The Orphans' Promise

by Pierre Grimbert

  The guards would soon be on top of them. It was the first time a fight to the death had taken place within the palace walls, and intervention was inevitable. Grigán already heard the running feet of the archers in the balcony overhead, shuffling as they tried to find a shooting angle clear of the obstructive trees. The archers had no concerns about who started the fight; their orders were to pin down anyone who got mixed up in a skirmish. Though if it were possible, they might spare the Züu and avoid ending up on the fanatics’ blacklist in doing so.

  The jelenis ran toward them, struggling to hold back their dogs. They couldn’t risk the dogs harming anyone but those who were guilty. This was an advantage the heirs could exploit.

  Bowbaq reached out to the first dog’s mind even before his master came into view. His message was clear: danger. The animal mind’s most powerful concept.

  As planned, the dog reacted violently to the intrusion and felt an immediate, unrestrained rage toward the giant. But the word danger was too strong, the giant’s command too gripping, to be ignored. Now, the dog only wanted one thing: to flee, flee far from the human danger. The animal broke free of the jeleni’s control, the guard’s attempts to corral it with his leash failing. The guard fell to the ground, and the dog dragged him, adding to the panic.

  At the same time, Corenn had gotten back on her feet. She checked to make sure that Grigán was holding off the two remaining Züu with his dagger, and began looking for the archers. They were the weak link in their plan. If the heirs couldn’t get them on their side, everything would be a waste.

  The Mother set her sights on one of them who was now close enough to shoot. She gestured wildly at him to show that she was unarmed and that they weren’t looking to resist. The man ignored her and nocked an arrow.

  Corenn sent her Will faster than she thought possible. The bowstring snapped with a sharp ping and whipped the eager guard in the face. Fatigue overcame her, and she stumbled after Grigán and Bowbaq, both of whom had started to run away.

  The warrior didn’t take his eyes off the red killers even though they made no move to follow. The man with the wounded nose had taken out his steel jaws and waited for his master’s orders. The Judge Zamerine watched them flee with a smile on his face. The Züu defeat was seemingly inconsequential to him.

  Zamerine must have another plan, Grigán thought. The warrior hoped he hadn’t made an error in his own planning. In an instant, he thought of the boat where Yan and Léti were supposed to wait for them.

  Bowbaq reached into the mind of every dog that came into sight, incapacitating the jelenis. The Small Palace’s garden transformed into a noisy courtyard as yelps, commands, and the scandalized yells of traders filled the air.

  Running from bush to bush, the heirs made it to the exit—which was already congested—without any further attacks from the archers. None of them dared shoot a single arrow with all the ensuing panic, as the margin for error was too large.

  Bowbaq cleared the crowd by agitating the minds of two dogs by the door. Their bloodcurdling howls sent people running. The heirs entered into the now-empty hallway and rushed for the door.

  “You can’t leave right now.” A jeleni stopped them. His dog’s mind was still calm.

  Grigán didn’t wait for the giant’s intervention and violently shoved the surprised guard, who fell over backward on his dog. From over their fleeing shoulders the heirs heard the dog take vengeance on its clumsy master.

  A moment later, they were outside. A small crowd had formed at the front door, all curious as to what was causing the raucous inside, which was still largely drowned out by the outdoor market’s own clamor. They all dispersed at the sight of Grigán’s dagger, except for a man who joined them.

  “You took a while,” Rey protested, playing it cool. “Any longer and I would have been forced to come to your aid.”

  “Is everything all right?” Corenn asked, worried.

  “Everything’s fine. The Züu are definitely waiting for us in the Ambassador’s hold, but we’ll be embarking on the Othenor, which the community of heirs just purchased for a decent price through a connection of yours truly.”

  “Let’s not waste time. It won’t take long for them to realize they’ve been duped.”

  “Just a moment.” To his companions’ great surprise, Rey went inside the palace. Grigán held the curious onlookers at bay, cursing the actor’s caprice under his breath.

