“Yes, your majesty.”
“While the army is gathering, I have a different task,” Relam added quietly. “I need to find the Keepers.”
Chapter 41:
The Missing
Two days later, Relam marched into the meeting of regents with a plan. His armies were beginning to muster in the South, and warriors from nearby Ardia and Narne were already closing in on the West Bank. Groups from Jalakash and Mizzran were on their way as well, along with soldiers from Gobel-Tek and Ostgard. Other companies were moving in from the larger towns and villages, everyone answering the call of the king, the call to another war in the South.
Relam strode into the room and moved quickly around the table to his seat at the far side. As he sat, he noticed that the chair to his right stood empty, the place where Cevet normally sat. He checked the water clock on the wall to make sure he had the time right, then shrugged. Cevet was probably just running behind, or maybe something else had come up. He would be here as soon as he could.
“Let’s get started,” the young king called, quickly quieting the room. “All of you have soldiers on their way to the West Bank?”
“As many as can be spared,” Sebast agreed. “Although the Mizzran region held on to a fair number of their troops under the pretense of controlling the miner uprising.”
Relam rolled his eyes. “When this war is over, I am going to personally sort out that mess. It’s been dragging on for far too long.”
“It’s been going for generations,” Delan put in, “The resistance, I mean. It won’t be easy to put an end to it.”
“Did I say it would be easy?” Relam muttered. “Nothing about being king is easy, Delan.”
“True,” the Laurencian heir agreed. “We all realize that now, I think. Can’t believe we used to be jealous of your position.”
“Yeah,” Sebast agreed. “All the work that goes into it looks terrible, even though we’re helping with some.”
Relam shrugged. “It has to be done.” He shuffled his notes, trying to refocus. “How long do you estimate before our armies are fully mustered?”
“The bulk of our forces should arrive in a week or a little more,” Knet replied immediately. “And some are already there.”
“Good,” Relam murmured. “We’ll need them.”
“What exactly is going on?” Delan asked. “We’re sending an awful lot of warriors, Relam. Is this all for the silver dragon or is there another war brewing?”
“Maybe both,” the young king replied heavily. “We suspect the vertaga may be involved, and there is a chance they are the ones who control the silver dragon.”
Sebast swore quietly. “Well, that would make the lot of us look like fools. The Keepers had nothing to do with it?”
“Potentially.”
“And we turned on them.” Sebast shook his head. “Guess that was a mistake, and looks like we’ll be paying for it for some time. The plaza won’t rebuild itself.”
“Neither will the Keeper’s trust in us,” Relam agreed, “I’m hoping to mend it enough that they will fight with us though. The Keepers will augment our armies sufficiently that we should be able to take on whatever waits for us in the South.”
“How will you make contact with them?” Knet asked, frowning thoughtfully.
“That I don’t know,” Relam admitted. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“Do our scouts report anything?” Jatt asked hopefully.
“No dragon sightings,” Relam said, shaking his head.
“Well, they can’t have gone far!” Knet pointed out. “The big one was wounded.”
“Kanin?”
“Yes, he was carried off, remember? By three of the smaller dragons?”
“They weren’t small,” Delan muttered. “They were huge, fire-breathing war machines.”
“Well, they were smaller than Kanin was.”
“Still dangerous.”
“Yes, but – ”
“That’s not important,” Relam grunted. “Knet, you’re right about Kanin being wounded, but I’m not sure how badly. And I don’t know how far they could have carried him. So unless you have a good guess as to where they are now . . . ”
“They’ll be hiding, wherever they are,” Sebast reasoned. “Kanin will need time to heal and recover, undisturbed by us or our people or our soldiers.”
“And there aren’t many places you can hide a dragon,” Knet added, his confidence growing as he drew a map across the table. “At least, not many places near here.”
“There’s the Midwood,” Delan grunted. “That would only take a lifetime to search properly.”
