by Brian Keller
By the time the mages were out of sight, Iona was already issuing orders. She informed the soldiers, “The Royal Spymaster has been killed and his killer has fled. Some of you will need to either carry his body back, or stand guard over it until he can be retrieved; I care not which. I also need an escort to the Palace. The prince needs to be informed, and I also should deliver this.” She held up the tube for emphasis. The Sergeant of the Watch squinted, “That looks like a Courier tube, miss. Is the Guild involved somehow?” She nodded, “I’d say that’s a fair certainty, but it’s the Prince’s decision what’s to be done with the message. Will you assign soldiers to escort me, please? Or shall I return to the Palace alone?” The sergeant pointed to a small group of soldiers, “Corporal, you and your squad escort her back. Be watchful. It wouldn’t do any of us any good to lose them both in the same night.” Truth be told, she was relieved to have a squad of soldiers charged with her safety, with all the excitement she wasn’t even sure about how to get back to the river.
She walked in the midst of them, blindly making her way closer, step by step. Her mind was fully occupied reliving everything she’d just witnessed. When they crossed the second set of bridges, north from the Grid into the Palace District, she realized she needed to get her thoughts in order so she could relay the events to the Prince. He would have to be awakened, no doubt, and she didn’t know how he might react to that. She panicked for a moment, thinking, “I don’t even know how to address him! ‘Your Royal Highness’?... ‘Your Majesty’ seems like something reserved for his father, the King. ‘My Prince’? He might take offense at being referred to so directly.” She resolved to pay more attention to titles and political offices, assuming she still had a home in the Palace when the sun rose a few hours from now.
Her escort led her to the doors to the Council Chamber. The soldiers spoke a few brief words to the guards, who then opened the doors to allow her inside. The corporal followed her only for a few steps, far enough for his eyes to take in all the grandeur of the room, then he informed her, “Wait here. I’ll see that the Prince knows you’re here with urgent news. If he demands an explanation, which I expect he will, I’ll inform him of the Spymaster’s death but I know little else to tell. In my limited experience, I’ll suggest that you don’t waste your time with lengthy explanations. Tell him what he needs to know, he’ll ask for clarification on whatever else he wants.”
As he closed the doors behind him, her thoughts lingered on the corporal, “He seemed educated and well-spoken; almost like an officer.” She cast those musings from her mind. She needed to focus on the circumstances at hand. She wandered around the room, looking to see whether she might learn anything that might help her with the situation that she’d found herself facing. The furnishings and decorations in the room were selected and arranged more to demonstrate function and a certain sense of pragmatism, more than wealth and power. That was not to say that the appearance of wealth was absent, the coin generated from the sale of a single chair could probably feed a small family for a season, and there were over a dozen chairs, but there were no elaborate chandeliers or brocade rugs. The floor was roughly polished stone and the room was lit by lanterns hanging from simple sconces. She noted that the sconces extended the lanterns more than a foot away from the columns where they were attached, “The smoke from the lanterns won’t dis-color the stonework. Less time spent scrubbing means the staff can be doing other worthwhile things, I suppose.” She wondered whether these choices could be credited to the Prince, “He has other things to concern himself with. Doubtless, he has someone to manage the mundane chores such as selecting décor.” She noticed that the table was actually several tables assembled to form a single square structure. It could comfortably seat six or seven people on a side, but each side held only four chairs. As she glanced around she couldn’t fail but notice, “There’s no ‘throne’. No chair that looks like it’s been set apart.” She had expected that there would be a chair that was undoubtedly ‘his’, but she saw nothing to indicate which one. She looked around the table. There was a goblet for each chair, and though somewhat ornate, there was nothing that would separate one from another. She was still examining goblets when the doors to the chamber were abruptly pulled open. The man who strode into the room entered alone. He was wrapped in a robe and was still tying the cord. By all appearances he might not be wearing anything underneath besides night clothes. She caught a glimpse of thin, light blue cotton trousers below the hem of the robe, extending over his boots. His hair wasn’t quite brown or blond, but somewhere in between, and it would be shoulder length if it weren’t tied back behind his head. His gaze immediately focused on her,”Yoren has been killed?” She drew back from the table and unconsciously smoothed the wrinkles from her clothes, “Yes, Sire.” The Prince cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow, “Ahem. ‘Sire’ is my father. I have sired no one. In fact, I have avoided and evaded every attempt by my father to force me into matrimony. I’m