by Cas Peace
He started as he heard a cry from up front. Elias’s hand went up and the entire company came to a halt. Reen nudged his cob to the side so he could see past Elias. A man in combat leathers drew rein in front of the Guardsman and bowed his head to the King. “Urgent message from General Blaine at the Manor, your Majesty.”
The Commander took the leather-bound packet the rider offered and passed it to Elias. Reen tried to edge his horse closer, but Elias shielded the parchment with his body so Reen couldn’t see. It didn’t take the King long to read, and what he read clearly didn’t please him. His movements as he re-rolled the parchment and passed it back to the Guardsman were abrupt.
“Please return to the Manor with all speed and tell Lord Blaine that we will be there as soon as we may. The arrangements are not to be changed.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
The messenger inclined his head, wheeled his horse, and galloped away. The King gestured to his honor guard and they picked up the pace, urging their mounts to a canter. Reen’s stocky cob was not built for speed and it lurched with every stride. Reen cursed it even as he mused on the contents of the message. Clearly it was serious, otherwise it wouldn’t have been grounds for altering the arrangements the King had made. Maybe it was something Reen could work with, a reason to get the King away from the Manor earlier than he intended. Maybe it even concerned Elias’s subversive ideas for trading with outlanders. Perhaps something had happened to the demons.
Reen could only pray that it had. This dangerous notion of the King’s could well provoke another civil rebellion. Reen intended to do all he could to prevent such an agreement taking place. His plan to stop all such trafficking only lacked one final, crucial detail ….
Chapter Twenty
The Manor personnel rose early on the day of the King’s official visit. Robin, who had spent much of the previous day and night scouring the Veils for Sullyan, was forced to call a temporary halt to participate in the preparations. His anger had faded to a dull but persistent ache in his chest, and he went through the motions of his duty with scant interest.
He drilled the Major’s company mercilessly in their parade march, as much to divert his mind as to familiarize his two new recruits with the procedure. General Blaine had given permission for Taran and Cal to join the company as honorary members, but despite receiving all the help and encouragement they could wish for, they needed constant practice. Robin kept the company so busy that none of them were aware of the arrival of the two monarchs around midmorning.
Elias’s party arrived first. The welcoming ceremony went smoothly. The horses were led away, the honor guard was shown to their quarters in the barracks, and Elias was ushered into the Manor.
Baron Reen followed Elias as the King strode eagerly through the corridors and up the sweeping stairs. The General’s manservant showed them into the pleasantly appointed third-story hall where Blaine himself stepped forward to greet them. Reen observed how the King clasped Blaine’s hand warmly and spoke to him as an equal. Clearly, the General was still exerting some kind of influence over the most powerful man in Albia. Reen would have to make the Queen aware of this.
The second man in the room was introduced as Colonel Vassa, the former Lord of the Downs. He was known to Elias, but Reen had never met him. He did know some of the man’s history; how he had lost his family and his holding to outland raiders, and how Blaine had mustered the locals to fight back, thus saving the Downs, an important agricultural area, from being ravaged by outland brigands. Lord Blaine had suffered severe injury during this time and reportedly nearly died. It was thanks, so the stories went, to a small child named Sullyan that he had survived.
Reen didn’t believe this tale for an instant.
Elias barely had time to introduce the Baron when one of the sentries appeared at the door to announce the imminent arrival of the Hierarch of Andaryon. Reen saw Elias’s head come up eagerly. The two monarchs had only communicated through messengers thus far, so Elias would be looking forward to indulging his curiosity. Open as he was to new ideas, Elias was intrigued by the Hierarch’s unprecedented initiation of these talks. Not much was known about the Fifth Realm in normal circles, and Reen wanted to keep it that way. He wouldn’t stand a chance if Elias learned about the Andaryan mines that produced rare gems and metals not found in Albia.
