Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 03] - The Ancient Legacy(V1.0)

by Mitchell Graham

  Eric nodded. "I wasn't born then, but Armand told me about it. Father responded by hanging fifty of their priests and leveling the cathedral at Delmont. He thought it would be an effective example."

  "All he managed to do was destroy one of the great li­braries in the world."

  "They tried to murder him, for God's sake," Eric protested. "You think his response was unreasonable?"

  "Frankly, I thought it was excessive ... as well as mis­placed. You never attack a country's national symbols, or their church. Your father's actions turned the Sandresi into fanatics. Up until then they were an annoying, but a very distinct minority. That isn't the case any longer."

  "What's the point of all this?" Eric asked. "Who cares if Marek met with Seth and Shakira?"

  "Obviously they're planning something," Teanna said. "But what?"

  "We don't know that they're planning anything," Eric told her. "We only know they've met. I'm not ignoring that it might be important, but I'm not ready to panic over it, either. Heads of state meet all the time, for all sorts of reasons. I think the way to handle this is to tell our people to keep their eyes and ears open and report anything out of the ordinary. I'll see that whatever information comes my way also reaches you."

  "Very sensible," said Eldar. "Have you considered the possibility that Seth, Shakira, and Marek are forming an alliance?"

  "An alliance? Against whom?" "Why against you, dear nephew, for a start." Eric gave a short bark of a laugh. "Not likely. Alor Satar is far stronger than they are. What would they have to gain?" "That does seems to be the question, doesn't it?" They discussed the possibilities for another half hour before Eric announced he was tired and going back to bed. He seemed to find Eldar's suggestion of anyone at­tacking Alor Satar ludicrous. In the end little was re­solved, other than that they would remain watchful. There was nothing else they could do. While Teanna believed her cousin was correct, she was not willing to take a pas­sive role and had been on the verge of saying so when she noticed her father shake his head.

  The king waited until the library door closed, then said, "Arrogant fool."

  Surprised at the vehemence of his words, Teanna looked at him for an explanation. Eldar was normally the most even-tempered of people.

  "For an intelligent man," her father said, "your cousin has an amazing blind spot—at least on the surface." "What do you mean?"

  "He either refuses to believe anyone would even con­sider launching an attack on Alor Satar or he wants us to believe that."

  "Why would he want to fool us?" "For the same reasons that the Durens are the Durens. One country, one rule. They've been singing that tired tune for the last three centuries. I trust him no more than I did his father, and I like him rather less, if the truth be known." Teanna blinked. "Such strong words." "Do you not see the same thing I do?" There was a pause before Teanna answered. "I think so," she said quietly. "Vargoth now occupies two-thirds of Elgaria, or Oridan, as Eric and Armand want to call it. The mercenaries didn't need to conquer the country, they were invited in. Coribar, which has been quiet for years, sud­denly becomes active and seeks to forge an alliance with the Orlocks. Why?"

  "Go on," Eldar said approvingly. "The obvious answer is so they can impose their views on the rest of the world. You've told me they've been will­ing to kill to achieve this in the past." "Yes, I did."

  "The creatures have also been quiet," she said, "at least up until now. We've had no contact with them since they took over lower Elgaria, and I'll wager Eric hasn't, either, unless he's a better actor than I think he is. The question is, what do they want in all of this?"

  A slight smile appeared at the corners of the king's mouth, and he rested his chin in his hands, watching his daughter as she worked her way through the problem. "That should be obvious," he prompted.

  Teanna's brows came together. "More land?" "Possibly."

  "All right, What am I missing?" "You've told me that Shakira possesses one of the rose gold rings. Do you really think with that kind of power at her fingertips she'll be content to stay where she is? It seems to me, looking at it from the Orlocks' point of view, having less humans in the world would result in the same thing."

  "Less humans?"

  "Unless our relations with the Orlocks have suddenly improved, they still hate us as much as they ever did." "You think they're planning to attack us?" "I really don't know," Eldar replied. "But we need to increase our vigilance, not only of the creatures, but of Coribar and Vargoth. I also think it would be a good idea to move some more troops to the eastern border. We'll need to keep them at a higher state of alert, at least until we have a better idea of how the wind is blowing."

