The Zi'veyn: The Devoted Trilogy, Book One

by Kim Wedlock

  The historian grinned as he did his best to ignore the jewels that decorated the nobleman's rich fingers. "Of course! It will be an easy matter! There is plenty of mention of such an object, and I've uncovered much through other projects as well as some leads others have abandoned. In fact, I believe the items to be quite numerous - a number of elven households supposedly possessed them - so I'm certain a few have already been uncovered by individuals who have little idea of what they truly are! I shouldn't even need to travel to uncover what few details I still require, I can just call in a few favours with some friends and colleagues, and once I know precisely what we're looking for, I can reach out to collectors - of course," he stalled suddenly as doubt replaced his excitement, "convincing an elven collector to part with even an insignificant piece will be expensive, even if they aren't informed of its nature..."

  "I am willing to pay whatever is asked," the nobleman replied firmly, and Salus kept conscious control over the hope he felt rising within him at the historian's own enthusiasm. Clearly some things took a truly expert eye, as his own people - people finely trained in gathering information, among other things - had had little luck uncovering anything promising on this subject.

  Tem nodded vigorously, and though he tried reining in his own excitement, he was far from as successful. "May I ask," he began carefully, the brightness of his eyes unchanging, "for what reason do you wish to find such a specific relic?"

  Lord Baymont's expression suddenly softened. The tight line of his lips turned upwards, curving into an affectionate smile, and though he appeared to fight it initially to maintain his regal bearing, he soon gave in. "My grandmother, may she rest in peace. History was a passion of hers - she was one of the first to decipher the mention of such a relic. She always spoke of its significance to elven culture, that its creation was a turning point for them and their society, as unfortunate as it was for us humans, and she deeply wished to find it, but...but she fell ill and was unable to maintain her search." The smile faded as his eyes dimmed in thought. "Her hunt ended before it could truly begin, and for the last five years of her life she obsessed over it. She uncovered what she could from her sickbed, but the torment of being able-minded enough to continue the theoretical work and research, yet broken-bodied and unable to physically leave, to search for it herself or uncover more crucial information still locked away in old ruins...I believe that was what truly killed her."

  His eyes, still distant, dropped to his hands as he fiddled with what seemed the oldest and least impressive ring from the array across his fingers. Tem watched his bearing weaken, sadness lining his own ageing face, and he found that even the attendant displayed some degree of grief when he glanced up at him, while the guards remained professionally unaffected.

  "I wish," Lord Baymont continued as he straightened and, with some effort, forced the sorrow from his face, though it lingered in his blue eyes, "to recover the artefact so that her torment may not be for nothing. I struggle already to bear the thought that the artefact being out of her reach was what drove her to the grave, and though I do not believe for a moment that its discovery will undo her suffering, I hope that it will at least soothe her spirit."

  The historian nodded in understanding, and he smiled sadly. "I understand completely, my Lord."

  "I am glad. It is hard to speak of; I do not wish to do so again." The nobleman rose to his feet, his finery falling about him perfectly once again, draping as though he was made for it as equally as it for him, and the two guards immediately stepped forwards to attention. "Needless to say that anything you need to complete this task, you shall receive, be it money or resources," he continued, apparently unaware of the sudden movements of his entourage, nor the brief panic they evoked in the historian. "I am also more than happy to provide you with my grandmother's findings, though I don't know how much good they would be to you. You've undoubtedly uncovered a great deal more than she managed to..."

  "I thank you, my Lord. I would be honoured to receive any and all help from your esteemed grandmother, may she rest in peace, and I dare say that putting her work to direct use and bringing it to fruition would give her spirit greater cause to settle."

