“What of his bride, the new Affianced Princess? The posters seek her, too.”
“She's not with them. Fled to Hili with a decoy and the other Guardian. That's all I know of her.”
“Is there any other news from Chalice?”
“The confirmation of Cressiel Westerfold's death. He was gone for so long we all suspected it, but the Guardian brought evidence. Now Shiriah will no longer wait for Cressiel to return. She can finalize her grief and come to me!”
“Bully for you, I'm sure. Anything else?”
“Chalice gained access to Cressiel's hidden lair and all his secret mech work. He was never keen to allow visitors, even core members, so I don't know what's in there. His unfinished tinkerings and trinkabobs, from the sounds of it. Likely the grand weapon that I've heard rumor of, but Shiriah will not confirm its existence. That's all the news she brought.”
“You've done well, prof. Well, indeed. Your service has been most helpful, just as it was last year. You'll be rewarded.”
Yorlie rubbed his hands together briskly. Rewards were always good. He couldn't remember what he had done last year that made Blackhood so happy, but it must have been something wonderful.
“What do I get rewarded with?”
“Your life, of course. And protection for the Chalice House, just as you bargained before the purge. You don't remember it because of the seps, but I am a Keeper of my word. The Chalice House will be safe, and you will be free to pursue the Magister at your leisure.”
“Reward!” Yorlie applauded.
“I may have another job for you in the coming days,” Blackhood said. “Be patient until I visit. And don't go through that cashnettar too quickly. I don't want to lose you to overdose. Are we clear?”
“As the Shawline Everdocks,” Yorlie saluted with a giggle.
“Good. Now then, this entire conversation will completely dissolve from your memory. You will remember only that your potions dealer brought your cashnettar delivery. You will lay down for the evening and sleep well. When you wake up in the morning, you'll be your miserable old self. Oh yes, and you will bathe, because you are rank. In cold water. You need some cooling off. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Yorlie answered, compelled by the urge to obey completely. Without walking the dealer to the door, he made straight for his bedchamber. He fell into bed without disrobing and within a blink, he was sound asleep.
-41-
The Achievement of Closure
and Subsequent Advancement
Although we have been settled in Empyrea for months now, Kir has yet to find closure in the Queen's death. She carries her burden silently, but the evidence is clear upon her face as she leaves the tombs on each weekly visit. If only some comfort could ferry her on, though what do I know of culpability? I have not suffered the guilt of a loss in my keeping. Kir has suffered too many. Perhaps only Palinora can offer the exculpation Kir seeks. How does one go about raising the dead to speak from beyond the grave?
- Excerpt from the journal of Guardian Toma Scilio
Kir and Inagor made their rounds through the manor. They wanted to be sure the caravan was ready to depart the following morning, but also to make reassurances. The party had only been hearing news by second or third hand. It was important for Kir to show them visually that she was fine. Inagor was well-received and heartily welcomed; several of the Hilians remembered him from his months residing in Hilihar and a few of the Karmines even remembered him from years ago.
At the stables, Kir learned from Copellian that Sorrha had fought Inagor's snarling kaiyo. When the pursing party had arrived, they found him kicking viciously at the beast's advances. The kaiyo did not stick around after it lost connection with Inagor. Sorrha pranced after it a few paces, stomping a hoof in dominance, and maybe even triumph. It was a battle Kir wished she could have seen and cheered in person. The gashes that had covered Sorrha's chest and thighs had been mended. Copellian and Melia were pampering him like the king he was.
Before the rounds were finished, Kir and Inagor stopped by the austringer's hut to check in on Beacon. Avalir reported the hawk to be adjusting well to the cadge. Kir decided to take him out on a quick run to stretch his wings before they resumed the journey to Hili. Gevriah and Avalir accompanied them to the gardens, where they helped Kir learn some tricks to command. A normal austringer's glove wouldn't fit over Kir's splint so Avalir wrapped her forearm and wrist with leather strips to protect her from Beacon's sharp talons.
