by Guy Antibes
Lia shook her head.
“Then you might be a Separatist, one of those who refuse to join with Tembul’s people, or pro-east, who want to cut the ties with Kandanna and combine as one Torya.”
“I’m pro-Princess,” Lia said. “I’m not opposed to closer relations with Kizru, but I don’t support my uncle, so I’m not a monarchist, and I think it isn’t prudent to cut off ties with Kandanna completely.”
Sirul frowned, but quickly turned his face back into a smile. “So you are Separatist/Kandannan?”
Trak shook his head. How could there possibly be a faction like that? He had to laugh at the political situation that Sirul portrayed. He reasoned that the princess gravitated to pro-monarchy, but without her uncle. “Are you for a neutral Torya?”
“Neutral,” Lia nodded. “After the treatment I received in Kizru, neutral is better. That is basically what we were before the Vashtans and Riotro upset everything.”
Trak put his hand to his chin. “Who has the most right to the throne, your uncle or you?”
Sirul shook his head. “Pullia does, but she has no political or military power.”
“Then why did King Basiul want to marry her off to Lenis? Did he think that gave him the right to invade Western Torya?” Trak looked at Tembul, who shrank away from Trak a bit.
“That is a possibility,” Tembul said.
After sighing, Trak took a few steps back and looked at all three of the Toryans. “I don’t know why you three aren’t at each other’s throats. Pro-east.” He pointed at Tembul. “Separatist.” He pointed at Sirul. “And Pro-monarchy, with you crowned Queen, right, Lia?”
They all nodded.
“Before we head to Zamiel, I think we need an understanding so you three don’t kill each other,” Trak said.
“What are you?” Sirul said with a little antagonism in his voice.
“I am an anti-Yellow Fox Vashtan. After that, I am pro-Trak Bluntwithe.”
“We can all agree with that,” Lia said, putting her arm through Trak’s. “Right?”
“So let’s go to Zamiel with the intent on eradicating the outside influences that caused this uproar,” Tembul said.
~
Zamiel seemed like a jewel set in the middle of the vast forest that grew north of the southern pass. They flew over the city in the light of a full moon. This city was much older than Kizru. It looked to Trak like the city had four rings of walls built over the centuries. It sat on the edge of cliffs that plunged two hundred feet to the river below which wound around the northern edge of the city. He wondered if Western Torya had only fallen under Kandannan influence because of Riotro.
At the center of the most inner wall stood a castle on a knob, nearly a hill, poking up from the forest floor. The same dripping sand architecture made the structure look like it was melting.
“I don’t remember seeing buildings like this in the deserted city that you took us to before,” Trak said, looking at Tembul.
“The style had worn away, but it would be evident if I had shown you more. The insides of that castle will look like any other you’ve been to. Notice how the buildings change midway in the second ring. Like the rings of a tree, you can see where Torya has changed in this ancient city,” Tembul said.
“Have you been here before?”
Tembul shook his head. “I’ve heard stories of Zamiel since I could first talk.”
“I trust they were pleasant stories,” Lia said. Trak heard a bit of her prickliness intrude on her comment.
“Excuse me if I don’t answer. Western and Eastern Torya have been rivals for nearly two hundred years.”
“So they have,” Lia said. “I’m sure my childhood teachings of Kizru were different, but no less tinged with…emotion, shall we say?”
Tembul nodded and gave the Princess a smile. “Well said, Princess Pullia.”
She nodded back.
Silence filled the rest of the trip over the city, and that suited Trak. An argument could be touched off at any time, he realized after their discussion of factions at the start of their journey on the flyer. He disliked the volatility, but he appreciated Tembul’s presence. Trak wasn’t so sure about Sirul, who still stole truculence-filled glances at the princess.
The four of them hid the flyer a league away from the outskirts of Zamiel and waited for dawn to arrive after removing the floater. They joined a busier road coming in west from Kandanna. Trak reasoned that no one would expect them to enter the city from that direction. He observed others randomly starting the final leg of their journeys to Zamiel after camping in the forest.
