Pultarch swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Adana—”
“Address me properly.”
“Um, forgive me, my la—, er, Your Majesty.” He dropped to his knees, his arms outspread, and focused his soft brown eyes on her in the same beseeching expression she knew he employed so well with the ladies of court. It appeared his boyish charm still existed in his tools for attracting women.
“What would you have me do?” he said. “We were surrounded. The next thing I knew Kiffen’s soldiers were dragging me from the tent. Elwarian soldiers delivered me to the Lo—uh, to Maligon. I survived by lying to him, knowing I had to stay alive to reach you.”
“You’ve been a willing prisoner, then?”
Pultarch licked his lips and nodded. “Just waiting until I could convince him to send me to you.”
Adana shook her head and studied the Earl of Brom’s son. Conrad deserved an heir with a backbone, but he had gotten Pultarch instead. She wondered what had changed the young man. She never thought he would stoop to treachery. Either he was a coward or stupid. Neither aided his cause.
“What of my people, Pultarch? The ones you’ve killed. What about them?”
Alarm crossed his face. “I have not killed anyone.”
“Then I’m to call all of the refugees at my gates liars? Monian citizens? I’m to believe a man who has willingly ridden beside Maligon and witnessed torture and killing across my kingdom? A man our spies say has been marching toward my home to claim the Seat of Authority?”
“Your Majesty. Adana. You must know I could not act alone. I had to bide my time until the right moment.”
She stood and swept past him. “I’m curious. How did you convince him to let you go?”
Pultarch rose to his feet and followed her. “I’m to rescue you and return you to the Seat of Moniah.”
She couldn’t hold back the laughter, high-pitched and shrill, at the idea of his success on such an errand.
Montee rushed into the room as Adana spun to face Pultarch, cutting the laugh off with her next question. “Why do I need rescuing Pultarch?”
He eyed Montee’s menacing stance before turning back to Adana, for once the confidence gone from his face.
After several silent breaths, Adana nodded. “At least you know when to remain silent.” She turned to Montee. “Take him to Brother Honest. He is to be locked in a solitary prayer cell.”
Together, Montee and Pultarch objected. “Your Majesty?”
They glared at each other.
Montee stepped closer to Adana, her voice lowered. “Should we not place him under the care of your soldiers?”
“No,” Adana said. “I believe a temple cell will do.”
Montee frowned but led Pultarch from the room.
* * *
After giving Brother Honest the queen’s message, Elayne left the temple but stopped in the middle of the courtyard separating the teachers’ living quarters from the temple. As much as she wanted to deny it, Pultarch, after so many weeks of treachery, still triggered some emotions within her. Ones she shouldn’t have. Not if she served Queen Adana.
She paused in her thoughts as she heard two people descend the stairs from the wing where the queen received visitors. The tread sounded like Montee’s, quick and commanding, while the steps of the other person resounded like an unsure question. Pultarch? Dressed as she was in a Watcher’s uniform, would he see the lady Elayne masquerading as a Watcher, or worse yet, would the simpler clothes remind him of the tavern maid, Shana?
Elayne darted into the shadow of a doorway.
Hidden in the cool shadows, she peered past the greenery decorating the walkway in front of the door. Everywhere she looked, the estate sprouted with potted plants. She’d never seen so many plants inside the walls of a building before.
Within moments, the two emerged through an arch. Neither looked happy and neither spoke. With a firm grip on his arm, Montee led Pultarch toward the temple.
Where had the strong and handsome young nobleman from The Sleeping Dog gone? Combined with the evidence of his allegiance to Maligon, his charm seemed distant, if not fictitious. Yet, her heart thumped at the sight of him.
Halfway across the yard, Pultarch froze in his tracks and stared at the doorway where Elayne hid. She held her breath, willing him to move on.
Montee glared at him. “That door will not set you free.”
He cast a distracted glance at the First Vision but continued to stare into the shadows. “Who is she?” The command was strong in his voice.
