If he had, would Quilla have found some way to make him worse? He never forgot her refusal to summon the apothecary on Serrin’s last day of life.
Glume offered a carrot to Bai’dish who ignored it, his brown eyes intent on Kiffen. When the keeper looked up, his eyes spoke of many memories, long gone. “He says you shouldn’t worry about what has passed.”
“How do you know what he said? All he sends me are images. I can’t always interpret them.”
A simple shrug accompanied Glume’s answer. “I’ve been doing this for a long time.”
“Something else that will take years to learn. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t have time.”
Bai’dish shifted sideways in the stall, drawing closer to Kiffen.
Glume cleared his throat. “Do you remember the day Am’brosia was born? When I suggested your brother had found his giraffe?” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly between his sun-chapped lips. “While you were laughing at the idea, Bai’dish told me you were the chosen bond, not your brother.”
Kiffen stumbled backward and fell over a stack of hay. He managed to right himself, but his insides still tumbled as though he were falling.
Glume looked at him, sadness in his eyes. “During your brother’s First Degree bonding, you stayed with him. Do you recall?”
The memory made Kiffen smile. “Serrin was uncomfortable with the idea. Not that he’d admit it. He didn’t want to spend a week outside alone with Bai’dish, so I stayed with him.”
“And Bai’dish bonded with you instead.”
Tears pricked in Kiffen’s eyes, and he cleared his throat trying to choke them off. “Did you know then? Did you know Serrin would die?”
A look of compassion settled on the keeper’s round face. “No,” he whispered. “We did not know.”
* * * * *
Chapter 30
Tears of rain streamed down the lead-paned windows of the chamber Adana used as her receiving room in Roshar. She stood at the window feeling the weather’s commiseration with Kiffen’s mood as it leaked along the bond. She felt his grief and sorrow, but Am’brosia only let her experience Kiffen’s raw emotion. The giraffes didn’t share any images or provide any clues to the source of his suffering. She reached out to him, wishing she could hold him, wishing he could hold her. At the moment, he didn’t respond to her efforts, exhaustion washing through the connection. What had happened?
“Your Majesty?” Joannu stood at the door.
She turned from the window. “Yes?”
“Brother Honest and Lady Elayne ask to speak with you.”
The announcement caught her by surprise. She had sent them on their assigned task just after the midday meal. “I didn’t expect to hear from them until much later.” She glanced back out the window before returning to her chair. “Send them in. Maybe they’ll have some answers for us.”
The pair entered the room, Brother Honest’s mouth in a firm line, his eyes intent on her, while Elayne’s gaze darted around the corners of the room, never meeting Adana’s.
Adana glanced back and forth between them in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
Brother Honest took Elayne’s hand and whispered something to her. She sat down on a bench along the wall. Even though the woman was soaked to the skin from the rain, anyone could see she had been crying. Joannu hovered by the door, one foot turned toward the young woman on the bench, and the other planted in the proper position to guard the entrance to the room. Adana observed the internal struggle in her Watcher, aware the woman had developed a fondness for Elayne.
“Your Majesty, may we request a private audience?” Brother Honest said.
When Adana nodded to Joannu, the Watcher hesitated a moment before stepping out into the corridor. She would remain just outside the door, although Adana didn’t feel the precaution necessary.
Curious about the teacher’s information, she turned back toward her visitors.
Lady Elayne’s face looked stricken, and when her gaze met Adana’s, the lady shivered violently. Adana picked up a blanket from a chest near the window and handed it to Honest, noting with unease the gentle care he took in wrapping it around Elayne’s shoulders.
“Has she been harmed?”
“No.” Elayne managed a bare whisper and looked up at Adana.
“Well then, you must tell me what’s wrong.” Adana reached into her pocket and withdrew the handkerchief the woman had given her when she learned of her father’s death. “I believe this is yours. You appear to need it.”
Honest took the offering and gave it to Elayne who buried her face in it.
