“I understand, and under the circumstances, all is forgiven, Magister. The High General of the Hili army, Grand Master Ulivall, told me to find the Underground when I got here. He said Merisha was the elusive contact, but I don't believe he knew that she is not an actual person.”
“No, he wouldn't have,” Shiriah explained. “Only our members know. The High General is a contact, but not a core member, so we could not risk exposing ourselves from a distance. It's too dangerous, especially after...” She drifted back into her mind, staring at Vann.
“There was a massacre, Toma,” Grydon supplied. “Not quite a year ago. The Keepers of Magic found a partial list of Underground members and purged them all, including the Hilian message runners.” He turned to Shiriah with a gentle suggestion. “Shall I fill him in on the events of this past year?”
“Thank you, Master Lindt. I can manage.” Shiriah roused from her thoughts to narrate. “We didn't know there was a breech in intelligence. Somehow, names were leaked. We've been careful for years. Membership is exclusive. We don't use an austringer network or message scrolls, for the ease of interception and manipulation. Even with our friends, the Hilians, we've been guarded. We're still not clear on where the breech occurred. The key members that could have headed up an investigation were among those slain, so we were left only with Chalice House's means of intelligence and a thin roster, most of whom are in hiding. Cressiel's leadership would certainly have sailed us through, but he had already departed for Aquiline when it happened.”
“Why was Professor Westerfold heading south, if you had Hilian runners at your disposal?”
“We had received word that Queen Palinora was in Hilihar, so Cressiel set out in secret. We've been working with the Hilians for years, trading goods and information, but it was always kept at a healthy distance, mostly because of the danger involved. Cressiel was en route to Hili to invite General Ulivall, Elder Trenen, Master Prophet Farning and the Queen into core membership. When he disappeared, leadership fell to me by default, but I am not Cressiel. Managing a brothella is quite different than rebuilding an exclusive society.”
“How was Chalice House immune to the purge? If names were leaked, certainly those names would have connections to lead the Keepers here.”
“We don't know why we were spared. Our fear was that we had a traitor among our own, but there has been no evidence of such and we all have undergone extensive Psychonic interrogation that vindicated every one of us. If the Keepers wanted the Underground destroyed, a blow to Chalice would have completed the task. The fear, and the gaps in our intelligence, have kept us from rebuilding our ranks this past year. We just don't know who we can trust, so we were forced to go dark. We've been reeling since and have not regained our footing.”
“If the traitor was unaware of Professor Westerfold's demise, as you were, they believed he might return,” Scilio suggested. “A strike to Chalice would have been premature. The smart strategy would be to wait until he was in your presence, then strike with one clean blow to eradicate you all together. Of course, the more likely reason is that the Keepers involved were killed in one of the attacks on Vann. Many of them were summoned to Aquiline. The battles of Kion Rising and Gander's Vale all but annihilated their ranks.”
“Soventine's declaration of war against the Keepers sent the rest into hiding. The survivors have likely abandoned their directive,” Grydon suggested.
Scilio nodded agreement. “In any event, it's wise that you are laying low, Magister. There still may be a list out there with your name on it. Your caution is warranted.” He turned to Grydon. “I had no idea you were a member of the Underground. Why did you never speak of it to Vann? Especially knowing of the Dimishuan Reformations we were crafting. Certainly the Underground would have supported the measure.”
“I've only been a core member for a week. Most of my Havenlen friends have been for years. They've been trying to coerce me to join, to front a Southport chapter in my clinic. Quite honestly, I was afraid. A coward, when it comes down to it. After seeing what happened to Gavin, I knew just how much I had to lose. When I met His Majesty last year in Southport, it stirred a fire in me. I was restless for weeks until I finally decided to tell Gavin of Vann's identity. It was as though he suddenly had something to fight for again. You cannot imagine the transformation he underwent.”