Montee turned an angry glare toward the doorway, and Elayne felt the Watcher’s hard gaze penetrate to her bones.
The First Vision grunted and jerked Pultarch’s arm. “Watchers are no concern of yours.” She dragged him a few steps until his feet complied, but his head stayed turned toward the doorway.
“She looks familiar.” His voice drifted to Elayne as Montee pushed him through the temple’s entry.
She strained to hear how Montee responded to Pultarch’s comment. Relief flooded through her as she realized the Watcher chose to remain silent. She sagged against the wall. Sarx had ordered her to help Maligon when the opportunity arose. He had assured her great wealth if she complied and had hinted at a noble marriage for her, maybe even to an earl. She knew he meant Pultarch. Did Pultarch know he’d been offered in trade?
Her instincts told her to avoid him at all costs. Her heart said other things.
She stepped out from the shadows and rubbed her neck, surprised at the tension building there. Her secret seemed to press down on her more each day. If Pultarch recognized her, she could find herself in a similar cell.
Should she trust the queen with her true identity? Pultarch’s presence meant she must choose.
If she remained hidden and did nothing, she defied Sarx, Maligon, and Adana.
If she helped Pultarch, she turned her back on the one person who had recognized her gifts and provided her a new way of life.
If she helped Adana, she faced Maligon’s wrath if he won this war.
Shivering despite the heat, she started up the stairs. She’d lied to Adana and the Watchers, allowed Sarx to fabricate her life and place her where he and Maligon needed her. Could the queen forgive her? She preferred a life of freedom, no matter how short it might be, to one chained to Maligon and Sarx.
With slow, heavy steps, Elayne returned to the queen’s chamber, determined to confess everything, but she found the room overcrowded with royalty and officials. Queen Morana of Teletia, her son, Prince Navon, and Sir Jerold gathered with the queen. Several Watchers, including Joannu and Veana, stood in attendance beside the queen’s chair.
Disappointment and relief flooded through her. She could not confess her secret, not in front of so many.
As she hesitated at the door, Brother Honest came up behind her. “A little overwhelming, isn’t it?” His simple smile carried a sweet comfort that Elayne had never felt in her entire life.
At the sound of Honest’s voice, Adana looked up from the book she had been studying with Prince Navon. She patted the young boy’s hand and said, “Your Highness, I must return to my responsibities. Will you wait for me to finish this with you later?”
He gave a solemn nod and walked over to where his mother sat, leaning his body along her legs.
Queen Adana smiled after the boy for a moment and then turned as Montee entered the room behind Elayne. “Is our prisoner safely ensconced?”
Montee nodded, but Honest stepped forward. “My lady, are you sure of this decision? Unlike your Watchers and First Soldiers, we do not have the security or skills to guard a prisoner.”
Alarm beat in Elayne’s chest. Imprisoned. If they detained Pultarch for being in the wrong place, what would they do to her? He was the queen’s friend, wasn’t he? She couldn’t claim friendship, just deceit, no matter the reason.
Adana shook her head. “I don’t want him in a prison cell. Not yet. I can’t tell you why.”
&nbs
p; Honest turned to Montee. “Can you persuade her any differently?”
Montee’s voice betrayed an awareness that her words wouldn’t change things, yet she tried. “Your Majesty, your mother made a similar decision with Maligon when she first captured him. It did not go well, as you might recall.”
Elayne listened carefully, noting the quick intake of breath among the others in the room. Everyone knew the story of how Queen Chiora let her friendship with Maligon cloud her vision. He seized that opportunity, a moment of kindness, and kidnapped her, endangering her life.
With a regal nod, Adana acknowledged Montee’s objection. “You are my First Vision for this very reason, Montee, to guide me and remind me of the history of our struggles, but there’s something about my dream…” Her voice faded, and her gaze grew distant for a moment. With a start, Adana sat up straight. “Nevertheless, Pultarch will remain under Honest’s roof until I determine how to deal with this new turn of events.”
Brother Honest turned a hopeful glance toward Sir Jerold.
