“That was a stroke of luck,” agreed Karaliene. She paused, looking at Wirr. “What of the others you were travelling with?”
"Taeris and Caeden went to Tol Athian, to see if they are willing to restore Caeden's memories," said Wirr. He looked at the ground. "Davian... didn't make it."
Karaliene's smile slipped. "I'm so sorry, Tor."
There was silence for a few moments, and then Karaliene glanced up at Aelric. "You know who this is, now?"
Aelric just nodded, looking slightly abashed.
"Good. Then I don't need to tell you again how important it is to keep the details of your journey a secret?"
"No. We won't say anything," Aelric assured her.
Karaliene nodded her acknowledgement, then looked at Dezia, smiling. "I'll hear all about the trip later, I'm sure... but first I should catch up with Torin."
Dezia inclined her head, then grabbed her brother and pulled him out of the room.
"So," Karaliene sighed once they had left. "It seems I owe you an apology."
Wirr raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
"You warned me about the Boundary. Weeks before the invasion." Karaliene grimaced. "I should have listened."
"You believe me now?"
"I believe at least some of it - and I'd be foolish not to at least consider the rest. There have been no signs of any dar'gaithin, but the things we've been hearing about the Blind..." Karaliene shook her head.
"And my father?"
"Isn't sure what to think at the moment. I told him you'd ended up in Desriel because you were investigating the Boundary, and that you'd promised to explain everything to him when you got back. That at least got him thinking about where the Blind might be from." She looked him in the eye. "He's going to want to know everything, Tor."
"I know. But I've already figured out how to tell him most of the story, without letting on about Taeris and Caeden." Wirr hesitated. "I assume you didn't tell him...?"
Karaliene snorted. "That you were travelling with a man he'd sentenced to death? Of course not."
"Good." Wirr exhaled. "Because I told Taeris to come here, if he wasn't successful at the Tol. I told him that we might be able to help... convince the Council of Caeden's importance, if necessary." He held up his hand as Karaliene made to protest. "Only if they fail, in which case they'll have no other option. I didn't offer without giving it some serious consideration, Kara. We both know that there are ways you can pressure the Tol without ever having your name brought into it." He stared at her pleadingly, willing her to understand. "Caeden's key to all this; we need to help them any way we can. As long as they both stay out of Administration's sight, it shouldn't be a problem."
"Except that I will knowingly be giving one accused mass murderer, and one convicted one, free access to the city!" Karaliene looked at him in disbelief. "I said that I believed there was something to Sarr's claims, not that I thought he was in any way trustworthy. I don't feel comfortable with this, Tor."
Wirr grimaced. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to do this - hated the thought of tainting Davian's name even just with Karaliene, who hadn't known him. But Davian was dead, and Taeris and Caeden needed help.
He took a deep breath. "Taeris made a false confession, three years ago. He didn't kill those men." He quickly, bleakly explained the true events of that day to Karaliene, who listened to the story in silence.
"You believe him?" she asked once he was finished.
"Yes. It all fits - everything from why Administration thought he'd broken the First Tenet, to how he got his scars."
Karaliene sighed. "It would explain much," she admitted, still sounding reluctant. "It's hard for me to make a judgment for myself - but if you honestly believe that's the truth, then I will too. Should Taeris and Caeden require it I will reach out to some of my contacts, see how much we can lean on the Council without them knowing who's behind it." She frowned at him. "But before I do that, I expect to speak to your new friends. My help will be conditional. And I hope neither of our fathers find out, else fates save us both."
Wirr exhaled in relief. "Thank-you, Kara. I owe you," he said sincerely. Then he leaned forward in his seat. “How is your father?”
Karaliene looked sick. “What have you heard?”
“That he's been ranting against the Gifted. That it doesn't seem like he will be willing to change the Tenets, no matter the cost.” Wirr frowned. “It doesn’t sound like him.”
