JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING BOOK I: MY SISTER'S KEEPER

by JANRAE FRANK

  "Dearest God!" Cassana exclaimed, finally understanding, "This is a memory ring such as the Lifemages wear. It's trying to tell me what it is..." but its owner was murdered ... and the magic of the ring ... it's become warped ... the ring has become a nightmare... It will take a powerful Stone Reader or mage to interpret it. To get past the shock to the magic.

  The strongest stonemages were always dwarves.

  Cassana retrieved her riding gloves from the top drawer of a chest. Thus shielded she held each ring in turn to the light. Four names on the large silver rings: Darwryn, Minra, Aramesht and Frostryn. A chill shook the Sharani: they were the four greatest Valdren lifemages. Somehow they had all been taken and slain. It was almost beyond belief. The small golden band must have belonged to an apprentice, for as it caught the light she could see the life rune and a name: Sohkoran.

  Returning just the golden bands to a small leather pouch, Cassana tucked them inside her shirt and went looking for Tagalong. If anyone knew where to find a Stone Mage, it would be the dwarf. And a Stone Mage, Cassana thought with grim exultation, would be able to identify the murderer of the slain mages. "And damn Margren to Hell!"

  * * * *

  "The thieves guild ... it does not rent their people out," Hanadi explained, sitting on the floor with Brundarad draped across her like an oversized lap dog. "However, Tagalong Smith's name is known to them as it is to my people. So we have six volunteers, all female as you asked, who will personally report to Tagalong. They can fight if need be, are all good with a sling I am informed as well as a sly knife or two." Then she added, wryly, "Most of the underworld owes that one debts."

  Aejys shrugged, stuffed her pipe, and lit it. She sat in her big wing chair, puffing thoughtfully. "They understand they are not to steal anything until I give them their orders in Rowanslea?"

  "Tagalong has told them that."

  "Good. Now how are we doing for supplies?"

  "I have the six wagons loaded. We can purchase more, if need be, when we reach Vallimrah."

  Aejys nodded.

  * * * *

  The greensward beyond the walls of Vorgensburg stood ablaze with color: blue tents dominated the area; while arriving units of Redbeard's crimson-clad mercenaries wheeled and turned, putting their horsemanship on display. They scattered the little knots of onlookers with a series of mock charges. Tagalong, watching from her tent door, scowled, and then shrugged. "Redbeard knows how to make an entrance..."

  Hanadi's people had arrived six days ago, settling in so quietly, almost invisibly, that the citizenry never realized they were anything save more members of Aejys Rowan's household. All save the lancers were passing themselves off as servants and laborers: the three cook's helpers, all of the drivers and hostlers, and assorted yeomyn. Tagalong liked that.

  Droves of people replied to the proclamations tacked up around Vorgensburg, stating that Aejys was hiring for an expedition along the ancient north road through the wilderness to trade finally in Shaurone and Iradrim. The dwarf left Aejys' arms-master and his assistants in charge of weeding out the wheat from the chaff among the applicants: only a token few who could be vouched for by Aejys' staff would be accepted, but it looked good to the citizenry.

  As she stepped back into her tent, Tagalong noticed that the far side of the tent closest to the next bulged oddly. Tagalong's head screwed around and her eyes narrowed as she tried to decide what was raising the bottom off the ground about six inches. She propped her fists on her hips and stalked over. Tagalong could see now that it appeared to be a big piece of dark brown cloth. So she dropped down and pulled at it.

  A startled shriek answered her and the whole side heaved, making the tent sway. For a minute Tagalong thought it would come down on her. She ducked under the side, which now hung straight, to get clear before the whole thing fell and blundered into Clemmerick.

  "I'll be stoned!" Tagalong exclaimed, seeing the ogre hunkered down between the tents, trying desperately to make his huge form as inconspicuous as possible. She squatted beside him, peering up into his face. "Clemmerick? What are ya doing?"

  "Hiding," he whispered sheepishly, his eyes scanning the grounds from the narrow space between two tents.

  "From who?" Tagalong demanded in a whisper, picking up on Clemmerick's tone and wondering who could possibly intimidate the huge fellow.

  "Becca," he sighed, drawing the tavern-master's name out, his voice fading away to nothing.