  Corenn decided to take advantage of this brief pause to assuage her curiosity. “Bowbaq, do you know our enemy’s name?”

  The giant shook his head. He was visibly disappointed.

  “Not even the Züu know who he is,” he stated. “They just call him the Accuser.”

  Corenn acknowledged with a frown, and decided to delay further questioning of Bowbaq about any other information he was able to obtain. Too bad, she thought. We can at least say we tried.

  Shouts and protests, followed by a demonic wailing, came to them from inside the palace. Grigán cursed and readied himself to go back inside, but before he could make his move, Rey came bursting out unharmed. He was struggling to carry the scribe’s heavy treasure chest. All the traders’ entry fees. Hundreds of golden terces.

  “Restitution,” he explained. “For all the wealth confiscated unjustly from my ancestor.”

  No one could find anything to say. The heirs were alone. They only had each other to count on. Just as it had been for 118 years.

  BOOK IV: DIVINE KNOWLEDGE

  The Othenor was a fishing sloop designed for a nine-passenger crew, so the six members of the group had plenty of space. It was also a ship designed for two- or three-day expeditions at most. The architect and the shipowner made little effort to consider passenger comfort, and for their part, the heirs envisioned a voyage of almost a dékade.

  The ship had only two cabins: the captain’s quarters, which the men courteously left to Léti and Corenn, and the crew’s quarters, which was furnished with nothing but eight filthy hammocks. A tiny room hiding a bucket acted as the lavatory, and another room that adjoined the cabins filled the roles of dining room, living room, and kitchen all at once.

  The hold was reserved for the former owner’s nets and baskets. For the most part it remained empty and would have stored the catch on any usual outing. Lining the hold were barrels of freshwater, salted meats, and a stock of spirits, whose quality Rey tested for the entirety of their crossing. A number of chests fastened to the lower deck held tackle and spare sails.

  The heirs bought the vessel through one of Rey’s connections the very day they embarked. The decision was risky, and the possibility of failure high. Lorelia was one of the known-world’s largest harbors though, and Rey was offering to pay in full and on the spot. The heirs eventually stumbled across four vessels that met their criteria and, following Yan’s advice, decided to put their money on the Othenor.

  They had made a quick exit from the harbor. The customs officials and royal tax collectors paid little interest to boats exiting the port, and cared much more about the merchant ships over the fishing boats. The Othenor and its passengers sailed past the last Zélanos lighthouse without any trouble in sight.

  While the ship may have required a nine-member crew for a fishing outing, it needed far less manpower to navigate and trim the single mast’s sails. Having spent time at sea since childhood, Yan and Léti were savvy enough to sail respectably. Rey tried to lend a helping hand on deck at times, although he couldn’t hide how much he hated it. The others did their best to make themselves useful, at least until they had sailed far enough away from the coast to relax.

  It wasn’t until the high spires of Lorelien castles had fallen away from the horizon that the heirs took the time to recount their stories, and they shuddered at the telling. Even after the fact, realizing what great perils they had escaped, a long, cold silence settled over the group. They sympathized with Bowbaq when he shared his disappointment for failing to read the name of the Accuser in the Zü’s mind. Rey counted u
p all the treasure he had stolen from the Small Palace, an impressive sum that raised eyebrows.

  “We’re pirates now!” he announced cheerfully, genuine excitement in his voice.

  Bowbaq was sick the entire first day, while Grigán played the part of a watchful pirate. The warrior was afraid that either the Züu or the Lorelien fleet would chase them down, but they had fled from the city so quickly, it would take some time for their pursuers to get wise and give chase.

  Rey took the first free moment to systematically rummage through every one of the ship’s stores, anxious to take an exact inventory of what they had acquired with the boat. He didn’t find much, and from then on he grew restless and bored. The actor was going to find their time at sea very long.

  Léti and Corenn dramatically improved the comfort of their living quarters. They almost got rid of the fishy odor that clung to every inch of the cabin down to the smallest crack. Almost. They would have to put up with the remaining stench for several days.