  Teanna took a sip of her tea, made a face, and put it back down again. It was cold. "Thank you for your help, Father. You don't usually show such interest in these things. Has something changed?"

  Eldar smiled. "Don't mistake a lack of involvement with a lack of interest. Personally, I prefer reading to poli­tics. There's a good deal more honesty there, at least with some writers. Your mother enjoyed handling matters of this type, just as you do. It works out for all concerned." "So why your interest now?"

  "For three reasons," Eldar said. "First, because I object to being killed by an Orlock. Second, I don't care to climb a tower, bow to the east, and pray three times a day; and last, I don't trust Vargoth any more than I do your cousin Eric." When the king leaned forward and kissed Teanna on the forehead, the expression on her face must have been obvious. She had always thought of her father as loving, but useless in a crisis. This was a part of him she had never seen before.

  "Why don't you trust Vargoth?" she asked. "Because the opportunity to seize a country and end their dependence on imports is too great to pass up." "And Eric and Armand?" she asked. "Quite simply, because they are Karas Duren's sons."

  24

  Devondale

  Father thomas sat in amanda palmer's kitchen, thinking how odd it was that some things changed while some never seemed to. The house was exactly as he re­membered it—-small, clean, and unpretentious. Akin Gibb, on the other hand, was noticeably different. His friend was still slender and serious in his speech and man­ner, but he exuded a confidence now that had not been there before.

  Just as Martin Palmer had done with Mathew, Akin re­lated what had occurred in Devondale since they'd been away. Some things Father Thomas knew, and some he didn't. Like Mathew, the priest had already concluded that a battle of some kind must have taken place two years ear­lier; the dates on the tombstones made that apparent. The faces of so many of his friends—his flock, as he thought of them—stared back at him in silent accusation. Perhaps the hollow feeling in his stomach was God's way of re­minding him that he had abandoned his duties. He also noticed the many new faces in Devondale.

  As they walked from the church, Akin said he had sev­eral errands to attend to and left Father Thomas at the town square. The silversmith promised to meet up with him again at the Palmers' home, and Father Thomas had continued on alone.

  Now, Father Thomas looked around the little kitchen, closed his eyes, and said a prayer of thanks for the things that didn't change "Did you say that Akin Gibb was going to meet us here, Father?" Martin asked him.

  "That's what he said. I'm sure he'll be along shortly." Mathew stood up. "Well, I think we should celebrate this properly at the Rose and Crown," he announced. "It's not every day I return from the dead."

  "That may not be the best idea, my son," Father Thomas said. "There are a lot of new people in town, as I'm sure you've noticed, and we should try not to bring attention to ourselves. If someone recognizes you, the word will spread quickly."

  "We could use one of the back rooms," Lara suggested, "And I'd like something stronger to drink than this tea," Mathew added. "No offense, Amanda. It's fine tea." "Fine tea," echoed Bran.

  Father Thomas looked at the boy and chuckled. "What about Akin?" he asked.

  "We could leave a note for him on the door," said Amanda. "I wouldn't mind
a bit of ale myself."

  The priest turned to Lara's mother. "Why, Amanda, I didn't know you drank."

  "I don't usually, but this is a special occasion." She put a hand on both Father Thomas's and Mathew's shoulders. "All right," Father Thomas said, "let's go see how Mas­ter Tanner has been faring these past years."

  Devondale's only inn was at the opposite end of town, closer to the church than to the dye shop. Before leaving, Amanda wrote a note and placed it on the door. Mathew and Lara walked a little ahead of the others, swinging Bran between them, to his obvious delight.

  "It's good to have you back, Siward," Martin said to Father Thomas as they took the back streets toward the pub, to avoid people who might be out at that hour. "How long are you going to stay?"

  "Only a day or two at the most."

  Amanda and Martin both looked at him at the same time.

