After seating himself, Osric detailed the journey.
Aedan saw the events as they unfolded in his mind’s eye to the rhythm of Osric’s words. But something distracted him. A slight movement of Merter’s head revealed that he had heard it too. The tread and scuffle of boots – many boots – in the hallway outside. More than the escort that had brought them in. The steps were quiet, but there were too many for them to remain unheard. They were soldiers. Aedan was sure of it – soldiers were not known for stealth. Ganavant showed no reaction, but the prince coughed, leaned in his chair, crossed and re-crossed his legs. He almost succeeded in drowning out the sound.
Osric’s voice did not waver. He spoke on. When he reached the stage where the soldiers deserted, the prince interrupted.
“I would not have expected soldiers to desert or rebel under a general’s command,” he said.
“It is a point well made,” Osric replied, something glinting in his eye. “But these men, I happen to know, were decommissioned and were meant to be serving time in the barrack prison for various crimes, all of them serious – insubordination, defection, striking an officer. They were not soldiers but law-breakers. How is it that they ended up under Senbert’s command?”
Ganavant pointed. “Senbert,” he said. “Consider yourself under arrest.”
“Highness,” Osric interrupted, “it seems that your councillor is unaware – a captain does not have the authority to release prisoners. The order could only have come from much higher. I would be deeply interested to learn who signed those releases.”
For a moment, nobody spoke. If Ganavant was concerned, he did not show it. He actually seemed amused at Osric’s tone.
“You leave this to me,” said the prince. “It is best that you do not speak of the matter again. I’ll investigate it myself.”
“Actually,” Osric said. “I should inform you that I have already written of the matter in my last report to your father.”
Ganavant shifted slightly, but Burkhart leapt to his feet and shouted, “You wrote to the king! About this!”
“Naturally. It is my responsibility. I am the first general of the realm. My eyes are the king’s.”
Ganavant turned to the prince. “They must have intercepted the courier near the city gate,” he said. “Shall I issue a recall?”
The prince nodded and Ganavant stamped over to the door. “Quick!” he yelled to the guards outside. “Put together a squad of rangers. Find today’s north-bound courier. Arrest him and bring him to me. If the seals on any documents are broken I’ll throw you and every one of the rangers in prison.”
There was a barked “Yessir” and a clatter of receding boots.
Aedan could have cried with dismay. That had been Osric’s security. Why had he spoken of it? There was no courier who could avoid a squad of rangers.
Osric turned to Ganavant. “Why did you not tell me before you did that?” he asked.
“Because you have already interfered enough,” the councillor said, emphasising the word this time as he sat.
“It would only have been to save you the trouble and the waste of resources, which I understand to be of great concern to you.”
“No waste. The rangers and your letter will be back before the day is over.”
“I’m afraid that is not likely.”
“General Osric, how is one courier going to avoid a team of my men. It seems your wits are not what they say. Unless you managed to find a flying horse, there is no doubt of the outcome. Did you use a flying horse?” Ganavant asked with a smirk.
“I think it was a mule cart.”
“And why in the name of summer snow would my rangers not catch your mule cart?”
“Because the cart left over three months ago. I dispatched my report before leaving for Kultûhm. The package I sent earlier today contains a letter and a small gift for my niece on her birthday.”
Ganavant stopped smirking. Burkhart, by the whiteness of his face, appeared to have stopped breathing.
Osric continued. “The king’s personal emissary and military escort should enter our gates within the month. If he finds so much as a whiff of foul dealing, the position of first councillor might just become a dangerous one. I hope, for your sake, that there are no stains when he arrives.”
The room fell silent.
Ganavant fixed his eyes on Osric. This time there was no indifference. The smile lingered, but it was sickly, and poisonous.
Prince Burkhart recovered himself with somewhat more effort. “I will be glad to welcome the royal emissary on his arrival,” he stammered, and paused to cough. “I have no doubt that everything will be found to be in order. Will you excuse me for just a moment?” He walked to the door and slipped outside. The boots were much quieter this time as they withdrew, but soldiers truly were not famed for stealth.