  At first the heirs sailed due south, their only objective being to escape Lorelia as quickly as possible. Once they reached the open ocean, Yan turned the helm and pointed the ship on an east-south-east direction heading toward Galen, the northernmost city of the Baronies, located on the mouth of the Ubese River. The plan was to sail up the calm river right to Junine.

  Danger would soon catch up with them again, and they would have to improvise, perhaps even fight… but for now they only thought of how lucky they were to have made it out of so many perilous situations alive… and they tried to appreciate the respite they had before more perils to come.

  “I can’t speak for the other Züu,” Bowbaq announced as they reviewed the events that had transpired in the Small Palace. “But Zamerine, their chief, doesn’t know anything. They simply call our enemy: the Accuser.”

  The heirs had met up in the common room for their first meal aboard the Othenor. It was their first night on the boat, and the pitching of the ship on the sea made their stomachs turn—a feeling that would fade eventually, but not soon enough for some. It wasn’t the first time they had been through something new. And it wouldn’t be the last; they just had to be patient.

  “I think they call all their clients that, unfortunately,” Rey informed them. “Which doesn’t help us much!”

  “Did you not see anything else? Maybe the Zü was thinking of a Lorelien, for example. The Accuser could be Lorelien then. Something like that?”

  The giant thought about Corenn’s question. He tried to reorganize thoughts that weren’t his own, that he had seen only for a brief flash, and the complexities that were expressed in a language he did not speak.

  “Well, maybe… I remember he had an image in his head. Of a face. The Accuser’s, surely.”

  They let Bowbaq concentrate, keeping quiet despite the dozens of questions they were burning to ask. If the description turned out to be detailed enough, Corenn or Grigán could figure out which heir it was. They were still convinced he was one of them. He seemed to know too much about them not to be an heir himself.

  Bowbaq opened his eyes and came out of his reverie. “I don’t know if… if Zamerine actually saw him, or if it is just how he imagines him. I think he met him, because the image had some details that were more precise than the setting in a dream. He definitely had spoken to him, but the…” He trailed off to silence.

  Rey, feigning anger, interrupted him, “You’re going to tell us, right, what he looked like?”

  The actor was joking, but his impatience was genuine enough, as it was for his companions.

  “Right! Sorry. But it’s not that interesting, you know. He thought about someone whose face was covered by a… a sort of mask. You know, some sort of cauldron over his head…”

  “A helmet,” Grigán responded, disappointment in his voice. “You didn’t see his face at all.”

  “Uhh, no. I would have told you right away.”

  The heirs let this new disillusionment sink in. While good fortune had been on their side enough to keep them alive, their overall quest seemed to have no lucky star.

  The giant made an effort to find any other interesting information, but the more he tried to concentrate, the more he struggled to differentiate between the scraps of this fleeting image and products of his own imagination. He knew that in a few days it would all be gone, the memories of fact swirling with his imagined visions, until there was no truth to be found in any of it. Anything he had to say, he had to say it now.

  “It’s a man; I am sure of that,” he told the group, keeping his eyes closed. “Zamerine remembers him walking and waving his arms around. He’s in good health, I mean, he has all his limbs at least.”

  “But that’s me!” Rey cried in horror, his joke meeting a wall of silence.

  Corenn asked, “How was he dressed?”

  “He was wearing some kind of metal tunic. Like Grigán’s, but thicker. He wears it under a toga.”

  “A chain-mail coat! Where is there a war going on right now?”

  “In the Lower Kingdoms,” Grigán responded with a sigh. “And in the Romine provinces. And in Jezeba. And maybe in the Warrior’s Valley. He could be a soldier or mercenary, as much as he might just be a cautious merchant.”

  Corenn continued, still hopeful, “Describe the helmet.”

  Bowbaq concentrated again. They were asking him for precise details of an image he had caught only a glimpse of—an image that he hadn’t studied very well because he was focusing mainly on catching a name.