Footfalls could be heard in the corridor outside, and the General’s manservant opened the door, bowing low as a tall, patrician figure entered the room, followed by a young page and another man. Reen felt nausea swirl in his stomach at the sight of the outlander king. He was older than Reen had expected, and quite thin, and there were deep lines on his face. But what affected the Baron most were the creature’s alien eyes—shockingly yellow with slit pupils like a cat’s. He nearly choked with revulsion and had to feign a light cough.
Fortunately, the outland ruler didn’t notice. The other man with him, a much shorter man with a long face and a hooked nose, spared Reen a speculative glance. The Baron drew himself up and ignored him.
General Blaine stepped forward and greeted the outland king. “Welcome back, Majesty. I trust your honor guard has been housed to your satisfaction?”
Pharikian inclined his head. “Their quarters are more than satisfactory, Lord Blaine, I thank you.”
Blaine then turned to include Elias, and Albia’s High King came forward to make his counterpart’s acquaintance. The two monarchs shook hands cordially and took a moment to size each other up. Elias spoke first.
“Majesty, I am pleased beyond words to meet you in person, and intrigued by your suggestion that we should conduct talks. In my opinion, such a meeting is long overdue.”
“I agree, your Majesty. May this be the first of many.”
Not if I can help it, thought Reen. Don’t get too enamored of each other. This could be a very short friendship. He managed to nod politely when presented to the outlanders, and was puzzled when the second man turned out to be a healer. Why bring a healer to a trade meeting?
But the healer, it appeared, had not come for the trade meeting. Instead, he asked the General if he might speak with either Captain Tamsen or Healer Arlen. Neither name meant anything to Reen, but the request clearly didn’t surprise Blaine, who called in one of the swordsmen stationed outside the hall.
“Please take Master Healer Deshan to Hal Bullen. He will know where to find Healer Arlen.”
“Very good, General. Master Healer, please follow me.”
The short man with the hooked nose laid a hand on his ruler’s shoulder and nodded to Blaine and Elias. “I wish good fortune on your talks, gentlemen.”
He followed the swordsman from the room and Reen waited for someone to explain. No one did, and he wondered if it had something to do with the message Elias had received yesterday. No matter. He was sure he would have an opportunity to find out later, if it was important. Blaine ushered Elias and the outland king toward comfortable chairs at one end of the room while Colonel Vassa turned to Reen and offered to guide him around the Manor. The Baron was irritated at being so blatantly excluded from the monarchs’ meeting, but could hardly protest. He agreed with scant grace and allowed Vassa to precede him from the room. A tour of the Manor facilities was preferable to making forced conversation with Vassa, and he might overhear something of interest.
*****
Rienne sat in one of the small rooms in the infirmary, trying to shake off the strange headache she had suffered ever since waking that morning. She had no recollection of having spent a disturbed night. Indeed, they had all slept deeply, exhausted by the events of the day before. Yet she felt hagridden, as if nightmares had plagued her slumbers. Images flashed into her mind at random moments; a raging fire, a dark tangle of trees, the face of a boy, crumpled in either pain or fear. None of these images meant anything to her and the sharpness of them faded fast until only a vague awareness remained in her mind. It disturbed her, and so she had come to the infirmary seeking solace.
The Manor’
s infirmary had become as familiar to Rienne as the cottage in Hyecombe she had shared with Taran and Cal. In the short time she had been here it had taken on the feel of somewhere she belonged, a place where she was valued and needed. The other healers had accepted her without hesitation, and her skills and willingness to work at whatever tasks she was given had earned her their respect. Her association with Robin and Sullyan had gained her a special place in the eyes of many of the fighting men. Normally, just being here gave her a sense of security.
Not today, though.
She was too acutely aware that everything had changed. Their presence here—hers, Taran’s, Cal’s—had been dependent upon Sullyan. But Sullyan was gone, and while Rienne could imagine a scenario where the Manor might accept her as a permanent member of its ranks, she wasn’t so sure about Taran or Cal. So what would become of them? They would return to Hyecombe, she supposed, back to the life they had led before, and she would go with them. But would they be welcome? Could they ever rebuild their lives there? She didn’t think so. She didn’t even think she wanted to. Far too much had changed.
