by Kate Jacoby
No. He shouldn’t have left. He should have stayed at the Enclave, spoken to Finnlay, talked it over with Patric. There had to be a reason for all this.
Robert stopped in his tracks. What was he doing? Wasn’t this the very kind of thing he wanted to avoid? No involvement—remember? No involvement, no failure. That was the plan and he must stick to it. The consequences were too terrible to contemplate. But it was so hard to turn his back on them.
“You’re an idiot, Robert,” he murmured to the trees. “You knew this would happen.”
For three years he had travelled knowing the one journey he would never make again was the one that led northwards; home. But then, six weeks ago, the idea had come to him. A cold idea, isolated, but also unshakeable. In quieter moments, and in that haze before he slept each night, it would return to him, plaguing, but each time with an unspoken promise of success. If he stayed away from court, if he refused to involve himself with the Enclave—if he stayed at home—then perhaps he could return to Lusara and cease this wandering life. More importantly, Micah could return to his family, for he would not do so alone. All Robert had to do was remain strong, withstand the pressure that was bound to come. He’d been so sure he could do it.
He began picking up branches, stacking them on his left arm. There was no doubt that Jenn’s change of heart had something to do with what she’d witnessed at the Enclave. He couldn’t blame her, sorcery was difficult to adjust to. But for her not to return to Elita was simply stupid. There had to be some way to change her mind. Jacob was her only guarantee of safety.
With a sigh, he turned to go back, only to find Jenn standing a little distance away, watching him.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, her voice low. “I know it’s difficult for you. I know you’re trying hard not to care and I’m sorry because I know I’m a problem you really don’t need.”
All the will drained away from him and he shook his head in defeat. He should be used to her keen perception by this time, but still it came as a rather uncomfortable jab. Problems or no, he had chosen this path and he would have to continue it regardless.
He took in a deep breath and felt his equilibrium return. “You’re not a problem.”
“It’s just that I don’t see why Jacob would want me back. Not now, after all this time.”
“Oh, Jenny,” Robert couldn’t help smiling, “how could they not want you back?”
She frowned slightly, dropping her gaze. “It’s just that I don’t know.”
“Come inside,” he said firmly, “and I’ll tell you all about them.”
“Jacob was in his late twenties when he married your mother, Elaine. She was a fair-haired beauty from Cor Adarn, in the north. They’d met at court when Elaine was only about, seventeen or eighteen. Her brother Melvin, who was also her guardian, was hoping for a match with King Edward’s cousin, but apparently, the moment Jacob and Elaine met, they had eyes only for each other.” Robert paused and leaned forward to stir up the crackling fire. Flames leaped up, making weird shadows on the walls behind them and lighting the faces of Micah and Jenn as they sat listening.
“My father was at court at the time. I remember him telling me years later how angry Melvin was when Jacob approached him for Elaine’s hand. Melvin argued, raged and sulked until eventually he realized his sister was determined. Finally he gave his consent and they were married the following summer. Jacob decided to keep out of Melvin’s way for a while so they returned to Elita and stayed there for the next two years. During that time, Elaine had her first child, a boy, but he didn’t survive his first month. Then, to their joy, a year later she gave birth to a healthy daughter, Bella.”
“Bella?” Jenn breathed. “Did she survive?”
“She certainly did—although I haven’t seen her for about seven years. After she was born, Elaine was advised not to try to have any more children for a while—which she obediently did. But when Bella was about five or so, Elaine had another boy, but this one survived only a few hours. Jacob was so distraught at the prospect of losing his beloved Elaine that the subject of more children was completely forgotten.
“The first time I ever went to Elita was when I was ten. Bella, a year younger than me, took an instant dislike to me and made my life sheer hell.” Robert laughed. “As you can imagine, my father was unimpressed by my pleas to be allowed to return home. He just told me that I had to learn to deal with that kind of thing. Fortunately, my father was recalled to court after only a few days at Elita and I was allowed to go home. You can thank that lucky incident for the fact that your sister is still alive.”
Robert held out his cup as Micah refilled it with the tangy ale they’d brought from the Enclave. He continued, “Of course, we didn’t know it at the time, but your mother was already carrying another child—you. You were born in the winter. Jacob was delighted—and never expressed any regret that I knew of that you were not a boy. As you can imagine, a son and heir would have meant a great deal to him. Still, he treasured your arrival as though you were the heir to the throne itself. I had occasion to visit Elita a number of times over the next two years but I’m afraid we never met, so I can’t regale you with stories of when you were a baby.”
“And what about later? When the Troubles began?”
“Ah, that’s different. To be honest, I can’t tell you a lot about where your father stood during the Troubles. By that time, I was heavily involved in learning court politics. My father was increasingly involved trying to keep peace between the Houses and I helped him as much as I could. As a result, I had to take on a lot of his responsibilities at home as well. When the Troubles began and escalated to a serious level, I spent most of my time running from one place to the other, trying to mediate between feuding lords. I was returning from one such attempt when I came to Elita, the day after you went missing. As I said before, Jacob was distraught at losing you and your mother fell quite ill. I’m afraid she died a year later. Jacob never really recovered and left much of the running of his lands to Bella, who was a very capable mistress. Despite the ensuing war and the accident Jacob had, Elita managed to survive, with no little thanks to Bella.”
