by R. J. Larson
Tek An snorted in offense. “What of our example? Are we nothing to our son?”
“You need to be available to him. Be a true father to your heir.”
The king waved her off, his lips pursed in disgust. He faced Kien instead. “This was your answer then, Lan Tek? Negotiate to avoid war?”
Taken aback, though he should be used to the king’s impetuous turns by now, Kien recollected himself and smiled. “Yes. That is my advice. Reinstate me as ambassador. Send me to more appropriate quarters and let us begin formal negotiations with the Tracelands.”
Tek An scoffed. “You have no need to leave your current residence for us to accomplish these tasks. Tomorrow, we will send you writing materials and instructions.”
“Dictation is not negotiation.” Kien wanted to shake the man, king or not. “If you think I will lend myself to your lies and delaying tactics, while you build your army and let me rot in prison, you are mistaken!”
Ela rested a hand on Kien’s arm, almost startling him, though her voice was calm. “We can say nothing more tonight that will convince him we are working in his own best interests. Sir . . .” She gave the king a warning look. “It’s too late to stop your son’s wild scheme this evening. Soon, you will hear of his recklessness, and you will see his injuries. I beg you to use his recovery time wisely. Advise him. Befriend him. If he listens to you, and if you listen to the Infinite and abandon your pride, your kingdom will be saved.”
“What? What!” His green robes flaring, the king sped out of the room, bellowing for servants to find his son.
Leaving Kien holding the Tracelands’ declaration of war on Istgard.
Kien smiled, scrolled the document carefully, and slipped it beneath his cloak.
The girl tugged at Kien’s cloak until he looked down into her eyes. Lovely eyes, actually, though as tired as her voice. “I hope you’re ready for a small adventure, sir. I’m not.”
11
Aware of palace spies, Kien leaned toward the Parnian girl and questioned her softly as they walked along the corridor with their guards. “What did you mean, ‘a small adventure’?”
“We’re going to be attacked as we return to the prison. Again.”
Her obvious distress made Kien wish for his sword. “What sort of attack?”
“The heir is waiting with his reprobate guards to ambush us.”
“Oh.” Kien shook his head as his confusion cleared. “This is part of your mystical vision concerning the heir’s downfall, which might not happen.”
“Yes—I pray he mends his ways and turns to the Infinite.”
“You are admirably persistent,” Kien said in as polite a tone as he could muster. The palace guards led them outside, down the marble steps into the public courtyard. Ela stumbled on the last step. Kien steadied the girl, determined to set both her thoughts and feet aright. If she was his only available coconspirator in a potential escape plot then he couldn’t allow her to destroy everything with wild Parnian flights of imagination.
He bent, whispering, “Listen, Ela. It’s clear the king considers you a prophet, and that’s a good, useful thing. He’s quite superstitious. But you cannot spout streams of commands based on your ‘visions’ and expect the rest of us to simply obey you.”
Ela’s chin lowered, and she gave him such a look through her lashes that he nearly checked to see if she’d equipped herself with another prison roll. She lifted her hand from his arm. “You don’t have to obey me. The Infinite doesn’t coerce anyone—we all have choices.”
“Good. We’re agreed on that.” As much as possible anyway. Perhaps he could plot around her delusions of Parne’s Infinite. Kien forced a smile and proceeded to his next complaint. “Now, forgive me, but I feel obligated to warn you that you cannot behave as if the king is your student. He’s not. He’s—”
“Though Tek An is a king, he has a soul,” Ela said, clearly unmoved. “And other souls depend upon his decisions, so he must receive good counsel.”
Kien felt his patience ebbing. Maybe he was the delusional one, believing he might depend upon this girl to help him escape. “You’re hardly old enough to be any sort of counselor, much less a king’s.”
She glared at him. “Age has nothing to do with good sense, or with the Infinite’s will. I do not provide counsel. He does. But these aren’t your concerns, so why are you upset?”
“I’m not. Actually—” He decided to be rudely honest. “I am. You’re going about this advisor role all wrong. Your actions defy every expected protocol!”