“She outranks me.” The man held up his hands in a gesture of apology. “I will be glad to assist the teachers with guard duty.”
Brother Honest bowed his head. “Thank you. Most of the teachers have never held a knife except to spread butter.”
A satisfied smile spread over Queen Adana’s face. “Wonderful. Now, I must speak with Elayne, and I require your assistance, Brother Honest.”
For a moment, Elayne failed to react. Then she realized what Adana had just said. Had Pultarch learned of her true identity and revealed it in an effort to prove himself? Would Queen Adana confront her in front of everyone, then send her to a cell in Honest’s temple?
Glancing around the room, she didn’t sense any trouble, but she steeled herself for what may come.
A short while later, Elayne followed Brother Honest into the courtyard, sick dread swamping her stomach. Both were dressed in the plain, dusty clothing of refugees. The queen wanted them to go out into the refugee camp and find the men who had accompanied Pultarch. Honest would attempt to talk to them as a disgruntled farmer. If they didn’t rise to his promptings, Elayne was to eavesdrop on their conversations after Honest left. How could she hide her presence from any who might recognize her if she dressed like Shana? Surely, someone in this sprawling camp would.
If only the queen had not issued the command with a room full of royalty behind her.
She sighed and trudged along behind Brother Honest, almost bumping into the man when he stopped. She looked up into his eyes seeing concern in the crease of his forehead.
“We must talk.” He guided her toward the temple.
Disheartened, she allowed him to lead her into the building.
The cool, dark interior provided a welcome relief to the heat of the day and the vigilant gazes of so many royals and Watchers. They were alone in the vast room, and the silence enveloped her like a comfortable cloak.
Honest guided her to a bench and then sat beside her. “What troubles you?”
She could not look at him. It made sense to tell him before someone within the village recognized her, but she hesitated, not wanting this gentle man to learn of her past.
He laid a hand on hers and spoke in low, comforting tones. “Whatever troubles you, this is the place to talk about it. I will not judge you. I have seen your devotion to serve the queen in every way, but now you hesitate. Why?”
Elayne began to cry.
* * * * *
Chapter 29
“It’s so calm in here.” Kiffen stood in the barn beside Bai’dish’s stall.
Glume nodded but continued to rake loose hay back into the stall.
Down the length of the building, horses and a few cows stomped, neighed, or mooed, but the place provided peace compared to the hustle of people in the keep.
Kiffen stroked Bai’dish’s flank, enjoying the feel of the short, smooth hair under his fingertips. The giraffe had walked up to him the moment he neared the stall. A rumble of pleasure flowed through the bond.
Kiffen regarded the keeper. “How long have you been linked to the giraffes?”
The shy man dropped his head. “Since my childhood, Your Majesty.”
Bai’dish butted Kiffen’s shoulder and sent an image of Glume as a boy, his face flushed with pleasure, surrounded by the giraffes. Glume touched each one with fond, delicate hands.
Kiffen scrutinized the huge, calloused hands of the man, but Bai’dish countered with a vision of Glume’s hand, miniscule beside the giraffe’s platter-sized hoof. Kiffen laughed. “Bai’dish tells me you’re harmless.” He paused and stroked the animal. “At least, I think that’s what he’s telling me. How did you learn to understand them?”
Glume blushed. “Once they knew I could understand them, the giraffes would not leave me alone. They, um, they are funny animals at times. They pushed so many images on me, I had to learn. It wasn’t easy.”
Bai’dish bumped his nose into Kiffen’s shoulder, again, causing him to stumble before catching his balance.
“He says you’re lucky he’s not giving you the same treatment.” Glume gave Kiffen an apologetic look. “You need to learn faster.”
“He’s right.” Kiffen stared up into the giraffe’s liquid-brown eyes, wondering what the bond would feel like if he had spent years developing it. An image of Adana flashed in his mind. She stood at a window looking over Roshar’s sprawling mass of humanity. At first, he thought Bai’dish might be trying to answer his thoughts, but then he noticed Adana looked troubled. The image of her shifted, and he caught a brief flash of her drowning in a river. Then the image disappeared. “Did you see that?” Kiffen’s heart pounded with alarm.
