Protector of Thristas: A Lisen of Solsta Novel

by D. Hart St. Martin

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  REUNION

  On her second morning in Tonkin, the Zanlot capital in Bedel, Lisen stood in her cabin on her barge, preparing for her nephew’s investiture. She wondered what this day celebrating his independence would bring. The heir of Bedel had dutifully feted her last night at a dinner in her honor, but today belonged to him. And from everything she could tell, he had indulged every whim in his arsenal. She had limited his spending while she served as his guardian, so the Bedel treasury could withstand his extravagance this time, but she hoped he wouldn’t slip into habitual spending.

  Nas had dressed quickly after breakfast and had left the barge immediately thereafter to spend as much time with Elor as he could. This was the end, the grand separation of their friendship, and her son blamed her for his abandonment by his friend. Insenlo had declined Elor’s invitation to join them in Tonkin, and Lisen had gladly given Sen permission to stay in Avaret and avoid the show.

  In her tunic of medium-bright Ilazer green, tooled leather leggings and boots, she stepped out onto the deck of the barge and looked up to the castle of Tonkin. The only other time she’d visited this place had come shortly after Elor’s mother’s execution for treason nearly sixteen years ago. That had been in late fall, and her memories told her the sun then hadn’t shone on the castle the way it did now. The stone they’d used to build it sparkled like the vampires in that book she’d never read, the one that Rusty had told her not to read because “no vampire worth his stuff would get all glittery.” She smiled at her mind’s mention of Rusty. She hadn’t thought of him in years and wished she knew where he was, what he was doing, now. She wished she knew how they’d all turned out—her friends and the Holts—and then she folded that particular set of memories up, stored them away in that corner of her brain she avoided and closed the door on them again.

  She resumed considering the castle. They said the stone had been mined from the mountains in the south, that that was the only place such stone existed, but at least fifty miles lay between here and there. Another one of those marvels, like Stonehenge or the pyramids in Egypt.

  She couldn’t seem to tuck Earth away. Was the date significant? The fourth of August? No, its only significance was Elor’s outcoming day; nothing related to Earth came to mind.

  She turned away from the vista of the edifice rising above her on the hill and returned to her cabin. She had come without servants because she preferred caring for herself to others caring for her, and this was an opportunity to enjoy that rare singularity. It was likely to be a long day—counseling Elor for the last time, the well-rehearsed investiture itself, a late luncheon in honor of the new holder, and then, perhaps, an early leave-taking if she could pry Nasera from Elor’s clutches. She settled into it, braiding her hair and slipping her gold sash over her head and onto one shoulder.

  When she stepped out of her cabin again, the castle glowed more silver in the changing angle of the sun than its early-morning gold. Her goal was the open tent provided for stabling the horses, but as the captain of her guard contingent approached, she knew she wouldn’t be leaving quite as soon as she’d expected. With him came a young corporal with a look of determination on her face. This corporal hadn’t been on the barge so she must have come with some sort of news. Lisen steeled herself. What the guard brought with her didn’t have to be ugly, but the possibilities tended more in that direction than any other.

  “My Liege,” the captain said.

  “Captain, Corporal.”

  Both guards nodded in greeting, the corporal saluting, fist to chest, as well.

  “And?” she asked when neither spoke.

  “Corporal Dila, my Liege,” the young woman said, “sent to inform you that Akdor Ba is in custody and on his way to Avaret. He should arrive within two days.”

  Lisen could almost hear the corporal’s heart beating against her chest in her enthusiasm.

  “Thank you, Corporal. See to your needs. You can travel back to Avaret with us.”

  Another nod accompanied her retreating “my Liege,” and she turned to descend into the belly of the barge, undoubtedly for something to eat. Lisen turned to the captain.

  “We leave for Avaret immediately following the investiture,” she said softly. “Have everyone ready the moment I return.”

  “Before or after the luncheon?” the captain asked.

  “I won’t be staying for the luncheon.”