Karaliene sighed. “It’s not,” she said, pain evident in her voice. "He's... sick, I think. I can't explain it. One moment he'll be fine - almost normal - and then the next he'll fly into a rage. He's always tired, and paranoid about everything and everyone. Especially Tol Athian. When word of the invasion came, he thought it was a trick. A trick by the Gifted to get him to change the Tenets.” She shivered. “That was his first thought.”
“Why would he think that?”
“I don’t know.” Karaliene rubbed her forehead. “He refuses to believe the Blind are a real threat to the city, despite what they’ve done so far. He virtually ignores your father, and I'm finding it harder and harder to get past his guards to see him, too. He won’t even listen to Laiman Kardai half the time, and those two have been friends for near twenty years." She hesitated. "He sweats, his skin is grey, he often doesn’t eat his meals. People are saying it's just stress, but... I'm worried.”
Wirr felt a chill. “You think the Blind have something to do with it?”
Karaliene gestured. “I don’t know; that’s the problem. I tried talking to him about it, and he just laughed it off.” Her face twisted. "And I daren't bring it up with any of the Houses."
"Not if you don't want a coup on top of everything else," agreed Wirr.
Karaliene nodded tiredly. “So there you have it - it's been a long couple of weeks. But fates, it’s good to have you back. I’ve missed you.”
Wirr grinned. “Missed you too, Kara.” He raised an eyebrow. “So what now?”
Karaliene gave the ghost of a smile. “Now, we get to have a feast to celebrate the return of Torin Andras, back from his glorious triumphs in Calandra. I’m sure the generals here will be dying to hear of your exploits.”
Wirr groaned. “Is that really necessary? There is an army coming this way, after all.”
Karaliene shrugged. “The Houses will think that more of a reason, not less. Partly because everyone wants a chance to become your new closest friend, of course. And partly because most of them are fools, and they’ll welcome any chance to ignore what is happening rather than confront it.”
Wirr laughed. “It has been a rough couple of weeks, for you to talk like that.”
Karaliene rolled her eyes. “You have no idea. They’re vultures, Tor. You would not believe the number of none-too-subtle offers I’ve already had to make me queen. At a price once it’s done, of course.” She shook her head in disgust. “Regardless. They will all want a feast. And it will look suspicious if you return to too little fanfare.”
"Wonderful," said Wirr dryly.
Karaliene raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to get used to this again, you know.”
“I know.” Wirr bit his lip. “Speaking of which... I should probably go and see my family. No-one else knows I’m back except for you.”
Karaliene smiled, her expression softening. “Of course. You must be eager to see them. And I know they will be delighted to see you. Your father’s been so worried, Torin.”
Wirr grimaced. He wondered exactly how much trouble he was going to be in for going to Desriel. At least it would be a private scolding, he consoled himself, and only after the – hopefully happy - reunion. “Lead the way,” he said.
Karaliene hesitated. “First, let me arrange for some quarters so that you can rest. And bathe,” she added, taking in his weary expression and ragged clothing. “Your mother would likely faint if she saw you in this condition. Another hour or so of waiting won’t kill them.”
Wirr grunted. “Good point.”
&nbs
p; He trailed after Karaliene, mentally steeling himself for what was to come, the whirlwind of attention and false smiles that he had dreaded for so long.
There was no turning back now.
***
Wirr waited nervously.
He had just spent the last two hours being clucked over by the palace tailor, an older man who had nearly had a heart attack when he’d seen what the prince was wearing. First Wirr had been bathed by some servants – a most uncomfortable experience in and of itself – and his hair had been cut to the latest style of the city. His beard, which had grown out to be quite scraggly since Thrindar, had been trimmed down to a neat goatee.
Then he’d been given a torrent of information regarding the latest news from Calandra, most of which he doubted he’d remember if anyone quizzed him. Still, it was enough to get by. He could always plead tiredness if the questions became too in-depth.
Now, he was waiting for his family – his father, mother and younger sister – to come and greet him. He didn’t know whether to feel excited or anxious. Would they have changed in the last three years? Would they still see him as they once had, or had the time away coloured their opinions of him?