“Hmm. Well, following courtly protocols hasn’t worked for you, has it? Abandon them.”
Stung, he grimaced. “I suppose your Infinite told you this.”
“Yes. And it’s true. Forget etiquette for now. Follow honor.” Her tone turned to gentle mockery. “What else might the king do, Lan Tek? Kill you?”
Kien stared. She was talking as if she’d witnessed the previous confrontations he’d had with the king and his men. How did she know?
The green-cloaked palace guards handed Kien and Ela over to the red-cloaked military guards. As the red-cloaks formed lines to their left and right, Kien finally mustered words. “How did you know?”
“That the king is afraid to order your death? The Infinite showed me, of course. But you don’t want to hear about Him.” She rested her forehead against her slender walking staff and didn’t look up until her superior soldier-friend approached. “Tsir Aun.”
“Any warnings?” The high commander was perfectly solemn, Kien realized. Worse, the girl answered him just as seriously.
“You were planning a longer alternate route to return us to prison, but you might as well save steps and take the more direct streets. Ambushes are planned for us in either direction. Tell your men to be ready with their shields.”
“Do you know everything?” Kien asked her as the commander strode away, issuing orders.
“No. If I did, your insult this morning wouldn’t have taken me by surprise. I’m wondering if that was another test.”
“Ah. Let me know when you learn the results of your test.”
She shrugged, and her brown eyes went wistful. “I usually fail.”
“Really?” Somehow, her confession restored his hopes. Perhaps this little wayfarer from Parne wasn’t as irrational as he’d believed. He couldn’t resist teasing her a bit. “Then I’m not alone. In failing, I mean.”
Ela’s answering smile was disappointingly weak. In truth, she appeared exhausted, which reminded Kien of his duty. He straightened his musty cloak and offered the girl his arm. She accepted, and they followed Tsir Aun’s lead. “Are we ready to brave our little adventure?”
“I’d rather not, sir. But we don’t have much choice.”
They walked together quietly for a while, crossing various streets and turning corners, which seemed to make her increasingly on edge. At last, grasping for a bit of conversation to divert her, Kien said, “I wish I had my sword.”
“It won’t do you a bit of good. This time anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll know later.”
Kien almost halted. “You’re saying that you know my ‘later’ now?”
“I’ve received a few hints.” She was looking up at the highest surrounding buildings.
Kien followed her apparent line of vision and squinted at an ancient tower to their left, which was gilded by the evening sunlight. A glint in one of the tower’s highest windows caught his attention. Was that a—?
Kien snatched Ela’s hand, freed his arm, and pitched himself and the girl onto the stone-paved street, just as an arrow slammed into his cloak.
“Augh!” Ela gasped at the pain as her knees smacked the stones. Knowing her fall was going to happen didn’t lessen the hurt a bit.
Tsir Aun bellowed, “Shields—cover!” Instantly his men converged, almost trampling her and Kien as they maneuvered their shields skyward to form a makeshift roof. A series of thuds rained onto the metal-plated s
hields. “First rank!” Tsir Aun called out, “to the tower!”
Half the soldiers departed. The remaining guards repositioned themselves, creating a smaller, but still effective, roof of shields. “Stay put!” one of the soldiers ordered Ela and Kien as more arrows pelted the shields. “Don’t move until we tell you.”
“How can we?” Kien said to Ela, none too quietly. “They’re standing on us.”
She didn’t reply. He was holding her too close for her own comfort. Not that she wasn’t grateful for his protective instincts, but . . . To distract herself from thoughts of being held by a charming young man, she breathed a prayer, then focused on the moldy, vile, awful smell wafting from his cloak. Better. She looked up as shouts echoed from the tower.
Some of the guards were actually grinning. Were all Istgardians so in love with the idea of war? At least Kien seemed somber as he looked about, studying their situation. The arrows ceased to fall.
From a distance, Tsir Aun ordered, “Second rank—march!”
“Stand!” a soldier ordered Ela and Kien. “Move!”