  “I think… there is a band tied around the top. Fairly broad and black. Then, there are only two slits for the eyes, and little holes in front of the mouth and ears. That’s all. It’s all one piece. Like a cauldron; I was right.”

  The mother turned to Grigán to hear his take.

  Without hesitation, the warrior said, “A Goranese helmet. But that doesn’t mean anything. You could just as easily find one in Lorelia, for example. The band is meant to indicate the wearer’s coat of arms, but to my knowledge, there is no family that wears black on their heraldry.”

  “Actually, it’s forbidden,” Rey added confidently. “I had the mind-numbing privilege of studying heraldry. Over the years, black has become a defining characteristic for the coats of arms of the emperor’s enemies. Banished people, rebels, and conspirators…”

  “How many of our suspects are Goranese?”

  Corenn consulted her morbid list that she had made. If there were no errors or omissions, only twenty-two heirs still had an unknown end, out of seventy-one that the Mother had counted in the last generation.

  She shared her result only after checking it over twice.

  “None. All the Goranese on my list were killed by the Züu.”

  Grigán let out a curse. Their quest to know the Accuser hadn’t progressed an inch, while their enemy seemed to possess unlimited resources. If they didn’t learn something in Junine, they might have to give up. Burrow into an unknown hole somewhere, hoping to escape the Züu for as long as possible before the inevitable day when they would be brutally woken from their sleep.

  Since keeping the Othenor on course required little work on Yan’s part, he had the luxury to focus his energy on learning magic. For him, it wasn’t just a way to pass the time, like Bowbaq and Rey’s fishing operation that had been under way since the second day. No, he had rediscovered his passion, helped by Léti’s encouragement.

  Corenn shared Yan’s attitude. She could sense her own progress, but that wasn’t her primary motivation. Yan’s Will seemed so powerful, the strongest she had ever encountered. She was curious to see what he could do once he had properly learned to use it.

  But things had been done out of order. Yan demonstrated his power before he proved his patience. It was the Mother’s job to fix that. Now, he needed to work on them both.

  They secluded themselves in the so-called captain’s cabin, not to keep their activities secret, there was no reason for that anymore, but to be away from distraction and to
keep focused. Their companions understood, and an inquiring knock never fell upon their door. At the sight of the closed door, Grigán jumped at the opportunity to give Léti her own lessons. Corenn merely tolerated these lessons. Grigán knew good and well that she didn’t like them, so he did what he could to train the girl while they were out of sight from her aunt.

  “Where do we start?” Yan asked his teacher as soon as they had settled into the cabin.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  “Tons. So many that I don’t know which to ask first…”

  “I hope I can answer each one of them truthfully. After all, I could unconsciously be spreading a pack of lies by sharing what I know. Magic is mysterious, even for magicians.”

  “Do you mean to say that what you’re going to teach me might be wrong?”

  Yan’s tone wasn’t aggressive, but he also couldn’t hide his surprise. Corenn pondered the basic principle of all teaching: I don’t necessarily have the truth. Question what I teach you. Think, and you’ll have learned.

  “The… techniques, if that’s what you can call the use of Will, work perfectly well. But the explanations that go along with them are merely interpretations accepted by most, or entirely personal. There’s nothing to prove they’re right.”

  The young man understood, letting the meaning of her words simmer. Over the course of all his apprenticeships, masters never put their own knowledge in question.

  You’re having doubts, Yan. Your apprenticeship has just begun, Corenn thought, amused.

  “I have my first question,” he announced, furrowing his brow. “You told me that only a small number of people have the power. But then you claimed the opposite when I said that I had succeeded. Which should I believe?”

  “As a matter of fact, that’s a delicate subject. Perhaps the most controversial, actually. The origin of magic? The quality of magicians? Some claim to be part of a small group of chosen ones, and that only they are able to call on Will. Among those, there are some who explain the source of their power is a reward for their faith in a particular cult. My theory is that we all carry this strength inside ourselves, but it’s only revealed if circumstances demand it. And even then, you need to have the required patience, and… intelligence, you could say, to learn how to control it and put it to use.”