When Burkhart returned, he was in better possession of himself and asked Osric to resume.
Osric told of the entry into the fortress, though he held back several details.
“A snake?” said the Prince. “Is that all? Surely a company of armed men could deal with a big snake. Could we not send a larger detachment to drive it off and harvest the treasures of Kultûhm?”
“It is too big. Its head would not get through the door.”
Ganavant threw his quill down and glared with open disgust.
Osric ignored him. “And it is changed in more ways than size. A hundred attackers would not survive as long as it took to count them. We owe our escape more to luck than anything else. I believe this creature is the reason the fortress was abandoned and the reason it remains that way.”
“That would make it almost a thousand years old,” said Burkhart. “That’s not natural.”
“Highness, this creature is hardly natural as we understand the word.”
Burkhart leaned back and kicked his feet up onto the desk, gradually regaining his boyish manner. “So, the myths have some basis. It would also mean that Culver was wrong. He believed the storms triggered earthquakes that were responsible for emptying Kultûhm. Did he learn anything of them before his demise? You – I’ve forgotten your name ...”
“Fergal, Highness.”
“Yes, that’s it. You were Culver’s assistant. Can you tell us what he discovered?”
“Culver found mention of the storms, but nothing of quakes, so the link between the two was not validated. He would have agreed with General Osric’s assessment of why Kultûhm stands empty.”
“Did you agree with Culver’s theories about the storms?”
“No, Highness. I did not.” It was quite true. Culver had produced no theories about the storms.
“Are there any among you who hold to Culver’s ideas?”
None of them did. Even if they had, there was a tension in the air that warned them to keep silent. It was clear that the prince had some reason for hushing this threat of disaster, a reason that could move him to extreme measures.
“Well, though the loss of Culver saddens me,” the prince said with deep relief and not a hint of sadness, “it is perhaps a good thing that the inquiry has been shown inconclusive. The storms have no deeper meaning than a message from the gods. My diviners have succeeded in circulating an interpretation of peace through the city. It was a grave concern that Culver might fill people’s heads with dangerous ideas, sowing fear, threatening the security of our people, the stability of our city. Such ideas can undermine our strength. They might even be considered treasonous.”
The prince had not made this speech idly, and he looked around the room from one person to the next, avoiding only Osric. “Are there any among you who feel any need to pursue or spread Culver’s notions, that we are facing some horrific devastation?”
None did. They had agreed not to mention the possibility of some dangerous creature slumbering on top of the Pellamines. If Burkhart even suspected them of spreading fear …
“Good,” the prince said. “Then you are free to go, but do not disappoint me. You wil
l doubtless be asked of your journey and I want you to be loud in your rejection of Culver’s theories. You have served Castath well and I commend you all for your bravery and skill. I have many ears beyond these walls and will be listening to hear how you continue to serve the city by spreading a report of peaceful assurance.”
Though he wore a bright smile, the threat was obvious to everyone. Aedan knew the prince well enough to understand the full meaning. They were now puppets whose mouths were under the prince’s control. A loose word, an unguarded opinion, and they would receive the attentions of grimy tools in a black dungeon.
As they left, Aedan realised with a sudden nausea how close they had walked to the edge, how treacherous their prince’s preparations had been. Burkhart was all casual warmth and easy laughter, and behind this sunny curtain was a readiness to murder – perhaps not with his own hands, but Ganavant would be more than willing to perform any such task. He, Aedan guessed, was the dark arm of the prince’s rule. And he would make a dangerous enemy, one who would embrace the lowest means.
Though Osric’s rank was higher, Ganavant held more power in this city, for he was clearly the prince’s favoured man. Ganavant was not encumbered by a conscience, which made him a tool that Burkhart could apply to any purpose, honourable or otherwise. Osric could never be such a man. It was for this very reason that he was trusted by King Elgar.
