The first book was entitled The Art of the Silver Tongue and dealt mostly with divining meaning behind the banter of the nobility. Many of the references she did not understand, and the way in which the social order was described was often confusing. Nonetheless, she found it an interesting read overall.
She had just closed the book when a different, much older woman with short brown hair and dark eyes ushered her wordlessly back to her chambers. No speaking in public areas. At that moment it felt like a particularly silly rule.
“Lady Camdon says that you’re to join her for lunch in the parlor,” the woman revealed once they were inside the bedroom. “And you’re to wear this.” She placed a gold anklet on the nightstand.
“Thank you,” said Mariyah. “What is your name?”
“Sanji,” she replied. “You should hurry. The Lady’s not in a good mood.”
Mariyah was loath to put on the anklet, even if it was nothing more than a piece of lifeless metal. Still, it was something that had to be done. She dressed as quickly as she could and hurried to the parlor.
Lady Camdon did indeed look to be in a foul mood. As before, Mariyah watched closely while she ate, mimicking her movements precisely. This time, there were no criticisms. Instead, she was questioned for the next half an hour on what she had just read.
“At least you’re not as dimwitted as I feared,” Lady Camdon remarked at the end, then dismissed her with a brusque wave.
Mariyah returned to the library, grateful to no longer be in the Lady’s company. She wished Trysilia had been more forthcoming about the woman. Not that it would have made a great deal of difference. Of course, after spending ten years in her company, perhaps Trysilia no longer noticed her ill temper and rude behavior, or possibly she simply had not wanted to frighten her too much in advance of their meeting.
This routine continued for two weeks. After Mariyah completed the first stack of books, she found a fresh stack awaiting her the following day. The subjects ranged from politics, etiquette, and history right through to much more unexpected topics such as botany and metallurgy. She didn’t mind the reading, nor even the twice daily tests of her retention. What troubled her was that none of the staff had come to see her during this time, and when she tried to go to them, they turned her away without any hint of an explanation.
By the time Gertrude and her husband returned, Mariyah was feeling isolated and desperate for friendly company. At night, she found herself near weeping, overcome with inexplicable sorrow. It became so pronounced that when Gertrude came to see her, she rushed straight into the woman’s arms, embracing her tightly for more than a minute, refusing to let go.
Gertrude walked her over to the bed and sat down beside her. “Now calm yourself, dear. It’s not as bad as all that. I heard that you’re to be officially made Lady Camdon’s personal assistant later this week.”
“Am I supposed to be excited?” Mariyah responded hotly. “She’s nothing but a cold-hearted sow.” Regretting the sharp response, she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. But it’s been two weeks and I haven’t spoken to anyone other than Lady Camdon since you left. She won’t even allow the others to visit me at night.”
Gertrude furrowed her brow. “No one? Perhaps they’ve just been busy.”
“No. It’s her doing, I know it is. It’s like … she’s trying to break me. And I don’t know why.”
Gertrude regarded her for a long moment. “I don’t think she wants to break you. Though I admit, it’s strange she’s kept you from the others. Stranger that no one has said anything to me about it. If I’d known, I would have come to see you soon as we arrived this morning.” She removed a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed Mariyah’s cheeks. “You rest easy. I’ll find out what’s going on.”
Mariyah felt embarrassed that she had put on such an emotional display. “Thank you. I guess I’m just lonely.”
Gertrude pushed the hair from her face. “Don’t think on it. It’s perfectly normal. I can’t even imagine what this must be like for you. And if it makes you feel any better, Trysilia cried every night for a month when she first arrived. And she had the others to keep her company. In the end, she made it through. And so will you.”
Gertrude’s kind words helped considerably. So too did the thought that no matter how confident and strong Trysilia appeared, she had coped no better in the beginning.
Gertrude kissed her cheek. “Now you get to sleep. Tomorrow will be better. You’ll see.”