  "Why?" Tagalong rose from her squat with a snort, "Hmph!"

  "She hit me with a broom ... was going to hit me some more but I ran."

  Tagalong suppressed an urge to laugh, struggling to keep a straight face at the image of Becca beating Clemmerick who was easily three times her size. "Ya could have taken the broom away from her."

  Clemmerick shook his head. "Then she would have started throwing things. Maybe slinging stones too." His voice started out normal, if somewhat soft, then started dwindling away again in shame and embarrassment. "You know she carries her sling in that belt pouch since you got her into pants?"

  Tagalong nodded, "Thought I saw it pokin' out a bit."

  "And – and I really cannot stand her being upset with me. Especially when I deserve it."

  "How'd ya manage ta getter so mad at ya?"

  Clemmerick flushed, wincing from Tagalong's gaze, his voice now almost inaudible, "North cellar's half empty."

  "Whaoooo," Tagalong exhaled sharply. "Wondered where ya got enough booze ta get so drunk. She just now discover this?"

  Clemmerick nodded. "Every time she needed something from the cellar this week I went for it. Every time I saw her start to go I rushed out and went instead. But then I had to fetch that string of horses from the pasturage at Heidlern Village and..."

  "And she was waitin' fer ya when ya got back?"

  Clemmerick nodded.

  "Tell ya what. Let's go make peace between ya. It ain't gonna break us, but I don't want ta see it happenin' again."

  "I promise. That is the first time I have ever been drunk. And it will be the last time."

  * * * *

  Eliahu stood in the shadows of the cook tent, watching Tamlestari pass on her way to check the new string of horses. He knew that the girl was a Reader, having watched her diagnose Aejys' wounds. So Eliahu deftly avoided close contact with the youth: with a touch she could discern the mage beneath his pilgrim's robes. While he knew that, like all Readers, she probably kept her shields up, nonetheless accidents could occur and he wanted to avoid his presence becoming known to whatever eldritch creatures, mages, sa'necari, and banewitches might owe allegiance to Margren brye Rowan. Any of them could be watching the camp or even have insinuated themselves into it as he had done.

  "So that is the daughter of the Phoenix," he mused. From a scrying pool, Eliahu had watched Kalestari Delarwyn Desharen change into the fire-born bird to fight the Dragon of Waejontor in the battle that cost her life. He wondered if her daughter would have that same talent, seeing as how her great, great grandfather had been a fire-born who took on mortal form out of love for a Valdren woman. Fireborn genes recurred quite often.

  * * * *

  People ignored Josh or noticed him and then soon forgot him. They had long ago learned to think of him as the city sot and disregard everything about him; it was an unfortunate and oft-time tragic matter of his existence. But it also worked to his advantage at times. So while Eliahu watched Tamlestari, Josh watched Eliahu. Josh had had just enough liquor for the edge of his strange talents to kick in and he knew exactly what Eliahu was, though not yet who the pilgrim was. Could Eliahu be Abelard? It did not matter that Branch had said that the last of the Abelards was dead; there could always be one who had been missed. Josh knew nothing of magic or history and was afraid to reveal his ignorance by asking. And he could neither read nor write.

  He purchased two meat pies from a vendor and settled under a tree at the edge of some bushes where he could better watch without being easily watched in turn. When Eliahu had moved off
toward the edge, Josh rose and approached him obliquely, passing on the mage's right since he had noted that Eliahu was left handed. He knew, with that untaught instinct that alcohol brought out, that if this outland mage as going to throw magic at him, Eliahu would be forced to turn about. By then Josh intended to be back into the crowd.

  "I know what you are," Josh hissed sharply without stopping long enough for Eliahu to become certain of what he looked like enough to identify him later. Josh had spent most of his life running away, but where Aejys was concerned he could not run – he had to follow.

  * * * *

  They met that night in Clemmerick's quarters in the stable loft. His bed, a pile of hay with blankets thrown over, lay against the far wall. A long table rescued from storage for the occasion dominated the makeshift room. A tarnished, somewhat bent bronze candelabrum sat at one end and a pair of candles at the other. The shadows of the gathering were thrown tall against the walls and the hay that framed them. They sat in old chairs, no two alike. Like the table they had been drawn from the storage rooms, mismatched leftovers from the storehouses Aejys had torn down to make way for the Ouroborus Inn adjacent to the Cock and Boar. Clemmerick fussed with the plates of leftovers on the middle of the table.

