Taeris hesitated. "Yes," he conceded. "You know I do."
Haemish grimaced. "And there it is. Sha’teth thinking for themselves. An enemy that can create Echoes, supposedly one of Devaed’s favourite tricks. Ancient monsters in the mists of Deilannis. And Taeris Sarr at the centre of it all, bringing us the solution to our problems, saving the day. Fulfilling the prophecies of Alchesh Mel’tac, just like he always wanted.” He raised an eyebrow at Ciahn. "Sound familiar?"
"That was a long time ago, Haemish," said Ciahn reprovingly.
Taeris reddened as he listened to the conversation. “I’m not asking you to believe, Haemish. Just help Caeden regain his memories, find out what this Vessel does. And if you don't believe he's Gifted, just test him - you can see for yourself just how strong he is. At worst, you'll be gaining a powerful ally.”
Haemish shook his head. “At worst, Sarr, we’ll be reminding a murderer who is not bound by the Tenets how to fully utilize his powers.” He sighed. "This invasion from the North - these 'Blind' - are just men. They don't have dar'gaithin, or eletai, or any of the old monsters alongside them. We can agree that they're dangerous... but that is why the Council has already made a decision about them."
Taeris stiffened. "Which is?"
"Unless the king changes the Tenets, the city can fend for itself. If they don't want our help, we'll do what is safest for us - which is to stay behind these walls. If the invasion succeeds in taking the city, then we will negotiate." Haemish stared Taeris in the eye.
Taeris looked at him for a long moment in disbelief, then turned to Nashrel, horrified. "Is this true?"
Nashrel, who had remained silent up to this point, gave a tired nod. "I'm afraid so," he said quietly. "I was against it, but some of the rhetoric we've heard coming from the palace lately... it's dangerous talk, Taeris. The king has always felt like a neutral party when it comes to the Gifted, but these past few weeks, he's sounded more like a Loyalist." He looked at the ground. "We have to start thinking about ourselves."
"But you won't be able to hide behind your walls. Not like in the war," said Taeris, his tone urgent now. "These people won't negotiate. I told you what we saw in Gahille!"
"What you claim you saw." Haemish sighed. "Taeris, we went through this five years ago, and it nearly tore the Tol apart. Devaed is dead, if he was ever even alive. We need to face the reality of the invasion, not pretend it's some ancient evil come to destroy us."
Taeris groaned. "You're being obtuse, Haemish."
Haemish stiffened, but Nashrel held up his hand. "You lied to us once, Taeris. He has a right to question."
Taeris said nothing for a moment. "What about Ilseth Tenvar? You said yourself he was a traitor, a conspirator in the deaths of hundreds of Gifted students - and I told you that he sent the Vessel to Caeden before I knew any of that. Surely that verifies at least part of what I've said. And surely you want to understand more about what Tenvar was involved in, too." Taeris gave Nashrel a steady look. "You know me, Nashrel. We may have differing views about many things, but I'm not a fool. I haven't risked my life, come back here just to tell you a lie."
Nashrel held Taeris' gaze for a few seconds, then sighed. "I know," he said reluctantly. He looked around at the other two Elders. "He makes some valid points, and this isn't a choice that should be left to us alone. We need to discuss it with the others." He turned back to Taeris. "Whatever we decide, though, no-one here will turn you in to Administration. You have my word."
Taeris looked relieved. "Thank-you," he said. "Please, take what time you need. Caeden and I can wait -"
"You can wait here. We owe you that much." Nashrel shook his head slowly. "But we do not know Caeden, except for what you've told us, and what we know of his crimes. It would be irresponsible of me to have him wait anywhere except for in a cell."
Caeden felt his heart sink, and his muscles tensed. They were going to lock him up? Every nerve in his body screamed for him to do something; his thoughts immediately flashed back to the last time he was imprisoned. He clenched his fists, and light beads of sweat began forming on his brow.
Taeris glanced at Caeden with a worried expression. “Alleged crimes,” he corrected. “First I need your word that he will be released back into my custody as soon as you have made a decision, either way. And that he will come to no harm in the meantime.”