The prince drew those of supple morals to his inner circle, and he would no sooner confide in Osric than undress in public. Osric’s eyes were indeed the king’s eyes, and it was becoming clear that Burkhart had much to hide from them both.
Clouds were darkening the city’s keep. The northern king’s favour, Aedan realised, might not protect Osric long. And that meant that Osric might not be able to protect him.
Aedan now had two matters on which his careless tongue would bring about his death. During the silent walk back to the academy, he envied the scampering street children whose names the prince did not know.
“Hey, look! It’s the wanderer returned.”
“He’s got bigger.”
“And uglier.”
“Aedan, did you bring us gifts? Rescue any foreign princesses?”
“Did you bring one for Lorrimer? He hasn’t fallen in love for weeks now.”
“Shut up Peashot. You’ve been pining like a pigeon for Liru for three months.”
“Pigeon’s don’t pine, Lorrimer.”
“Yes, they do.”
“Oh, so now you’re an expert on pigeons?”
“Lorrimer knows nothing about pigeons, but he is the expert on pining.”
In spite of his uncertainties about returning to Burkhart’s city, it felt good to be among his friends again, and Aedan slipped into the routine quickly enough. Thanks to Fergal’s teaching and Osric’s training, he did not seem to have lost much ground. Some of the topics he had covered were slightly different, though. The examinations were only two weeks away and he nearly injured himself catching up.
The examiners were satisfied by his progress, with the usual exception of Kollis. Dun was particularly impressed, remarking that Aedan was noticeably stronger and judged his encounters with a far steadier eye. The worst result was in Lekran. Aedan’s grip on the language was found to be the poorest in the class. Law was nearly as bad. Rodwell felt that Aedan was not applying himself. He was right. Aedan had lost all interest in Burkhart’s leadership and the laws by which he ruled. He passed the subject, but barely. His third year was complete.
Liru, too, was promoted.
Malik did not openly display his fury, but none could miss the thorns in his eyes.
As usual, Vayle received perfect results for anything that tested his extraordinary memory, and Lorrimer endured a perfect agony of suspense followed by infinite bliss when he slipped over the bar.
Giddard asked Aedan to stay behind after the final class of the year.
“I wanted to follow up on our last discussion,” the wizened master said, seating himself on his table and scratching the deep wrinkles around his mouth. “Since leaving for Kultûhm, you have changed in a way that I have seldom observed before. Perhaps I should say never before. Since you’ve been back, people have been watching and noticing. They’ve also been talking and I, of course, have been listening.”
He dropped his hand and looked straight at Aedan.
Aedan shuffled.
“This is the first time,” Giddard resumed, “that I have ever heard of a third-year student making an apology to a first-year student and then offering to teach him and his friends a few personally-devised combat tricks. I can tell you the impression it made on them was staggering. That little boy is standing taller than he’s ever done. He used to be as dull as a corpse – couldn’t get any participation from him. Now he participates so much I can hardly get a word in myself.”
Aedan laughed. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. He had actually apologised to two boys. The other was the smaller one from the law wing he had once beaten – he winced at the memory – and who had apparently kept his mouth shut. Giddard, it seemed, knew nothing of this. Aedan chose not to speak of it. Maybe one day.
“I learned from Fergal what happened to you out east,” Giddard said. “I have no idea how to understand it, but I can say that the change in you is not imagined. All the masters have noticed, even Kollis, though you are not likely to hear it from him, and though I believe he attributes the change to his own efforts at improving you.” Giddard’s face betrayed nothing, and Aedan had the good sense not to laugh.
The party at Liru’s had become a tradition. This time, due to her long absence, her parents agreed to host all of Liru’s and Aedan’s classmates, as well as Delwyn, of course. It was unnecessary to inform Malik that he was not welcome. Neither he nor Cayde arrived. They spent the time before the celebration inventing reasons why it would be an awful event, and casting wistful looks at their excited classmates.