She roused from this somber musing when Bull entered the small room. She saw the man accompanying Bull, and her heart lightened for the first time since yesterday’s shocking event.
“Deshan!”
She rose and stepped into his embrace. He held her for a while and then released her, holding her arms to look into her face. What he saw made him frown, but he spoke softly enough.
“Did you not sleep last night, my dear?”
She shook her head. “I slept well enough, but somehow I feel like I didn’t. I have a nagging headache that not even willow will ease.”
Bull took his leave to check on Robin. Rienne sighed and turned back to Deshan.
“I don’t suppose you have anything stronger than willow for a headache, do you? I had such odd dreams last night, and they don’t seem to want to let me go. They weren’t even dreams, really, just strange fragments and images. Some of them were quite frightening.”
Deshan raised his head and captured her gaze. “What images? In what way were they frightening?”
She struggled to explain what she had experienced while he watched her face with an expression she couldn’t interpret. “They were so unconnected, and quite intense. It was the intensity, I think, that bothered me so. I can’t clearly recall one single image now, but the sense of foreboding or danger they gave me won’t leave. It’s as if I’m being stalked by something, but each time I look over my shoulder, there’s nothing there. I wish it would stop. I’m exhausted enough as it is.”
Taking a small pouch from his bag, Deshan stood and looked around. “Is there somewhere quieter than this, my dear? More private? I can give you something to soothe that headache, but you will need to lie down for a few minutes in order for it to take effect.”
She rose wearily and led him to one of the smaller treatment rooms. He walked beside her with his hand in the small of her back, almost as if he was pushing her. She could swear she felt eagerness in the way he strode along, but when they reached the room and he prepared the herbs for her, his movements were as smooth and assured as ever. She accepted the tasteless potion and drank it in one swallow. All she wanted was to lose that headache.
*****
Although the parade practice had kept Robin’s mind from sinking completely into the black mire of depression that threatened to engulf him, still he found time to fret about what the day had in store. The King’s inspection, the parade march, and the giving of battle honors were routine, and Robin was well aware that others besides him deserved recognition for what had occurred at Hyecombe. But how could they be so cruel as to put him through a test for Mastery at a time like this? How on earth could Blaine or the Hierarch expect him to concentrate? His whole reason for living had suddenly been taken from him, just when he thought he and Sullyan could finally have a future together.
Fate was just too brutal, and he knew he couldn’t cope.
After releasing his tired but much improved company with instructions to grab themselves a bite to eat before the afternoon’s events, Robin went back to his quarters. Closing the door firmly behind him, he collapsed into a chair. There was a half-full glass of Bull’s favorite liquor on the small table beside him and he scooped it up, nearly spilling some in his fatigue. He knocked the spirit back in one go, grimacing at the fiery burn. A sob threatened to escape the confines of his throat, but he forced it down. He had to hold himself together for his men.
A knock came at his door and he groaned inwardly. Couldn’t they give him a moment’s peace? He stayed silent, hoping the visitor would go away. After another rap, which he also ignored, the door opened to reveal Bull’s anxious face. He stepped inside when he saw Robin, and closed the door behind him.
“What is it, Bull? Can’t it wait? I just need a few moments to myself.”
Bull crossed the room and sank into the chair opposite Robin. He had brought a plate of food, which he set on the table. He eyed the empty glass. “I saw you come in, and thought you might need something to eat. Pharikian and Deshan are here.”
Bull waited, but Robin didn’t speak. He sighed. “I’ll go if you want. I just ….”
Robin opened his mouth to tell Bull to go, but the big man’s woeful expression and sorrowful tone stopped him. Bull would be feeling Sullyan’s loss just as deeply, and Robin had no right to deny his friend some solace. Instead, he reached out and poured more liquor into the glass, shoving it across the table.
