by Connie Ward
I did not necessarily agree. Though I owed Sestus an explanation, I was reluctant to recite to him the intimate details of my downfall. I felt his eyes upon me, so irritatingly patient, and wished for a convenient interruption to forestall the inevitable for a little while, at least.
Somehow, somewhere, someone heard my unspoken prayer, for at that moment the outer door slammed open and a voice shrieked, “Where are you, you no good, lowlife, rebel pirate? Sestus? Sesstuss!"
I nearly laughed out-loud in giddy relief. Sestus rolled his eyes. “Oh, what does she want now?"
Biddy burst into the room, overburdened with her herbhealer's supplies and ... a chicken? Yes. A white, black-speckled chicken. She dumped the bird into Sestus's lap, where it clucked peevishly and struck a dignified pose, looking for all the world like it thought it belonged there.
Sestus leapt to his feet, unseating the startled bird amid a flurry of flapping wings and flying feathers. The chicken fluttered an erratic path to my cot, then lighted near my legs and began to preen its ruffled plumage. Cursing, Sestus dusted himself off and gave Biddy the evil eye. “What the hell is the matter with you?"
Biddy glared icicles. “Oh, stop it, Sestus. You know you make me tingle all over with your sweet talk. Save it for your bedroom. I mean business."
She dropped the rest of her stuff and pointed to the chicken, where it pecked at my toes beneath the blanket. “You promised me three hens. That is a rooster. Can't you tell the difference? Or did your mama not tell you the facts of life? Think you can swindle old Biddy, eh? I want my hen!"
"Now?"
"Yes, now. How, pray, am I supposed to get eggs from a rooster?"
"Well, it's not my fault. I'm to blame because that lackwit of a boy grabbed a rooster by mistake?” Sestus stamped around and glowered at the cock. “Can't you just cook it and eat it?"
"There's no meat on a blasted rooster, you birdbrain!"
"Oh, all right. I'll get someone to fetch you a hen. Meanwhile, keep the rooster. On me."
"I don't want the rooster. I want only the hen. See to it.” Her gaze narrowed as she glanced at me. “Did you change her bandage like I told you?"
"No, he didn't,” I piped up, stroking the bird's feathery breast.
"See? I can't trust you to do nuthin!” Biddy pushed Sestus out of her way with the back of her hand. “Now go fetch my hen while I tend to the poor girl's arm. Men. Useless, witless things, the lot!"
Sestus grabbed the rooster and tucked it under his arm, ignoring its squawk of outrage. “I'll be back,” he told me. Then, with a final scowl at his nemesis, he stomped out the door.
As Biddy washed her hands I let a giggle or two escape. She glared at me from across the room. “What are you laughing at, girl?"
"Just you and Sestus. You act like an old married couple."
She snorted and reached for a towel, but I thought I saw a blush of pink colour her cheeks. “Don't go putting a hex on me, now."
"You like him, don't you?” I coaxed.
"I can't stand the man."
That was an out and out lie. “He likes you, too. I can tell."
"You don't know what you're talking about, child."
"Oh, don't I?” I smiled complacently. “It's all so obvious. Sestus gave you the rooster, knowing full well you'd return it, which you did. Likewise, you told Sestus to change my dressing, knowing he wouldn't and you'd have to come do it yourself. You both got exactly what you wanted, which was to see each other again, and yet never actually had to say it."
Scowling down at me, Biddy took my arm and began to unwind the bandage. “And how does a chit like you presume to know so much?"
"It's a game. I've played similar."
She tossed me a look that I'm sure curled my toenails. “It's not a game at all, dearie. It's war."
"Well, I'm sure it's not that bad. Are you saying a ceasefire is out of the question?"
"It is out of the question and off the page.” She said this almost proudly, as if it were a point of honour. “Sestus doesn't like to talk about his shortcomings, or his mistakes, let alone own up to them."
Well, that was harsh. “What on earth did he do?"
