With a start, Davian realised that the young man was the fighter they had seen out in the stadium. He had changed clothes and bore no signs of the bout he had lost, though his demeanour seemed odd. He stood in the corner of the room, and if Davian had not just seen him put up such a brave fight in front of thousands of people, he would have said he looked sulky.
Taeris stepped forward, ignoring Dras and bowing to the woman. “Your Royal Highness,” he said formally. “I hope that no-one will be starting anything. My companions and I are in grave danger, and….” He trailed off, realising the princess was no longer paying attention to him.
Davian turned, following her gaze.
At the back of the room, Wirr was cringing under the princess’ increasingly outraged glare. Taeris and Dras both looked from Karaliene, to Wirr, and then back again in complete confusion.
“You,” Princess Karaliene said imperiously, pointing directly at Wirr. “Walk with me.”
Wirr grimaced, shuffling forward, avoiding everyone’s stares. As Karaliene’s entourage began to follow her from the room, she turned, shaking her head at them. “You will stay here and attend to these men until I return,” she said firmly.
“Princess!” The cry of protest came from Dras. “I must insist that someone accompany you. This boy is travelling in the company of a murderer. Two murderers! There is no telling what danger he might pose!”
“Are you refusing to follow my express command, and thus the command of my father, Representative Lothlar?” snapped Karaliene. It had the exasperated sound of someone who had had this conversation before.
Dras hesitated, then subsided, confusion still plastered on his face. “No. No of course not, Your Highness,” he said, giving her an obsequious bow.
Karaliene responded with a curt nod, then spun on her heel and left, Wirr trailing behind. The door shut, and everyone in the room was left gaping at each other in open astonishment.
Taeris turned to Davian. “That,” he said with a mixture of puzzlement and concern, “ was unexpected.”
Finally recovering his wits, Dras rounded on Taeris, fire in his eyes. “Sarr,” he spat venomously, “ what game are you playing at here?”
Taeris couldn’t keep the bafflement from his features. “For perhaps the first time, Dras, I am as ignorant as you.” He shot a questioning glance at Davian, who shook his head. He was as stunned as everyone else at the turn of events.
Having little other recourse, they settled down to wait for Wirr and the princess to return.
***
Wirr followed Karaliene, silently cursing his bad luck. He’d known this moment would come eventually, but he’d wanted it to be on his terms, not like this.
They reached another small room, not too far from the one they had just left, but empty. They entered, and Karaliene closed the door behind them with a cold anger that made Wirr even more certain of the trouble he had caused. He braced himself.
Karaliene turned to him, arms crossed, assessing him with those calculating green eyes he remembered from so many years ago.
“Hello, cousin,” she said darkly.
- Chapter 18 -
Wirr gave an embarrassed smile.
“Hello, Kara,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Karaliene scowled at him. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like this is all a joke.” She shook her head. “Fates, Torin, where have you been? How are you here, of all places? Do you have any idea how sick with worry both our fathers are?”
Wirr made what he hoped was a calming gesture. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, putting as much penitence in his tone as he could muster. His shoulders slumped, and the last of his bravado left him. “I never meant for things to get so out of hand.”
Karaliene continued to glare at him for a moment. Then she sighed, and the hint of a smile crept onto her lips. “’Kara’. No-one except my father and yours calls me that any more.” She stepped forward, giving him a sudden and tight hug. “It's been weeks... we didn't know what to think, Tor. It’s good to see you.”
Wirr returned the embrace. “Torin. I’m going to have to get used to that again.” After so many years he couldn’t help but think of himself as Wirrander now, even though it was the second of his given names. He ran his hands through his hair. “So, I take it your father told you the truth about me? About where I’ve been?”
Karaliene nodded. “He told me as soon as we heard the news about the school; he was panicking and there was no way to hide it from me. I’m the only one, though. To everyone else, you’ve just been delayed in returning from Calandra. You probably have another month or so before anybody becomes too suspicious.”
Wirr nodded. The court had been told that he’d gone to the Isles of Calandra, to serve at the Andarran outpost there. It was unusual but not unheard of: a prince being sent to one of Andarra’s outlying colonies to learn warfare and tactics, to experience some 'real danger'. The Isles were so remote that only someone who served at the actual outpost would be able to confirm he hadn’t been there – and those men had all sworn oaths not to reveal that information.
Then he frowned. Something Karaliene had said....
“What did you hear about the school?" He shook his head. "All things considered, I’d have thought they’d want to keep our running away fairly quiet.”
“Running away?” repeated Karaliene, nonplussed. “Torin….” She hesitated. A range of emotions flashed across her face, from confusion to understanding to pity. “Oh, Tor. You haven’t heard. Something terrible happened. Someone….” She trailed off, suddenly flustered. She stepped closer, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “The night you left, someone, or something, attacked. Everyone who was still there... they died.”
Wirr stared at Karaliene. “That’s a poor joke, Kara.”
Karaliene just looked at him sadly.
His body recognised the truth before his mind could; his knees went weak and he slumped into a nearby chair, hands suddenly shaking. “All of them?”
Karaliene nodded. “I’m so sorry, Tor. There were no survivors.”
