The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy

by R. T. Kaelin

  With his gaze still locked on the chests, Tobias muttered, “In all the years I spent with her, not once did I see her study it.”

  “You cannot touch Charge,” noted Broedi. “Just because you did not see her studying it does not mean she did not.”

  “I suppose,” said Tobias. He tried to think if he had ever even seen the black box Larin held in his vision. “Well, her group also appears to have discovered the effect gold has on the Suštinata. The chest she held was lined with it, too.”

  Mostly to herself, Kenders murmured, “I wonder if…”

  Tobias glanced over and found the young woman staring blankly at a piece of untouched cheese on her wooden platter.

  “You wonder what?”

  Looking up, Kenders said, “The person—or thing—she’s protecting the stone from. Do you think it could be Nelnora?”

  Khin said, “If she discovered the full nature of the stone, perhaps. Larin was wise.”

  Shifting in his chair, Duke Rholeb said in a gruff voice, “Unless this ‘Larin’ walks through my gates with another one of those blasted stones, I don’t care where she is or what she knows.” Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on the table and folded his hands together. “All I care about now are the new reports of oligurt sightings. I’ve had a half dozen come in today alone. And two more of my scouts are missing!”

  “I agree, my Lord,” rumbled Broedi. “Knowing Tandyr does not possess the Suštinata of Charge is sufficient for now.”

  “Yet he has Soul,” warned Tobias, glancing at Okollu. “And he had Void. He might have more still.” Turning his gaze to Broedi, he added with purpose, “Three, perhaps?”

  Frowning slightly, Broedi said, “And they could have only the one.”

  “You are guessing that is the case,” muttered Nikalys.

  “As much as you are guessing they have more,” noted Khin.

  A quiet sigh of exasperation slipped from Tobias. This had been an ongoing debate between everyone since arriving in Demetus. Two very different opinions had evolved on the issue.

  “You cannot deny the prophecy’s line,” said the duchess quietly. “The four will hold the names of three. There are four Gods of the Cabal working together, yes? And the stones hold their names?”

  “I will not deny the line,” rumbled Broedi. “But be wary. Indrida’s words are often misinterpreted.” He paused, looked around the table, and added, “We know nothing for certain.”

  Nikalys glanced over and said, “We could at least discuss plans on what to do if they have the others.”

  As Tobias nodded his silent agreement, Broedi said, “Let us say we all agreed the Cabal hold three stones. What then? They have Soul, we have Stone and Void, and—thankfully—it would seem another of the Daputa Devet has Charge. That leaves five other Suštinata. Five. We could sit around for days, postulating what to do if they have Fire and Water. Or Will and Air. Or Life and Water. Or any of the possible combinations.”

  “There are ten,” added Khin.

  “Yes,” rumbled Broedi. “Ten. Ten ways to pair two Suštinata they might have with the one we know they have. Whatever that trio of stones is—assuming that is what Indrida’s words mean—there are countless Weaves that are possible. Shall we prepare for them all?”

  A quiet, heavy silence filled the room. Tobias had to concede Broedi’s point. Good plans could suffer a bit of guessing while bad ones often involved too much.

  Kenders let out a long, weary sigh. She sounded tired. Then again, they all were. Sleep was a luxury few had time for now.

  A creak of hinges needing a few oil drops announced a new arrival to the gathering. The door at the far end of the dining room opened and in strode Jak, dressed in the new black and silver uniform every Shadow Mane soldier was wearing. Lady Vivienne had the uniforms distributed prior to leaving Storm Island.

  As Jak approached the table, Tobias noticed baggy, dark circles under his eyes. Everyone here was tired, but Jak looked exhausted. Tobias wondered if the longleg had slept at all since arriving here.

  Glancing between the nobles, Jak said, “My Lady, my Lord, I apologize for my tardiness. I was—”

  Duchess Aleece interrupted him by lifting a hand and saying, “You were busy, Jak. No need to apologize.”

  Upon reaching the table, Jak faced the noblewoman, and gave a quick yet respectful bow.

  “Thank you, my Lady.”

  Duchess Aleece smiled up at him, saying, “No bowing necessary. Not here.”