"It's not what he did. It's what he didn't do.” She paused in her work, watching me with a mingled expression of hurt and anger. Whatever the cause of their conflict, she cared a great deal for Sestus. Animosity is a way of covering up pain. And where there was pain, there was yet an ability to heal. I knew this from Uncle's example. Not even he was beyond hope of recovery.
Ducking my glance, she resumed her handiwork. “And when the war has gone on this long, it turns into a contest of wills. No one wants to be the first to give in, the first to apologize, so it continues."
I shook my head in mock disappointment. “You had your chance. You could have ended it right now."
"Oh, really? Think you're smart, eh? Do tell, wise one, what should old Biddy have done?"
"You should have cooked that rooster and invited Sestus to supper."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sestus returned late that night, so late I'd thought he wouldn't come at all. Thus, he caught me out of bed, parading around in Biddy's oversized nighty."Should you be walking around like that?” he asked.
I looked down at myself and fingered the hem of my gown. “If you mean walking around in this silly shift, no. I'd prefer a decent change of clothes."
"You know that's not what I meant. Get back into bed."
"I just need a bit of exercise,” I protested, crawling back beneath my blanket. “You don't expect me to spend the rest of the revolt in bed, do you?"
"Of course not. I just don't want you to push yourself.” He withdrew a bundle from behind his back and presented it to me with a sly grin. “I managed to scrounge you up some clothes. I hope they fit. There aren't too many women around here, so you'll have to take what you can get."
"Thank you, Sestus.” I took the clothes from him and started poking through them, inexplicably thrilled with the motley assortment.
"We didn't get much of a chance to talk earlier, did we?"
There was no doubt I owed Sestus the truth after all he'd done for me. He had jeopardized the Crusaders’ security by bringing me here, as well as his good standing with his cronies. “No, we didn't."
Briefly, I told him of my forced retirement, my imprisonment, my short engagement to Lesuperis, and lastly, my flight from Averi and his henchmen. When I'd finished, Sestus donned a puzzled frown. “How did you flee Gryphon? It's a veritable fortress. Surely Bertrand would have taken extra precautions to ensure you could not escape."
"Apparently Uncle did not think it necessary. He believed the tonic would be enough to render me submissive.” Sestus still eyed me dubiously, suspecting I withheld something. “And I had help, of course,” I snapped.
"Ah-ha. Now we're getting somewhere. Who helped you? Was it Valleri or your second-in-command?"
I thought I detected a leer in his voice. “Valleri is my second-in-command."
That shocked him into a full minute of speechlessness. Twice he looked ready to venture a prying question but refrained. Finally he just shook his head, as if trying to push away an obnoxious thought, and said, “So Valleri did help you."
"Surprised?"
"Surprised he helped you? No. It's the least I'd expect of him. After all, you were childhood friends. It's just...” Sestus let the remark slip away.
"Just what?"
"Nothing. I heard a rumour once. It's of no importance. I had no idea Valleri was your second. Why did you choose him?"
"He was the only man I trusted. Do you think it a poor choice?"
"Not at all. I'm sure Valleri proved himself a worthy lieutenant and a faithful friend. But if he's as devoted as you claim, and he suspects foul play on Bertrand's part once he learns you never reached your destination, he may set in motion his own plans for revenge."
I shared a similar thought but kept it to myself. “Valleri is loyal, ruthless, but not rash. He
won't make a move until I give the word or he sees a body. As for avenging my death...” I let the thought trail away, now not so certain all those oaths I'd extorted from Valleri mattered. No doubt, if he believed harm came to me at Uncle's hand, he would consider them void.
Sestus's expression turned grave. His eyes spoke volumes of sorrow and regret. “What's wrong?” I asked. “Isn't that what you want? Uncle dead? Does it matter whether Valleri or you holds the blade?"
"You've missed the point, Kathedra. The death of Bertrand will not mean the end of this."
"What are you saying?"
He leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his thighs, his clasped hands a writhing knot of fingers. “Understand,” he implored, “if Bertrand dies now, before this is brought to a resolution, there is only one person under your ancestral law who can take your place as heir."
"Yes. The Gryphon Highlord traditionally takes the title if there is no heir present. But in my case there is neither."
