“Are we being ejected from Cyria, your majesty?” Goldain asked.
“You will have an escort safely to our borders. My suggestion is that you seek your answers in Parynland as every bit of evidence seems to point to someone there being behind this plot. Good day.”
With that, she spun and quickly exited a small door in the northeast corner of the room followed closely by Daemius. Field Marshal Arian backed his way toward the door, sword still drawn, and followed them out closing the door behind him. The lead guard spoke in a commanding tone.
“You heard the princess. Back to the hostel.”
As they left through the west door into the main hall, Melizar noticed their escort had grown to two-dozen armed guards. Much to his surprise, their weapons were returned before they were escorted out of the palace and immediately back to the walled keep of the State Hostel of Varynia. It did not escape his notice that the guard on the walls was double what it had been the previous evening.
They ate a well-prepared lunch and enjoyed good ale in abundance. Had the rest of the strangeness of the day’s events so far not been so clearly in his mind, Melizar might have thought this no different than any other inn or tavern.
Jeslyn, who had done a remarkable job of holding her tongue throughout the ordeal, finally broke the silence encompassing the groups since they left the palace.
“So, what was all that about?”
Gideon glowered at her and shook his head. Thatcher leaned over to her and Melizar’s keen D’zarik ears picked up his whispered message to the girl.
“Not here. Too many ears.”
She screwed her face into an unattractive scowl and crossed her arms, letting out a subtle, “Harrumph.”
“You city people are sure squirrely. When Rajiki have something to say, they say it. All this ‘be quiet,’ ‘wait,’ ‘not now’ is incredibly annoying.”
“Not quite as annoying as a mouthy girl,” Thatcher replied.
Though obviously displeased, the Rajiki girl let the matter drop as they all finished their meal in silence. After lunch Thatcher and Goldain, almost as if they shared their thoughts without speaking, stretched and yawned in an exaggerated fashion.
“Oh man, that ale really hit the spot,” Goldain bellowed. “But I am ready for an afternoon nap.”
“Yeah, me too,” added Thatcher. “Hey, innkeep, what time is dinner?”
“Kitchen’s open ‘til ‘bout two hours after sunset. Ya ain’t ‘et by then, ya git nothin’ ‘till mornin’. Lockdown’s half hour after kitchen closes. No leavin’ the rooms ‘til dawn. Them’s regulations.”
The innkeeper eyed them suspiciously as if expecting trouble, but none was forthcoming.
“Good enough,” remarked Thatcher. “Gives us time for a nap and a game of cards or two before dinner. Guess we will retire to our room for now.”
“As you like,” the guardsman at the door said. “But you are not allowed to leave the hostel until tomorrow morning, princess’ orders.”
They made their way upstairs and were followed by two guardsmen. Melizar also noted another guardsman standing post in the hallway on the second floor about fifteen feet past the door to their room. Goldain smiled at the guard and waved as they entered their room. The guard remained stoic.
Once inside the room, Melizar called them all over to the far west wall farthest from the door and any internal walls. He whispered to the group.
“Thatcher, can you draw out that map for us now while I bring you all up to speed on what I learned?”
Thatcher nodded and pulled his notebook from his pack and began scribbling.
“Given our suspiciously reserved reception,” Melizar continued as Thatcher drew. “I thought it best not to let the opportunity for clarity pass as I did in Aton-Ri. We are in the middle of a mystery now, and we have no idea who we can trust.”
“Opportunity for clarity?” Gideon asked. “What do you mean?”
“I used a subtle veritas spell to examine the veracity of our host’s interaction with us. You can imagine my surprise when my spell detected nothing from the princess.”
“So you mean she wasn’t lying?” asked Goldain.
“I mean,” Melizar replied, “that as far as my spell could tell she wasn’t even speaking!”
“How can that be?” Thatcher asked, looking up from his work.
“Keep drawing and I will explain. I told you all before how the veritas spell I use works. Truth is blue, red is lies, purple is a half-truth. While Gideon’s words were blue, as expected, I saw no color at all coming from the princess. The fact that I could see Gideon’s words indicated my spell was functioning within normal parameters, but it was like Princess Tarynna was not speaking at all.”
“So what does that mean?” squeaked Jeslyn. “Was she some kind of ghost or something?”
“Hardly, child,” Melizar continued. “It means she was warded in some way by some type of counterspell or enchanted item. The veritas spell is a passive magic and will not alert the target in any way that they are being scrutinized because it is not examining them directly but the words that emanate from them. It is what is known as a non-invasive divination spell. It is nearly impossible for anyone to know they are being examined.”
“The way she suddenly got busy,” added Thatcher as he put the finishing touches on his sketch. “She figured something out. What do you think tipped her.”
“Very observant, Thatcher,” said Melizar, surprised at the boy’s perceptiveness. “Since there was obviously some type of warding at work, I thought it best to find out more, so I took advantage of the general tumult surrounding Captain Gideon’s outburst to employ a deeper and more powerful kashaph. This spell allows me to see magical items or continuing kashaph powers. Unlike my veritas spell, however, this an invasive divination, and if the target has the right detection wards, they will instantly be aware they are being scryed.”