“Vann spoke of it. When you were both introduced at court, he did not recognize Gavin. He said the body had changed, but the spunk and soul were the same,” Scilio recalled with a sliver of a smile. “I never knew Gavin as the feeble old man Vann met in Southport. The Gavinar Shelfern I know has only ever been the fiery, ostentatious Master Lawyus that tutored Vann in Empyrea and helped us write the Reformations. They seem two distinct people.”
“Gavin fell hard when he lost everything. Vann put that spark back. It might have been the refreshing character we saw in him that day. Maybe it was the prospect of a bright future that his throne promised. Whatever it was, we both found a rekindling of our spirits. Our time with you all in Empyrea bolstered our loyalty, and my courage. When we received Malacar's message after the moonless night, it sealed our resolve. I delivered my wife to safety with her family in Northport, then came directly here. Gavin and I are conscripted, now and ever more.”
Shiriah brushed a stray tear from her powdered, smiling cheek. “This is a banner day. Cressiel always wanted to be here when we welcomed His Majesty into our ranks. If only His Majesty were with us in more than body. At least we can protect him now.”
“Professor Westerfold knew of His Majesty's existence?”
“We've been searching for him for years. Finding him, however, proved almost impossible. Cressiel believed the prophecy was tied to us. That the Chaos Bringer was the harbinger of a new world, ushering in the vision of the Underground.”
“Ulivall and Master Prophet Farning mirrored that vision, expecting the Chaos Bringer to free Hili and champion the Dimishuan peoples. Queen Palinora believed Vann was meant to bring about the fall of Tarnavarian. High Priest Galvatine thought it portended the fall and razing of Septauria. It seems everyone believed their own version of the Chaos Bringer prophecy,” Scilio said. “I suppose Alokien played everyone like lumachords as they chased their own songs.”
Shiriah rung her hands together. “Cressiel may have been wrong about the prophecy's meaning. It doesn't negate our alliance. By his actions in Empyrea and by the word of Masters Lindt and Shelfern, I know something of what Crown Prince Vannisarian stands for. He is our friend. If only Cressiel could have offered the proclamation in person.”
“Perhaps Professor Westerfold is here in spirit, bringing his vision full circle. It is, after all, his scroll that brought us together. I suppose I should offer it over. You've waited long enough,” Scilio said. “My pack is stowed in the closet.”
Shiriah hesitated in her steps. There was a courage lacking that she seemed to rummage from the pit of her soul. When she had found it, she made her way inside. She emerged holding Westerfold's scroll.
She sat at the foot of Vann's mattress and stared at the rolled parchment in her lap for several long heartbeats.
Grydon continued working his spells across Scilio's injuries.
“I'm almost afraid,” Shiriah finally said. It was as though the stalwart, dignified woman of Chalice House had been peeled away, revealing a grieving delicacy beneath.
“Find comfort in his words,” Scilio assured her. “His was a worthy end.”
“It's not the words I fear, but the finality,” Shiriah corrected. “When we did not know for sure, there was always a sliver of hope that he had been captured and was alive somewhere, or that he was in hiding. When I read this scroll, that possibility dies. It is like losing him afresh.”
Scilio decided against telling of the aftermath. Westerfold's corpse, along with all the other patrons of the Arshenholm Spring Manor, had been resurrected as puppets and used against the royal party by Soreina's henchmen. The end re
sult was the death of the Queen. Shiriah did not need to know how Westerfold's body had ended, incinerated in a foreign hallway by Malacar's desperate Inferno. In the days after the attack, Scilio and Dailan had seen to the reburial of the skeletal remains. Westerfold's grave was a scar in not only a garden, but in Shiriah's heart. She held the scroll tightly against her chest, as though she could feel the heat of Westerfold's hands. It was the last thing his fingers had touched as the life slipped away and his thoughts dissolved to whatever dying men dream about.
Scilio paused his hand over Grydon's for postponement of the treatment. Grydon nodded, understanding the intent. Scilio eased himself from the chair and crossed to the bedside. He did not wait for acknowledgment or approval. Instead, he plucked the scroll from Shiriah's hand and rolled it open.