  As Jak stood tall, his gaze darted to the table covered with what passed for tonight’s eveningmeal: two silver bowls of nuts—almonds in one, bitternuts in the other—a slab of pungent white cheese, and a bowl of red plums. The fare was light for a sovereign’s table, but if one considered the shortage of food in Demetus, this was a feast.

  “May I have something to eat, my Lady?”

  Duchess Aleece raised an eyebrow.

  “This is not my table. It is Duke Rholeb who must give you leave to partake.”

  Tobias smothered a slight grin, knowing that she was having a bit of fun with him.

  Turning to face Duke Rholeb, Jak said, “Pardon me, my—”

  In a booming voice, Duke Rholeb exclaimed, “Gods, son! Eat, already! You’re politer than a Borderlands’ baron at court!”

  With a grateful nod, Jak leaned over to grab a handful of shelled almonds. Stepping back, he tossed few nuts into his mouth and began to chew. “Thank you, my Lord. I haven’t eaten since…” He trailed off and dipped his head to think. “…yesterday, perhaps?”

  Nikalys peered up at his brother, a smile on his face.

  “Having a difficult time remembering things, are you? My offer stands.”

  Appearing somewhat irritated, Jak shook his head, “And it will continue to stand.”

  Curious, Tobias asked, “What offer?”

  With quick and quiet sigh of exasperation, Kenders said, “Nikalys has repeatedly offered to smack Jak in the head to see if he can get things working again.”

  “Quite kind of him, isn’t it?” asked Jak. He reached up to touch his head where the bandage had been. With the help of Broedi’s Weave of Life the wound was mostly healed now. A large red welt was all that remained. “I nearly die, and my brother pokes fun.”

  Nikalys’ grin widened.

  “I’m only trying to help.”

  Jak smiled at his brother and tossed a few more almonds in his mouth.

  Leaning forward in her chair, Duchess Aleece looked up to Jak and asked, “Will the commander and Sergeant Trell be joining us?”

  Jak shook his head, saying, “No, my Lady. Both are waist deep into planning with the officers. They send their regrets.”

  “I understand,” replied the duchess, a tiny frown on her lips. “A shame, though.”

  Over the past few days, Tobias had noticed the duchess tossing a few extra smiles in the former Great Lakes sergeant’s direction during strategy meetings. The soldier had been especially gracious to the noblewoman in return.

  Pushing aside her displeasure, Duchess Aleece turned to Broedi.

  “And what of Wren? Shall we wait for him?”

  Over the past two days, Wren had made abundant use of his primary talent: irritating everyone with whom he came into contact. During one particularly testy exchange with Duke Rholeb over the wisdom of catapults atop the towers, the duke of the Marshlands threatened to toss Wren into a cell for the night if he could not argue respectfully. Wren snapped back that a cell would be an improvement over his current accommodations. Following that meeting, Tobias strenuously suggested to Wren that he find something else to do with his time. Thankfully, the tijul had listened.

  Shaking his head, Broedi said, “I do not know, my Lady. He left this morning, intent on investigating the western reaches of the forest.”

  “Alone?” asked Kenders. “Is that wise?”

  Tobias muttered, “Things are best for everyone when Wren is alone.”

  “He will be fine,” rumbled
Broedi. “His title of ‘Leafwalker’ is well deserved. Wren moves through a forest like a gentle breeze, quiet and unseen.”

  “That’s not entirely accurate,” said Tobias. “A breeze rustles leaves. Wren does not. It pains me to say, but he is the best blasted scout I have ever seen.”

  From the still-open door, a too-familiar voice said, “It is ever so nice to hear how much I’m appreciated.”

  Tobias pressed his lips tight while wishing he had kept his mouth shut a moment longer. He, along with everyone in the room, turned to find Wren leaning against the frame of the open doorway, his longspear clasped before him, its butt end resting on the floor. The tijul glanced at them all, a slight smirk on his lips.

  “Pardon the interruption. Please go on. Say something else nice about me.”

  When it was apparent his only response was going to be joint silence, he gave a careless shrug, pushed away from the doorframe, and sauntered into the room.

  “I suppose I should have stayed quiet a bit longer, then.”

  “How about you try being quiet now?” mumbled Nikalys.

  Wren strode by the duchess and Nikalys, patting the young man on the head as he passed.