Glume stood still for a moment. He frowned and looked out of the corner of his eye at Kiffen. “Bai’dish did not share the image with me until you asked. Something troubles her.”
Kiffen smacked the wall of the shelter causing Glume to jump and the giraffe to rear his head back. “I understood that. Why was she in a river?”
Glume nodded. “It’s part of a dream she’s been having for months.”
“A vision?”
“Yes.”
“What does it mean?”
The man stopped raking and stood the rake on end. He clasped his gloved hands over the end of the handle and rested his chin on his hands. “That’s the problem. She doesn’t know.”
“Do you?”
He shook his head. “She’s caught in the rapids. She fights, sinks, fights again. Teachers of the Faith try to help her, but she ignores them because her crown is being washed away.”
“She ignores help and goes after her crown?”
“Yes.”
“Please tell me she gets it back.”
Glume shook his head. “No.”
Bai’dish straightened and turned his head toward the barn’s entrance. Kiffen followed his alert gaze. Kassa stood there, stoic as always. “There’s more to the dream.”
The old Watcher entered the barn, and Glume returned to raking, his head bowed in concentration.
Rather than continue to explain the dream to Kiffen, Kassa crossed her arms and watched the keeper. “Glume, your news was helpful. Are you sure the Watcher helping Maligon is Kalara?”
The man stopped and faced her. “Yes.”
Kassa nodded then turned toward Kiffen, her eyes softening when she looked up at Bai’dish. “The dream warns of disaster for the crowns of Elwar and Moniah. Her crown washes away. She hits her head on a rock before she can reach it. That’s when she ends up in the dark underground. Your crown appears to her there.”
“Uhm, begging your pardon,” Glume hesitated, “but a bear pulls the queen’s crown out of the water and walks away with it.”
Kassa’s hawk-like gaze fell hard on the man. “Are you sure of this?”
“Yes.” He stood straighter and looked her in the eye. “Her dream changed a few nights before I got to Elwar.”
Kassa tilted her head and studied Glume like a crow sit
ting on a fence assessing the danger of a scarecrow. “Your ability troubles me, Glume.”
He shrugged.
“But,” she looked up at Bai’dish, “if the giraffes trust you, so must I. I just wish I had some way of capturing all the information stored up in your head. There could be some answers in there. Based on Adana’s explanation of your ability, I’m guessing you know a lot.”
Glume shook his head. “I try to remember only the important facts.”
Kassa nodded and turned to leave. “The question is which facts are truly important?” Without waiting for his answer, she left the building.
“She is…” Kiffen hesitated, unsure what to say. Both men grimaced when Bai’dish sent them an image of a large hawk swooping down on a shivering rabbit.
Stillness hummed through the stable for a while, interrupted only when Bai’dish stretched his long neck over the railing and nudged Glume.
Kiffen watched this happen twice, guessing there might be some meaning behind the animal’s behavior. “He wants something, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, Sire.” Glume approached Kiffen. “Bai’dish wants me to explain why he did not die with Prince Serrin.”
Stomach plunging, Kiffen ran his hand through his hair, trying to control its sudden shakiness. “You knew why? And didn’t say anything?”
“No one knew I could talk to the giraffes. I couldn’t risk telling, not while both kingdoms mourned.”
Kiffen leaned back against the fenced structure. “But you can tell me now?”
Glume stepped closer, a look of concern in his eyes. “When it happened. To your brother. Were you sick, too? Did you have the same illness?”
Astonishment welled up within Kiffen. He had been sick but kept it a secret. He searched the man’s face looking for something, although he didn’t know what.
“I hid it. Serrin was so ill. No one realized I was, too. I stayed with him until the end, then went to bed for two days. People thought I was mourning and exhausted from sitting up with him. I got better. To this day, I’ve never told anyone I had the disease, too.”
The Watchers in Exile Page 21