not sure who hates me more for it, my father or my brother. My brother accepted the bride arranged by my father and has been miserable ever since.” Iona was stunned by the unexpected direction the conversation had taken, and by his candor, “Well, you’re certainly more than a Lord, your Highness.” He shook his head, “Highness? I’m no taller than any other man. In fact, I’d say I’m shorter than many. Let’s settle this. What I am is your Prince and your Liege. For the sake of propriety, pick one and let’s move this conversation along. My Spymaster is dead. Tell me how it happened.” She followed the corporal’s advice and glossed over details that might be considered ‘inconsequential’. The Prince let her finish her report without interruption, then proceeded to ask succinct questions that revealed many of those details. When they’d finished, he knew almost as much about Cooper as she did, and he undoubtedly understood her feelings regarding her former professor. He pointed to her hand, “That would be the message?” She nodded, “Yes, my Prince.” He tilted his head to one side as he examined it from a distance, “Well then, read it. I’ll not touch that, and you already have.” He paused, then ordered, “Wait.” He turned and walked to the doors, pulling them open. He spoke a few words to the guards outside, closed the doors and returned. He explained, “They’re fetching some gloves. I doubt the Guild would do something so obvious as to fill that tube with poison, but I also don’t doubt that they hold me responsible for the destruction of their headquarters, at least to some degree.”
She felt uncomfortable in the silence that followed, but despite his demeanor she didn’t know how to maintain the conversation. She certainly couldn’t just start asking him questions. He must have noticed her discomfort, since when he spoke again the glint in his eye suggested he was rescuing her by filling the silence more than actually engaging in conversation, “How long have you lived here in the Palace? A year, or a little less?” Iona looked at the floor, “Perhaps a year, my Prince. Time passes…differently, here.” He smiled as he pulled the nearest chair away from the table and seated himself. He gestured that she should do the same. Her mind flashed with the thought that the gentlemen of high society usually seated the lady first, but the thought left her mind as quickly as it entered, she was not a ‘lady’ and he was no mere ‘society gent’. He quietly smiled as she seated herself as he continued, “I would assume that you find life in the Palace preferable to that of the University. Am I correct, or do you miss University life? Living among your friends and peers?” Her embarrassment increased as she replied, “I prefer it here, my Prince. The University holds neither friends nor peers but if I were to be forthright, I suppose the same could be said of the Palace.” He nodded, as if she had said something profound. He then added, “You’ve lived here for a little less than a year. You’ve been... ‘apprenticed’ to Yoren during that time, would that be a fair assessment?” Her eyes remained downcast, “No, my Prince. I know almost nothing of the Spymaster’s craft.” Prince Lancaster smiled wryly, “I believe that’s a trait shared by most of us, including the recently
deceased, if I’m to be honest.” This shocked Iona into meeting his gaze, “Sir- Sire– My Liege?” She resisted the urge to hide her face in her hands. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, “Relax. I’m not a monster to be feared, or at least I think I’m not. To clarify, Yoren was very capable about drawing conclusions from scraps of information, but one need not be a Spymaster to do that. One need only be intelligent… insightful. A Spymaster needs to be adept at obtaining information; learning those things that others wish to keep concealed. I regret speaking ill of the dead, but in this regard, he was sadly lacking.” He scrutinized her as he asked, “If not an apprentice, what purpose did you serve?” She blushed at his implication but her reply was direct, “My Prince, I was not his ‘plaything’ or his ‘pet’, if that’s what you’re referring to. My Talent allows me to detect the Talents of others when they are in close proximity. The stronger the Talent, the further away I can detect them. The same goes with the amount of power they accumulate, or expend.” The Prince leaned back in his chair, even slouched a bit. He pressed his fingertips together under his chin and rested his head upon them, “So you can detect any Talent in your immediate presence? What is my Talent?” Iona shook her head, “It doesn’t work like that, my Prince. You’re not accessing it. You’ve not built up any power. Though if I were commanded, I’d guess that you’ve a powerful affinity for Air, augmented in some way by Earth, but there’s something else. Whatever it is, it either obscures my ability to sense it, or it’s simply something unfamiliar to me.” He rewarded her with a satisfied smile, whether for her assessment or for her honest report of her limitations, she couldn’t be certain. Before she could inquire, there was a knock on the door. The prince rose and answered the knock, and returned to hand her a pair of gloves made of fine calfskin, “By all means, open the tube carefully. Don’t mistake me for a coward, but I’ll be standing over there.” He casually swept his hand to the far side of the table.