“Use the Worry spell as often as you can. I can see Riotro and the Vashtans leaving many ensorcelled victims,” Trak said.
“If they’ve all left,” Lia said, “my uncle will be the first.”
“Let us hope not,” Tembul said. “I would rather not be captured as we enter Zamiel, but, hopefully, we will encounter many functionaries on our way to an audience with the king.”
Trak nodded. “I agree.” He pulled down on his knit cap to make sure his hair didn’t show. He fully expected danger at every step while he walked the city.
Their progress slowed as they came to the end of a long line, seeking entrance through the gate of the outer wall. They shuffled up from time to time in line until the road widened, and one line diverged into five lanes divided by low wooden fences. A guard pointed them into one of the lanes. The fifth lane handled traffic out of the city and moved briskly.
With each step towards the high wall, Trak found his anxiety level increasing. He not only had himself to take care of, but the Princess and Tembul, as well. Sirul, he felt, could take care of himself, since he knew Zamiel well and had lived here for six years prior to being impressed into the Kandannan army. Trak wondered what dangers he would face on the other side of that wall. He had been in hostile territory before, so he just had to remember that he had the ability to leave a dangerous area with a thought.
“Remember, Trak’s name is Trakis,” Tembul said to Trak and Lia.
They moved up to the head of the line. Two guards stood at either side of a simple barrier that pivoted up to let each supplicant move forward into Zamiel.
“Your names and your business.”
Sirul stepped up to present them as he had been rehearsed. “I am Sirul, this is Tembul, Trakis, and Lia, Trakis’s wife. We are visiting our relatives.”
One of the guards looked over the pile of goods in the floater. “You all fighting men?”
“I’m not!” Lia said. Her protest made the guards laugh.
“We come from the south, picked up the Kandannan road at Eveliul,” Sirul said.
The guard nodded his head. “I been there once,” he said with poor Toryan grammar. “Go on ahead. Have a nice visit.”
Sirul put his hand out to shake the guard’s hand. Two silver coins, one for each guard, were exchanged. Trak looked at the others dealing with the guards and saw a few identical gestures. He wondered what kind of mansions these guards lived in. Perhaps none, once they shared the informal entrance fee with their peers.
No one else challenged them, but a group of guards stood outside and inside the gates, with eyes roving over those who had gained entrance. Trak looked a few in the eye and smiled. Sirul said that would get the men to look away, and to Trak’s surprise, it worked.
They threaded their way through square after square. Zamiel was at least as big as Pestledown. Sirul led them to an inn that he said he used to frequent.
The Angry Bear looked presentable enough, situated in a cleaner part of the city than some of the districts that Sirul had taken them through.
“Sirul!” the innkeeper said. He raised his hand in greeting. “I thought you had headed west and died in the war.”
“Just about,” he said. “I was saved by these two. This is Tembul and his nephew Trakis, who brought along his wife Lia to see the great city of Zamiel. I had to escape from a Toryan labor camp and sneak over the mountains just north of th
e Northern Pass.” Sirul had cautioned Trak and Tembul to refer to the Lizanti Pass as the Northern Pass and the Dianzan Pass as the Southern Pass. “Tembul and Trakis are from the East, but wanted to see our side of the mountains while they had a chance. Have you got a couple of rooms?”
Trak grabbed Lia’s hand. She had been standing behind Sirul and Tembul. Trak was the tallest of them all.
“I do. What is the color of your money?”
“Eastern, I’m afraid.” He put two silver coins on the counter. “Will these work for a couple of nights while I see if my relatives are still in the city?”
“With dinner and breakfast and a bath for the lady. She’s a pretty one.” He looked at Trak. “She’ll make you some handsome children.”
Trak blushed. “I hope so.”
Lia squeezed hard on Trak’s hand and bumped him with her hips.
Trak smiled.
“I like a fiery lass, too,” the innkeeper said.
“Our floater is in the stable yard,” Sirul said.
“Here you go. Two rooms, next to each other, as it happens.” He looked at Sirul with a leer. “You’ll be able to hear the knocking and the screaming from these two.”