  “So now you’re a playman, son of Aryn?”

  Nikalys pulled away from the tijul’s touch.

  Completely ignoring Jak and Okollu, Wren moved to the table and grabbed a Marshlands plum. He took a bite, stared at the fleshy pink inside, and made a disgusted face.

  “Gods, this tastes like worms.”

  Duke Rholeb said, “Those are from one of the best orchards in the duchies.”

  Wren eyed the duke and said, “You must be jesting.” Swallowing, he took another juicy bite, chewed a moment, and then reached for Nikalys’ platter. Retrieving it, he spat out the fruit and dropped the remainder of the unfinished plum onto the wooden plate. He put the platter back before Nikalys, looked to Duke Rholeb, and said, “You should do something about the fare you serve your guests. Perhaps you could try to remedy—”

  Duke Rholeb slammed his hand on the table, the crack of open palm slapping wood ricocheting through the room.

  “That’s it!” bellowed the duke. Looking down the table to the duchess, he said, “Blast it, Aleece! I don’t care that he’s a blasted White Lion! He rubs me rawer than a saddle made of scale bark. Can’t you do something?”

  A faint smile spread over Wren’s wide lips as he reached for the bitternut bowl.

  Duchess Aleece raised her hands, saying, “You speak as if they are my pets to control, Rholeb. Trust me, I find him as distasteful as anyone here, but I will suffer him. Broedi assures me his skills are useful.”

  “How exactly?” exclaimed the duke. “I’ve yet to see him do anything.” He nodded at Wren. “Look at him. I would bet coin he does nothing but lounge about his room all day.”

  The tijul’s appearance was indeed pristine, but that was typical for Wren. He could spend a week in the wilderness and emerge without a speck of dirt on him.

  Entirely nonplussed by the duke’s reaction, Wren nodded, saying, “If my help is not required, then perhaps I shall retire to my princely accommodations and ‘lounge about’ some more? Although one can hardly lounge in the closet you assigned me.”

  Duke Rholeb’s face began turning an interesting, deep pink hue.

  Shaking his head, Tobias muttered, “Gods, Wren. Try to be pleasant.”

  Wren looked to Tobias.

  “I cannot help if the duke has thinner skin than Khin.”

  “Perhaps you should go,” rumbled Broedi.

  Tobias waited for the tijul to slowly march from the room now that he had stirred the hornets’ nest. However, he remained in place, chewing slowly, a wide smile fixed on his face.

  “I would rather stay.”

  Despite their many years apart, the mannerisms of Tobias’ fellow White Lions were easily recognizable. Wren knew something and was relishing in the fact no one else did. After sharing a quick look with Broedi—the hillman saw it, too—Tobias glared at Wren.

  “Out with it, Wren. Now.”

  Dipping his hand into the bowl for more bitternuts, Wren asked, “Was I that obvious?”

  The longlegs around the table—and the interminably silent Okollu—all wore confused expressions. Wren tossed a few bitternuts into his mouth and chewed, staring at their bewilderment with mild amusement.

  “These are much better, my Lord. Edible, at least.”

  Sitting forward, Kenders asked, “What am I missing here?”

  “I’m lost, too,” muttered Jak.

  Wren munched the nuts in silence, enjoying making them wait. Tobias shot a look to Khin, hoping the aicenai might be able to scrape the smirk from the tijul’s face. Khin’s blue-eyed gaze was locked on Wren’s face. Another moment passed before Khin spoke, his voice light and airy.

  “He has information about the Sudashians’ movements.”

  Wren’s smugness evaporated like a drop of water on an iron bar pulled from the forge as the tijul turned a sharp stare on Khin.

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  Khin was quiet a moment before saying slowly, “You went to scout, the Sudashians are nearing, it seemed a logical conclusion. Your reaction confirmed my suspicion.” He paused briefly before adding, “You are less clever than you think.”

  More than a few satisfied smiles joined the table at the aicenai’s soft rebuke. Jak and Nikalys especially appeared to enjoy Khin’s words. Kenders, however, was staring at her teacher with suspicious eyes. It was not going to take the girl much longer to learn the truth. Tobias thought Khin should tell her before she accidently blurted out the realization the moment it struck her. He agreed with Broedi. Having an ally who could hear the thoughts of others was incredibly useful.