  Lord Baymont inclined his head and graced him with an appreciative smile, then gestured to his attendant who stepped forwards and offered their host a folder. "This is everything. I hope it will be of use - but please be careful with it. Even these papers have great sentimental value to me." He moved towards the door, the guards and attendant following him in perfect time, as though they'd had years of practice, while Tem stepped hurriedly after them. "Though I deem this of extremely high priority, I am nonetheless a very busy man and as such I may well be difficult to reach from time to time. As such, I must ask that you report your progress to a representative of mine in town. His name is Daryl Vakh. You can find him in the Harpy's Nest tavern near the town centre on Tuesday evenings. He'll be waiting for you."

  Tem quickly rushed the last step ahead of them and opened the front door, bowing just as clumsily. "Thank you, my Lord, I shall most certainly report every week."

  "Thank you, Mister Drassa, I deeply appreciate your help - it means a great deal to myself and my family." He glanced towards his attendant and gave the slightest nod of his head, and without waiting for any final questions, offering any further details or the exchange of farewells, he stepped outside and made his way back up the path towards the waiting carriage.

  Eyes flashing in panic and his tongue burning with one last question, Tem quickly started after them, but his path was immediately blocked by the attendant. A small pouch of coins dropped into his hand. "You will be paid with every report," he informed him, "and a greater sum when your task produces results. Consider this an incentive." The attendant then inclined his head and, without waiting for any thanks or query as to the weekly amount the historian could expect, he turned on his heel and climbed into the carriage with the same dismissive attitude as his master.

  Tem couldn't help peering inside, and as the perfect, shining gold within caught the midday sun, a grin swept across his face. He turned back through the door and immediately set to work.

  "You should rest," Teagan said as they stepped back into the Arana's grounds some hours later, but evening had barely set in, and the suggestion had lost its impact after being repeated for the umpteenth time.

  "I'm fine," Salus sighed roughly, rolling his eyes while stifling another yawn as discreetly as he could. He was unsuccessful.

  "You aren't. Twice this afternoon your true emotions showed themselves."

  Yes, Salus was well aware. His eyes had flashed with hope, and he'd had to truly force sadness into them when speaking of Lord Baymont's poor, deceased grandmother. Tem had been completely unaware, of course, but it was shoddy work nevertheless. "Look," he replied, brushing it off, "I've not had the chance. I had a proper sleep about four nights ago, maybe five, but since then all I've had is one or two hours of dead sleep and the rest has been fitful. If I'm honest, I think that did more damage than if I'd just stayed awake."

  "Even so, you didn't go to your quarters at all last night."

  Salus blinked and looked back at him in surprise as they stepped into the atrium, away from the cold, spring drizzle. "You're spying on me?"

  "No; your office light was never extinguished."

  He groaned in annoyance, but as he looked away to dismiss the point, his gaze fell upon a brown haired woman walking in their direction. She didn't look at him, as no one ever did, but he was certain he'd noticed her before. He gave it little conscious thought as he looked back to Teagan to protest, but his irritation had subdued despite a touch of tension passing throughout his body, and he found himself oddly aware of the fact that she had just brushed inches by his shoulder.

  Teagan noticed his subtle change. "Keliceran?"

  "I'll rest tonight," Salus sighed, his attention falling back on his favoured, the moment slipping as suddenly from his mind as it had begun, "but I appreciate your concern - or w
hatever it is. In the mean time, inform the general of Skilan's movements, and send a moth to 'Daryl' to let him know that Drassa has accepted - and have the necessary funds unlocked in his name while you're at it. We've got our historian, now we just have to hope he can get somewhere before the mages get too far ahead of us. And as for the war...well, I'll speak with Malson and do what I can to convince the king to let us try to obliterate the matter, but I think it's already a little too far out of our hands. Dismissed."

  With a nod of acceptance, the portian operative turned and left to carry out his orders, leaving Salus to continue to his office, dropping his boxed nobleman costume with all the others along the way. As always, he had plenty more to do that evening before he could dare trying to sleep, and while he wasn't keen to attempt it for fear of what an awful night he may have, he begrudgingly knew that Teagan was right to pester him. One of his best operatives he might be, but he was also Salus's second in command and the one who dealt with most of his subordinates on his behalf. It was part of his job to ensure the keliceran was at his best, and there was little better than a portian agent to provide the kind of unbiased counsel and occasional prod Salus needed to stay on top of his job. After all, it was far from an easy one, and its stresses seemed to have been hitting much harder and faster as of late.