A frown creased Adana’s brow. “Brother Honest? I hope your information explains this odd behavior.”
Honest turned toward Elayne with an eyebrow raised in question. The woman trembled but tilted her head toward the door, listened for a moment, then nodded.
Adana felt her skin grow cold with dread at the obvious check on eavesdroppers. What could they have found out in such a short amount of time?
“What is it?”
“Your Majesty, we need to share some of Lady, er, the lady’s background with you. It is important.”
“Background?” Adana turned to stare at Elayne, suspicions resurfacing. She had finally decided to trust her, at least enough to employ her listening skills. Since the attack in the forest, she’d begun to like her. Without Leera, she’d missed having a friend. She allowed a sharp edge to come into her voice. “I’m listening.”
Honest gestured back toward the chair. “Please sit.”
She complied, but the look on Honest’s face set her nerves on edge. Her shoulder ached, the pain driving down deep into the bone. She rubbed it, aware the pain wouldn’t cease until she learned what Honest had to say.
His explanation was brief, but it turned Adana’s blood to ice.
“This explains a few things.” She turned a dubious glare on Shana who slipped from the bench to the floor with a cry, her face buried in her hands.
Adana rose and walked to the window, staring at people who trotted through the rain seeking shelter. Moniah rarely had rain this time of year. Laughter rang out below. The people saw it as a sign of good fortune for the upcoming battle against Maligon.
She turned and stared at her latest threat to that victory. “I must say, you fooled me.” She shook her head. “Against my better judgment, I had come to trust you.”
Shana did not meet her gaze.
“Your Majesty.” Brother Honest stepped between them, shielding Shana from Adana’s wrath. “You must know she wishes to serve you. Will you hold this against her? Something she had no control over?”
“No control?” The thought was alien to Adana. She was the one who had no control over what happened to her. No. Shana had lived with choices Adana could never support.
The ache in her shoulder spread like fire down her arm. She shook it, trying to break the pressure. When it wouldn’t stop, she flung her hand toward Shana, her eyes on Honest. “She chose to leave her position to work for Sarx. A known traitor.”
“No.” Shana shook her head, her voice thick with tears.
Moments ago, the tears had caused Adana concern, but now, they disgusted her. Why had she failed to maintain her caution around this infiltrator? She returned to her chair, seeking its confirmation of her authority.
“No? Did you not leave The Sleeping Dog in Sarx’s employ? Pretend to be someone you are not?”
Shana lifted tear-swollen eyes to Adana, her mouth working without sound.
“Adana, have you no compassion?” Brother Honest glared at her but rushed to Shana’s side and took her in his arms.
Adana twitched at his familiar use of her name. “Has she bewitched you, too? Did your Creator not warn you of this?”
Shana’s head jerked up. “Your Majesty, Brother Honest is an honorable man. Do not malign him for my sake.”
“Malign? An educated word for your sort.”
Brother Honest stood up, his arms stiff by his side
, tension working in his jaw. “Do you realize what you are saying? This is not the behavior of the queen I’ve come to admire.” He gestured toward Shana. “Would you rather she stayed in the tavern? Serving drinks? Submitting to—” His voice softened. “Submitting to men? Can you blame her for wanting something better?”
Adana leaned back in her chair and pondered the two of them. She had never entered an establishment such as The Sleeping Dog. She envisioned a room filled with energy and excitement, no protocols to follow, just drinking and amusement. Could she be mistaken?
“Why do you trust her?” she asked.
Honest hesitated.
“You do trust her, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Honest spoke with solid conviction.
“Then why?”
“My mother was a Watcher.” He paused.
“I’m aware of that.”
“My father was the son of a Watcher,” the teacher added in a soft voice.
Adana sat forward. Her childhood stories told of children like him. Could he really claim an ability?
“A child of such a match can be gifted by the Creator,” Honest said. “Does the queen remember the legend of the gifted ones?”
Curious, Adana nodded. “I do.”