Jenn looked up from the cup in her hands, her eyes suddenly grave. “What accident?”
“It was at the end of the war. Jacob had thrown himself into repelling Selar—I suppose I should have said before, your family is quite closely related to our royal line, King Edward’s, that is. Back four generations, I think. Anyway, loyalty is in Jacob’s blood and he drew on all his resources to support Edward. In the final battle at Seluth, Jacob and a small group of his men had cornered what they thought was Selar’s private guard. They fought close to a precipice. As each of Jacob’s men were overwhelmed, Jacob fought on until his opponent, with a last desperate lunge, pushed him back over the precipice. Jacob fell about thirty feet but somebody found him and got him to safety. They took him home and nursed him back to life, but from that day onwards, his legs have been useless.”
“But that’s awful! How can he bear it?”
“I don’t know. But he’s a man of enormous courage.”
“You seem to know a lot about it. Were you there? Were you the one who helped him?”
At this, Robert’s gaze dropped. “I wish I could say I was, but I was engaged elsewhere.”
“Doing ... what?”
There was little point in lying to her, even though the truth was known only to a handful of people. “I was busy saving Selar’s life.”
“But.. .” Jenn looked in disbelief at Micah and Robert. “How could you save his life? Weren’t you supposed to be fighting him?”
“Not exactly, no. My father and his men were on the battlefield. I’d been sent to round up some reinforcements. On the way back, as I came close to the battle I crossed a river and there I found a man trapped in the current. He was drowning, so I did the only thing I could do, I dragged him to safety. I’d never met Selar at that point, never even seen him. I didn’t even find out until
late that night that the man I’d saved in the river was none other than the man who now sits on our throne and who was responsible—in name at least—for my own father’s death.”
Jenn stared at him, her mouth open. After a second she came to herself and said, “So he gave you a seat on his Council as reward for saving his life?”
“It looked that way to some people, but that didn’t actually happen for two years. Two years during which I was a prisoner in my own castle. I was spared execution, I think, because I saved his life, but that was all.”
Jenn frowned. “Execution? Then how did my father survive Selar’s reign? Surely if my family were closely related to Selar’s predecessor, Selar would want my father removed—and anyone else who could threaten him.”
“He certainly would—and did, in most cases. But Jacob was no threat to him. He was at that point confined to his bed, never to walk again, with only a daughter to succeed him. Jacob has remained at Elita ever since. His only hope now is to secure the safety of Bella. He ignores Selar and Selar ignores Jacob. They’re both content with the situation.”
Robert finished his story and sat back against the wall. It was strange going over all this old history, but somehow telling the story again brought it back to life. He could even remember the laughter in his father’s eyes when he had come to complain about how Bella taunted him. And oh, how things would have been different if he’d not stopped at that moment to save the life of a drowning man. Not that he could have done anything different, even if he’d known who that man was. There was a big difference between slaying a man on the field of battle and standing by as the last breaths of life were dragged from him by a raging river. And after all, letting Selar die at that moment would only have changed things for the worse. Selar’s forces would still have won that battle, Robert’s father would still have died, but instead of the iron-clad hold Selar subsequently placed on Lusara, complete civil war would have broken out. A civil war which would have killed thousands more, and would quite possibly still be raging today.
No. Whichever way he looked at it, saving Selar’s life like that had not necessarily been a bad thing. It was just a pity a few others did not see it that way.
Jenn interrupted his thoughts by getting to her feet and bringing more firewood from the pile by the door. “I’m sorry, but I’m not convinced.”
“About what, in particular?”
“Well,” she said slowly, framing her thoughts, “I still don’t see how we can arrive at Elita and find that my father will even believe it. You never convinced him you thought I’d been taken during the Troubles. My father believes that I am dead. Surely my sudden reappearance all this time later would only stir up bad memories for him. I’m not certain I want to do that to him. If he’s reconciled himself to my death, why should I disturb that?”
“It’s your right.”
Jenn shook her head, not understanding.
“Your birthright. Just as surely as Bella is his daughter, so are you. Whether you remember it or not, Elita is your home, the home of your family, your ancestors. You have a right to claim it.”
“But it means nothing to me. At the risk of actually agreeing with anything Finnlay says, I would not miss Elita. My father knows nothing of my existence, so he wouldn’t miss me.”
Robert looked at her for a moment, wondering how much fear had to do with her reluctance. She didn’t look afraid, but he had learned by now that her face could hide almost anything she thought or felt, so he didn’t trust it. “Well, it’s your decision. But think about this: if you were in his place, would you want your missing child returned to you?”
It didn’t take long. Less than an hour into the morning, the rain began and Jenn was quickly soaked to her skin. Even with the wool cloak and dress Ayn had given her, the cold still seeped into her bones. She tried not to shiver as she rode, but it was difficult. The only warmth came from the horse beneath her as they crossed one gentle hill after another. There was no shelter, no trees, just field after field of cropped hay and ploughed turf. The rain made the countryside look worn, as though summer had sucked up all its vitality.