Gevriah was right—the Bonding had been the hard part. Beacon seemed thirsty for the hunt. The very first dive yielded a long-eared hare. Kir beamed at her victory; it no longer seemed an intimidating field of men.
“You mastered a hawk and a Guardian, all in the same day?” Inagor asked as they walked their path back to the manor.
“And I got me another Second Lady, too,” Kir added. “I had to do something to challenge this damnable drencher drizzle.”
“There is no door closed to the likes of you, Kiriana. You're carving out a new age. Palinora would have been proud to live in it.” Inagor was beaming with a pride in her that Kir couldn't match.
“The ideal is a piece more grand than the reality,” Kir sighed. The Chaos loomed over Aquiline like a foggy mist in Kir's imagination. How could one solitary island stand against the kingdom?
“Palinora always saw the Chaos Bringer as the gateway to a new world. None of this unfolded as she had expected, but that doesn't mean it still can't,” Inagor reminded her. “I have faith in you. I'm honored to wear your tabard.”
Kir tried on a smile. “Speaking of which, you'll be needing one. I guess it will have to wait until we get to Hili. In the meantime, report to Shanwehl's quartermaster. He can supply you with some clothes and armor. I'll head back to the room and put my legs up for a spell.”
Inagor acknowledged and set off to the task. Kir was honestly planning to return to the suite, but her feet took her in the opposite direction. The thought of Palinora weighed heavily on Kir's mind. It pulled her right back to the room where the Queen's fate had been sealed. It was remarkably tidy and polished. The cobwebs and debris were gone, and the room was completely empty.
Kir leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor, pulling knees to her chest. She stared at nothing on the marble, rubbing her soulwhisper, lost in numb thoughts and memory. She had no idea how long she had been sitting there when Inagor's voice pulled her from the chasm of the past.
“So this is where it happened?” He was standing in the doorway, studying the spot on the floor where Kir had parked her eyes.
Kir wiped at her face, finding streaks that she hadn't even registered. “I thought you knew that. Figured you picked this place for the symbolism.”
“No. It was the first open room I came upon that was unspoiled by Ruptor scorch. I suppose the symbol made itself. I'm sorry for that. It's another dreadful memory that you shouldn't have to carry.”
Kir nodded distantly.
“When I didn't find you in the suite or the stables, Malacar thought you might be here.”
“Until our battle, I hadn't been back to this room. The mages were coming and we had to flee. Never really had time to come and reflect. To process it all.”
Inagor seemed to understand Kir's need for the closure that she wasn't finding. He sat beside her, taking in the emptiness of the chamber. Every now and again, someone would bustle by the doorway on some errand, but it was otherwise quiet.
Finally, Inagor said, “Four, was it? I didn't know him. Soreina mentioned him a few times. After. I don't think she knew it was him, either. Was it quick? I mean, did Palinora...”
“She didn't suffer. It was instant. She didn't even realize...”
“I suppose there is comfort in that. And knowing she was with you.”
“Her final night was spent in your arms, all through her dreams. You were the last thing in her heart, Inagor. You should take comfort in that, too. If the
re is any to be found.”
Inagor nodded solidly. “She thought of you as a daughter of her heart, Kiriana, long before you were ever aware. If not for the prophecy, you might have been raised as such.”
“Raised as such? What do you mean?”
“We spent a lot of time at Karmine castle when you were young. Soventine loved the hunt and Westlewin was his favorite place for it. How much of Palinora do you remember from your childhood?”
“Only vague shadows. I wasn't allowed to spend much time with the ladies until I was older, but I do remember something of her. More like images of her grace and beauty, and how other people always spoke so highly of her. I remember her kindness and her gentle hands. I'm not sure why that's what stuck. Maybe because the Duchess had so little tenderness in hers.”
“The first time you were received in the Ladies Circle, you were about five years old. You had a little pet bird in a box. Do you remember?”
Kir couldn't recall much on the details, but she knew there was a great deal of shame that went along with the incident. “Barely. I don't even remember Palinora being there. I think I remember the lashing Vittie gave me afterward much better than whatever I did to deserve it.”