"Exactly. Think about it for a minute. Logically, who would replace you as commander of Gryphon's elite troops?"
"Logically, my second. Therefore, Valleri. But Uncle doesn't think log—"
"And from there?"
He let the question dangle in mid-air. I recalled Uncle's steadfast refusal to name my replacement. From the moment I'd been imprisoned in my rooms, my captaincy went vacant. For obvious reasons, not just any officer could assume leadership of the Twelfth Royal. Well, there weren't really twelve Royals, but twelve sounded more impressive than, say, five. Anyway, that position was a step away from that of the Gryphon Highlord's and from there...
"The throne?"
Sestus made no reply, only continued to stare at me with those sad, sombre eyes. “But that's impossible,” I snorted. “Valleri can't take the throne. I'm still alive."
"Yes, Kathedra. But if you're presumed dead ... according to law, Valleri, as the Gryphon Highlord, stands next in line."
"How? His blood is not mine. If anyone can lay claim to Thylana it's Lesuperis. He still possesses noble blood, remote as he is."
Sestus donned a sardonic grin. “I really don't think Lesuperis would be an issue. From what you've told me, Valleri will have no compunction about removing that weasel from the race."
Agog, I whispered, “Are you insinuating Valleri would seize my command, then use it as a means to murder Uncle and claim the crown for himself?"
"I believe it's a possibility."
I took some time to absorb that. For lack of a replacement, Valleri may take immediate command of my Royal but I can't see Uncle allowing him to retain that position permanently, considering his contempt for Val's common bloodline. “If—and I do mean if—that comes to pass, it would be to your benefit. Val is a reasonable man. I'm sure he would be willing to negotiate terms acceptable to both sides."
"It would resolve nothing if Valleri usurped Bertrand. The Crusaders will not trade one tyrant for another, nor will Val surrender his newly won power to an enemy he has fought so hard to repel. He will continue to fight us with renewed determination."
"Sestus, I would hardly call Val a tyrant. Once he learns I am alive he will yield. He will stand down in favour of me. He will agree to any terms with which I agree. I know he will."
Sestus, I saw, was skeptical. But how could I convince him further without betraying my lovers’ secret?
"Sestus, trust me. I know Valleri better than anyone else does. He swore to do everything in his power to see me on Thylana's throne. I believe him. He will defer to me, and to the Crusaders as well, if I say that's how it must be. The revolt will be over."
"On the contrary, the throne will be in contest. Thylana will split into three factions—Bertrand's Royalists, Valleri's sympathizers, and yours. Before all this happened there were many Crusaders who supported your claim to the throne, but feared you were too loyal to Bertrand. Now ... that may have changed."
I was secretly pleased not all Thylana had abandoned faith in me, but the revelation also brought disappointment. “I never wanted the throne this way, Sestus."
"Well, I fear it's beyond your control now.” He leaned back in his chair and regarded me curiously. “Tell me, Little Red. Where had you planned to go when you fled the castle?"
"Zigores. Valleri thought if I could infiltrate the city as an Umagi, I could hide myself away from Uncle. There I would be able to study and learn how to manage my powers without his influence."
"You realize, of course, that's out of the question."
"Am I a prisoner here?"
"Not exactly. You see, Zigores is a myth. It doesn't exist. We invented it to explain away certain things that we didn't want the castle to learn. In Thylana there is no safe place for the Umagi, Kathedra. You more than anyone know that. Most especially not in some fictional city."
I sat a moment in stunned silence, wondering at all that might mean. At last I said, “I can find Zigores on a map, Sestus. Don't tell me it doesn't exist."
"The city known as Zigores, a sprawling cesspool perched on the edge of nowhere, exists, yes. But as a secret haven for Umagi? No."
My heart sank. Not only was my hope of finding sanctuary lost, but also my faith in Gryphon's capacity to determine fact from falsehood. With a sigh I set aside the clothes, my exuberance gone. “I'd intended to return someday to Thylana in full command of my powers, to challenge Uncle for all that is mine by birthright, to take back Mother's throne, to re-establish her rule and to heal Thylana. But ... that's all rubbish now."