That night she slept soundly, waking in the morning feeling refreshed and filled with renewed confidence. She had just finished dressing and was preparing to set off for yet another day of study in the library when the door opened. It was Lady Camdon. This was the first time she had come to her room.
“Gertrude and Marison are no longer in my employ,” she stated flatly. “And you will not attempt to speak with the rest of the staff again. Not at any time. Understood?”
Mariyah’s newfound confidence vanished. The anger that had been simmering over the course of the last two weeks rose in a rush, and she spoke without thinking. “No, I do not understand. So either explain it to me or I’m leaving.”
Lady Camdon’s calm demeanor didn’t change. “I owe you no explanation. But as you seem determined, I will tell you this: By trying to intercede on your behalf, Gertrude jeopardized both my plans and your future. As Marison is her husband, he chose to resign.”
“Plans? What plans?”
“My plans are not your concern.”
“If they involve me, I think they are.”
“You presume to…”
“Yes … my lady. I presume to question you.”
Though her aspect did not soften, for an instant there was the tiniest hint of something akin to approval in her eyes. “It’s about time. I was beginning to think you too weak to stand up for yourself.”
Mariyah was stunned into a confused silence.
“Do you really think I care what you know about metallurgy? Granted, if you have ambitions to be a blacksmith once you leave here, I can certainly find you more material on the subject. And why would I care about gardening? I was thinking that you were either the stupidest person in all creation, or possibly just stubborn beyond belief.”
“It was a test?”
“In a way, yes. Soon you will need to become my eyes, ears, and occasionally my voice. The world in which I dwell does not suffer the weak. Trysilia was strong and clever; clever enough to recognize in you the qualities I require. But I had to be sure.” She opened the door. “Come. Walk with me.”
After a brief hesitation, Mariyah recovered her wits and followed Lady Camdon from the room. They walked toward the east wing in silence for a time, Lady Camdon wearing a thoughtful expression, as if having an inner debate.
“If I did leave, would you really let me live on your estate?” asked Mariyah.
“No,” she said at length. “I would see you safely to the border of Ubania.”
At this, Mariyah felt a surge of joy that threatened to make her cry out.
“I can see this pleases you. Now you understand that you are not a prisoner, not in any true sense of the word. You can leave here without fear of recapture. And once outside Ubania you will be as safe and secure as any other person. This is one choice you can make.”
“And the other?”
“That is what I’ll show you. But once I have done so and your choice is made, there is no turning back.”
As they wound their way through the manor, Mariyah was already certain what she would choose: freedom. Real freedom, not the illusion within which she was now trapped.
They arrived at an elegant dining room with a table more than thirty feet long, at the end of which was seated an elderly man wearing a simple tan shirt. He had short, curly gray hair and a dark brown complexion, and was reading a thick, leather-bound book. From a pipe gripped between his teeth, a thin line of acrid smoke drifted up to the high ceiling. Mariyah thought him peculiar as he muttered incoherentl
y, not seeming to notice as they drew near.
“Master Felistal,” said Lady Camdon. When he did not look up, she cleared her throat with conspicuous intensity.
“What do you want?” he replied, eyes still fixated on his book. “I’m not in the mood for idle banter today.”
Mariyah stifled a laugh on hearing someone speak to Lady Camdon so tersely.
“Master Felistal, please remember in whose house you are staying,” she shot back, with poorly masked annoyance.
“I haven’t forgotten. Though I think you need reminding to whom you are speaking.”
“Must we go through this every time?”
The man looked up, chuckling. “If it means watching you become flustered, then yes.” Seeing her anger growing, he waved a hand. “Forgive me. I should not amuse myself at your expense.”
“If you were not so old and frail, you might find other ways to entertain yourself.”
This made him chuckle even harder. “And you wonder why they call you the Iron Lady?” His gaze fell on Mariyah. “And this must be the one you were telling me about.”
“Yes,” she replied.
“I never thought I would meet someone from Vylari,” he said, beaming a smile. “Please sit.”