“So that’s why our meeting ended so abruptly.” said Thatcher.
“You are correct. The princess glowed with magic from head to toe, so strongly that it nearly blinded me. She was warded heavily. As soon as I had cast my kashaph, she locked onto me. This means she had an anti-detection ward among whatever else she had going. The wards not only nullified my ability to see her words but also showed her she was being scanned and who was doing the scanning.”
“So with all that mumbo-jumbo going on,” Goldain replied, “the princess must have something to hide.”
“Not necessarily,” answered Melizar. “In all fairness, if what she said about the king’s illness and trouble were true, she might well have been heavily warded for her protection. I guarantee I would get exactly the same reading off any noble from my home city. Almost no one who can afford to have it done goes unwarded where I come from.”
Gideon, looking thoughtful, affirmed the statement.
“Melizar is right. Just because she has surrounded herself with protection wards does not indicate a need for suspicion. I would imagine the Sultan of Rajik, the Duke of Darkmoor, or even Mayor Farnsworth would all carry wardings. Truth be told, she has been raised to see my people as the enemy, and we did bring one of their national heroes back to them slung over the back of a horse.”
“For such suspicious people,” Goldain added, grinning, “it’s a wonder they haven’t arrested Melizar on the grounds of general creepiness with this entire mysterious black-hooded-robe thing going on.”
Other than brief smiles from Jeslyn and Thatcher, Goldain’s comment went unanswered.
“Look,” Gideon continued, “maybe she is on the level. Maybe there really is someone in Parynland, or several someones, involved in this. Either way, there is little we can do about this until we can get to Stonehold, regroup with the others, and find out what they discovered. After that, if we still have more questions than answers, we will take our investigation to Paryn’s Gate.”
“Captain, with all due respect,” Melizar interjected, “I have no intention of operating on their ti
metable or remaining here like sheep while others make decisions for us.”
“I’m not sure I follow you, Melizar. What are you saying?”
“Just that, if you will give me some time to work with young Thatcher, I will see what I can do about taking some initiative of our own.”
“I will not be part of any hostility toward Cyria or its people,” replied Gideon. “Our king has sworn a peace between Parynland and Cyria, so if whatever you are planning involves drawing sword against a Cyrian in anything other than self-defense, then your plans will not include me.”
“Keep your shirt on, Captain,” answered Thatcher, the informality of the comment bringing a shocked look to Gideon’s face. “I don’t think Mel is talking about blasting our way out of here. Unless I miss my guess, he asked me to be a part of this because he is thinking stealth not strength as our main tool in this plan.”
“Right you are, my young friend,” Melizar agreed. “Fear not, Captain Gideon, my goal is to be long past the borders of Cyria before anyone even knows we are missing. Forgive my saying so, however, but the longer we stand around chest-thumping, posturing, and delivering ultimatums to each other, the longer it will take Thatcher and I to complete our planning. Get some rest. I expect we will be traveling all night. After dinner, Thatcher and I will brief you as to what I have in mind and how I plan to accomplish it. Then you can object or posture to your heart’s content.”
Just like that Jeslyn saw the creepy mage and the young thief slip away toward a corner of the room. She rolled her eyes as she watched Thatcher furiously scribbling in his notebook. The two of them were pointing at the notes, whispering back-and-forth and generally acting like a pair of conspirators plotting the takeover of the world.
Jeslyn, turning her attention away from the scheming confederates, had waited long enough and wanted her own answers.
“So, now it is my turn. You can shake your burlap sack at me all you want to you big bully,” she said, glowering at Goldain, “but I am going to have my say now. I promise if you do manage to bag me, you will be nursing bruised shins right after.”
The girl’s spunk seemed to amuse her cohorts. She had been told her spirit of persistent defiance could either be admirable or dangerous depending on the timing of its manifestation. Fortunately, now was a safe enough time and place to let her say her piece.
Goldain smiled at the girl.
“Go on, kiddo, I promise not to bag you as long as you keep your voice down. We don’t need every suspicious guard in the place getting an earful along with us.”
“So let me get this straight,” Jeslyn began. “Garan sprung Rarib and Podam out of jail here, and the only person who can confirm this is now likely dead by the princess’s order. We can’t talk to Rarib until we get back to Stonehold, if he is awake by then, and Podam ain’t talking to nobody again, being dead and all. Now the Cyrian princess sends us packing like a band of beggars with no more answers than when we came. We have no idea who was behind Garan other than some mysterious Blue Mystic, and we are leaving the only place where we might be able to find out before we have any chance to really investigate. Beyond that, I still have no idea if my dad is alive or dead, and our only leads, weak at best, seem to point to Parynland. That about cover it?”
“You got it, princess,” answered Goldain. “Look, we are just as anxious to find out what happened to your father as you are. The fact is if the princess knows more about Garan, she ain’t telling us. The best person to answer anything at all is Rarib. Once we get back to Stonehold and talk to him and the others, maybe we can put some pieces together. For now, we’ve hit a dead end and the best thing you can do is get some rest. According to Mel, we have a long night ahead of us.”