  “Aye, my Liege.” And with a nod, he, too, was gone.

  Lisen inhaled once deeply to settle herself into the moment’s requirements, then started to march across the deck to the gangplank. Her two personal guards for this trip waited for her on the dock mounted on their horses, her horse between them. Time to face her nephew and his unmitigated glee at the simplest of achievements—growing another year older. She stepped off the barge and up to her horse, mounted it, then she and her security team rode up the hill at a comfortable jog.

  The Zanlot guards at the castle gate promptly admitted them without question. They rode into the receiving yard, and servants took the horses as they dismounted. Lisen strode across the yard to the main entry, an arched door with detailed carvings that made no sense to her, but it wasn’t her door nor her family so she appreciated the craft while feeling no need to know the story. A guard in Zanlot livery opened the door, and inside, Elor’s new clerk greeted her.

  “My Liege,” the young man said, while Lisen wondered yet again if he indeed was a clerk or merely a Zanlot retainer whom Elor had taken in.

  “Yes?”

  “The Heir of Bedel awaits you in his chamber.”

  “And my son?”

  “He is there as well. Allow me.” And with a gesture, the young man encouraged Lisen to follow him up the narrow stairs.

  When they got to the top, he turned right and stopped at the first door on the left. He stepped in, Lisen behind him.

  “My lord,” he said, “the Empir of Garla.”

  Lisen surveyed the room. Elor stood in front of a mirror, primping, in a long sapphire blue gown covered in thin gold braid and crystals of some kind—or perhaps diamonds from his mother’s collection. A servant fussed with his hair, and Nasera lay prone on the bed, head up, his chin resting on fisted hands.

  “My Liege,” Elor said, turning. “Welcome to my day.”

  “Yes. Your day. May it be the beginning of a long and healthy life in the service of your people.” She smiled, but although he smiled back, she recognized the near-choke of a selfish child not content with a life of serving others.

  “Is that how you view your position, Aunt?” Lisen blinked at the adult she heard in his voice. “The privilege and your unquestionable dominion over a world play no part in your definition of your title?”

  “Actually, no, they do not. I take no pleasure in my life as Empir, Elor. My private life is mostly sweet, but my life in public, even in what is considered my home, is more burden than gift. But, like your mother before you, you see only the privilege and remain blind to the responsibilities that weigh that privilege down.” She spoke not only for Elor’s benefit but for Nasera’s as well. Time he saw the tarnished nature of the precious treasure to which she’d named him Heir.

  “Do you like my gown?” Elor asked, and Lisen’s thoughts whipped around before they could settle on the abrupt shift in the conversation.

  “It’s quite appropriate to the ceremony,” she replied. “I think your parents would be pleased.”

  “Do you seriously want to venture into that arena, my Liege?”

  “Perhaps I should take my place in the hall.” As Elor nodded, she stepped over to Nasera and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Say your good-byes here. We’re leaving right after the ceremony.”

  “What?”

  “If you’re leaving because of something I said…” Elor commented.

  “No. Urgent business in Avaret calls me home.” And with that, she swept out of the room.

  As she descended the stairs, a sadness ove
rwhelmed her. She had intended to “venture into an arena,” as Elor had so eloquently put it, but not the arena he envisioned. His was the first outcoming she’d ever witnessed. After a childhood in the haven with celibate hermits followed by a youth on Earth with a people who procreated without pouches, she’d entered his mother’s chamber in the old palace on this day sixteen years ago ignorant in the ways of pouching and emergence. And this ignorance was the reason knowledge of Rinli’s existence had eluded her for so long.

  Rin. Korin. Have you made it to Terses yet? Or are you still traveling? She reached the bottom of the stairs and paused. Creators, I miss you both.

  Korin dismounted in Mesa Terses’ stable after two weeks solid of riding and thanked the Maker for the safe end to this leg of a journey undertaken despite his concern regarding its ultimate outcome—an outcome that remained a mystery. Outcomes always did until they arrived. But this time he could do little more than observe as his daughter’s life balanced on a shindah’s edge.