Jenn could have asked to stop, to try and find some shelter, but she knew that the moment she did, she would be forced to look at Robert, answer the unspoken question in his eyes. She would—but not yet. Not until she’d found some way to refuse that he would accept. So she rode on, cold and wet, in silence. Her mind drifted, going over the story he’d told her last night, then snapping away to safer topics, like the Enclave. When he spoke, she hardly heard him over the rain.
“There’s a farm over the next rise. I think we’d better stop for a while and dry out. I don’t think this rain’s going to last all day.”
Jenn nodded absently, cursing the gods. She said nothing though, merely following behind Micah as they rounded the hill and came down into a neat and wooded valley. The farm buildings were well looked after, but appeared almost deserted as they approached the side of a barn. Robert gestured for them to wait, dismounted and moved quickly and silently between the buildings. He came back after a moment with a grin on his face.
“We’ll shelter in the barn. There’s no one around. Just an old man and his retainer. The rest have all gone to the market.”
Inside the barn it was warm and filled with sweet-smelling hay. Micah, ignoring his injury, immediately took possession of the horses and, with fists of straw, began to brush them down. Jenn could have helped him but he was happier on his own. She found a seat on the other side of the barn and sat down, folding her arms. Unconsciously, her gaze went to Robert who was busily exploring the building. He glanced at her once, then pulled up a wooden crate and sat down opposite her. He folded his hands and turned his most patient expression on her.
But she was ready for him. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“Eh?” he murmured, surprised. “What?”
“Coming back to Lusara knowing how the Guilde feels about you. Aren’t you bothered by the things they’re doing? Aren’t you going to bother them?”
Robert shook his head and gave her a lopsided smile. “No, I won’t bother them—at least, not deliberately.”
“Then, even though you don’t ... agree with them, you’re content to leave them be.”
“Yes.”
“Why? Why don’t you agree with them? Let’s face it, there doesn’t seem to be much you do agree with—the Enclave, the Guilde, the King—your own brother.” Jenn smiled to take the edge off her tone. “You’re quite an objectionable man, aren’t you?”
Robert burst out laughing. She’d known he would and smiled in response. When he finally replied, however, it was not as she was expecting. “Do you know what the Guilde is, Jenn? Do you know how it came to be?”
The question threw her. She’d never really thought about it. Sober now, she shook her head. “No. Tell me.”
“Well, believe it or not, the Enclave probably knows more about the birth of the Guilde than they do themselves—mainly because the first sorcerers were members of the Guilde. The Guilde is easily the oldest association in the world, outside of the Church. It was originally formed before the Dawn of Ages, when our world was created out of the ashes of the old. Back then, man knew more, had knowledge far beyond our own and, fearing the cataclysm to come, entrusted a few learned men with that wealth. When the gods battled for supremacy and split the world in two, the only thing that remained was the Guilde. Over the ensuing centuries, the Church and Guilde together rebuilt the world and all that we are now is due to their efforts. The gods blessed the Guilde with their sacred trust and it has never failed in its duty.”
Robert paused and glanced over his shoulder to make sure Micah didn’t need any help. Then he continued, but on a completely different tack. “Do you know what the most valuable thing in the world is, Jenn?”
She kept her eyes on him and replied, “Freedom.”
He smiled softly. “All right, the second most valuable thing. Knowledge. It has no price, no peer and
can never be taken from one who has it. The Guilde holds knowledge as the most sacred trust—and holds it greedily to itself. It has command of the sciences, of engineering, of reading and writing—everything so important to our survival. But the Guildesmen share it with no one who has not taken their vow. They direct the work and use the rest of us as labourers. That way they retain their hold over us and their power. Somewhere over time, power has become the most important thing to them and, in my opinion, betrays the trust they hold so dear. They intimidate us with their knowledge and enslave us with our ignorance. That’s why I don’t agree with them. Does that answer your question?”
She had another question. If she was lucky, she could keep him talking—and distracted—long enough for the rain to stop, and then it would be too late. Too late for him to ask if she’d made a decision about Elita.
“How did you know the old man in the farmhouse was alone? Did you speak to him?”
There was less surprise on Robert’s face this time, but his smile was not unkind. He knew what she was doing. “No. I didn’t need to. It’s something most sorcerers can do occasionally. There are times when you can pick up on the thoughts of others—never a sorcerer, mind. Nothing specific, just absent thoughts when a person is tired. People used to think it was mind-reading but it’s nothing like that. I can when I want to. After a while, you learn how to listen for it.”
“But if you . . .” Jenn’s voice trailed off as she realized his attention had strayed. Robert turned his head, drawing his brows together. “What is it?”
He didn’t answer but stood immediately and moved across the barn to the huge door. Micah paused in his work and moved to join him. Then, over the pounding rain, she could hear it. Horses. Galloping towards the farm. She could feel the vibrations through her shoes.
