by Callie Kanno
“When we were driven from Tanar we feared that our days of research were over,” Deela said quietly.
“Now we have the opportunity to change this entire nation with our work,” finished Zamual in a tone of immense satisfaction.
“We would have to prove that you are a direct descendant of Princess Derora,” Greyr said to Hestia. “Do you have any records that we can use?”
Hestia smiled. “The Northern Tribes continued the practice of the Nobles in keeping meticulous records of births and marriages. I am glad that information will be used now, instead of just taking up space in a wagon.”
The scholars looked ready to jump to their feet at the prospect of reading such valuable information that had been unavailable to them before.
Ravi chuckled at their enthusiasm. “Shall we go right now?”
***
The morning air was brisk, and Adesina breathed deeply. She looked forward to what this day would hold, but she was also a touch nervous.
L’iam put his arm around his wife’s waist and also took in a deep breath. He smiled. “Mornings are my favorite part of the day,” he said conversationally.
“I know,” replied Adesina lightly.
Together they walked away from their tent and down the small hill toward the large gathering of people to the north. Every being that was beyond the Thieves’ Forest—which was now commonly called the Wall Forest—was assembled together at the request of the L’avan king and queen.
Human, L’avan, and Rashad alike awaited to hear what their leaders had to say.
A small platform had been erected for this purpose. Ravi, Sitara, Riel, and Ruon stood at its base, watching the crowd patiently.
That is to say, Sitara and Riel looked patient. Ruon, as always, looked as if he had been asked to do something distasteful.
Adesina spoke to him as cheerfully as she could, hoping to annoy him. “Good morning.”
She was successful.
Ruon’s thin, grey lip curled into a sneer and he looked away without responding. Sitara and Riel both replied to the greeting with smiles on their faces.
Ravi kept his amusement hidden from his face, but Adesina could feel it through their Joining.
You should not tease him so.
Adesina gave a mental shrug.
He should not make it so easy.
Ravi shook his head and turned back to studying the crowd.
Hestia and Greyr were standing on the platform, conferring in quiet voices. Hestia looked weary and grave. She had made it very clear throughout this process that she did not feel she was the one for this task. Now that the moment was upon them, she made no further objections. She had the look of one who has accepted their fate, no matter how reluctantly.
“Good morning, Hestia. Are you ready to begin?” asked L’iam.
Hestia nodded, rubbing her hands together nervously.
L’iam climbed onto the platform and raised his hands to attract the attention of the large mass of people. He began to speak, and his voice was magically amplified by one of the L’avan soldiers nearby.
“War has come to our homes. None of us gathered here needs to be told of the dangers and sorrows this brings to the land. Such strife can tear nations apart, but it can also bring nations together. We, the L’avan, have long wished for peace and prosperity with our neighbors. An alliance with Sehar has never been possible because of the void left with the death of King Rasim. But perhaps that can now change…”
L’iam stepped back and motioned Greyr forward. The crowd murmured at the cryptic statement of the L’avan king and seemed eager to hear what was to be said next.
Greyr held in his arms a large book bound in rough leather. He cradled it like a child and stepped forward with an expression of great dignity.
“Gentle citizens of Sehar, I am Greyr, senior member of the Hite clan of scholars from the city of Tanar. Our clan is charged with knowledge of Seharan history, specifically the genealogy of the royal and noble families. Queen Adesina came to me a few days ago and asked that I find proof of the identity of the heir to the throne of Sehar, and I am pleased to say that I have done so.”
The murmurs in the crowd grew much louder, and the air was filled with excitement and wonder.
Greyr was not accustomed to having such rapt listeners, and his chest puffed out with pride as he continued. “King Rasim was the last ruler of Sehar, and he was murdered along with his wife and children. His sister, Princess Derora, would have been next in line to rule, but she—along with all of the other noble families—was forced to flee the capital city during the uprising that followed the death of the king. The outcast nobility became wanderers, unable to find a permanent home. They became the Northern Tribes.”
Adesina watched the faces of those gathered, and she saw the surprise that filled those listening. Not many Seharans knew that part of their history. They were taught about the last king of Sehar, but not about the origins of the Northern Tribes. Their ancestors had chosen to forget that there had been a rebellion that had displaced all of the Nobles after the death of the king.
Greyr held up the rough-bound book he was holding. “This is a carefully kept record of the genealogy of Princess Derora. I, along with my fellow scholars, have verified its authenticity. Few remember the name of Princess Derora’s husband or of her infant son, yet this book has both written plainly on its pages, along with the dates of their births and deaths. It also contains the names of the ancestors of the Duke of Ojuri, which is knowledge that can only be found by the scholars of history. If this book was fraudulent, it would have had to have been compiled by those who had access to ancient and obscure documents. Yet, this book was found in the possession of one of the Northern Tribes as one of their precious heirlooms.”
Many heads in the crowd nodded, accepting this information with confidence. There was an inherent distrust of the Northern Tribes that had been passed down for generations, but the scholars of Tanar were reputed to be thorough and without guile.