He fiddled with his sleeves again, frowning at the lace on the cuffs. The entire suit felt odd, uncomfortable, against his skin after so many years. It made him feel like a child again, no longer able to choose what he wore.
The sound of the door opening made him flinch. He spun to see his father’s familiar blue-cloaked frame in the doorway, with his mother and Deldri peering in behind. They all stared for a moment, silent, as if surprised to see each other was really there.
Then there was a blur of motion and he was being swept up in a fierce hug from his father, squeezing out a laugh as the pressure on his ribs made it hard to breathe. Elocien had always been so reserved; this was an unexpected display of emotion, though not unwelcome. They were soon joined by two more bodies as Geladra and Deldri joined in the hug, his mother emitting a couple of sobs as she held him in her arms.
Suddenly he couldn’t stop from smiling. As much as he had dreaded returning here, he had missed his family - even his father, with whom he had never truly gotten along.
“It's good to see you,” he said, grinning, as they all finally separated.
Geladra gave him an affectionate smile, dabbing at her eyes. “We’ve missed you.” She stepped back, examining him. “Calandra has been good to you, Torin. You look strong and healthy.”
Wirr nodded, still smiling, though the comment sent a pang of guilt through him. His mother and Deldri hadn’t been told where he’d been - didn't know, even now.
“The last few years were more than worthwhile,” he said honestly. “You got my letters?”
“We did,” said Deldri, her tone reproachful. “You could have described some of your battles in them, though.” Though neither his father or mother looked much different – a little more tired around the eyes, perhaps, and his mother with slightly more grey in her hair – the changes in Deldri were dramatic. Gone was the chubby nine year old, and in her place was a slim, confident-looking girl that was tall enough now to look him in the eye without craning her neck.
Wirr smiled. “There wasn’t much to tell, really. Sometimes the barbarians attacked our fortress, but they were never organised enough to pose a real threat.”
Deldri nodded. “I heard you came back with Aelric Shainwiere,” she said suddenly.
Wirr blinked in surprise. “I… yes, we met on the road back.”
“What’s he like?” Deldri leaned forward, her expression eager.
Geladra sighed. “You can harass your brother for gossip another time,” she said in a stern tone, rolling her eyes. “We have much to catch up on.” She sat down, and everyone followed suit.
They talked for an hour or so, soon lapsing into the comfortable style of conversation that Wirr knew only came with being related. He kept talk of Calandra to a minimum, instead focusing on what had been happening in the others’ lives. His mother and sister did most of the talking; Deldri especially chattered on for quite some time, much to Wirr’s astonishment. When he had left, she had been so quiet that he would often forget she was even there.
Finally Geladra glanced at Elocien, who gave her a slight nod in return. “We should go,” she said, tugging on Deldri’s arm. “Your father and Torin have other things to speak of.”
Deldri pouted but acquiesced, rising and giving Wirr an abrupt, affectionate hug before leaving. Wirr grinned as he watched them go.
“Deldri is growing up,” he said.
The duke nodded absently. “Too fast,” he sighed. “I’ve already had Houses asking whether their sons might be a suitable match.”
“Already?” Wirr shook his head. “They really are vultures.”
Elocien stared at him for a moment, then chuckled. “I see your time away has done nothing to dampen your dislike of them,” he said with amusement. His smile faded, expression turning serious. “I’m so relieved you are safe, Torin. When the news came about the school….”
Wirr grimaced. "I suppose I have some explaining to do."
He spent the next hour relating his last couple of months to his father. He told Elocien most of the story, including Davian's true role; as much as it hurt, there seemed little point in keeping his friend's ability a secret any more. In the end he omitted only Taeris' real name, and the fact that Taeris and Caeden had accompanied them back.
Elocien was surprisingly understanding throughout the tale, so much so that for a moment Wirr considered telling him the truth about Taeris and Caeden as well... but he dismissed the idea as soon as he'd had it. Those two needed every opportunity to convince the Tol to restore Caeden's memories, without Administration's interference. And he remembered his father's opinion of Taeris, all too clearly. 'A monster', was what he'd called him three years ago. 'The very worst of the Gifted.'