  "I understand," Martin said. "This is not going to be easy on Lara. She just got him back." His wife said nothing.

  "I'm sorry, Amanda. There's no choice in the matter. Mathew's ring is the only way to neutralize Teanna d'Elso. It has to be recovered."

  Amanda began to reply but broke off as a man emerged from a small cafe across the street. For a moment it appeared he was headed the other way but when he saw them, he changed course and began walking in their direction.

  Martin muttered something under his breath that Fa­ther Thomas didn't catch and the priest made eye contact with Amanda. He understood her silent message to be careful. Up ahead, Father Thomas saw Lara lean over and whisper in Mathew's ear. Both nodded to the stranger and kept on walking.

  The man had a slender face with a large nose, greasy black hair, and a prominent Adam's apple. Father Thomas guessed him to be in his early thirties.

  "A word with you please, Martin," the newcomer called out.

  Martin came to a halt and waited for him. "What can I do for you, Dermot?"

  Father Thomas and Amanda stopped as well. "It looks like we have some new people in town. Have they registered?"

  "They're relatives of ours, Dermot, from Broken Hill. I'll have them come over this afternoon. This is Nicholas Pastor, Amanda's cousin. And that's his son, Thad, up ahead with Lara."

  "Nick, this is Dermot Walsh," Martin said, introducing Father Thomas. "Dermot... Nick."

  "Pleased to meet you," Father Thomas said, holding out his hand.

  Dermot hesitated a second and returned a weak hand­shake. "You need to register."

  "Register? I'm sorry, I—"

  "Dermot makes a list of people who visit town for the governor once a month," Martin explained.

  "That's your job?" Father Thomas asked, incredulous. "We don't have anything like that in Broken Hill."

  "I don't like it any better than you do, but it's the law and money's money. You have to register," Dermot insisted.

  "Well... if it's the law," Father Thomas said. "What do I have to do?"

  "Not much. You just sign a piece of paper and give me the address where you'll be staying. You can come to my shop later and take care of it. It's the bakery across from the Rose and Crown. I should be back there in about an hour." "Does my boy need to come, or can I sign for us both?" Father Thomas asked.

  Dermot's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. "You can do both. I'll waive the three coppers since you didn't know anything about it." "That's very kind of you."

  "Yeah," Dermot agreed. "Will you be staying long?" "No, just a day or two. We haven't seen the baby in a couple of years, and Amanda's been fussing at me, so Thaddeus and I decided to take a little trip." Father Thomas put his arm around Amanda's shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

  Dermot sniffed, took a piece of paper and a pencil out of his pocket and made a few notes on it. "Just a day or two," he repeated.

  "Is there an additional charge for that?" Dermont put his hands on his hips. "No need to be sar­castic. Everyone gets mad at me for doing my job, but times are tough. A man's gotta live, doesn't he?"

  "Absolutely," Father Thomas agreed. "I'm sure Martin feels the same way."

  Lara's father pursed his lips. "If you say so."

  "See what I mean?" Dermot complained.

  Father Thomas watched Dermot as he disappeared

  around the corner, and shook his head sadly. Some changes were not going to be so easy to deal with. Martin muttered something that earned him a reproachful look from his wife, and they continued walking. Lara, Mathew, and Bran were waiting at the end of the street along with Akin Gibb, who had just joined them.

  Before they reached the others, Father Thomas was aware that Amanda was looking at him. "Is everything all right?" he asked.

  Several seconds passed before she answered. "I under­stand about you and Mathew having to leave again." "Amanda, I—"

  "Just see that you do what you have to do, Siward Thomas, and come back to us."

  Father Thomas opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Amanda quickened her pace and went to join the others.

  From the expressions on Akin's and Mathew's faces, the priest knew something was amiss even before he reached them.

  "Let's go to my house," Akin said as soon as Father Thomas got close enough.

  Father Thomas's eyes darted from the silversmith to Mathew, then to Lara and Amanda. "I suppose the Rose and Crown can wait," he replied.