  But he would handle them, with or without a good night's rest. Because that was his job.

  Chapter 8

  Dawn had broken less than an hour ago, and the early sun was just beginning to weave its way between the surrounding trees, casting long, cool shadows across the camp. Rathen had been awake for only a few minutes, making a very welcome change, and for the first time in almost two weeks, he wasn't skittish with the need to leap out from beneath his blankets and escape beyond the latest town's walls. Instead he lay content on his bedroll, staring up at the underside of the oak tree that had sheltered them through their first night in the hinterlands, his nerves as calm as if he was waking in his own bed.

  The nearest settlement was a day behind them, marking their abandonment of the roads, and ahead lay the promise of several days of peace and little chance of contact with people. They'd reached such wonderful seclusion three days sooner than expected thanks to roads reopening as the soldiers acted on new orders, and Rathen had breathed a sigh of relief the moment the clop of his horse's hooves turned to muffled thumps across the grass.

  Roused by the warmth of the sun as it found them, the others shortly rose, and though the hard and uneven ground had managed to impede their night's comfort, as the slowly rising sun began glinting off of the drops of rain the leaves had caught around them, no one saw fit to complain. The sheet of cloud that had shadowed them since leaving Kora had finally moved off, leaving nothing but blue sky to peek through the canopy.

  The still air was broken only by birdsong and Anthis's own soft, cheerful whistling as he set about preparing breakfast. His incessant chirpiness had barely discoloured, but Rathen suspected he was probably quite accustomed to sleeping in the wilderness while exploring isolated ruins, and after a few minutes, Garon, too, appeared unaffected, though he probably took it in his stride just as he did everything else. Aria was the only one still under the tug of sleep, but when Rathen discovered her damp clothes strewn beside the fire, he understood why. She'd stayed up and run off into the rain.

  "But it smelled so nice," she explained as he dried her clothes with a twist of his fingers, distinctly unruffled by the preceding scolding. "Besides, I didn't go far, just to the edge of the big tree. There were birds flitting about in it, like they were dancing. I just wanted to watch them."

  "You should have woken me first."

  "Not when you were finally sleeping so well." His eyebrows rose at her sudden objection as he straightened her pinafore, and the twenty-year ageing of her voice. "You've tossed and turned every night so far, but last night was the first time you seemed at peace since we left home."

  "That's not a good enough reason, Aria."

  "It's a very good reason."

  He sighed in silent agreement even as he pushed aside his shame at the fact. He couldn't afford to be so useless a father when they were out in the open world like this, especially with a magically-affected ruin so close by.

  But even so, he gave her a very stern look, and she finally shifted under his gaze, her own disapproval melting away. "Next time, Arenaria," he told her firmly, "you either wake me, or you go back to sleep. Understood?"

  She sighed in defeat and nodded her head. "Fine."

  "Good." He combed his fingers quickly through her fair curls, untangling the rain-teased knots, then they joined the others at the fire for breakfast.

  The atmosphere was far from as dense as it had been in the past; the previous five days of travel had allowed them to adjust to one another, and though Rathen and Garon continued to keep out of conversations for the most part, Aria and Anthis were lively enough to keep the whole group's spirits up by themselves. Silences became mercifully less frequent, if no less uncomfortable.

  And so, as one such silence crept upon them a few hours later, Anthis fidgeted in his saddle. Rathen was staring off into the trees, his eyes seeing for miles and his mind just as distant, while Garon maintained the lead, concentrating on their route through the woods to avoid getting turned around. This was little different to usual, except that Aria had fallen asleep, so there was no one to ask abrupt questions nor to be kept entertained.

  He sighed to himself and his eyes fell upon the mage. They narrowed thoughtfully as he revised the past two weeks, and finally decided that his curiosity needed satisfying.