Nashrel looked at him with vague surprise. “Of course,” he said sincerely.
Taeris glanced at Caeden, giving him the slightest of nods. "He means it. You will be fine," he murmured.
Caeden gritted his teeth but nodded back, forcing himself to relax.
Taeris turned back to Nashrel. "Very well."
Nashrel hesitated. "One other thing. We will need to take custody of the Vessel."
"What?" Taeris frowned. "I would prefer -"
"This isn't negotiable, Taeris."
Taeris grimaced, then inclined his head, reaching into a pocket and drawing out the bronze box. As always, it shone like the sun to Caeden's eyes.
Taeris reluctantly gave it to Nashrel. "Can I at least hang onto the other one?" he asked.
Nashrel paused in his examination of the box. "The other one?"
"The other Vessel I found in Desriel." Taeris held up a smooth black stone, about the size of his palm. "I haven't been able to determine what it does yet, but it seems harmless enough. Nothing to do with Caeden, though."
Nashrel stared at the stone for a long moment, and Caeden thought he saw a glimmer of recognition in the Elder's eyes.
"What is it?" asked Ciahn.
Nashrel didn't respond for a few seconds.
"I... don't know," he said slowly. "But we should hang onto it."
Taeris scowled, giving up the second Vessel to Nashrel too. But as he did so, Caeden thought he saw a flicker of acknowledgement pass between the two men. An understanding.
Then it was done, and Taeris was gripping Caeden's shoulder. “Don't worry. You won't be locked up for long,” he said in a reassuring tone.
After Nashrel had talked to someone outside, Caeden found himself being led away. He and his escort descended a flight of stairs until they came to some basic cells, carved out of the bedrock of Ilin Tora itself. They were little more than small caves with doors made of steel bars; once Caeden was inside he realised there would only just be room to lie flat on the ground, and when he stood straight, his head was only inches from the roof. He felt a flash of gratitude that fate had not made him any taller, and that despite his experiences, he had no particular fear of confined spaces.
The jailor locked the door and moved a little way down the hall to a more open part of the passageway, where his desk and chair sat. “No funny business, and we’ll get along just fine,” he called as he wandered away.
Glowing Essence orbs lined the hallway outside, but the cells themselves were quite dark. Caeden shifted, trying to see if there was anyone in the cell opposite. He moved forward to the bars, squinting as the light hit his eyes.
Suddenly a face appeared in the opposite cell, and Caeden could see a Shackle glinting on the other man’s arm. The stranger smiled, a wide grin of triumph.
Even through the bars, Caeden could tell that the man was staring at the bared tattoo on his wrist. The glow of the wolf's head was weaker – Taeris and the Vessel must be a good deal further away, now. The other prisoner wouldn’t be able to discern the light, of course, but the tattoo itself was still plain enough to see.
“Dreh Kaaren si,” the stranger said quickly. “Sha tehl me’athris dar?” It was clearly a question, but Caeden had no idea what the man was saying.
Caeden shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have no idea what language you’re speaking.”
The man looked at him in shock for a few moments, then vanished from his doorway, retreating into the gloom of his cell.
The jailor called out from his desk. “Nonsense words, lad,” he confided. “Ignore him. That one’s scheduled for the lower dungeons - he’s just her
e temporarily. We think his mind’s gone. Only stands to reason the first thing he says since being locked up is gibberish.”
Caeden frowned. He hadn’t understood what the prisoner had said, but the sound was too regular, too structured to be nonsense. And the language was... familiar. As if, if he concentrated hard enough, he might be able to ascertain the meaning of the prisoner's words.
“Who is he?” he called out.
Caeden could hear the jailor spitting on the ground. “Name’s Ilseth Tenvar,” he said. “He had something to do with that bad business in the schools recently. Not sure what, exactly; they don’t tell me much. But he’s supposed to be in here, don’t you worry about that. Not a man you want to be making friends with.”