Bull took it and mirrored Robin’s earlier actions, draining the glass in one gulp. Robin reached for the bottle again, but Bull shook his head.
“I don’t think you ought to have any more, lad. It’s going to be a busy day.”
The heavy blackness in Robin’s heart surged upward and he snapped, “Don’t tell me what to do! What are you, my mother? Leave me alone!”
Bull looked taken aback, making Robin immediately ashamed of his outburst. “I’m sorry. I’m strung tighter than a crossbow at the moment and I can’t seem to help snapping. I wish today was over.”
“Not much longer. There’s only the parade and promotions to get through.”
Robin stared hard at him. “And one other thing!”
Bull ducked his head. “Yes, well, even under these circumstances you ought to be proud of that. Not many people achieve Master level, and it’s something Sully worked hard on. Don’t throw all that effort away. Just think what she’d say if she knew you weren’t proud of yourself.”
Robin sighed. “Wasn’t humility one of her watchwords? Dammit, Bull, I’d give anything to have her here yelling abuse at me for feeling like this. I’d suffer any amount of temper and foul language if only she was standing here in front of me. I just can’t believe she’s gone.”
“I know what you mean.” The big man hung his head. “I remember how angry she was after your duel with Parren, and that vicious dressing-down she gave me when I disobeyed her orders not to follow her into Andaryon.”
Robin nodded. Every man under her command loved Sullyan for her mercurial temper. It was the reverse side of her unique care for them, and weathering her storms of anger was one of the hazards even the lowest cadet learned to accept. They all knew her fury was as just as it was swift, and she never bore a grudge.
Bull sighed. “We’ll just have to make the best of it, lad. There’s still some hope. No one’s given up yet. Let’s not hold the wake—”
“—before the bloody funeral!”
As he finished Bull’s favorite saying, a small but genuine smile touched Robin’s lips. He leaned over and clapped the big man gratefully on the shoulder. Bull nodded meaningfully at the untouched plate of food. Robin grimaced, but obeyed the unspoken order. Once he had eaten as much as his overwrought stomach could take, the two of them made their way out to the parade ground to prepare for the ceremonies to come.
*****
Rienne lay on the bed in the small treatment room, waiting for Deshan�
��s potion to take effect. Her headache seemed to be getting worse rather than better, and she was beginning to fret. She couldn’t miss the afternoon’s ceremonies. She had to be there to support Robin, Taran, and Cal.
Deshan had taken the chair to one side of the bed and Rienne tried to turn her head toward him. She was going to ask how long it would be before the herbs began to work, but her neck muscles wouldn’t obey her. Panic rose within her, but before it could take hold, a warm wash of contentment flooded over her. Deshan’s comforting tones sounded somewhere inside her mind.
Just relax, Rienne. You are quite safe. I want you to think about the dreams you had last night. Can you do that for me?
As soon as the word “dreams” was mentioned, the images from her nightmares swam before her eyes. Like flickering flames, they danced for an instant on the edge of her perception then vanished. She couldn’t hold on to them long enough to make sense of them.
Concentrate, my dear. There could be clues in these pictures. We just have to work them out.
She felt no irritation at Deshan’s commanding tone, just a willingness to do as he said. The next time an image came into her mind she clamped hold of it, refused to let it drift by. It was a dark image, full of shadows which slowly sharpened to become a tangled glade of close-grown trees. What did it mean? It was nowhere she recognized and she felt no pull toward it.
Let that one go, Rienne. Try the next.
She released her hold and waited for another image to fill her mind. This one was easier to hold on to, or maybe she was getting the hang of it. She had never done anything like this before and knew, somewhere deep in her subconscious, that it wasn’t all her own doing. But that wasn’t important. The pictures were the important part, and it was vital that she examine each one. Concentrating harder than she had ever been able to do before, she gave herself over to the task.