  As he started unbuckling supplies from the packhorse, he looked across to Rinli who’d hopped off her horse and appeared ready to take on any obstacle that set itself in her way. So much like her mother at that age, he realized. Then why does all this reek of a far higher risk than anything I watched Lisen navigate her way through?

  It’s the proximity, he reminded himself. And this is my daughter, the desert-dweller child of my pouch.

  “Here, take some of this,” he said, and when she turned to look at him, he handed her two of the heavy packs he’d pulled from the horse. He grabbed the other three, securing the strap of one over his shoulder so he could carry one with each arm. The stable hand took charge of the horses, and he nudged Rinli out of the stable with a swing of one of the packs aimed at her leg. “Let’s go. It’s nearly morning, and I’d like to get settled in before the entire mesa comes in for dinner.” He didn’t add that “the entire mesa” would know before they all gathered for dinner that their Heir-Protector had arrived, with the other six mesas likely knowing as well by nightfall tonight. If someone had told his younger, unassuming self that his name would echo throughout Garla and Thristas in an often less-than-complimentary fashion, his younger self would have scoffed and sworn to avoid any possibility of that. But the cost of anonymity would have been Lisen, and he regretted nothing in regards to her.

  “I wonder where Madlen is,” Rinli said from in front of him as they climbed up the tunnel to the inhabited levels of the mesa.

  “Probably waiting for you.”

  “I’ve missed her.” Korin heard the delight in her voice. “I’ve missed us, here,” she added, turning around to talk directly to him while walking backwards. “I’ve missed everything.” She raised her arms up and out despite the weight of the packs hanging from them, encompassing the fullness of her desert life.

  “Turn around. You can appreciate it all once we can set this stuff down.”

  “All right. All right.” She turned her back to him again and plowed forward in her determination to get where they needed to be.

  They arrived at the entry to his chamber, and after he grabbed the torch from the sconce directly outside, they both entered. It looked exactly as it had when he and Lisen had packed up their things to head back to Garla four months ago. Nothing had changed. Or… He shook his head. Nothing had changed.

  He set one pack down, and as he was about to set the other one down in a spot on the far side of his chamber, he heard an unmistakable step and then an exclamation from his daughter.

  “Madlen!”

  Korin turned to observe the two girls as they hugged and kissed each other. This was Rinli’s first contact with her friend since their farewell and the push. Could he discern Madlen’s state of mind? Because how she felt, what she felt would be of paramount importance. Was she sincere? Or was she pretending? Had she recognized the push, revealed it to someone who had then recruited her as a spy? Or had she been waiting for months, silent and unapproached, to welcome her friend back? What did she know? Or did she know nothing? His daughter’s life depended on the many mysteries that were Madlen.

  In the end, Madlen pulled away, though only by a couple of inches, and looked to him.

  “Korin, welcome home,” she said in that soft little voice that conjured up her child self in Korin’s memory.

  “Thank you, Madlen,” he replied, dropping the second pack. “It’s good to be home.” As he slipped out of his robe and laid it on his pallet, Madlen rushed to remove Rinli’s robe as well.

  “You must be hungry,” Madlen said as she fawned all over his daughter. In another, these could have been the words and actions of a traitor, but in Madlen they spoke soundly of her love.

  “Isn’t it too early for dinner?” Rinli asked and then looked to her father with eyes that implored him to allow her a little time alone with her beloved.

  “All right, go. But I want you back to have dinner with me this morning. And yes, Madlen can join us.”

  The two young women ran out of the chamber, stifling giggles, and Korin looked around realizing that Rinli had already started leaving clothes on the floor. He picked up her robe, folded it neatly and set it on top of the stool beside the entrance. He loved her, but she lacked the most basic discipline, and for a person accustomed to the discipline of the Guard, it made sharing a chamber with her an experiment in constant frustration.