Kien’s breath rasped as he helped her to stand. “Ow—the arrow!”
“You can’t be wounded,” she told him. “I didn’t see you wounded.”
“What . . . about . . . a long scratch?”
“Well, yes, there’s that. But it’s not really bleeding. Soon you won’t notice it.”
“You’re not the one with the scratch.”
The guards lowered their shields and urged their prisoners forward. While they walked, Kien fished through his cloak for the arrow and wrenched it free. “This attack could have been a well-gauged guess on your part, you know.”
“Believe what you want to believe.” Her head thudded miserably, worse than before. She hoped this Tracelander didn’t intend to prattle all the way back to prison. If she must accept Kien’s presence, couldn’t the Infinite offer her a solid glimpse of his future to explain matters?
Seeming oblivious to her misery, Kien wielded the arrow like a sword. “I have a souvenir. Do you suppose they’ll let me keep it in prison? They’ve let you keep that stick.”
“No. And it’s not a stick. The branch is my insignia.” Was he trying to provoke a quarrel? She truly didn’t have the strength to endure more commotion.
The guards quickened their pace. Despite herself, Ela clutched Kien’s arm, almost sick with the pain of her headache. She couldn’t continue at this rate. Infinite . . .
Thuds echoed in her ears. The headache. No, cruel as it was, her headache wouldn’t cause the buildings to reverberate in horsehoof patterns. Ela said, “Oh, Infinite, thank You!”
“Listen.” Kien’s voice lowered in alarm. “That must be a destroyer coming toward us.”
“It is. He’s coming for me.”
“We have to get out of the way—” Kien halted and stared. “What do you mean he’s coming for you? Ela, now is not the time to indulge in another vision. We must leave the street!”
“I’m not having another vision.” Ela patted her companion’s arm. “Just stand quietly and trust me. You won’t die. Not even if you still want to.”
“I wish you would stop telling me what I want to do.”
“I can’t help it. Anyway, I’m right, you know.”
The soldiers were all backing away, focused on the next street corner. Ela waited in the middle of the street. Kien exhaled and stood his ground beside her. Ela smiled at his courage. Even armed, none of their guards was willing to face an irate destroyer.
Pet bolted around the street corner, formidably huge, black, and undoubtedly prepared to trample anyone in his path. He snorted a threat, his eyes almost rolling in fury. Until he saw Ela.
Her heart skipped at the sight of him, but she lifted the branch and spoke sternly. “Walk!”
Huffing with obvious impatience, the destroyer walked. The instant they were within nudging distance, he stopped and greeted Ela with a mild bump to her shoulder and a sigh that infused her braided hair with moisture. She rubbed him and crooned, “Dear rascal. You’re too late to save me from the arrows, but I’m so glad to see you. And Tzana will be thrilled. Kien—” She offered her slack-mouthed companion an imploring glance. “Help me up, please?”
“Onto . . . the destroyer?”
“Of course.”
Kien backed away as Ela settled herself on the monster-horse and urged it into a jaunty walk.
Unbelievable.
Not just the fact that this baffling girl was riding a living natural disaster, but also those discolored, unforgettable scars he’d glimpsed striating her lower calves and ankles. Kien had seen curving lacerations identical to those.
On a dead man.
Ela of Parne had survived a recent scaln attack. How?
Immediately, Kien shoved the question from his thoughts. He knew what she would say. Her “Infinite” had probably saved her. Kien considered the destroyer instead. A helpful—
“Move, Tracelander!” One of the guards shoved Kien from his dazed musings into the present reality of being a prisoner. “The girl’s behaving for now, but if she tries to escape on that animal, we have to be ready.”
To mask his interest in escaping with one of Istgard’s prized warhorses, Kien shrugged. “She won’t try to escape, I know. But if she did, how could you possibly catch her when she’s riding a destroyer?”
“We’d chase her down using other destroyers.” The soldier sounded as if he begrudged every syllable. “But you’d have to be in your cell first, so move along.”
Kien hoped they weren’t too late for the evening meal.