It was a calling, of sorts, to deliver Westerfold's message personally. The completion of a year-long quest, and the fulfillment of a self-imposed mission on behalf of a man Scilio had never met. If Shiriah were to move past the torment of her year, she needed to hear Westerfold's final words in their entirety. Scilio had orated many a soliloquy in his lifetime upon the stage. This one was, far and away, the most poignant he had ever delivered.
He read the letter aloud, slowly and reverently, to ease the burden of Shiriah's glassy eyes. He did not know if he captured Westerfold's tone and tenor, but perhaps it did not matter. Shiriah's broken heart would replace his own voice with Westerfold's in her grieving mind.
My humble regards to whomever might find this letter,
I ask for your respects and assistance, in this, my final act. I, Cressiel Westerfold of White Tower, Havenlen, ventured here on holiday, and it is here I shall be summoned by the Soul Collectors. The patrons of this fine establishment are interred beside me, as this was the only kindness I could bestow upon them. Alas, I could not save them from the terrible family of kaiyo that terrorized the Spring Manor. The beasts were more intelligent than the finest show dogs I've ever trained, and they seemed to communicate Psychonically. Their method of murder was not of physical means, but of Psychonic invasion. Not a drop of blood was spilled, yet, we are dead all the same. It took many of us, nobles and Psychonics, all, to fell these mighty creatures. In the end, only I remain, and not for long. With the last of my strength, I call upon the Terra magics to bed their earthly remains, and I pen this missive to you, unknown stranger, that you might show me the same kindness. My bed is dug, you need only cover me.
I might trouble you for one last boon. Please return this key to Merisha, a resident of White Tower. Deliver my message, infused upon the key. I can promise no reward, save the soul-warming knowledge that you have helped one in need.
With that, I go to the Gods, and perhaps to be reborn if they so deem me worthy. That I may repay you this kindness one day, if ever our souls meet on this earthly plane.
With warm regards,
Cressiel Westerfold
Shiriah made no effort to hide the culmination of her heartache that spilled down her powdered face and smeared the paint of her lashes. She bore her agony plainly, without apology or shame.
There was a relief of burden that Scilio felt, almost physically, at the completion of delivery. He had wondered if Westerfold had imbued some manner of spellful manipulation into the scroll, to compel the finder to carry out its directive.
Scilio rolled the letter and closed Shiriah's delicate fingers around it. “I placed Professor Westerfold in his earthly bed, as per his first request. With this, he can finally move on. May you find the strength to do the same, Magister Kehlamani.”
Shiriah's breath quivered as she exhaled and nodded. “Thanks to you, Guardian Scilio, perhaps I can now. I had come to terms with the fact that we may never know what happened. The Underground lost its heart and soul with Cressiel. It lost its strength and arms with the Keeper massacre. But now we can look to the future and continue Cressiel's vision.”
“His Majesty had every intention of uncollaring the kingdom. When he is restored and the Chaos Bringer defeated, the Underground will see its dream realized,” Scilio assured her.
Shiriah hesitated and glanced to Grydon. They nodded to each other, sealing Scilio's invitation into their confidence. “There is more to the Underground than abolition, Guardian Scilio. Much, much more. It is true that we wish to see a collar-free Septauria, but that is just the public front for our movement. A byproduct, of sorts, and one outcome of a larger goal. When Dainn returns with the key, I will show you how far Cressiel's vision stretched. I'll show you the makings of a new world.”
Riveted Bondings
* * *

-27-
A Harvest and a Reap
“No aspirations have I to tame the earth. A vagabond astray with
no roots in the dirt is never subject to the flood. My fruits of the
wind bloom quickly, my harvests yield instant profit, and I reap
the rewards of ever changing fields that never tire of my seed.”