Sirul laughed along with Tembul, and then Trak joined in with a nervous twitter. Lia just glared. Her expression increased the innkeeper’s mirth. “Go on with you. There are some new food stalls all the way over in Maker’s Square. One is selling Santasian food, of all things. You might want to try it, once you get settled, for your midday meal. A bit barbaric to my taste, but it’s popular enough.”
“We’ll do that,” Tembul said. He nodded at the innkeeper who gave a key to Sirul and another to Trak. “There is a side door to the stable yard. You can use that to bring in your things.”
~
Out on the streets, Lia still clutched Trak’s hand. He could sense the anxiety that she felt as she walked out in the open in the city she was meant to rule. Common people jostled her as they made their way past three similar open market areas to get to Maker’s Square. She smiled and bobbed her head in apology, like most other people did. The Western Toryans in Zamiel were more polite than the Toryans in Kizru, so Trak relaxed a bit while they strolled out into Maker’s Square. He hadn’t had Santasian food for a year, and it sounded better to him than the generally bland Toryan fare.
A stall was decorated in blue and scarlet, and Trak noticed the Santasian words on the sign. “I want to see what Toryan’s consider Santasian food,” he said, pulling Lia towards the booth. He stood in line while Lia shook her head.
“I don’t want to eat foreign food,” she said.
“You’ve done it enough before.” Trak smiled at her, still conscious of playing the role of a married couple.
She glared at him. “Not here, I haven’t.” Carefree Lia had gone. He hoped only for the moment.
“We’ll get you something at another booth.”
She formed a pout with her lips and squeezed his hand. “If you can stand it, I can,” she said, and then she let slip an impish smile.
Trak closed his eyes and shook his head. “Playing with your husband?”
“I can play with whomever I like, but I like playing with you best of all.” She squeezed his hand again.
They bantered in the long line for a bit more until they came up to the counter. Two men worked in the booth. One turned.
“What would you like?”
Trak’s mouth dropped open as he looked into the eyes of his former mentor, Misson Dalistro, the chief spy for Santasia.
~~~
Chapter Fifteen
~
Valanna had to compose herself. Snively had saved her from the clutches of the abhorrent Podor Feely. She felt that Snively deserved her help, but trying to rescue someone from the palace cells might put her more at risk than was prudent at this stage of her mission. She paced back and forth in the parlor after Henrig had left. Asem and Kulara had yet to descend the stairs, leaving Valanna more time to stew about the latest crisis.
She didn’t know enough about the layout of Pestledown Palace to come up with any kind of strategy, and it seemed that the rebels weren’t yet ready to pounce on King Harl. It was up to her to save him, and that was what she would do!
“What are you so upset about?” Kulara said as she walked into the parlor.
“Snively’s been taken.”
“Is he in danger of being executed?” Kulara poured a glass of water and gave it to Valanna. “Here. Drink something. Calm down. Decisions should never be made when you are anxious.”
Valanna nodded and took a long drink. She hadn’t had breakfast yet, and her hunger only added to her anxiety. “Is Asem ready?”
“Ready for what?” he said, entering the parlor. “Something has happened?”
“Henrig was here,” Valanna said. “Snively has been dragged off to the dungeons.”
Asem frowned. “And how are the dungeons? I hope they are better than Balbaam’s.” He yawned and seemed uninterested in Snively’s fate. “I’m hungry. Let’s talk about it over breakfast.”
Valanna could only manage to eat a bit of fruit and drink a cup of tea. Snively’s fate hung over her like an ominous cloud. A sense of obligation to free him overwhelmed her as she tried to imagine what she could do. She lacked the poseless magic that Trak had used to free her from the bowels of Marom’s palace in Balbaam. She had never felt that her power lacked more than it did now.
“You are thinking much too hard for so early in the morning. It’s as if the fate of the world depended on your actions in the next few minutes,” Asem said.
“Aren’t you worried about him?” Valanna said. Even she could hear the panic in her voice, the emotions roiling inside of her.