Sestus, however, was having none of my self-pity. “Return when, Little Red? To what? You would leave Thylana, abandon her as I once abandoned you? Perhaps never to return? And if you did someday return, it would not be to the Thylana you once knew. Anything could happen in your absence. Bertrand could crush the revolt and rise to such power you may never sit on the throne. Or we could usurp him and you would see strangers ruling your land, in it a stranger yourself. You could even be forced to challenge Valleri for Thylana. You have to stop running. Castle Gryphon is your home. She needs you. You have to stand up to Bertrand with the rest of us. Like it or not, you are one of us now."
I digested his words in silence, realizing their truth very much against my will. I wanted to stay with Sestus, to seize the opportunity to strike back at Uncle and restore Thylana, but I could not shake the cold, hard fact I was among my enemies. “It's not much of a choice, is it? You cannot guarantee me that if I decide to join you I will ever be permitted to take my place on Thylana's throne. Your Crusader friends may have something else in mind."
"True, there are no guarantees. But my Crusader friends, as you call them, are not out for personal gain or glory. They want to restore Thylana to a just and productive rule. In the days preceding the revolt there were those in Thylana who yearned to see you, the rightful heir, supplant the Regent in the hope your reign would prove as harmonious as your mother's. If we gain momentum, the fact that the Gryphon Highlord herself changed sides and chose to serve the Crusader cause must be taken into consideration, and that sentiment may be reborn. It is to your advantage to help us, because if there is one thing I can guarantee, it is if Bertrand is not soon vanquished, you will never be queen."
I frowned. “I don't know how much help I can be to you. As I've said, I can't be sure whether I was given all the facts, nor how much of that limited information is false. Uncle has deceived me from the start. I may do your side more harm than good."
"Perhaps, but it will be up to us to decide for ourselves what is true and what is false. You possess knowledge other than campaign secrets. For instance, you can read and write. There aren't many here who can. Those skills alone will be of much value. You are also trained in warfare. And, you fled Castle Gryphon after having lived there your entire life. It's been a score of years since I last walked those halls. A lot has changed. Together, you and I can accomplish much."
"If you say so, Sestus,” I sighed, certain I had no other recourse.
Sestus r
elaxed, an ear-to-ear grin spreading across his face. “I do. But we can't reveal who you are now. There are still some Crusaders around who'd rather execute you. We must convince them of your loyalty to our cause first. We'll have to give you a new identity, but one that will allow you to supply us with vital information without arousing suspicion."
Hmmph. Easier said than done.
Sestus mulled it over. “I'll say you are the daughter of a friend I knew at the castle. Someone I respected and trusted beyond reproach."
I cautiously agreed. “We can say I grew up in the castle, educated and privileged due to my father's position of ... what?"
"Scribe?” Sestus suggested. “Yes, we'll make him a royal scribe. Close family?"
"All dead.” No lie. If not for Uncle's royal blood he'd be a stranger. “We can keep it simple that way."
"The question could be raised whether or not you knew the Gryphon Highlord."
"Not personally. She had no friends.” No lie again.
"We need to find you an occupation, an explanation for how you spent your days in the castle.” He tapped his chin with a finger. “A chef?"
"Sestus, I am hard pressed to boil water."
"A food taster?"
"Be serious."
Sestus tipped his head in thought. “Your mother—she read a lot, didn't she? Poetry and history were her favourite subjects as I recall. She had a whole room filled with shelves of books where she could sit and read undisturbed."
"She read less and less once she became sick,” I said, saddened by the memory. “But the room you speak of adjoins Uncle's briefing room."
"Does someone look after those books?"
"Oh my, yes. There's a whole staff dedicated to Mother's library. They dust the books, sort them, repair them and whatnot. I frequented it myself when I was in need of geographical or historical texts. It's a quiet, restful place."
"Then you're a librarian."
"Honestly! Do I look like a librarian?"
"It doesn't matter. People around here don't even know what a librarian is."