  “So, Wren,” rumbled Broedi. “What did you find?”

  The tijul turned from Khin to face the hillman, a frown on his face.

  “The forest tells me there is a great force nearby. Two days away. Three at the most.”

  Tobias bit down hard. That was not much time.

  “The forest tells you?” asked Duke Rholeb. “What in the Nine Hells does that mean?”

  Before Wren could snap at the duke—which he appeared ready to do—Tobias interjected, “It is part of Lamoth’s gift, my Lord. He can, ah…” He trailed off, knowing the truth might be difficult for the longleg to accept.

  “I speak with elyrakiil,” finished Wren.

  The duke shook his head.

  “That means nothing to me. You speak with what?”

  With an exasperated shake of his head, Wren said, “The best word in Argot is ‘nature.’”

  “Pardon?” muttered the duke, peering at the tijul as though he had announced the sky was green. “You do what?”

  “You heard me,” snapped Wren. “I speak with nature. Why is that—” Cutting off, he looked down at Broedi. “We were once heroes! Our guidance sought by all! Now, they stare at us as if we have five heads!”

  “This is new to most,” growled Broedi quietly. “A simple, polite explanation will do. Can you manage that?”

  Wren began to circle the table, moving back around the duchess and Khin, heading toward the open window.

  “I will do better than explain.”

  Upon reaching the stained glass, Wren tossed the remainder of his nuts out the open window. Tobias hoped no one was in the courtyard below.

  Moments later, a quick rush of silver filled him and the room as a dozen Strands of Soul popped into existence and began to respond to Wren’s wishes. Despite not having seen it in centuries, it only took Tobias a moment to recognize the pattern, or at least the portion of it he was able to see.

  Kenders murmured, “That’s a new one.”

  Glancing over, Tobias asked, “Life and Soul?”

  Kenders nodded, her eyes fixed on the pattern that hovered outside the window.

  Grabbing his walking stick leaning up against his chair, Tobias hopped down and began to hobble toward the
window.

  “Come along, everyone. You should all see this.”

  Wood scraped on stone as many of those around the table pushed their chairs back, stood, and followed. Stopping near the window, Tobias glanced back to find that most everyone was coming. Okollu remained in place, however. He appeared interested, but the kur-surus would not move from the stones’ side, having more or less assigned himself the task of guarding the Suštinata chests night and day. Broedi and Khin were the only others who had remained in place. Both appeared deep in thought.

  As Wren’s audience assembled, the tijul completed the Weave and, as Tobias expected, the pattern swirled and disappeared, swept along by the wind as a creek might pull a lone drop of tailor’s dye placed on its surface.

  Tobias glanced up at Kenders and asked, “You can still feel the Weave, yes?”

  She nodded, her brow knitted up in confusion.

  “I can. But…but it’s gone.”

  “No,” muttered Wren, his focused gaze still on the open air outside. “It most definitely is not.” The tijul remained motionless, framed by the evening sky and the stained glass window.

  After a number of heartbeats passed with nothing happening, Jak whispered, “What are we—”

  “Hush, John,” ordered Wren.

  Tobias glanced up at the young longleg and found him glaring hard at the back of Wren’s head.

  “This will take a few moments. Relax.”

  The gathered group remained quiet. Taking the time to look around, Tobias turned his attention to the city below. He had already spent hours going over maps of Demetus with Broedi, the duke, the commander, and the officers of the duchy armies, studying things with the critical eye of a tactician. For the first time since arriving, Tobias took a moment to observe the city itself and was surprised to find it quite beautiful.

  Mu’s orb, orange and bright, had swelled and dropped below the horizon, only half its globe still visible above the distant line of treetops. A rainstorm had whisked through the region hours ago, rinsing the air, structures, and flagstone streets clean. The buildings and their rooftop bridges were in the process of drying out, their wood and brick walls a wet and dry patchwork of tans and browns.

  Other than the holy city of Nebekah in the south and Bluemoss, the former capital, to the east, Demetus was the only city of notable size in the Marshlands. After the Demonic War, the Marshlands duchess ordered a new capital built, one as grand as any eastern city. However, she had wanted her new city to have something those ancient, meandering hubs of civilization did not have: organization.