting in a green, chunky sauce. He’d never seen such a preparation before. The foreign food only made him more ill at ease.
“They aren’t spoiled yet,” Fateem said.
Vish took a few bites, contemplating the woman’s words. He decided he would have to treat the woman like an obstinate horse. “I am the Emperor’s son. I have been through a great deal, including personal attacks. I am not going to permit you to treat me with such ill humor. If you can’t generate an acceptable attitude, I’ll make sure you have no way to speak in a civil tongue, or any tongue at all, for that matter.”
He looked at Fateem and then at Vestya, who seemed to be smiling behind a napkin. Vish didn’t mean what he said, but the woman irritated him to no end.
Fateem colored. “I am sorry if I offended you, Prince Vishan. It won’t happen again.”
Vishan doubted that, but he wouldn’t let her get off with only an apology. “If your son is important to you, perhaps he might like to spend a few years at the Peshakan Military Outpost and fight the Cuminee like I did. Do I make myself clear?”
