Protector of Thristas: A Lisen of Solsta Novel

by D. Hart St. Martin

  “He did. When he took you to Bellin Plain, it broke my heart. I didn’t know where he was taking you; I just knew he was taking you away from me. I think I was burning even then.”

  “So,” Rinli said, recalling now where she’d begun, “you didn’t feel…anything…when I…ordered you to stop? In the stable?”

  “Oh, that. I missed you so much I forgot all about it.”

  She didn’t feel it. She doesn’t know. Even if what Mother and Fa say is true, I’m safe.

  “Oh, good, because I am sorry,” she managed aloud.

  Madlen took Rinli’s hand and brought it up to her chest. “I know,” she whispered, then put her own hand over Rinli’s heart. “I know.”

  They froze there for a moment, and Rinli breathed in the devotion Madlen extended to her. I don’t deserve this. I’ve done nothing to deserve this.

  “Now,” Madlen burst out, dropping Rinli’s hand and her own. “Come. Your destiny awaits.”

  Madlen popped up from the ground and gestured Rinli to join her, but even in the heat of the desert morning, a chill ran down Rinli’s back. “Oh, stop. I’ve got a month-and-a-half yet.”

  “No time at all.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Rinli replied. But she couldn’t hold Madlen’s exhilaration at bay for long. She caught it like a bad fever and allowed Madlen to drag her to the trapdoor.

  Time to present herself to the Tribe at dinner. Time to continue the journey whose every step already lay plotted out for her.

  And deep inside a tiny voice cried out. Is there any way out of this?

  At the end of a table in the dining chamber, Korin sat, on a stool, alone. He took a bite of Thristan food for the first time in four months, and although the brak stew lacked some of the breadth of Garlan cuisine that the kitchen in the Keep excelled at preparing, it satisfied his desire to re-anchor himself to this place which might never welcome him again. Most of his dining mates had ignored him when he walked in, and the few who had nodded in his direction or gifted him with a small smile hadn’t offered him a place with them. Hence, he’d sat by himself. And should Rinli deign to join him for dinner, there was room for her on the bench to his right.

  He still had the Elders to deal with. That task was the next on a list whose timing extended all the way past Rinli’s investiture. He hoped that Elder Raakon, who had so charmingly seen them off back in March, would not be on duty this morning. She’d extracted a promise of a return in July, a deadline which they’d missed—only by a few days—but she was sure to remark on it. He stirred his spoon around in the stew, thinking of the little four-footed brak which made their home in tunnels they dug under the desert floor. They could be vicious, with their sharp teeth and claws, but Thristans revered them as an animal much like themselves—fighting survivors of an impossible environment.

  Into his reverie on the creature that made up a large part of The People’s diet, chaos erupted in the form of two young women bursting into the dining chamber, filled with energy and giggles as they dished stew into bowls and then plopped themselves down on the bench beside him.

  “Fa,” Rinli said, still breathing heavily from an exertion he felt confident in assuming was a run down the tunnels from the top of the mesa.

  “What?”

  “I forgot,” his daughter said. “I forgot how the desert claims me as its own.”

  “It does,” Korin said. “I think those who live here without ever leaving never notice it, but once you leave, coming back has a way of reminding you.”

  “Do you feel that way, Korin?” Madlen asked.

  “Yes, Madlen, I do.” He rose from the table. “Now, I have a duty to perform before settling in on my pallet to sleep today.”

  As he exited the chamber, he heard the two friends jabbering back and forth. He shook his head as he headed up the tunnel. He needed to find a way to sober Rinli up before her investiture. Nobody in Mesa Terses would accept her as a leader as long as she acted like a child, and if word spread to the other mesas, they wouldn’t accept her either. She needed to become the Child they sought in their dreams—an adult fulfilling a prophecy. He felt Lisen’s pain at trying to reach her more acutely than he ever had before.

  Following the tunnels’ familiar twists and forks and turns, he reached the Elders’ Chamber easily and sat down in the alcove to await the Elder inside to invite him in. His stomach churned at the prospect of facing an Elder who might question Rinli’s claim and the Treaty itself. He breathed in deeply, reminding himself that the unknown would become known very soon, and he would deal with whoever came out and welcomed him.

  He sat soundlessly, allowing the echoes of movement in the mesa to whisper in his ear as he contemplated the mountains, both physical and metaphorical, remaining between Lisen and her goal. She wanted nothing less than a complete withdrawal of Garla from Thristas. Pass Garrison would remain, but no longer would it claim “protecting Thristas” as its mission. In the simplest terms, it would shift direction, turning to protect Garla from Thristas as Lisen had said long ago. Not that it hadn’t always been so, but no one in Garla had ever admitted to it, not until the current Empir had forced them to see the truth. Even so, many continued to maintain steadfastly that Garlans cared for their desert neighbors. These were the people The People would never trust. These were the people whose thinking threatened the peace.