Caeden nodded, though mostly to himself as he knew the jailor couldn’t see him. He stared at the cell across the hallway, trying to see into the murk. He remembered Davian and Wirr talking about this man. The one who had tried to send him the Vessel.
And Tenvar had seemed to know him, to recognise him, despite what the jailor said.
He settled down in the corner to wait, knees drawn up to his chest, all the while keeping a close eye on the cell opposite.
Despite the two layers of thick steel bars between them, he did not feel particularly safe.
***
It was hours later when someone finally unlocked his cell door, escorting him back to the main tunnel.
He smiled in relief when he saw Taeris waiting for him.
"What did they say?"
Taeris scowled. "Exactly what Haemish said. There's no proof. There's no indication that the Blind are anything more than men. Helping you is too much of a risk." He shook his head in disgust. "Their theory is that the Blind are a race of people descended from us - from the Andarrans that were trapped behind the Boundary during the Eternity War. The Council agrees that they're dangerous, but not that they are anything... worse. "
"So they won't restore my memories?"
"They were almost willing to, and then...." Taeris sighed. "I have a long history with the Council, Caeden, and that has gone against us. I'm sorry for that. A few of them argued that the risk was worth it. Some even believed me, but most of them are just... angry, at the moment. They feel betrayed by the king. The argument was, why take a chance restoring your memories for the good of the city, when the city doesn't even seem to want their help."
"But they're in danger too," Caeden protested.
"They don't see it that way. Tol Athian withstood everything Vardin Shal and the Loyalists could throw at it during the Unseen War. They don't believe the Blind will be any different."
Caeden was silent for a moment. "So what now?"
"We go to the palace. I was speaking to Aelric and Dezia earlier today, and they think there's a chance they can convince the princess to help. With her influence behind us, we might still be able to change some minds at the Tol."
Caeden gave Taeris a dubious frown, remembering the disdainful way Karaliene had looked at him in Thrindar. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"I never said it was a good idea," observed Taeris dryly. "But it's the only option we have right now."
They walked out of the Tol. It was mid-afternoon, and the streets were busier now. Taeris appeared lost in his own thoughts, but eventually Caeden tapped him on the arm.
Taeris turned. “What is it, lad?”
“I have something to ask you,” Caeden said hesitantly. “I heard someone say something in the dungeons. I couldn't translate it, this time, but... it sounded like the same language the sha'teth use. Is that possible?”
Taeris frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe,” he said slowly. “Do you remember what they said?”
Caeden screwed up his face, trying his best to remember the words. “Dreh Kaaren si, sha tehl me’athris dar.”
Taeris' eyebrows rose. “Honoured lord, has the time finally come,” he translated. His expression became focused. “Who said this, Caeden? This language is… old. Rare.” He stopped, forcing Caeden to look him square in the eye. “It’s important.”
Caeden shook his head, suddenly sick to his stomach. “I don’t know. I couldn’t see them from my cell, just heard the words,” he lied.
Taeris bit his lip. “I know Ilseth Tenvar was in those cells,” he said, almost to himself. “But it sounds like perhaps Athian has more than one traitor in its midst.” He started walking again, lost in thought.
Caeden stared after him for a moment, then trotted to catch up, grimly returning his attention to the road ahead.
Perhaps the Council had been right not to trust him after all.
- Chapter 41 -
Wirr stared up at the palace gates with trepidation.
In times of peace they stood open, an invitation for anyone, no matter their rank, to come before the king or one of his Judges and have a complaint heard. They were shut today, of course. Several guardsmen stood at attention in front of them, and assembled in a vaguely threatening manner when Wirr and the others approached.
“Move on,” said one, a grizzled-looking veteran that Wirr didn't recognise. His tone was firm. “Only members of the court or those with appointments may enter today.”
Aelric raised an eyebrow. “Don’t recognise me, Ethin?”
The man stared at Aelric for a moment, then started. “Young Shainwiere!” He rescanned the group, his eyes coming to rest on Dezia. “And your sister. Of course, of course." His gruff manner had vanished, and he was all smiles now. "My apologies. Princess Karaliene asked that you and your party be brought to her as soon as you arrived, no matter the time, day or night.”