Once he crossed to the other side, he gave her a nod. She grasped the tube firmly and cracked the seal. Nothing happened, other than the cap of the tube rotating smoothly under her grip. She twisted it one direction, then the other as she worked the cap off of the tube. There was a hollow sound as the cap was worked free. She held the tube at arm’s length for a moment before tilting it to look inside. She then shrugged and poured the tightly-rolled message out of the tube and into her hand. The message was bound in a short length of red silk ribbon. She untied it and unrolled the parchment. The letters were well-formed and the written lines were as straight as she’d seen in any book. She arched an eyebrow to the prince, “All’s well so far, my Prince. Shall I read, or do we have reason to fear some spell or curse?” He scoffed, almost laughed, “Read it, please, if you will.” Iona turned to examine the first few lines then read aloud,
“Prince Lancaster,
We sincerely hope that this message finds you in good health and fine spirits.
We are citizens of Paleros. We benefit when Paleros thrives, and we suffer if she weakens. Recently, we have learned that the opposite is also true. We have been weakened, and Paleros now suffers as a result.
Apex has been brought into the city and the trade of the drug thrives due to this weakness and as a result, your populace bears the cost.
We can correct this problem within one week. We can succeed where your conventional methods have failed. We merely await your assurance that we will not be attacked again. We can help the city recover, perhaps to even surpass her former glory.”
At this moment, the doors to the Chamber were pushed open violently. Iona immediately felt a wash of Fire Talent, or Cold to be more precise; a stronger affinity than even she possessed. She reflexively took a few steps closer to the prince before she realized that the man who’d burst into the Chamber was the Lord General. The man’s commanding presence expanded to fill the room like waves crashing against the rocks. Iona noted that the rocks in this example, was the Prince’s own aura. The Lord General’s power diminished rapidly but it had filled the room to the point that Iona was able to see her breath as it left her mouth. The Prince had an enigmatic smile on his face as the Lord General snapped to attention and reported, “My liege! The Spymaster is dead!” Prince Lancaster waved a hand, indicating that the Lord General should seat himself, then withdrew his hand, smiled and replied, “Ah. Never mind, Hennit. I’m sure your armor prevents you from sitting comfortably.” The Lord General seemed to finally notice her. It took a moment for recognition to sink in. When it did, he turned his attention back to the prince, “I see that you are already aware of Yoren’s death. His understudy is already here, vying for his position?” Iona opened her mouth to protest but the prince spoke first, “I do not believe so, Hennit. She was reading a letter left by Yoren’s killer. This may be of some interest to you.” He turned to Iona, “Please, start again. From the beginning of the note.” Iona’s eyes returned to the top of the parchment. She’d reached the part about solving the Apex problem in one week and the Lord General took in a breath to protest. Prince Lancaster silenced him casually with a single raised finger. The Lord General appeared to bristle but remained silent, looking from the Prince to Iona with undisguised indignation. He listened to Iona as she continued reading, and his expression changed to understanding and incredulity. Iona continued, uninterrupted,
“Additionally, your assurance guarantees our loyalty. For the duration of our accord, we will not accept contracts against you or your immediate bloodline. Likewise, we will dutifully inform you if we discover any plots or threats against the same. Your Spymaster’s attacks on us were truly ‘biting the hands that feeds’.