“Palinora was there, indeed. I was, too, standing against the wall in guard. You had found an injured sparrow in the garden and nursed it to health. You toted the box around everywhere you went. That little bird was well-tended by those tiny hands.”
“Oh yeah,” Kir ran an awkward hand over her hair. “It's coming back to me now. I was afraid Kaidan's cat would eat it, so I kept it with me to protect it. I put the box under my chair during the Ladies Circle. Somehow, the bird escaped and flew around the room, causing a big commotion. Tea trays went flying as screaming ladies jumped from their seats. Mirhana and I ran around the room frantically, trying to coax the terrified bird back into the box. The dessert table crashed on its side when the Bashiress of Crillia knocked it over in her panic, and the Armigaless of Velknah tripped right into it. It was pure chaos. The Duchess was furious. In retrospect, I guess it must have been pretty funny. It wasn't so much at the time, though.”
“It would have been, but for the way Duchess Karmine handled the aftermath,” Inagor said darkly.
“She stunned the bird with a Binding...” Kir swallowed. The memory had been shoved so deep, probably to avoid it. “I begged her to let it go. It wasn't the poor thing's fault that the day was ruined, but mine. The Duchess didn't yell or curse. She just stood there like ice. Then she snapped its neck with her bare hands. She put its little body back in the box and made me carry it around for the next few days, as a reminder of the shame. When it started to smell, she made Mirhana bury it in the garden.”
Inagor exhaled heavily. It was a lengthy moment before he spoke again. “That event disturbed Palinora so much that she didn't sleep for days after. It was always obvious how cold your mother was with you, but to witness the methods of her twisted abuse was appalling. Palinora decided to talk to Soventine. She wanted to take you and your brother on as her wards, to be raised in Empyrea with Tarnavarian and Vann. But, she never had the chance. Just after we returned to Empyrea, the Chaos Bringer prophecy was issued and we fled. She was heartsick to leave you behind. I know she thought of you on occasion in the years since.”
“I never knew,” Kir managed.
“I think she didn't tell you because it was hard enough for her to dredge the memory. Palinora considered it something of a failure on her part that she couldn't save you from Eserillia, especially after she learned what your life had been like. If she could have done it over, I'm certain she would have devised a way to bring you with us.”
“I wish I could have told her not to fret about it. We can't undo the past, any more than we can predict the future. She couldn't have saved me. I'm just glad that she lived on for Vann.”
Inagor smiled down at Kir with a look that made her think he was a sage, rather than a warrior. “Turn that sentiment around, Kiriana. That's exactly what she would want to say right back to you. So, I'm saying it for her.”
There was no one in the world that knew Palinora better than Inagor did. He was speaking now as her proxy. He meant it in Palinora's stead. The idea filled Kir up with a bittersweet fulfillment. It was the closure that Kir had sought, and was finally being granted on Palinora's behalf.
Kir inhaled deeply. The air was remarkably fresh and light, unburdened with the sour drench that once would have sagged Kir's shoulders. It was an absolution that Inagor had granted. Kir accepted it wholeheartedly.
“Since I'm in the relief process, I guess I should let go of more than just my guilt.” Kir slipped Inagor's dagger from her belt and handed it over. “It belongs in an heirloom chest in the Brace. I've been borrowing it for a while. When we get back to Empyrea someday, we'll return it together.”
Inagor turned the dagger over in his hands. He rubbed a thumb over the Arrelius crest. “It's remarkable craftsmanship.”
“All through Empyrea, I latched myself onto your example. It seemed like we had something in common. We both walked behind our Guarded while... well, anyway, you were a strength to me, and this dagger kinda represented you. I'd apologize for swiping it, but I'm not really sorry. It felt like you were with me when I wielded it. Now that you're here, I don't need your dagger anymore. So I'm giving it back.”
Inagor's brow pinched in confusion. “Kiriana, this isn't mine.”
“Of course it's... Take in your sails! It's not yours? Are you sure?”
“I've never seen it before. This is the Arrelius crest, but I've never owned this piece. I'm certain I would remember. Where did you say you found it?”