Aelric hesitated. “I’d... hoped to get cleaned up first.” He indicated his clothes, which were showing the wear and tear of travel, not to mention the odd bloodstain.
Ethin smiled. “No offense Aelric, but if it’s a choice of displeasing you or the princess, you’re out of luck.” He slapped Aelric on the back in a familiar fashion. “I heard you did well at the Song?”
Aelric made a face. “Not well enough, I’m afraid.”
Ethin gestured for another guard to open the gate, then led them through. “Second's still an impressive achievement, lad. And there’s plenty of years left in you, too,” he said cheerfully. He glanced across at Dezia. “I trust you’re well also, Dezia?”
Dezia smiled. “Just glad to be home, Ethin.”
The guardsmen closed the gate behind them. “I hope we can keep it that way,” he said as they headed into the grounds. “You’ve heard about the Blind, of course?”
Aelric inclined his head. “We crossed paths with some of what they left behind. It was not pleasant.”
Ethin nodded, expression solemn. “It will be a relief once General Jash’tar and the rest of our men have dealt with them.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Just a warning - the Houses haven't been especially happy with things lately. General Parathe has been having some issues keeping the troops that are still here in line, and the king... well, let's just say that Karaliene will be glad to see you. She could use some friends about now.”
Wirr listened with interest. That the Houses were causing problems was hardly surprising, and certainly nothing new... but Ethin's tone had indicated something more was going on. Something serious.
They made their way through the palace corridors. Little had changed; every time they rounded a corner Wirr found himself reliving another childhood memory. He’d played with Karaliene in these halls. He smiled briefly as they passed a large floral vase on a pedestal. That was at least one thing that was different; as a child, such decorative displays had been removed, lest they meet an accidental demise at his and Karaliene's hands.
But those days, unfortunately, were long gone. His smile faded as his thoughts returned to what lay ahead.
Ethin guided them to the princess’ quarters, pausing outside to let Karaliene's attendant know who was there to see her. After a moment inside, the woman returned.
“The princess will see them imme
diately,” she said to Ethin.
Ethin nodded. “Time for me to go back to my post, then,” said the grizzled guard. He nodded to Aelric. “Good to see you again, lad.”
Aelric smiled. “You too, Ethin.”
Wirr, Aelric and Dezia entered Karaliene’s chambers. Wirr was surprised to see that they were relatively unadorned; the princess had been fond of decorations and finery in her earlier years. Karaliene herself reclined, apparently at ease, in a chair over to one side – but the dark circles beneath her eyes, covered though they were with makeup, betrayed her. Wirr had never seen her looking so tired.
She gave a brief smile when she saw them, a glimmer of relief flickering across her face before her usual calm, composed look was restored.
“You may leave us, Nelisi,” she said to the older woman, her tone polite but firm. The attendant curtsied and shuffled from the room.
As soon as the door had closed Karaliene leapt from her chair, her smile returning. “You’re safe!” she exclaimed, hugging first Dezia, then Aelric, then Wirr. “It‘s been so long, and with the Blind coming….” She let out a deep breath.
“It was a near thing, Your Highness,” said Aelric. He waited for the princess to sit, then sat in one of the chairs opposite. He peered at her, eyes narrowing. “You look exhausted.” He paused, reddening as he suddenly remembered who he was talking to. “I apologise, Your Highness. That’s not to say…”
Karaliene, much to everyone’s surprise, threw back her head and laughed. She quickly contained her mirth, but traces of amusement still played around her lips. “That might be the first honest thing I’ve heard in weeks,” she said, shaking her head. She gave Aelric a rueful smile. “You can dispense with the formalities, Aelric. Nobody can hear us in here. And, honestly, you’re no picture of health yourself.” She gestured pointedly to Aelric’s torn and bloodstained clothes.
Aelric smiled back in relief, happy she hadn’t taken offense. “I’m just glad Ethin recognised me.”
The Shadow Of What Was Lost (Book 1) Page 50