“Yes, but they flew the opposite direction when they left,” Knet reminded him. “They went a little south of east, remember?”
“A lot south of east,” Relam corrected. “They flew out over the Furnier, where we couldn’t pursue them without ships.”
“Ok,” Knet conceded. “So if we estimate their course to be between this and this . . .” he scooped up a writing stick and marked two lines leaving Etares on the map, one headed more south than the other, creating a wedge of territory to search. “There. The southern end of the Durman woods.”
“Unless they changed course,” Delan muttered, rolling his eyes. “What it comes down to is a guess at best.”
“An educated guess,” Knet countered stubbornly.
“It’s a start,” Relam assured him, “I’ll pass by the area when I sail down to Ardia to join the army. If the Keepers are there, we’ll do our best to make contact. Peacefully.”
“You mean when we all go south to Ardia,” Sebast added suspiciously.
“No, just me,” Relam replied. “You’re all staying here to keep the kingdom running and make sure the Masks don’t seize control of Etares while I’m gone.”
“I think I’d rather you put me on the front lines for the whole war,” Delan muttered darkly.
“The Masks won’t move unless I’m out of the picture,” Relam assured him. “I think.”
“Speaking of out of the picture,” Knet interrupted, “Where is Cevet? He’s normally here by now.”
“He’s normally here before any of us,” Sebast replied drily. “He probably just overslept or something.”
“He’s always been an early riser,” Knet countered stubbornly.
“Well, maybe he’s working on another project.”
Another project.
The words resonated in Relam’s mind and he groaned. Distracted by everything else that had happened since the meeting at Oreius’ house, he had forgotten an important detail. He had given Cevet leave to investigate the Masks again, albeit more discreetly than before.
“What?” Delan asked, watching Relam curiously. “Do you know where he is?”
“I have a suspicion,” Relam muttered. “Two days ago, he was headed to investigate the Masks from a different angle.”
“Oh,” Knet said, face falling into a worried frown. “Well, that doesn’t sound good.”
“Has anyone seen him since then?” Relam asked hopefully, looking around the table.
“I haven’t,” Jatt replied, shrugging.
“Me neither,” Delan agreed.
“Not since last week,” Sebast muttered.
Relam glanced at Knet hopefully, but the regent simply shook his head. The young king tried to control the rising panic in his chest and failed miserably.
“I think we’re done for now,” he managed finally. “I’ll start looking for Cevet at his house, see what I can find. The rest of you stay alert, for Cevet and for any danger to yourselves.”
“You’re sure we can’t go fight in the South?” Delan muttered as Relam stood.
Relam did not honor the question with a reply, hurrying out of the room as fast as he could. His guards were waiting outside, three flanking each side of the door.
“Your majesty!” Galen said, coming to attention. “Is the meeting over already? I thought it would still be going for some time.”
“Ceve
t is missing,” Relam grunted. “We’re going to his house to look for him.”
“That’s dangerous, if young lord Thius is already missing,” Galen warned stiffly.
“I don’t care. He’s my friend, and I want to make sure he’s all right,” Relam growled. “Form up.”
The six guards moved quickly into position around Relam and he led them from the palace out into the city, moving quickly and purposefully towards the wealthier neighborhoods in the city, where the Thius estate stood. Relam had been there only once before, to arrest Cevet’s father. But that one brief encounter had been enough to ingrain the route in his memory forever.
They reached the Thius estate in under five minutes, marching right up to the front door. Relam knocked forcefully, then stepped back to wait, Galen and Eric flanking him with swords half drawn. There was a long pause, then the door swung open smoothly and slowly to reveal the head servant, Rhone.
“Your majesty,” he said, bowing low. “Welcome. Shall I announce your visit to Lord Thius?”
“Is he here?” Relam asked hopefully.
“I do not know,” Rhone replied, shattering that hope. “I assumed that if you were visiting he would be.”
“Can you take us to his study?”
“Of course.”