“I wish Pet could have stayed with us yesterday,” Tzana said, fiddling with her arm sling as she sat beside Ela in the prison kitchen.
“I wish so too.” Ela reached for another knotted brown root vegetable, doused it in the tub of dingy water before her and scrubbed it with her rag. An improvement, but still not much to look at. She tossed it into a large wooden bowl and reached for another.
Tzana plucked at Ela’s rolled-up sleeve. “Stop scrubbing and play with me.”
“I can’t. You want to eat tonight, don’t you?”
“Well . . . yes. But I’m very sad.”
The warden’s wife entered the kitchen that instant, laden with a huge canvas bag of rolls. “What is my girl so sad about, eh?”
My girl. Ela bit down her welling anxiety. Infinite, please, let her suspicions be wrong. The warden’s wife, Syb, had all but taken over Tzana. Would she create a fuss and demand to keep her when Ela was finally forced from the prison? Ela prayed the Infinite would work out a solution, because Tzana was also becoming fond of Syb. And, surprisingly, fond of the warden.
“I want to see Pet again.” Tzana clutched the folds of her new red tunic and tripped over to Syb, as if knowing she had an ally who would do more than sympathize with her.
“Of course you want to see your Pet again.” Syb set down the rolls, which clattered like unappetizing chunks of wood. Picking up Tzana, she fluffed the little girl’s thin curls. “I’ve a notion that your Pet wants to see you more often too. One of the guards told me Pet’s been fussy in his stable without you, so we’ll ask to have the poor thing brought around to visit.”
“Today?” Tzana rested her knobby uninjured hand on Syb’s ruddy face.
“Tell you what.” Syb kissed Tzana’s cheek. “You be my good girl today, and I’ll speak to the next red-cloaked guard I see. We might have Pet here tomorrow, all right?”
“Aw. All right.”
“Meanwhile we should leave Ela alone so she can finish her work and get the soup heating in the courtyard.”
Just as the warden’s wife was about to leave with Tzana, someone pounded at the kitchen’s courtyard door.
“Delivery!” A stocky man stepped inside, his grizzled face and watery little eyes as appealing as the vegetables Ela had scrubbed. “Salt-meat an’ flour for you, ma’am.”
“We didn’t order salt-meat.” Syb’s brown forehead furrowed ben
eath her veils. “Nor flour. I don’t do baking here. You have your orders wrong.”
“Here I was told an’ here it stays.” The deliveryman folded his big tunic-draped arms. “You just ask the warden.”
“I just will.” Holding Tzana, Syb swept from the kitchen, her headdress fluttering.
Ela’s arms prickled as an image slid through her mind.
The grizzled man stepped closer and grinned, clearly emboldened by the fact that they were alone. “You’re the cook, girl?”
“For now.” She wiped her hands and used the branch for support as she stood. Not bothering to hide the iciness she felt, Ela looked this miscreant in the eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“Now, don’t be all priggish, girl. I’ve a small task for you. Nothin’ to it at all—an’ you’ll earn a bit of money. For your dowry, I’d say. Pretty as you are, you’re sure to marry soon.”
His smarmy manner made Ela long to give him the same sort of black eye she’d given Kien. A silly desire because the Infinite’s plan was already perfect. Naturally. She willed her expression to ease. “What sort of task?”
Evidently certain of his victory, the man’s small eyes crinkled and watered even more as he grinned. “Why, it’s nothin’. An easy chore that won’t take but a breath of your time. The female prisoner—I’m told there’s but one—ought to have a bit extra tonight with her meal. Slip this into her food and be sure she eats. My master will pay you well.”
He dangled a small leather pouch before Ela’s eyes.
Her heart thudded, but she smiled and reached for her intended death.
12
Ela shifted the branch into the crook of her arm, picked at the bag’s tie, then peered at the white powder inside. How odd to encourage this man to discuss her own murder. “Will it make the prisoner sick?”
The deliveryman beamed. “Why, it’ll cure all her ills. My master’s been fretful about her.”