  He sat down on the pallet and stared at the packs still bulging with their contents. Rinli was going to have to organize her belongings and place them in the chamber set aside for her years ago. Although it was likely that his chamber would pass to her once he was able to leave her behind and return to Lisen for good, for now, this chamber was his.

  He thought of his spouse, of the Bond they shared from the Farii when Rinli had been conceived and of the years they had spent together and apart. As a dedicated member of the Guard, he’d never expected to share his life, such as it had been when they’d met, with any woman, much less a woman like her. And in the beginning, her royal status had set her up as unobtainable in his eyes, potentially destroying any chance they might have had together. But something—some thing—had pushed through the hierarchal wall that divided them, drawing him to her, and what that was, if he allowed himself to admit it, was her pragmatic approach to the world and the truth of her place in it.

  Enough. He stood up and pulled his own satchel around and opened it. Tired and hungry with at least an hour or so left before dinner, he figured he could unpack. Discipline. Too much could undo one as easily as not enough. The trick was balance, and that was another gift. Another gift, from Lisen.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE GIRL WITH NO NAME

  She was the girl with no name. Rinli knew many thought of her that way. Years ago when asked to choose a surname, she’d hesitated. She couldn’t choose Ilazer; that would insult Thristas. She had also refused Rosarel for reasons having to do with her mother though she didn’t understand them. So, she had chosen to go only by Rinli. Or, she amended, Rinli of Garla. She sighed. Or “the Child,” as some call me.

  Her first morning back, she sat here on top of the mesa, leaning on her favorite rock, watching Madlen in front of her drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick. It was one of those moments when the silence could deafen a person. All those who worked on the mesa’s crown had just left at the hint of sun on the horizon, bound for dinner below, leaving herself and Madlen alone.

  The desert at sunrise. This is home, not that bustling metropolis the Garlans call their capital. She’d noticed how quick Garlans were to speak in disapproving tones of Thristas with its mesas’ tight, enclosed spaces, but Avaret was no better with its shiny buildings for nobles, humble houses for the merchants and dirty hovels for the poor, all crowded into a tight little space of its own. She rejoiced at returning to Thristas and sitting here with Madlen on the ground before her.

  “Tell me, Rin. What is it like in Garla? Are you going to miss it?”

  “It’s green and it’s w
et, and no, I’m not going to miss it.”

  Madlen tossed her stick aside and looked away at something—perhaps nothing—in the distance. “Will you miss Korin when he goes back to the Empir?”

  “Probably. Yes, him I will miss.”

  “And your mother? I mean, I know she upsets you.”

  “Not as much as she did.” She watched Madlen shrug and pick up her stick again. “Uh, Madlen, there’s something I need to say.”

  Madlen looked up at her. “What?”

  Rinli stared up at the sky in an effort to avoid the fathomless brown eyes that invited her to sink in. She didn’t want to drown in them, not yet. “I wrote letter after letter to you trying to say this, then destroyed them all before we left.”

  “What?” Madlen asked again, reaching a hand up to urge Rinli’s head down. Their eyes met.

  “I’m sorry I was rude and abrupt with you when I left last time.”

  “No, it was my fault. I didn’t want you to go. I don’t know what I was expecting to accomplish. I’m filled with a burning inside, and sitting here with you quells it.”

  “So you’ve been burning up all the time I’ve been gone?” Rinli asked, overwhelmed to the point where she’d forgotten why she’d started down this path of conversation.

  “In a way.”

  Rinli looked out into the distance, focusing on nothing. “I was conceived up here. I’m nearly sixteen and I’m already a myth.”

  “I sat beside Korin as you emerged. I thought you were mine.”

  Rinli laughed. “I know. He speaks of it often.”

  “You think it’s funny?” Madlen asked, sounding hurt.

  “I’m sorry,” Rinli said, Madlen’s reaction confusing her. “It’s the picture of this little three-year-out girl claiming my father’s child as her own.” Rinli paused, then continued. “It’s also the picture of my father allowing that girl to continue to think his child was hers.”