No. He couldn't say anything. The risk was too great.
When Wirr had finished, Elocien let out a long breath.
"You've been through so much," he said, shaking his head in wonder. "I want to be angry at you for going to Desriel, but... it seems that running away ended up saving your life. For that, I am truly grateful.” He leaned back. “I should tell you, too – we found out about the Elder who tricked your friend into leaving. Tol Athian have him safely locked away in their dungeon, but he refuses to say anything.”
Wirr felt his eyebrows raise; with all that had happened, he’d almost forgotten how this had all started. “That is good news,” he said, nodding. He determined to pay Ilseth Tenvar a visit at some point.
Elocien leaned forward. “So. Your letters seemed to indicate you were happy enough, but tell me. How did you find the last few years?”
Wirr thought for a moment. “They were the happiest of my life,” he said sincerely. The sentiment was laced with sadness and regret, though. Any thoughts of his life at the school always would be, now.
Elocien smiled. “I'm glad. I always wondered whether it was the right choice, sending you there.” He bit his lip. “Given what has been happening here, I suspect it was the best choice I’ve made in a long time.”
"You're talking about uncle?"
Elocien nodded. "He's... ill, Torin. I think he -"
A knock at the door cut him off; after a few seconds the door opened and a young woman's face appeared. A Shadow, Wirr realised absently, not really paying attention.
The girl's eyes were on his father. "Duke Andras," she began in a formal tone, "I have some news I think...."
She trailed off.
Wirr started as he realised the girl was staring at him, mouth agape. He flushed, shuffling uncomfortably... and then frowned. There was something familiar about her. He looked up, studying her black-scarred features properly for the first time.
"Asha?" he whispered in disbelief.
Suddenly he was being wrapped in a fierce embrace.
"Wirr!" Asha was hugging him so tightly it was difficu
lt to breathe. "It's really you?"
Wirr laughed, though it was a mostly stunned sound. "It's really me, Ash." Remembering where he was, he dazedly disentangled himself and glanced over at his father, who was looking on in amusement.
"Asha is from Caladel," he explained to Elocien. "She can be trusted, though - I'll swear to it. It's not a problem that she knows where I've been, these past few years." He turned back to Asha. "Asha, this is going to come as a shock, but I need to tell you something."
There was silence for a moment as Elocien and Asha exchanged amused glances.
"I know, Wirr. Or is it Torin, now?" said Asha, green eyes sparkling.
Wirr gaped at her in silence for a few seconds.
"How?" he asked.
"Your father told me."
Wirr glanced at Elocien, who nodded his confirmation; Wirr rubbed his forehead, trying to come to grips with the information. "But... why?"
"Because I trust her," said the duke simply.
Wirr shook his head in disbelief. "I... but you...." He trailed off, dumbstruck.
Asha laughed. "As eloquent as I remember."
Wirr smiled back, heart lighter than it had been since he'd first heard about the attack at Caladel. "How is this possible? How did you get away, and how are you here?" His grin slipped a little. "And fates, Asha... why are you a Shadow?"
"Slow down, Wirr. Too many questions at once. It's a long story." She paused. "Though one thing you should also know... I'm Representative for Tol Athian, now."
Wirr stared at her, certain she was joking. When she stared back, entirely serious, he just shook his head.
"I must be dreaming," he muttered, though the smile didn't leave his face.
Asha suddenly bit her lip. "Wirr. Is Davian with you?"
Wirr's smile faded, and he looked away. "Ah. I'm so sorry, Ash." His voice cracked. "He's... we lost him."
Asha watched Wirr for a few seconds, then shook her head. "Did you see him die?" Her tone was calm.
Wirr paused, thrown a little by her response. "No, but... he's gone, Ash. I want to believe he might have survived, too, but -"
"He's not dead, Wirr." There was certainty in Asha's voice. She stared at him for a long moment, then looked away. "I know he's not dead."
The Shadow Of What Was Lost (Book 1) Page 51