Rhone ushered them in, then led them through the Thius’ massive house until they reached the very study where Ryker Thius had been arrested a year previously. There were no guards at the door, and when Relam tried the latch it was unlocked.
“Let us go first,” Galen grunted, shoving past Relam. “Ready, Eric?”
“Ready.”
The two guards burst through the door and raced into the room, swords drawn and held ready. They stopped a few paces in and looked around quickly before relaxing. “All clear.”
The young king moved into the room carefully, looking around. There was no sign that Cevet had been here recently, and no sign of any kind of struggle. He went to Cevet’s desk and poked through the papers stacked there. At one corner of the desk was a small pile of messages Cevet hadn’t gotten to yet, including one sealed with Relam’s insignia. He opened it and read through it.
“My orders to muster our armies,” he told the others, tossing the note back on the desk. “Unopened and unread. And I sent it to him right after we met with Oreius.”
“This doesn’t look good,” Galen murmured. “Rhone, have you seen regent Thius at all recently?”
“Not since early in the morning two days ago. I believe he was looking for you then, your majesty,” he added, bowing slightly in Relam’s direction.
The young king sighed heavily. “Then we keep looking. We’ll trace his steps as far as we can. Cevet was headed to Hadere to learn more about his father, so we’ll start there.”
Relam turned on his heel and strode from the room, followed by his guards and Rhone. The servant hurried along in their wake, trying to catch up to Relam.
“Your majesty,” he said, “I hesitate even to ask, but is Lord Thius in some kind of trouble?”
“Not with me,” Relam replied. “But there’s a chance he’s gotten himself into something dangerous.”
“Oh dear,” the servant murmured. “Well, if that’s the case, please let me know.”
“Of course,” Relam replied automatically. He swept out the front door, leaving Rhone standing on the threshold, and started off for the city guard headquarters with his guards in tow.
They made the trip to the west gate in record time, despite the snow and ice piled on the road. Relam ignored the treacherous footing and the icy crystals sticking to his boots and pant legs, all discomfort ignored due to the thoughts whirling in his head. By the time the west gate came into a sight, he had worked his mind into a manic state.
The usual contingent of guards was stationed at the gate, shuffling around in the cold, trying to keep warm. Relam marched right up to their leader, ignoring the others. “I need to speak with Hadere,” he said brusquely, forgoing any pleasantries.
The captain frowned. “He is in his office, your majesty. Is something the matter?”
“Maybe,” Relam grunted. “We’ll see.” He moved quickly to the door close by the side of the gate, and knocked on it peremptorily. There was a brief hesitation, then the sturdy portal swung open to reveal Hadere himself.
“Relam! Come in, come in. It’s good to see you again. I . . .” he trailed off with a frown as Relam wordlessly crossed the threshold, looking around the small room. “Is something wrong?”
“Cevet is missing,” Relam told him as the others filed in and Wil shut the door. With six guards, Relam, and the commander, the small office was incredibly crowded. There was barely room to move around Hadere’s desk and a row of cabinets and shelves standing against one wall. Relam also had to be careful to avoid the fireplace, which had a cheerful fire burning in it. The young king wedged himself against one of the filing cabinets to make room for the others to spread out, then glanced back at Hadere. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“A couple days ago. Why?” Hadere asked, leaning against the side of his desk.
“He hasn’t been seen since,” Relam muttered. “What did he ask you about, Hadere? And where did he go when he left?”
“He wanted to know more about his father,” Hadere said, shrugging. “And I was closer to Ryker than anyone, as you know. We talked about a few of his contacts who had moved out of the city, but I don’t know where Cevet went after.”
Relam sighed. “I thought as much. Where do you suspect he went, commander?”
Hadere shrugged. “He probably went to investigate some of the individuals I named. That would be his typical pattern, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes. Even if I told him not to,” Relam muttered. “But . . . he seemed sincere this time. I trusted him to keep his head. If he learned anything, anything at all, he was to inform me before continuing with any leads.” He swung around to look back at Hadere. “Did he seem agitated? Distracted?”