- Toma Scilio, Master Bard
Kir had not slept much, but nobody else had, either. She was up before the roosters crowed from their cages on the army's stocked supply wagons. Despite the late night, the encampment was given to early rise. The breakfast slop was bubbling in the pots, troops were organizing for morning drills and horsemasters were grooming the mounts. Kir ran through her warm-up routine with Malacar and Lili. When they were fully stretched and ready for the day, she started for the command tent. Ferinar and Sehlovah were waiting for her. By the depths of their glassy eyes, they looked to have been at it all night. Kir was ushered to a small table where a quill and inkwell was laid out beside a pricking-needle. She had no royal seal yet, so a bloody thumbprint would suffice for her official mark.
All activity stopped abruptly as the entire division was mustered to attention alongside the caravan of Karmines and Hilians to witness the epic event. Jorrhen read the Declaration of War on Chaos first, firing up the soldiers as the barker hornbirds relayed the words to the farthest companies. When Kir had finished signing and blood-marking the scroll, she thrust it into the air to bolster the crowd's passion even more. These troops had tasted chaos, and they were hankering to devour it with their hungry blades.
The second order of business was the Aquilinian Declaration of Dimishuan Liberation. Sehlovah turned the scroll over to Ulivall for his presentation. Ulivall wasn't much of a public speaker, but Kir would never have known it by the passion in his delivery. There were a few frozen seconds of stunned silence as the announcement was processed. It was broken with the elated cry of one of the Karmines, and the roaring exultation began.
Kir had no idea how this declaration would be received among the forces from other islands, but Northern Aquiline's reaction gave her hope. Many of the soldiers here had not only fought beside the Ulivall's warriors, they had been saved by the Hilian reinforcements at Gander's Vale. Kir had noticed the respect, and while it wasn't universally shared, the large majority of these warriors were sympathetic to the Dimishuan situation, thanks to the mutual working reverence that had ripened on the battlefield. The applause was a sort of victory cry, like a war had already been fought and won with the ink in Kir's quill.
As her thumb pressed a blood print against the scroll, Kir felt the surge of empowerment. Dissolving the collar institution was an affront to tradition, to the Gods, to the Book of Order and to the complete social hierarchy. Kir was practically a Chaos Bringer in her own right.
Kir stood between Ulivall and Jorrhen and accepted a goblet for the traditional toast that apparently accompanied war declarations. Another round was poured to honor the new age of freedom in Aquiline. Kir didn't think Beckett wine had ever tasted sweeter than it did in that goblet.
Jorrhen announced that all collars would be removed by the quartermaster. The order would be organizing by waiting list, which would be opened for names immediately following dismissal. She issued a warning to dissenters that retaliation against Dimish
uans would not be tolerated, and that any soldier engaged in intimidation or aggression would would be disciplined to the fullest extent. Acceptance wouldn't be easy for some who felt threatened by the equality. They would have to be shown that they weren't losing their status by the Dimishuans gaining it. It would be a challenging path, but at least they had started down it.
As soon as the dismissal was called, the encampment was suddenly bustling. Sehlovah and Ferinar whisked the proclamations away for copying and distribution and the Generals departed to oversee morning routine. A circle of Karmines closed in around Kir for their tearful celebrations. Melia thrust herself through the ring of jigging bodies. She squealed a bit, hugged a bit more, and danced around in Kir's arms.
“You really did it, Kiriana! All those stories you used to tell as a child about the heroine who cast her secret spells to dissolve every collar... it was you after all. What a grand spell!”
“I could only issue it for Aquiline, though,” Kir reminded her. She wished the whole of Septauria could benefit from her collar-dissolving magical quill, but the extent of her authority only stretched as far as the people willing to back her. Aquiline was it, for now...
“It's a flood gate. You have to open it to set forth the wave,” Melia said. “Copellian filled me in on last night's meeting. He came back beaming.”
“I didn't know he was capable of beaming,” Kir chortled. “Speaking of Cope, where is he?”
“He went to add my name to the waiting list, then he was heading to Bertrand's tent to share the news with Avalir. I'm heading back to the corral to see about Sorrha,” Melia reported.
“I'll come with you,” Kir said. “Sorrha deserves to hear the good news, too.”
Bardian's Redemption: Book Four of the Guardian's Vambrace (The Guardian Vambrace 4) Page 31