  Grymlyken arrived first. Clemmerick had piled enough hay on his chair that he could comfortably look the tallest in the eyes. The ogre lifted the tiny warrior up and settled him in his place.

  Josh arrived next: sober. A miracle to Clemmerick's mind. Clemmerick seated him next to Grymlyken. Becca, Tagalong, and Tamlestari arrived together. Cassana came last, accompanied by Hanadi who had called the meeting.

  Cassana addressed them in serious formal tones. "Some of you," she nodded to indicate Tagalong, "may already know this. Most of you do not. But the basis of our difficulties in keeping Aejys alive will be this: Aejys swore an oath to do nothing whatsoever to harm Margrenan brye Rowan even in the slightest. What that boils down to is that Margren can draw sword on Aejys and Aejys will not defend herself. That is the binding of the vow. Her life is forfeit to Aroana God if she violates it. Aejys is and always will be ha'taren, a paladin of Aroana. If she violates that oath she will die, by her own hand if not by others. Honor would demand it. Therefore we must, if we have truly given our allegiance to Aejys, place our lives between her and her sister."

  "I swore fealty to Aejystrys brye Rowan," Clemmerick said, "of life and limb and earthly worship. And she gave me a better life. She ordered me to remain behind and help Becca. So I'm going to disobey her and follow in case she needs me. I would rather have my liege lord alive than anything else."

  "And I," said Josh. "I'm coming with you, Clemmerick. I don't know what I can do, but I'm sure I can do something."

  "Me, too," said Grymlyken. He drew his sword and brandished it. "For Aejys!"

  "Aejys doesn't want these three to abandon Becca and come," Tamlestari told them, a troubled light shone in her green eyes and worry put a twist in her mouth. "You will have to trail us. Can you do that?"

  "I can," Josh said softly, shivering at the memory of how, after a couple of drinks he could see prints of any living creature like a glow. So much magic and all of it twisted. But he had to go. He felt terrified of going, of trying to use those gifts, and just as desolate and frightened that something might happen to Aejys – the only reason he had for not walking out into the waves.

  "Wait!" Becca almost shouted, her insides were tightening at the thought of doing without Clemmerick. "I love Aejys as much as the rest of you, but who will do my books when you are gone, Clemmerick? Who will toss out rowdy customers, Grymlyken?"

  "Leave it ta Becca ta put herself first," grumbled Tagalong.

  Becca glared, her slender hands clenching into fists. "I'm not! It will do Aejys no good to come back to a ruined household because I could not do it all myself."

  "I could," Tagalong told her.

  "I must have Clemmerick!"

  "Aejys needs Clemmerick's muscle! Do your own damned books!" Tagalong spit back at her.

  Becca looked stricken. All eyes fastened on her face, curious. "I – I can't read," she told them and wept in humiliation. "I cannot read. Damn it! Out here only the clerics and the upper classes learn to read. It was never anything to be ashamed of. But when Aejys and Tagalong came, bringing in all these outlanders who can, I – I wanted to be part of it."

  The assembled group looked stunned, except for Cassana and Clemmerick who already knew.

  "So ya didn't tell her..." Tagalong said. "And Aejys never thought ta ask. We tend ta forget these things. Everyone in Shaurone learns ta read. Even the boys. Even the poorest classes."

  "You will learn," Cassana told her gently, rising from her chair to put a comforting arm around the seneschal.

  "Ya hid it real well," Tagalong said, settling into her chair.

  "Hire a cleric from one of your temples," Hanadi suggested, "Have him teach you to read and write."

  "Put him on the payroll," Tagalong said. "Take it outta my part. I guess I owe ya that much."

  "I'm the only one of my people going," Grymlyken told her. "You'll still have plenty of bouncers."

  * * * *

  "Still, Brundarad, I am not satisfied," Hanadi rummaged in a saddlebag for pen and paper as she spoke. She laid them out on her parlor table, then went to the windows and threw them wide.