When everyone had arrived and the music began, Peashot surprised Liru by knowing the steps to her favourite dances, and chatting to her in the most appalling Mardrae. She was delighted with the efforts, and her bright smile and raven hair whirled constantly across the dance floor. Though she and Peashot were inseparable, it was clear that she was as proud of Aedan as of a brother, telling the story of his fight with Rork many times over. Aedan always diverted the attention, finishing it off with the little detail on how the famed swordsman had finally been toppled.
Ilona had forgotten her dislike of Liru – for how long, none could say – and she was apparently determined to win back Aedan’s affection, insisting on dancing with him more than once. But then she seemed equally intent on winning the affections of Hadley, Warton, and two or three others. She had grown even more dazzling and it was not lost on the boys. Perhaps the only person more taken with her looks was Ilona herself, and it went a long way to spoiling them. When Aedan saw how sure she was of being admired, it almost made him dislike her. But then when those eyes searched him out …
Aedan was disappointed with himself for being so easily drawn back to the spider’s web, as Liru had once put it. He fell into blackest despair when Ilona danced with Hadley, and studied her for signs of disinterest. Then she danced with Warton, and Aedan’s heart dropped another foot into the earth. When Kian approached her for a dance and Aedan saw her derisive sneer, he suddenly woke as if from a drugged stupor. Peashot’s comment floated back to him – kind and sweet people are kind and sweet to everyone. Ilona was nice when she wanted something. It was like a beautiful mask she put on for a purpose, and beneath it was steel.
Despite this, Aedan’s eye was still lured whenever the golden hair swung across the dance floor.
The following afternoon Aedan began searching the libraries. There were five of them in the marshals’ division alone. The image that had appeared in the lightning was still clear in his mind – a red leather cover with a picture of a lizard curled twice on itself. At first he thought the search would be quick as there were not many
volumes bound in red leather, but after fruitlessly scouring all the libraries in his quadrant, he began to wonder.
Access to the other quadrants was not that straightforward. Security, however, was less strict in the law wing. By dressing up and assuming a preoccupied look tinctured with that pained superiority he had often noticed in the students from this wing, he was allowed to pass.
The search was fruitless. The officers’ wing possessed only one library, and it did not seem anyone cared who entered. Again, the book was not to be seen.
He might have been able to pose as a law student, but he had no intention of disguising himself as a girl, so he asked Liru if she would search the libraries in the women’s section. It took her a whole day, but she gave no sign of exhaustion when she returned and suggested that they try the city library in the morning. Peashot and Lorrimer got wind of the search and offered to join in. By midday they had scoured every shelf without success.
“Are you sure it was a lizard?” Lorrimer asked. “I saw one with a coiled chain.”
“It was definitely a lizard,” said Aedan. “I can still see it as clearly as your face.”
“As unpleasant?”
“Shut up Peashot.”
The fiery-haired, trouble-hunting boy was about to step it up a notch. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was lost as he sprang in the air with a howl of pain. Liru gave him a stern look when he landed.
Aedan was not sure how to announce himself to Fergal, and wasn’t even sure if he would be permitted to reach his office unattended. When he got back to the academy, he gathered a pile of books from his shelf and put on a frustrated look of someone doing errands. The guards knew his face and when they saw the tell-tale errand expression they let him pass without a question.
The knock was answered by a familiar voice. Aedan opened the door. Fergal was busy studying a map against the far wall.
“Come in, Aedan.”
Aedan paused. “How did you know it was me?”
“Because everyone who has permission to knock at my door has been given clear instructions not to, on pain of death or something along those lines; because I expected it would take you three days after the conclusion of your examinations to search the libraries for the book you asked me about during our return journey; because your persistent nature and penchant for finding yourself where you do not belong were bound to lead you down here in spite of it being forbidden; and because your knock was too timid for anyone on a real errand. Then, of course, there is the reflection in the brass shield over there.”
Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1) Page 68