“At your indulgence, I’d like to retell the story.”
“So you’re a Memory Keeper, now?” Adana pondered his request. Would he claim to be a Seer? Should she believe him?
Others needed to hear this plea, to help her filter out the truth, if there was any. “I’ll allow it, but only after you summon the First Vision and my honor guard to join us.”
Shana gasped, her face turning a shade paler.
Brother Honest nodded, bent and laid a reassuring hand on the tavern maid’s shoulder, then crossed to the door and asked Joannu to summon the others. Moments later Montee, Joannu, Sinti, and Veana joined them.
A wave of relief washed over Adana at the presence of her Watchers. They would know if Honest told the truth or not.
Montee glanced from Adana to Elayne and back again, a stoic look on her face.
Joannu cried out in dismay at the sight of Shana on the floor and moved to comfort her, but Montee stayed the Watcher with a quick motion of her hand. Joannu froze in her tracks, but her concerned gaze never left Shana’s form on the floor.
“Brother Honest is going to explain why the legend of the gifted ones will support his claim that we can trust Shana.” At the look of confusion on their faces, Adana added, “Oh, my manners have forsaken me. Please let me introduce the tavern wench, Shana.”
Three sets of cool Watcher eyes, and Joannu’s set of confused ones, turned toward the woman huddled on the floor. Brother Honest stepped between them, his arms folded across his chest.
“May I begin, Your Majesty?” His voice sounded formal and stiff.
“Proceed.”
Brother Honest repeated the same story Adana had told Shana upon discovering her Listener talents.
During his retelling, Adana studied Shana, who blinked up at Honest, her face enthralled. When she noticed the queen’s gaze on her, she blushed and looked down at the rug.
Brother Honest’s stare bored into Adana as he told of the Empaths. “A third group received the gift of touch. Known as Empaths, they could sense the emotions of any living thing, human or animal. They also possessed the ability to imitate any action with perfection and to perform great feats of physical strength.
“And the fourth group, he called Seers.” Honest paused and considered Adana for a moment. “He gave them the gift of intuition, able to recognize things not seen or heard, and to know if someone speaks the truth.”
Adana expected him to stop there. The expression on his face indicated his point had been made, but Honest continued the story through the rise of The Gifted Ones and the fear and annihilation of these blessed people gifted by the Creator.
Annoyed by his delay tactics, Adana interrupted. “Until the Princess Moniah discovered a hidden matriarchal society of Watchers. Through them, she awakened her own natural gift of watching and learned the talents of the tallest beast in the animal world. Please Brother Honest, we know all of this.”
Honest’s brown eyes held Adana’s attention. “Have you never considered the existence of other gifted ones?”
Adana sat back and tilted her head to the side. “Of course. But there has been no evidence of any for centuries. Until…” She glanced at Shana.
“Yes.” Honest took a step closer, excitement radiating from him. “Many gifted ones exist without the knowledge of their special gifts.” He gestured toward Shana. “Shana barely remembered the legend. She had no idea her abilities were unusual.”
Adana tilted her head. “So, Honest, are you saying you are a Seer?”
He nodded. “And an Empath.”
A chill ran over Adana’s arms as she gripped the arms of her chair. To discover someone with another gift seemed impossible, but Honest’s claim was beyond that. Could a lineage of Watchers produce someone with other gifts? Her shoulder tingled in response.
Montee stepped forward. “You have multiple gifts?”
The teacher met her gaze without flinching. “Yes.”
Tearing her gaze from Honest, Adana studied Montee’s reaction. “What do you make of this? Is it possible?” She held her breath, something a Watcher never did, but Montee’s answer might change everything she knew of her world.
The First Vision approached the chair and whispered, “Adana, do you recall our discussion of the parchments?”
She flashed back to the night Montee had shared with her the secrets about the cave’s location, Sir Jerold’s identity, and the tunnels beneath the Border Keep. “Yes.”