Adesina smiled to herself. How lucky it was that such a reproachless source of historical information had come along to support Hestia’s claim.
No, it was not luck, she corrected herself.
Greyr’s magically enhanced voice cut through Adesina’s musing. “Using this record, we have been able to prove that there is a direct descendant of Princess Derora living today. By the laws of the monarchy of Sehar, this descendant—male or female—is the rightful heir to the throne.”
The anticipation in the air was tangible. The mass of people listening almost seemed to be leaning forward in suspense.
Greyr seemed to be enjoying the emotion that his words evoked, but he did not drag out his speech any longer than was needful.
“That heir is Hestia, leader of the Ojuri tribe.”
He gestured to the woman standing near the back of the platform and all eyes turned to her. She walked forward with her natural grace, and there was a quiet dignity that radiated from her frame. Her clothing was patched and her jewelry was inexpensive, but her presence was so powerful that one would have assumed she was dressed as finely as any queen.
Hestia’s voice was also magically enhanced so she could be easily heard by every member of the crowd. Her tone was subdued and thoughtful as she began to speak.
“I have always known my heritage, but I never considered making a claim to the throne of Sehar. Seharans are a proud and independent people, and I told myself that they had no need for a queen.”
Several of those gathered to listen nodded in acknowledgement of her words. This was certainly what the Seharans had told themselves over the years.
Hestia’s voice grew stronger as she went on. “But the time for independence from one another is past. Our homes are being destroyed by the Scepter of Cha-sak, an organization that is growing each day. Our beloved homeland will soon be overrun if we do not act now. We must stand united—not just as allied villages and cities, but as a nation. The Scepter of Cha-sak may think that Sehar is an abandoned
land that is free for the taking, but it is not. This is our home, and we will fight to protect it as one.”
A cheer erupted from the crowd, from both Seharan and L’avan alike.
Hestia waited for the noise to die down before continuing. “There has been a long history of mistrust between Seharans and the Northern Tribes. Now you know why that began and why it need not go on any longer. We are all Seharans, and we will stand together in this fight.” She took a meaningful pause. “I am your queen by birth, but I am without a proper government. Over the next few months I hope to come to know all of you individually and to fill the necessary positions of leadership and advisory. I will consider all that wish to apply, no matter birth or prior education.”
A buzz of excited whispers passed over the listeners at this announcement.
Hestia gave her loveliest smile. “As a united nation we will stand stronger than we ever could have apart, and I, as your queen, vow to serve and protect our land and our people with my very life. Together, with our L’avan allies, we will defeat the Scepter of Cha-sak and rise to the glory we were meant to know.”
Another cheer filled the air, and several hats were thrown toward the sky in celebration.
Hestia stepped down from the platform and walked into the eager crowd of Seharans to shake hands with them and to allow them to introduce themselves.
Adesina watched the reaction to Hestia’s claim on the throne, and she smiled with satisfaction. There would be those who would oppose the resurrection of the Seharan monarchy, of course, but it seemed that Hestia was off to a good start.
Adesina walked over to the scribes that had been writing down every word that had been spoken. “Make copies of what has been said here and send them out with as many messengers as you can find,” she instructed them. “I want the proclamation that Sehar has a new queen made in every city and village from here to Tanar.”
The L’avan scribes bowed and promised to do as she commanded.
Adesina smiled again. She had high hopes that this would bring volunteers rallying to their cause.
Ruon walked over to her, his oval head swaying over his long, thin neck. His dark eyes glittered as he studied her thoughtfully.
“You appear to have the ability to inspire those who follow you.”
Adesina’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Hestia was the one doing the inspiring, not me.”
Ruon waved a hand dismissively. “You were the one that encouraged her to step up to her hereditary role as leader of this scattered land. You inspire all around you to stand higher and work harder. Perhaps you do have the Touch of the Ancients on your side.”
Adesina almost laughed at his reluctant concession. “Are you saying that you finally believe that I am the Threshold Child?”
Ruon’s eyes narrowed. “I am saying that there is much work to be done, and it is fortunate that those around you are doing their best.”
Adesina’s grin couldn’t be suppressed. “That is not what you said, Ruon. I think you are starting to believe in me.”
The Laithur sniffed loftily. “I have not made up my mind yet. I will only admit that there is potential in you.”
She gave a carefree shrug. “Potential is all that any of us need to begin.”
Chapter Nineteen: Assassin
A ragged refugee sat at the edge of the L’avan camp. He had a small, wiry build and a thatch of dirty blonde hair. He would have been completely unremarkable, except for the shrewd and calculating expression of his eyes.
He had come with an early group of arrivals, before the L’avan had started their screening process, and since then he had been gathering information and waiting for instructions from his superiors.
The L’avan seemed to be a competent military, but the spy saw nothing to cause alarm. No matter how well organized or well trained, they would never be a match against Lord Cha-sak.