Mariyah sat to the right of the old man. Lady Camdon took a chair opposite.
“So … Loria here says you are extremely bright. That’s high praise indeed from one as difficult as she.”
“Thank you,” Mariyah replied. Sneaking a look across the table, she saw that Lady Camdon was scowling.
“Have you enjoyed your time here?”
“No. I can’t say that I have.”
Felistal let out a hearty laugh. “Then Loria’s reputation remains intact. Though I would think it is still preferable to Lobin.” When Mariyah did not answer, he added, “You should feel free to speak your mind here, particularly when talking to me.”
Lady Camdon nodded her approval.
“I think a prison is still a prison,” Mariyah said. “One may be more brutal than another, but that does not make it more moral. I was captured, falsely accused of a crime, imprisoned, and then brought here against my will. Just because no one beats me doesn’t make me less a prisoner.”
“Did Loria not explain that you are free to leave?”
“She can still change her mind. Until I’m outside Ubania, I’m subject to her whims. You can call a wolf a rabbit. That doesn’t mean it won’t bite you.”
Felistal nodded. “So true. I can see why she brought you to me.” He placed his pipe on the table. “You’re absolutely right, of course. What has been done to you, even by the Lady’s hand, however gentle by comparison, is still an atrocity. I wish I could say there are better days ahead, but at my age lies are too difficult to remember.” Pausing, he reached into his pocket and produced the anklet she had worn upon her arrival. “What can you tell me about this?”
Mariyah shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean. It was the anklet they forced on me.”
“I’m aware of that. What I’m asking is, do you know how it came to be in this condition?”
She shook her head. “I pulled it off and threw it across the room. How it got to be like that I couldn’t say. Maybe the spell that cleans the floor did something to it?”
“No. That’s not possible. In fact, there is only one possibility. But we’ll come to that in a moment.” He turned the book so that she could see the opened page properly and pointed to a single word. Belkar. “Have you seen or heard of this before?”
Mariyah thought she recalled a song Lem would play occasionally in which it was mentioned, though she wasn’t sure. “Perhaps,” she said. “I can’t place it.”
“Belkar was a man who reputedly lived ages ago,” he explained. “A legend to most. A dark legend.”
“Are you sure you should be telling her this?” Loria cut in. “I thought we were going to … limit the discussion.”
“I will reveal only what she needs to know in order to make her decision.”
Loria tightened her jaw, hands clasped on the table.
Felistal returned his attention to Mariyah. “As I was saying, Belkar was a powerful sorcerer, the most powerful the world has ever known. So powerful, in fact, he uncovered the secret to immortality.”
Mariyah’s eyes lit up. “I do remember. Belkar the Undying. It was a song my betrothed would sing. I forget the words—something about a war and being trapped inside a stone, swearing one day to return?”
Felistal scratched at his chin. “Interesting that his name survives in your land.”
“Interesting is not the word I would use,” said Loria.
“No. I’m sure you would prefer to use dangerous. Or suspicious, perhaps. But don’t be so quick to judge.”
“What’s dangerous or suspicious about an old song?” asked Mariyah.
“In itself, nothing,” Felistal replied. “And you should not think on it. However, the truth remains that ages ago, Belkar and his army of followers nearly conquered all of Lamoria. He was eventually defeated and driven beyond the mountains, but not before millions had perished. When it was over, his very name was considered a crime to speak aloud.”
“Are you telling me that he’s real?” Mariyah asked.
“Not necessarily. But the legend says that one day he will return, to bring darkness and death to all those unwilling to kneel before him. And real or myth, there are those who still believe it. At least to the extent that they’re using Belkar’s name to advance their own influence and power.” He leaned forward a little. “This is why you’re needed. Magical ability is rare, and even when someone has it, it’s usually limited.”
“You are saying I possess this … ability?” The thought was repugnant, and she could not prevent it from showing clearly in her expression.