Jeslyn was not satisfied with the answers, but she had no idea what other questions to ask. Everything Goldain said made perfect sense, but she still couldn’t let go of the feeling that there was something more she could do or should do.
She took to one of the beds and tried to catch a nap amid the swirling thoughts filling her head. For the first time ever, she began to question whether she would ever find out what happened to her father. This singular thought had carried her this far, but now her confidence began to falter. The reality that she may truly be alone in the world haunted the edge of her consciousness.
As Jeslyn tossed and turned in a corner trying to get some sleep, Goldain pulled Gideon aside to another corner.
“So, brother,” he began, “the princess had some harsh words back there. I’ve never seen you get that riled up before. I mean Xyer Garan was a master at getting under one’s skin, but apparently, rudeness and antagonism is taught as a cultural value in Cyria. It hurt me to see you so bothered, my friend.”
“No, Goldain, you misunderstand.”
“Well you might want to explain, then. Something got you way out of sorts.”
“Yes, I admit that was not exactly my best behavior, was it?”
“Definitely lifted a few eyebrows, I’d say.”
“This problem is like a tarnished coin that no matter how many times you spend it seems to keep winding up back in your pocket. The civil war between Parynland and Cyria was hard and bitter. I am certain the Ayabim were fueling the hatred and xenophobia of Cyrus and his people. They envied so much the long life accompanying the mixing of Adami blood with the V’rassi, the earmark of the integrators I told you about. The dissenters, however, hated and feared becoming something other than human.”
“So your ancestors had something they didn’t want, but they didn’t want you to have it either? Sounds about right. We have some similar issues in Qarahni history.”
“Yes. Ignorance, prejudice, and fear walk hand in hand, and they are the fuel for bloodshed and war that ravaged our nation. Even though peace finally prevailed, it was a coerced peace accomplished by the irresistible combined might of King Paryn’s people and our V’rassi allies. It was a bitter pill that the Cyrians were given no choice but to swallow.”
“That bitterness and hatred,” continued Gideon, his eyes filling with tears, “has touched every family in both nations. There is not a Parynlander or Cyrian who did not lose relatives or friends in that bitter struggle. Because of our V’rassi-infused bloodlines, most Parynlanders still remember the war firsthand, but the Cyrians old enough to remember have passed their bitterness onto the next generation. From talks with Tarynna, it seems these feelings have been greatly amplified with the passing. I thought as time went on and memories waned that the rift between our people would fade and allow room for reconciliation. If the heart Tarynna showed us this morning is any indication of the feeling of the people, then my hope for reconciliation is slipping away like smoke on the wind.”
“Time heals, brother,” Goldain said, laying a comforting hand upon the shoulder of his captain. “Sometimes it just takes a lot of it. My people were fragmented centuries ago into the three clans. There was bitter war and struggle between the White Wyrm, the Bear and the Wolf Clans. Now the Bear and Wolf Clans have a peace and have even resumed trade between us. The White Wyrms have still chosen to remain outside and unreconciled, but open warfare has not been among our people for many generations. Be patient, brother. Your children and their children may yet see true peace between your peoples once again.”
“I hope against hope your words come to pass.”
The two warriors settled in for some uneasy rest while Melizar and Thatcher scribbled and whispered away the afternoon.
Spider’s Web
As soon as she left the room, Princess Tarynna exhaled forcibly, and a sob escaped from her throat. She wrung her hands in an attempt to stop them from shaking. Demonstrating his customary empathy, her counsellor Daemius rushed to her side. Placing a hand upon her shoulder, he spoke softly to her.
“What is it, child? Are you all right?”
She nodded.
“Their mage used some sort of kashaph. I felt it run through every part of me.”
A look of alarm filled the older m
an’s face as Daemius replied.
“Were you affected? Are you injured?”
“No, my dear Daemius,” she said, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “Your daily wards, which you fortunately renewed just before our meeting, held true and protected me as they have my whole life. I felt them fighting against whatever he was attempting. I do not believe anything got through, and I seem to be in full control of my faculties. It was just a bit disconcerting.”
“I will send troops and have them executed at once,” snapped Field Marshal Arian.
“You will do no such thing,” Tarynna replied. “There are citizens of at least three nations among the visitors. Are you trying to align the entire northwest against us?”
“But, your highness…”
“But nothing, Arian. Whatever they tried to do it failed and I am fine.”
“Possibly,” Daemius replied. “ but I would feel better if you allow me to do some examinations myself to make sure all the wards are intact and you have no lingering kashaph affecting you. I think it might be prudent to have Arian arrest immediately and hold them until we determine exactly what they did attempt.”
“No, it might have been nothing more than a simple detection spell, but no doubt, they know I am warded.”
Daemius bowed his head in deference as he answered.
“That in and of itself is not unusual for any royalty. Still and all, we should act quickly to secure them until we know for certain their intentions.”
“We will do nothing overt until we meet with the alliance council. Arian, increase the guard at the State Hostel, but take no direct action against them yet. The visitors will be secure there until morning, so there is no need to be hasty.”
“As you wish, your majesty.”
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