“He is a Pestlan,” Kulara said, as if Snively were an insect.
Why hadn’t Valanna picked up that attitude in Kulara before? Did she imagine it? Asem didn’t seem to care, yet saving Snively was all Valanna could think about. Where had Valanna felt so frantic before? She searched her mind and remembered Derit’s sorrow spell. Had Henrig enchanted her?
Valanna looked at Kulara. “Use the Worry spell on me, please.”
Kulara knit her brow and shrugged. “Worry,” she said looking intently at Valanna.
“Worry,” she said at Kulara and “Worry,” she said at Asem before she blanked out.
The clock had only moved a few minutes when Valanna opened her eyes and sought the timepiece out. Kulara and Asem were just stirring as well.
“Well that was interesting,” Asem said. “The Blue Swan’s are quite devious.”
Valanna nodded. “But why?”
Asem shrugged. “Any thoughts, Kulara?” He looked like he already had an answer.
“To put a wedge between us?”
That made sense to Valanna. She remembered feeling deserted by the couple. “I thought you two were bathed with indifference towards Pestlans.”
“It’s exactly how I felt,” Asem said. “I didn’t mean what I said, if that gives you any comfort. I’m indebted to Snively, more than you might realize.”
“I already know,” Valanna said. “He mentioned about preserving the records of my lineage.”
Asem nodded. “Shall we give him a visit? Kulara?”
“I’ll give him a piece of my mind.” She giggled. “Wait, I’ll take a little piece of my mind back.” Her expression didn’t match her tone. She looked ready to pounce.
“There is no time like now,” Asem said. “Valanna, could you present us to our Vashtan friends?”
“Gladly. Kulara will you shield us before we go?”
Once Kulara had posed and created a shield, Valanna took them to the sitting room of the Blue Swan Vashtans.
All seven of the Blue Swan Vashtans were lined up against the wall, bound with ropes. Valanna closed her eyes and didn’t detect any other magicians, and then she used the Worry spell on all seven. They all blacked out.
Henrig woke up first. “Thank goodness! I had no choice. The Yell
ow Foxes discovered our hiding place and compelled me to go to your house and lay two quite different compulsions on you.”
“We know. Valanna realized that she was compelled to go to Snively in the dungeons, and we would have let her go by herself,” Kulara said.
Henrig nodded. “Luckily, they didn’t put an amulet in my pocket, so they still don’t know where you are staying.”
“Grab your things,” Asem said. “They could return at any time.”
In less than half an hour, Coffun’s house was brimming with inhabitants.
“How did they find you?”
Bestik raised his eyebrows. “Yellow Foxes can’t help but gloat. It has been their undoing in the past,” he said. “They have a network of informants, King Harl’s hired villians, at the markets, and they spotted one of us buying food.” He looked at one of the other Vashtans. “One of us didn’t follow the rules and walked home rather than teleport.”
“I’m sorry,” a Blue Swan said in a small voice.
“Can’t have that happen again,” Asem said. “Details must be followed in this business. We probably better go over what your rules are, and what our rules are, making sure we don’t make a mistake like that again. Errors can be deadly.”
“As this one was meant to be,” Valanna said, “to me.”
They spent the rest of the morning going over what spy craft meant. Asem took the lead and both groups found holes in the other’s operations.
“So has Snively really been caught?” Asem finally said.
“We think he has,” Henrig said. “I didn’t use a truth spell on the Yellow Foxes that invaded our house, but they are so arrogant that they don’t mislead very often.”
They were interrupted by the sound of a key moving in the door. All of them assumed defensive and offensive poses. Coffun gasped when he entered his own house. “You are all together!” he said.
“Has Snively been arrested?” Valanna said.
“That’s why I came. I don’t know why they waited until now, since they could have picked him up at any time. He never went into hiding after he left the meeting at Honor’s studio.”
“They wanted us to separate,” Asem said. “They forced Henrig to lay compulsion spells on us. Luckily, Valanna realized what happened. The Yellow Foxes had tied up our friends here and probably have a trap ready to spring in the palace.”