“In my bedchamber in the Brace. Under the bed, there was a—”
“A relic chest embedded in the floor,” Inagor finished. “Yes, all the Guardian bedchambers have them. I left a dagger, but not this one. Mine was an heirloom passed down my mother's line. The blade was shorter and thicker. The scabbard was encrusted with lumanere flecks. It had no family crest.”
“Your suite. Was it in the Tourmaline Ward?”
“No, the middle branch. Jade Ward.”
“So, this isn't yours. And we didn't have the same room,” Kir summarized with a growl, “And when I get my hands on that slinky weasel, I'm gonna wring his lying neck.” Kir imitated all the brutal twisting and tortures she had in store for Xavien for feeding her a string of hooey.
Inagor sniffed in restrained humor. “It seems someone got one over on you.”
In truth, Xavien had never actually claimed it had been Inagor's room. Somehow, Kir knew in her heart of hearts that he had planted the dagger there for her to find. He had wanted to prevent her from sinking into melancholia, to preserve the odds of their future death-match when Kir was at her full strength. He was waiting for that day patiently, when he judged Kir to be at her peak. Xavien knew Kir too well for her own good, and for his.
Kir scoffed and laughed at the same time. It should have bothered her that her arch-nemesis was so bent on helping her, but he was only acting out of his own self-interests. His blade would be sure and deadly when he was good and ready.
“Wenchin furies,” Kir hemmed. “I guess I was had. But it's got your name on it, so you should take it anyway.”
“Keep it. Let it always remind you of me, and whomever the subject of your wringing hands might be. He has good taste in steel.”
The Arshen River was hugged on both sides by towns along its length. By the standards of the island's northern half, they weren't exceedingly large; neither were they heavily populated. The villages and waystations provided some shelter from the drencher season deluge that acted like waterfalls from the heavens. There was not enough room for everyone in the barns, mills and private homes, but there were the tents. When the rains became too heavy to continue and the roads were beginning to wash out, the convoy took refuge on higher ground. They reinforced the larger tents and welcomed in those whose tents were too smal
l to weather the intensity of the downpour. After a waylaid day, they resumed their journey south, through the mud and sogharbor cling of the humid drencher air.
The long, soggy days of travel had left little time for sparring. Kir was desperate to give her splinted hand the go-round, to measure the extent of her abilities. With the tissues and muscles mended, the over-sized bandage splint had been replaced with a smaller, less eye-catching, less cumbersome contraption. It fit around the hand, keeping the outer fingers from curling under. The exercises Bertrand had choreographed were proving just how paltry her grip was, and it didn't seem to be getting much stronger. Maybe it would work better in the heat of combat. Kir could fight one-handed, but she still needed to have a gauge on how much or little she could expect out of the weaker limb. Every time her reins slipped through her palm or an item fell through her weak grasp, she was tempted to curse out her frustrations. With the utmost deliberation, she guarded her tongue. Inagor didn't need Kir watering his guilt over the matter. The debility was an obstacle that she was determined to overcome.
If Kir had thought Inagor's presence would calm Malacar's protective streak, she was sorely mistaken. He was still nursing his smothering fussiness that made him seem more like a sour nursemaid than a confident warrior. No longer brooding on questions of her sanity, now he was convinced that Kir's braced hand would be her catastrophic undoing. When she suggested the prospect of spar, Malacar curtly shot it down with an argument of, “You don't need to wield a weapon anymore, so there's no need for you to be testing yourself in combat. Let the Guardians handle the fighting.”
Inagor, on the other hand, had no qualms about taking Kir at blades. A few days later, when the weather cleared and the sun came out enough to etch cracks into the mud, Kir pulled Inagor into a spar. The caravan was setting their tents and Malacar was busy overseeing perimeter checks. It was the perfect opportunity. They found a clearing near the encampment and ran through some routine warm-ups before launching into an energetic round. They both had desperately needed the outlet.
Bardian's Redemption: Book Four of the Guardian's Vambrace (The Guardian Vambrace 4) Page 49