The spy had finally received his orders an hour before, and the time for waiting was over. He could not delay completing his task, especially with L’avan mind-readers walking around. It had been a simple matter to infiltrate the camp, but his new assignment would take all of his Shimat skills to accomplish.
It would not be done quietly or anonymously, especially since he was so pressed for time, but it would be done. His orders had emphasized that completion was more important than secrecy.
He got to his feet and walked toward the mass of people standing around a wooden platform near the center of camp.
Some sort of L’avan ceremony was taking place. The king and queen were being presented with their war armor, which seemed much too elaborate to take into real battle. The steel was etched and filigreed with designs that nearly covered the entire surface. The spy would have sneered at such excess had his face not been so thoroughly trained to remain neutral.
Some sort of flowery speech was being made by the presenter, and the king and queen smiled graciously at the gathered crowd.
The spy’s eyes studied the face of the young L’avan queen.
So that was the Shimat traitor.
He had not wished to go near her before, just in case she detected signs of his extensive training. He had heard a great deal about her, though, and he stared at her with interest.
He supposed that she was pretty enough, but he did not care for her unusual coloring. Her silver hair and purple eyes seemed too unnatural for him to consider beautiful. Her face and frame exuded strength and confidence, which the spy did find appealing.
Something was missing, though.
The spy had been chosen for this mission because he had a rare gift. He could spot a fellow Shimat just by looking at them. Very few could do this, but he had discovered in his youth that all of the students and teachers had a common element. There was something in their eyes that was only found by those who had received the training that Shimat were given—a haunted hardness, left by the trauma of children who were forced to become assassins. No Shimat, no matter how seasoned, ever lost the traces of that in their eyes.
However, the spy could not see that hardness in the L’avan queen’s eyes.
He knew he was close enough. He should have been able to detect the miniscule signs.
Yet, he could not.
He could detect strength and resolve in her eyes, but nothing that would indicate that she had spent her entire childhood surrounded by violence and struggle.
How odd.
Was this why Lord Cha-sak seemed so preoccupied with the L’avan queen? Was this an indicator of something more than the spy could understand?
Before the spy had left the Shimat fortress, he had seen Basha—on behalf of Lord Cha-sak—go to great lengths to gather as much information as possible on Adesina. She had spoken to each of Adesina’s former Shar and to those who had been Shi with her. Basha had gathered all of the reports that mentioned Adesina, and demanded the capture of those who knew her best.
The spy had thought this behavior strange.
When the spy had been dispatched on this mission, Lord Cha-sak swore that he would be used as a weapon to weaken the L’avan queen. Now, his newest orders—sent by Breyen rather than Basha—told him he was about to fulfill that purpose.
The L’avan ceremony was over, and the crowd began to disperse.
The spy watched as the king and queen stepped down from the platform and began conversing with the group of creatures that awaited them.
There!
The spy had found his target.
An enormous feline sat back on its haunches, speaking to the L’avan queen in quiet tones. It had glossy black fur and golden eyes, which were the traits specifically mentioned in the spy’s instructions from Lord Cha-sak.
The spy was almost certain that he could assassinate the young queen—she was so blissfully unaware of his presence—but he had been ordered to leave her alive. Apparently, Lord Cha-sak had greater plans for her than death.
Instead, the spy was to kill the large feline with black fur. This would supposedly weaken the L’avan
queen enough for Lord Cha-sak to implement his greater plans.
The queen and the feline walked a few steps away from the rest of the group, still speaking in low voices. Then the young woman went back to the group and the animal walked away.
The spy moved parallel to his prey, watching it closely.
After a minute or two, the creature stopped and raised its nose slightly, as if smelling the air.
Did it sense the spy’s presence?
He could not risk being discovered. He silently sped forward, whipping out the dagger hidden under his ragged clothing.
The feline met him with a snarl and with a swipe of razor-sharp claws.
The spy danced out of the way, but not before nicking the outstretched paw with his dagger.
He launched himself at the beast, wrapping his strong arms around its neck, and tried to keep out of the way of both teeth and claws. The animal let out a feral cry and changed directions abruptly in an attempt to throw the spy from its back.
By now they had drawn the attention of every person within hearing range, and the spy knew he had to act quickly.
He let go of the feline with one of his hands, risking being thrown from the writhing animal. Then, with lightning quick movements, he made several short stabs with his dagger into the beast’s neck and shoulder.
The feline roared in pain and fury.
The spy could not maintain his hold, and he was thrown to the ground. Some unseen force lifted him into the air and rendered him completely immobile.
The magic-users had come to the rescue.
The L’avan queen rushed to the side of the panting and bloodied feline, her young face twisted with emotion.
“What have you done?” she blurted in an anguished voice.
The spy almost smiled. He always enjoyed watching the aftermath of his work. This time, however, his enjoyment would be cut short.
He bit down on a false tooth, causing it to break and release a deadly poison into his mouth. He would be dead in less than two minutes.
The L’avan king was calling for healers to attend to the wounded feline, but the spy knew it was too late. The same poison that was now killing the spy had also been coated on his dagger.