We shall request a signed, sealed document describing this accord, but as time is of the essence we will accept, for the short term, you’re word. Signal your agreement to our terms within two days by sending your flagship, along with two other warships into the bay, then lower the flags to half-mast before returning to dock. A man’s word, once given…
The Guild of Paleros”
The prince claimed the chair nearest to him as he contemplated this new information. Iona observed him quietly but the Lord General could not contain his protest, “My liege! You cannot possibly be considering-” The Prince raised his hand, effectively silencing the General yet again, “I am, in fact, ‘considering’. There is much this message says. There is also much it doesn’t say. I am ‘considering’ how much of that is deliberate, and how much might be unintentional .”
The Lord General resumed, his protest following a different track, “But to have slain a member of your Council!” The prince nodded, “To be sure, that is also undeniable. A fact that the author of this note took special care to address. None of this happened without the author having planned it. Yoren was often, shall we say, less productive than one would expect from a Royal Spymaster. I believe we may now have an explanation for that.”
The Lord General was like a dog with a bone, “But to kill a member of your Council?” The prince pressed his fingertips together in front of his mouth, a gesture Iona had seen from him earlier, only this time he smiled from behind his fingers, “Yes, and as many times as you’ve wished him dead, don’t tell me that you now mourn him.”
The Lord General took a step backward, “Of course not, my liege, but to make light of my intended meaning is reckless.”
The Prince stood abruptly, almost upending his chair, and placed both his palms firmly on the table. His voice reflected the warning in his eyes, “And you are not my father, to lecture me. You advise me. I trust you to lead my army. I must insist that you trust me to govern. You are dismissed, Hennit.”
The Lord General looked like he was prepared to respond but instead, perhaps wisely, he closed his mouth, performed an about-face and left the room. Iona wasn’t entirely sure what was on the Prince’s mind but she recognized the expression on the Lord General’s face all too well. She’d worn that same expression for several years at the University.
Iona turned back to face
the prince, “My Liege, the final sentence is left incomplete. I don’t understand.” Prince Lancaster was staring at some imaginary scene playing out in front of him. He answered absently, “The author is clever. He’s quoting my father. Something he said when he appointed his first advisors, ‘A man’s word, once given, either binds him or defines him’.”
*****
Chapter 21
Cooper spent the next several minutes alternating between sprinting from one shadow to the next, and pausing to listen for any sounds of pursuit. He wouldn’t pause for more than two or three breaths at a time. If he didn’t hear the shouting of orders or the pounding of footsteps that meant they were either far behind, or close enough to keep him in sight but not attacking. For all he knew, one of the mages had sufficient Talent for flight and was soaring overhead, watching him right now. It was considered ‘common knowledge’ that no mage alive today could actually throw fire. “It’s safe to say that ‘common knowledge’ isn’t the same as ‘truth’. That might not have been fire that killed Aporigh, but that mage was at least a dozen steps away. To my mind, that qualifies as thrown energy.” He’d paused long enough. He sprinted again, this time turning north, toward the Ruins, but not leaving Batter’s Field. “If anyone’s still pursuing me, I hardly want them to follow me home.” He’d been replaying the confrontation in his head, “The Spymaster knew who I was! Or, at least he knew who I wasn’t! And he brought the Hunter and mages, instead of soldiers.” He sprinted again, then paused to observe his surroundings while he was bathed in shadow, “If the Prince is already in league with the University then any arrangement the Guild might make with the Palace could be worthless.” He still neither saw nor heard any sounds of pursuit. He skirted the Ruins, then turned northeast into the Waterfront.