  "So, Rathen," Anthis began casually, pretending not to notice that he'd startled him, "I was wondering about your connection to the Order."

  Rathen didn't turn to look at him. "What about it?" He was quite disinterested in having such a conversation, but he also found himself too relaxed to want to offend him by rudely brushing him off. So he settled for a flat and unfriendly tone that did nothing to discourage him.

  "What do you do? You're a soldier, you said?"

  "I was, a while ago."

  "Why did you leave it?"

  Rathen noticed Garon turn his head ever so slightly in interest of how he would answer, but he merely shrugged. "I had a change of heart."

  "Really?" A touch of surprise coloured Anthis's voice. "What happened?"

  "I...found I didn't fit the position anymore." His brow lowered as he stared ahead. "It was mutually decided that I step down."

  "I see... And did you stay with the Order after that?"

  His brow dropped further as he cast him a suspicious glance, but the historian missed it as he looked down at a small ditch his horse had stepped in and out of. It turned then onto Garon, but he seemed intently fixed to the path, suddenly no longer listening. Rathen sighed to himself. Evidently Anthis had been told something, otherwise he would never have had the thought to ask such a question. And Rathen found himself angered by the inquisitor's impertinence. He straightened in his saddle. "No."

  "Oh... I...didn't know that was allowed..."

  Rathen's eyes narrowed at his tactful tone. "Not all mages are part of the Order." This time the surprise on the young man's face was genuine, and, to his satisfaction, even Garon twitched. "There are a few who use their magic for the good of the country in other ways. You just don't hear about them."

  "I-I didn't know that," Anthis said more animately than he had his careful questioning. "Is that allowed?"

  Rathen nodded, unaware of the darkening of his own expression or the brooding in his eyes. "The Crown is aware of it, though the Order disapproves. It's kept out of public knowledge."

  "...And are you one of them?"

  "No."

  "...Oh..." Anthis's wary eyes flicked towards Garon, but he, as ever, kept himself out of the matter, and as he looked back to the mage he found himself more unsettled in his presence than he had when they'd first met. No further questions seemed willing to leave his tongue. Whatever more he
thought he wanted to know, he decided that he probably didn't.

  "What about you?"

  Anthis's startled eyebrows rose further. "Me?"

  "You're in the mood for sharing," Rathen replied, though not unkindly as Aria began to stir, "so share. Why do you travel so much? From what I hear, you've been all over."

  "Uh, yes." He recovered from the unexpected interest, as meagre and stilted as it was. "Well, field research - and, to be honest, I've never liked to keep still."

  "Why do you do so much field research? I thought most historians locked themselves in libraries or exchanged notes in taverns and relied on other, bolder people to carry out that sort of thing for them."

  Anthis smiled warmly. "I thrive on it," he admitted. "I want to see things for myself, find things - learn as first-hand as I can. There's little excitement in libraries or like-minded meetings in familiar surroundings."

  "I suppose I can understand that - it must get expensive, though."

  "It does," he hesitated, "but I'm given what I need on commission."

  "And that covers everything, does it?"

  Anthis looked away. "It covers enough."

  Rathen frowned at his sudden evasiveness. His voice was still kind, but there was an abruptness to it that was out of place - one, he realised, he would have missed had they only just met - and another conversation was brought to a sudden end. Though it had annoyingly caught his interest, he let the matter lie. Rathen had his own secrets; Anthis was entitled to his own. He wasn't about to pry.

  "I like learning," Aria half-sang, half- yawned, "but I learn at home."

  "Oh?" Anthis asked, suddenly unclamming as his cheer returned, and Rathen found himself oddly pleased for the smile he gave her, as well as the attention. "Have you learned anything interesting?"

  "Well, I learned to read," she began, raising her fingers and counting things off as she thought of them, "I learned to make eggs, I learned to pull carrots and dig for 'tatoes, I learned to ride a goat - they can climb really high - I learned to whi--"