  Akin Gibb's house was a good five minute walk from his shop. It had been years since Siward Thomas visited there, and the changes he noticed appeared quite minor. There was a new roof and the door might have been painted, but he wasn't certain about that. Shortly after he and Mathew had ridden into town, he'd noticed that his own house had been touched up and maintained in good repair all these years. He made a mental note to thank Akin. On the lawn, leaves of burnished red and gold blew idly around in circles and stuck in the fence posts.

  The first time he'd visited Akin's home had been during his first or second year in Devondale. One of the younger boys in the choir had knocked a silver candlestick off the al­tar and it had broken. He brought it to their father to be re­paired. Unfortunately, the man was away on business that day. Both Akin and his brother, still only apprentices, spent the entire day working on it. When they were finished, the candlestick was as good as new. They refused to accept any payment.

  They were good people, Father Thomas had thought at the time, and the passage of years had not altered his opinion.

  Inside, Akin ushered everyone into his parlor. Bran, Fa­ther Thomas noticed, was becoming more at ease with Mathew and settled comfortably onto his lap. When the others had seated themselves, the priest brought out an ex­tra chair from the kitchen and joined them. To his surprise it was Mathew, not Akin, who spoke first.

  "Father, we have a problem."

  Father Thomas folded his arms across his chest and waited.

  "This started out to be a surprise for you, but I'm afraid I have to give you some bad news. . . Ceta Woodall has been living here in Devondale for the past two years. In fact, she owns the Rose and Crown now."

  Father Thomas felt his chest constrict. This was not what he expected to hear. A quick glance around the room told him there was more to come. With an effort he mas­tered his emotions. "Go on, Mat."

  "Like I said, we were planning to surprise you. It was my idea, but then we met Akin on the way."

  Father Thomas turned to Akin Gibb.

  "The Vargothans took her last night, Father. I didn't find out until just a little while ago. Becky Enders has been working at the inn. She found me and told me."

  "What?" Father Thomas said, getting to his feet.

  "The mercenaries know that you've escaped and about your relationship with her. They arrested her late last night after the tavern closed."

  "Arrested? For what?" Martin asked. "What does it matter?" Akin replied. 'They don't need a reason to arrest anybody. They just make something up. The point is they were expecting Father Thomas to show up in Devondale. We need to get him out of town as quickly as pos
sible."

  A silence followed. Lara went to Father Thomas and put an arm around his shoulders. The priest's mind was in tur­moil. Mathew's revelation about Ceta Woodall being in De­vondale had hit him like a blow, but the news of her arrest... He should have known that Edward Guy would communicate with Alor Satar, and that was exactly what he had done. Guy also knew about his relationship with Ceta; his daughter Rowena had been at Tenley Palace when their engagement was announced. All the mercenaries had to do was to wait for him to show up, or better yet, use his fiancee as bait to lure him to them. Everyone in the room was talking at the same time. They stopped when he held up his hand. "Do we know where they took her?" "The officers' quarters are located on the east side of Gravenhage near the stadium. That's where they usually take most of the women."

  Father Thomas frowned. "What are you talking about?" Akin looked distinctly uncomfortable and rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. He looked at Father Thomas as he tried to find the right words. "I asked you a question, Akin." "I mentioned it earlier, Father, but I'm not sure you understood."

  The silversmith went on to explain that men were not the only ones who had been conscripted since the invasion. When he started to explain how the Vargothans used single women, the priest's face turned to stone. Then, without saying a word, Father Thomas stood up and walked out the front door.

  Akin started after him, but Mathew put a hand on his arm.

  "Give him a moment. This would be a shock to anyone."

  He could see the priest through the window, leaning against one of the old oak trees on the lawn.

  Akin sat down next to Martin and conversations m the room resumed, but they were in whispers and without en­thusiasm. After several minutes Mathew glanced out the window again at the priest. He hadn't moved.

  "I'll be right back," he said. He got up and went out to join him.

  25

  Devondale

  "Father, we need to figure out how we're going to get her back," Mathew prompted.