The next few minutes passed in a blur. At first he was simply dazed, unable to comprehend the idea that everyone he had known for the last few years was dead. Once the reality set in, though, he felt only emptiness inside. It had surely been his fault. Whoever had attacked had been looking for him. It was his fault.
There were no tears, for which he was grateful; a disconnected part of his mind thought he would have been embarrassed to cry in front of his cousin. At one point an Andarran guard opened the door to fetch the princess for some event or other, but Karaliene waved him away silently. Eventually Wirr’s initial dizziness at the news passed and he took some deep breaths, focusing again on the present.
They sat in silence for a little while, then Karaliene said gently, “We assumed either you'd escaped and were in hiding, or had been taken. But if you didn't know - why leave?”
"It was important. We heard a rumour that the Boundary was weakening, maybe about to collapse. The sig'nari were gathering Augurs, and my friend was... he had a way to find them. He needed my help, and I needed to find out how much of it was true. And to make sure the sig'nari weren't planning some kind of rebellion. It... seemed like the right choice at the time." The words came out heavily. He gave a hollow laugh when he saw the expression on Karaliene's face. "Don't worry - they're not. Though I think the Boundary side of it might be true. It's... a long story."
"I have time."
Wirr hesitated, taking a deep breath. "I can explain, but first I need your word - you won't act on anything I tell you, and what I say doesn't go beyond this room. There are some things you're not going to like. Some things I'm not sure I like, to be honest."
Karaliene made a face, but nodded.
Wirr told her the whole story, leaving nothing out. A part of him wondered at the wisdom of it, but it all seemed so insignificant in light of the news. Even as he spoke, names and faces flashed through his
head. Asha. Elder Jarras, Elder Olin, Alita. Talean. Absently he wondered if he were lucky to have left with Davian when he did, and then immediately hated himself for the thought. With a flood of nausea, he realised he would have to be the one to tell his friend the news.
Karaliene listened to his story in silence, her expression changing only once – when he admitted to helping rescue Caeden from the Desrielite soldiers. Wirr saw the dismay on her face, and she opened her mouth to interject, but quickly closed it again to let him continue. He was grateful for that. If he’d had to stop, he didn’t know if he could have started again.
He finished, and Karaliene watched him for a few moments before speaking.
“Tor,” she said softly. “What have you done?”
Wirr tensed. “Don’t discount what Taeris says, Karaliene. I don’t know if he’s right, but clearly something is going on. If there’s some threat waiting for us beyond the Boundary, we need to be prepared. And getting Caeden back to Andarra, restoring his memories – it’s the only way I can think of to find out more.”
Karaliene held up her hand. “Taeris Sarr is a murderer, Torin. Administration were within their mandate to cover up his escape, but now I know… I should be taking him back to Andarra to complete his sentence, not helping him.”
Wirr frowned. "I told you there would be things you didn't like. You haven’t even spoken to him.” He crossed his arms. “I was dubious at first too, but he killed those men to save Davian's life.”
Karaliene shook her head. “I was at his trial, Tor. He didn’t just kill them. He mutilated them. Carved marks into their faces while they were still alive. And he never revealed how he got around the First Tenet.”
“Taeris tells a different story. And he explained about the First Tenet.”
“Tell that to the twenty or so who heard the screams of the men he was killing, some from several streets away.” Karaliene looked troubled. “The evidence was overwhelming... your father passed his sentence, you know.”
“I know.” Wirr hesitated. He also knew that Davian remembered nothing of that day, or at least had forced the memories so far into the recesses of his mind that they were no longer easily accessed. And if Taeris had lied, he apparently could have hidden it from Davian’s ability.
What Karaliene said was possible, he supposed.
Still, he had met Taeris. He was capable of violence, certainly - but was he the kind of man to delight in it? Wirr thought not.
“So you’re telling me that there have been no reports from the north of anything unusual.” Wirr gave her a querying look.
Karaliene scowled. “There are always reports from the north, Torin! Every year they come in. Hoaxes played by children who were weaned on stories of Talan Gol. The overactive imaginations of farmers who weren’t vigilant enough to protect their livestock from wolves.”
“And the scale he showed us?”
Karaliene snorted. “It could be anything. He could have made it himself! No-one has seen a dar’gaithin for literally thousands of years.” She leaned forward. “Think, Tor. Just think. He’s a murderer. He is asking for political asylum for another man wanted for the same crime – a man who may be a conspirator in what happened to your school, for all you know! Is this the kind of man a prince of the realm should be travelling with?”
Wirr scowled. “Davian verified Caeden’s story about having lost his memory.”
“The same Davian who set you on this journey to begin with.” She held up her hand as he began to protest. “I believe you when you say he had no part in what happened. Don't worry, I'll keep my word - if you tell me he can be trusted, I won't tell anyone he's an Augur. But his ability has a very serious flaw if he is so easily fooled. I for one would not trust it implicitly.” She paused. “And even if this Caeden truly has lost his memory, it does not make him innocent, either.”
Wirr ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He remembered this Karaliene. Good at arguing, not so good at listening. “So you’ll not help us?”