“One parchment contains information about small groups of gifted ones living throughout the kingdoms. They do exist.”
“Do people with more than one gift live?”
“Yes. Often the traits skip a few generations, but there are known instances of this.”
“And when were you going to share this with me?”
A well-known, grim smile preceded Montee’s response. “As time has permitted, I’ve shared the essential information of the moment. There is still much we have not discussed.”
“Much? How much?” She waved the question away as she spoke it. “Do you believe Brother Honest? Is he what he claims to be? Should we trust him and Elayne? Or Shana? Or whoever she is?”
“If we had access to the scroll that lists known gifted ones, we could see if he is listed. Of course, not all are recorded there.” Montee glanced at Shana as she said the last part. “Without it…we must use other means of discovery.”
“Do you know how?”
“A simple test of his truth-telling should be sufficient for his Seer abilities. I’m inclined to believe he’s an Empath. They often gravitate toward the military or the Teachers of the Faith.”
Adana rubbed her temples and stared at Honest. “We will have to test you.” She glanced toward Shana, now dry-eyed, sitting on the floor. “If he is what he claims to be, you may be the luckiest woman alive.”
* * * * *
Chapter 31
Queen Adana looked up as Honest entered her chambers the next morning. She stared at him for a moment, then returned to the message delivered by pigeon this morning. It came from Commander Linus at Adana’s View. Maligon’s army drew near.
She sighed and set it aside. “What does Pultarch want?”
Adana didn’t expect Honest to know the answer, but she asked anyway. His Seer testing supported his claim. The man demonstrated an incredible ability to recognize when someone lied or told the truth. Six of her Watchers, ordered to tell the truth on some questions and alter the truth slightly on others, submitted to his evaluation. He never missed.
If his Empath abilities were as strong, he might be able to determine Pultarch’s motives. She had sent him to Pultarch’s chambers the night before with an order to discover what he could about their reluctant guest.
&nbs
p; Brother Honest eyed her. “He wants to take you to Maligon.”
“I know that. Why? How?”
Honest frowned. “He still hopes to marry you, as Maligon has led the people to believe, and place you on the Seat of Authority.”
“Place me.” Adana slammed her hand down on the table. “Does he believe I need him in order to accomplish this?”
“Yes. He does.”
When would people accept her sovereignty? She forced her thoughts away from that frustration and concentrated on the matter at hand—what to do with Pultarch.
One didn’t have to be an Empath or Seer to realize Honest had an idea. A Watcher could read the signs. “What do you propose we do with him?”
“I’m not sure you are ready to hear it,” Honest said.
“Ready for what?” Montee stood by the door watching their interchange. She had been quiet all morning. Montee approached the teacher, her gaze studying him, interpreting his stance. “I think Honest does have a plan, but it’s risky.”
Adana tilted her head to the side, waiting for an answer. In the distance, she felt Am’brosia seeking their bond. She ignored it. Irritation felt good today. Her shoulder began to ache, and she rubbed at it.
Brother Honest said, “Montee has excellent Watcher insight. What I propose does carry some risk.”
“Beware Honest,” Adana said. “Tomorrow, we march to join King Kiffen’s forces on the battleground. I don’t have time for half-considered plans.”
The man shrugged, his hair falling over his eyes. He pushed it to the side and said, “Let Pultarch escape with Shana.”
“What? Why would he do that?”
“Do you believe me when I tell you she wants to aid you, not Maligon?”
Adana and Montee exchanged glances. They had discussed this well into the night. Reluctantly, Adana nodded. “Within limits, we feel we can trust her. This sounds riskier.”
Brother Honest shook his head. “It’s not. It’s bold and perilous, but it could work.” He sat forward. “From what Shana overheard yesterday, we know Pultarch has no credibility with these men. If he escapes and manages to capture Shana instead of you, he might claim she is you in order to save his pride. Maligon’s men won’t know the difference. Most Monians have not seen you for three years.”
The Watchers in Exile Page 22