“Not really,” Hadere replied. “Or at least, no more than usual.”
Wil knelt by the fireplace, tugging his gloves off to warm his hands. “Cevet? Agitated? Normally he does a pretty good job of bottling all that up inside. The kid can hold more tension inside of him than a leash on a dragon could.”
Galen snorted. “That’s the problem, he keeps to himself too much. Which makes him hard to find when he goes missing.”
Relam smacked Hadere’s bookshelf with one fist, racking his brain for a solution. One of the books toppled over with a muffled thump. As Relam went to replace it, he noticed a rectangular section at the back wall of the shelf that had been cut out and replaced. The grain lined up perfectly, but the cut lines around the panel were clear and straight. “What’s this?” he asked Hadere, pushing at the panel.
The rectangle of wood popped out, revealing a cubbyhole behind the bookshelf.
“It’s nothing,” Hadere said. “Just a safe place to keep random important things. Keys I don’t use regularly, important documents, things like that.”
Wil crossed the room to inspect the cubbyhole, peering into it. “Nifty little spot,” he observed as Relam tried to cover it back up. “Hang on, there’s something shiny in here.”
Before Relam could stop him, the guardsman reached in and pulled out a strangely shaped piece of metal that gleamed with golden light. The back side was smooth, with odd holes cut into it. Then, Wil flipped the piece over and Relam recognized it for what it was. A mask.
“Is this yours?” Relam demanded, wheeling to face Hadere.
The commander stepped behind his desk, putting it between him and the rest of the room’s occupants. “Now, how stupid would I have to be to admit to that?” he asked no one in particular.
“It is yours,” Galen guessed.
“And I’ll bet that means you know exactly what happened to Cevet,” Relam growled.
“Perhaps.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s safe,” Hadere replied.
“He’s out of the picture for now, which is what you wanted in a way. He will remain where he is for the time being. Who knows? He might become a useful figurehead in the new age that is approaching. He has a great deal of potential with that brain of his and his knack for solving problems.”
“He’d never turn,” Relam snapped. “He’s not like his father.”
“Cevet will come to his senses eventually,” Hadere replied confidently. “And if he doesn’t, well, we have plans for that too. He will be given the chance though. It’s the least I can do for Ryker, try to spare the son he sacrificed so much for.”
“He betrayed the kingdom for his own gain, not for Cevet,” Relam countered.
“Partially. But, I do believe there was a significant part of him that believed he was doing it for Cevet,” Hadere mused. “If you remember, Relam, I told you I knew Ryker Thius better than anyone that day at the Citadel. And yet, you trusted me.”
“A mistake which will immediately be rectified. You’re under arrest, Hadere,” Relam snapped.
The commander laughed. “I don’t think so. If you arrest me, you won’t be seeing Cevet again. As long as I am free, he is safe and will be kept alive. And, if you attack me, I can summon guards in a matter of seconds. I’ve been careful to always keep some of my own men close at all times.”
“We could just kill him,” Eric suggested. “His guards wouldn’t fight for a dead man.”
Hadere laughed. “Fool! It doesn’t matter if I die. It’s the Council of Masks. There are plenty of others who would reward my men handsomely for their service.”
“I’m tired of the games,” Relam snapped. “You will tell us what the council is planning, or you will be tortured by the Citadel’s best.”
“In which case, the council will see that your followers, friends, and allies are eliminated, one by one, in attacks you will never see coming and will arouse no suspicion,” Hadere replied coolly. “Starting with Oreius, Narin, Sebast, Delan, Knet, Jatt, your personal guards, Clemon . . . even Aven, the boy you recommended to the guard last year. Oh, and of course I would have to deal with Tar Agath and any of your other known supporters. The list goes on and on, boy. Do you really want to trigger such a wave of death? Could you live knowing you had sacrificed your friends like that?”
The Captive Page 57