There was silence as the two glared at each other, then Karaliene crossed her arms, coming to a decision. “I can arrange for you and your friend to return with us. It will be tricky – the Gil’shar know how many Gifted came with us. You’ll have to act like just another Gifted; the Desrielites screen everyone at the border, and the entire country will know within days if Prince Torin sets off a Finder.”
She pursed her lips. “This other man, Caeden, is a different matter. His description is everywhere; frankly I’m surprised you made it this far without being discovered. But he’ll be recognised soon enough. Representative Lothlar was right, you know. If we give him asylum, it could very well mean war.” She shrugged. “Handing him over might just offset the fallout of taking you with us, though.”
Wirr’s heart sank, and he gave a heavy sigh. “I understand,” he admitted, “ and you’re being very generous with your offer. But I'm afraid I must refuse.”
Karaliene blinked. “Pardon?” she said in disbelief.
Wirr grimaced. “Call me irresponsible if you want, Kara, but there is something about Caeden I trust. I believe him.” As he was saying it, he was surprised to find it was true. “I know he’s not making it up. I won’t abandon him to be executed.”
Karaliene took a second to compose herself. “You don’t have a choice,” she said abruptly. “You’re too important. You’ll come back with me if I have to bind you and drag you there myself.”
Wirr laughed. “Do that, and I’ll just come forward and tell everyone that I’m Torin Wirrander Andras, Prince of Andarra. Then I’ll grant asylum for Davian, Taeris and Caeden myself.”
Karaliene scowled. “You wouldn’t. Otherwise you would have done so long ago.”
Wirr grinned. “I was trying to find a better way. Prevent a war and all that. But if you leave me no choice….”
For a moment it looked like Karaliene was going to argue further; then her face fell and she gestured in disgust. “Very well,” she said in exasperation. “Though I think you’re a fool for doing this.”
“Goes without saying,” said Wirr.
Karaliene glared at him for a moment longer, but eventually couldn't stop the corners of her mouth creeping upward.
“You used to be so serious,” she said with a wondering shake of her head. “What happened?”
Wirr shrugged. “I think... you get a different perspective when people treat you as an equal. It changes the way you look at things,” he said, a pang of guilt and sorrow running through him as he thought about the school again.
Karaliene watched him, her gaze appraising. “I like you better this way,” she admitted. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that. There are going to be some very, very angry people once I get word of this back to Andarra.”
“Which will be when?”
Karaliene considered. “I can't trust this sort of thing to a pigeon or a rider - I'll have to deliver it myself. So... a few weeks, maybe a little more?” She grimaced. "I know I gave you my word, Tor, but I have to tell our fathers something. And once they know you're alive, they're going to want a full explanation."
"Then tell them I'm here because I think the Boundary may be weakening - but that I'm heading home, and I promise to explain everything to them when I arrive. They don't need to know about Davian, or Caeden, or Taeris for now." He held up his hand as Karaliene made to protest. "If you tell them, the only thing it will do is worry them more. Having that information won't help them in the slightest."
"What if you don't make it back?"
"If I'm not home in six weeks, you can tell them everything."
Karaliene scowled, but after a few seconds gave a reluctant nod. "On one condition."
"Which is?"
"That you let me send some protection with you." Karaliene brushed a loose strand of hair from her eyes. "Your father will skin me alive if I don't do that much. And at least this way, I can give him some sort of reassurance."
Wirr hesitated, then nodded. "Done."
"Good." Karaliene released a deep breath. “I think I can manage that much without raising any suspicion. None of the Gifted, mind you – the Desrielites might be a little unhappy if we go back one or two short.” She smirked at the thought. “I can organise someone to be at the northern gate of Thrindar at dawn tomorrow. I assume you won’t be staying longer than necessary.”
“I think that’s a fair guess,” admitted Wirr. “Thank-you.”
Karaliene inclined her head. “You know that if you’re caught, you won’t be able to claim any ties to the throne without starting a war?”
“I know.”
They both stood, signalling the end of their conversation. “What should I tell the others?” Wirr wondered aloud.
“That’s the least of your worries.” Karaliene watched him for a moment, then abruptly stepped forward, giving Wirr a long, tight hug. “Be safe, Tor.”
Wirr smiled affectionately. “Thanks, Kara,” he said, returning the embrace.
At that moment the creaking of the door indicated someone had entered. Wirr and Karaliene leapt apart, turning to face the entrance.
The swordsman who had fought in the contest earlier stood in the doorway, hand frozen on the door frame as he stared at them. There was an awkward silence.
“I apologise, Your Highness,” said the young man stiffly, giving a slight bow in Karaliene’s direction. “I should have knocked.”
He spun and vanished, shutting the door behind him.
“Aelric!” The princess’ call came too late; he was gone. She turned to Wirr. “I am going to have to do some explaining later,” she sighed, an exasperated look on her face.
Wirr hesitated. “Is that safe?”
“What?” Karaliene had been staring at the closed door; she waved him away distractedly. “Don’t worry, Aelric is trustworthy. A bit full of himself at times, but eminently trustworthy.” She saw Wirr’s expression. “Oh, very well. I won’t tell him who you are.”
The Shadow Of What Was Lost (Book 1) Page 22