  Brundarad yawned and stretched, scratching around his horns with his hind leg. Yet his emerald eyes never left his companion, their bright intelligence rivaling her own. He did not have to pretend to be a simple animal when they were alone and could be himself. The shadowhounds had escaped extinction during the wars of the Age of Burning by pretending to be creatures of less than sapient wisdom and intellect.

  "Call your birds, Brundarad!" Hanadi ordered curtly.

  The shadow hound stretched again, then settled on his haunches and threw back his head. An eerie, ululating howl slid from his throat. Everyone in the Cock and Boar, everyone in Vorgensburg heard it and, except for those who had seen the shadow hound, they wondered what kind of creature could possibly make such a sound.

  These days duty gave Brundarad and his mate so little time to be alone together and even alone, their moments of intimacy were becoming severely cut short by the needs of trying to out plan the enemy. Still, he decided to make the suggestion to her. He reared up; his strange double paws coming to rest lightly on her shoulders. He nuzzled her neck and throat, pulling the headscarf off and letting it fall to the ground. Hanadi flushed as her dark hair tumbled down. She shivered at his questing touch, the hot breath on her throat. His secondary paws lengthened into hands with long, well-shaped fingers and he deftly released the upper buttons of her blouse. Hanadi's shivering became violent trembling as Brundarad's muzzle moved lower. She reached for his horns to press him further into intimate regions.

  The sound of wings and the shrill questioning of hawks interrupted them.

  "No," she said abruptly. "First business. Later pleasures. When assignment ends, it will be time for our wanderyear. So look forward to that and be patient."

  Three large deep brown hawks with white barred wings sat patiently on the window ledge. Brundarad sighed. He dropped to all fours; his secondary paws resuming their usual form. Then he curled up beneath the table while Hanadi quickly penned a short letter.

  Archer,

  We must figure all our angles. Is it possible to take out Margrenan brye Rowan before we arrive? What risks are involved? Is there danger to our people if we do this? Will it rebound on Aejystrys brye Rowan if we do? Aejystrys is bound by a death oath to do no harm to Margrenan. What is the situation?

  Windhawk

  Hanadi folded the letter small and snugged it to the hawk's body with a supple leather harness.

  "Send him to Wilstryn, Brundarad," she told the shadow hound.

  Brundarad rose and addressed the hawk in a series of eerie whining noises that rose into a low howling. The hawk shook himself, spread his wings, and flew out the window. Th
e other two dispersed into the night.

  Hanadi watched them go, her face thoughtful. Then she crossed into the bedroom. Brundarad followed, thinking about how nice it would be when their wanderyear came and they could stop being two different species for a time. Hanadi dropped her blouse by the bed, loosened the lacings of her pants, and lay down. Brundarad rumbled happily. He reared up, his form altering very subtlety: his hind legs lengthened to a semblance of human, coated in steel gray hair, and his huge maleness emerged from the gray thatch between them. In just that much could he alter his form and no more. So he was still more beast than man as he mounted her, but he was man enough for his mate where it counted.

  * * * *

  Thomas Cedarbird's office caught the morning light through four wide, tall windows, flooding it with gold from the west. Diamond paned skylights lined the east ceiling above a mirrored wall. At all times of day the room seized and reflected all the sunlight that could be captured. Thomas had always loved the sunlight, spending all the time he could growing up in the outdoors. When he inherited his maternal grandfather's shipping business and saw that he would need to spend the majority of his time indoors working, he hired a talented architect to bring the outdoors in. Rare plants thrived in deep boxes along the windows and dwarf trees grew in huge pots in the corners. His desk, a table, and three over-stuffed, claw-footed chairs nestled in the center of the lush greenery.

  He looked up at his amanuensis's distinctive knock, laying aside his quill as Darlbret ushered in a tall strapping youth in guardsmyn's gear. Two servants still fussed over the syndic's braids and the proper pinning of two eagle feathers in the right one.

  Thomas Cedarbird dismissed them with a wave. Aejys would not make any trading contacts that he could not duplicate or better, if he had any say in the matter and this new expedition sounded potentially quite lucrative. Furthermore, if he could frustrate her enough, maybe she would give up being a merchant and let him make her king of Vorgensburg. At least, he comforted himself, she had finally admitted that he was right; she was the Lion of Rowanslea.