“I do not think so; I know so. And in you it is strong. Quite strong in fact.” He touched the ruined anklet. “You did this. And by sheer instinct, no less. It’s the only explanation. Somehow, the magic in Lady Camdon’s manor must have unlocked your abilities. At least, that’s my guess. But how it happened doesn’t matter. That it did happen, and that it happened now, when things are growing ever dark, that is what really counts.”
“So you want me to learn magic?” Mariyah pushed back her chair. “I won’t do it.”
“Do you believe in fate?” Felistal asked.
“No,” she responded coldly.
He smiled. “Why not? Because you’re here? Because your life has taken an ill turn? My sweet girl, fate is often cruel. That doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
“Prove it.”
“Mariyah!” snapped Loria. “Mind your tongue. Don’t forget where you are.”
“I haven’t forgotten. But if you think I’ll be cowed a minute longer and fed nonsense to trick me into learning to wield the same power that was used to keep me imprisoned, then you should just hand me over now. I refuse.”
“As would I, were that the case,” said Felistal. “But it isn’t. Neither Loria nor I will hand you over to anyone. On my word. Please—just hear me out before passing judgment. Should you want to leave afterward, I will take you to the border this very day, with enough gold to see that you can live quite comfortably for many years.”
The offer stunned Mariyah. She glanced over to Lady Camdon, who was looking uncharacteristically anxious. “I’ll listen.”
“Thank you,” he said, with a look of genuine appreciation. “As I told you, there are those who will use the name of Belkar to further their own ambitions. Whether or not he actually exists is irrelevant. It’s what people are doing in his name that is the true threat. The disease is spreading, and I fear it will afflict us all before long. I say fate brought you here because we are losing the battle. Our enemies multiply while our allies dwindle. Soon they will have control over Ubania, Gothmora, and most of Ralmarstad.”
“Why should I care?” Mariyah cut in. “If you ask me, they deserve it.”
“Perhaps,” Felistal
conceded. “But they won’t stop there. Once Ralmarstad is under their control, they will wage war on the rest of Lamoria. And though I know you have little reason to care about that either, think of your home. Vylari is known to us. Which means it is probably known to our enemies.”
“Vylari is protected,” she countered.
“Yes, I know. The Thaumas have been trying to find it for more than five years. To warn you.”
Mariyah felt her flesh prickle. The stranger.
“What’s wrong?” asked Felistal.
It took a moment before Mariyah could form a reply. “The reason I left home.”
“Your betrothed,” said Camdon. “Lem, I think you called him. What of him?”
“This can’t be mere chance,” said Mariyah, in a half-whisper.
Felistal placed his hand on Mariyah’s. “Why don’t you tell me your story? Perhaps we can help one another sort this out.”
Mariyah looked up, a torrent of conflicting thoughts and emotions tearing through her. Could this be precisely what Felistal had said it was? Fate? In a nearly languid daze, she began recounting the events leading to her departure from Vylari.
Both Felistal and Lady Camdon listened with intensity to every word, often glancing over to each other with apprehensive expressions. When she was done, Felistal stood and turned to the wall, head tilted forward.
“So he’s dead,” he muttered. “The fool. He was only to locate Vylari. Not enter. He wasn’t ready.”
“So it’s true?”
“Yes. But it was not your betrothed he sought, it would seem. It was you. Tragically, there was no way for him to know this.” He let slip a long sigh. “His father will be devastated.”
“Me? But Lem’s mother … she lived with the Thaumas, right? Doesn’t that mean it has to be Lem you need?”
He turned to face her with a sad smile. “I didn’t know her well, but yes, Illorial did live among us for a time. But it was you who came to be here. And it is you who possesses the gift. I have no idea what forces control our destiny. But I would have to be blind not to see that you have been guided here for a purpose.”
The enormity of what he was saying was making her dizzy. She could neither move nor speak. Lem. He had left home to save Vylari … to save her. For nothing.
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