  He smiled. Lisen could see the hypocrisy in anything that failed her test for authenticity. And she wasn’t afraid to say so. Early on, during her training and even after she’d become Empir, she’d questioned him, constantly. She’d never actually stopped doing it, but he’d learned to speak the truth to her, even if he worried that it might hurt her. A simple behavior for him but apparently very complicated for others. And she would always call them on it. She refused to suffer their foolishness; she didn’t have time for it.

  “Korin? How long have you been waiting?”

  A familiar voice. He sighed, looked up to see Elder Hozia and smiled.

  “Well, come in, come in.” The Elder gestured him through the curtain into the chamber reserved for the revered leaders of the Tribe. Hozia, her hair gone nearly white now, stepped over to her place on the stone bench that circled the wall and waited. Following tradition, Korin bowed first to the left, then to the right and finally dead center honoring those who served here.

  “All right, Korin, enough. Come sit with me and tell me how things are with Garla, our good Empir and your daughter who means to rule us.”

  With a nod, Korin joined her on the bench. He sat quietly, waiting for Hozia to nudge the information out of him.

  “You and Lisen,” Hozia began. “Still good together?”

  Korin allowed a small nod. “Yes. Life is good with her.”

  “You never expected that, did you.”

  “What?”

  “A mate who could complement you flawlessly.”

  “We are flawless together in our flaws,” Korin said with a laugh. “And to think I’d sworn I’d never see her again.”

  Hozia patted him on the knee. “Let me assure you that nothing would have ever kept you from her.”

  Korin shrugged. To have the inevitability stated so boldly… “She is well. I am well. Our children are well. I can ask for no more.”

  “And yet you do.”

  “What…does that mean?”

  “You want your daughter to be accepted as Mantar’s Child and the deliverer of Thristas, which, of course, I accepted a long time ago. But the rest of The People… You know how it is.”

  “They fight it,” he conceded.

  “They cannot allow themselves to believe that freedom from Garla could be so close. When it didn’t come immediately, they abandoned hope. They see it as a contrivance, a way for Garla to keep Thristas in its clutches. A way for the Empir to appear generous to her own people and yet maintain her hold on the desert as it’s always been.”

  “She doesn’t give much credence to mere appearances.” Korin had accepte
d The People reviling his spouse, reviling him for joining with her and allowing her to parent his children, but he’d never liked it.

  “I know,” Hozia replied. “I know you, and I trust your judgment. I always have. I’m just pointing out how difficult the next few months, the next few years, are going to be. For you, for your spouse and especially for Rinli.”

  “She’s ill-prepared, I fear.”

  “She’s young. She’ll learn.”

  Korin sputtered at that. He couldn’t tell Hozia the truth. The Elder might be a friend, but she’d as likely report Rinli’s hermit powers as she would support Korin in keeping them from the Tribe.

  “You scoff?” Hozia asked.

  “No, no, not at all. I just know how young she truly is.”

  “All right. Enough of friendly chat. The Elders’ Council tasked me with a duty.”

  “Which is?”

  “The investiture is still to take place on the Hanii?”

  “That’s what we’ve planned.”

  “And your final changes to the ceremony?”

  “In my chamber,” Korin said. “They’re in Garlan. I found them difficult to translate into written Thristan, so I’d like to present them to the Council verbally.”

  “Do you have a Thristan translation?”

  “Well, yes, but it’s poor.”

  “Let me see both. I’ll see if I can improve on your work.”

  Korin nodded. If anyone could manipulate newly codified written Thristan into all the nuances of the Garlan original, it was Hozia.

  “Now, when do the Empir and her Will arrive?”

  Korin balked. “The Empir should arrive about four-to-five days before the ceremony.”

  “And her Will?”

  “In deference to his pouched spouse, the Empir gave him leave to stay in Garla.”

  Hozia shook her head and looked on Korin with her sad, slightly rheumy eyes. “The Council is expecting them both. I fear they might take it as an insult if he doesn’t come.”

  “And what about my son?” Korin recognized his anger but couldn’t contain it. “Are they going to insist on him as well? Because he announced some time ago that he didn’t want to be here, and Lisen and I saw no reason to force him.”

  “Korin, no.” Hozia sought to soothe him. “The presence or absence of one member of your family is not in question here. But the Council knows the influence the Will has on his Empir, and they have matters relative to the coming change they want to discuss and then gauge the reactions of both your spouse and the holder.”

  “Are you sure this isn’t a way to lure the head of the Garlan government and the only person who can act on her behalf into one place and then commit some sort of traitorous act?”

  “If it is, I know nothing of it. That thought had occurred to me as well, and I looked for anything suspicious and couldn’t find it.”

  “Then I guess I’m going to have to get a letter off to Lisen right away.” Korin quickly calculated the time logistics in his mind. “If I leave for Pass Garrison tonight, the letter should get there in time for Lisen to summon Corday from Seffa before she sets out. Yes, that should work.” He rose. “Forgive me, Hozia. I have a letter to write and then sleep before I head out again.”

  He left the Elders chamber in haste, his letter to Lisen forming in his head. He had not expected this. He couldn’t deny it worried him—the Elders’ insistence on the Will’s attendance—but better to concede and remain vigilant than to insult them now. The knot of apprehension in his gut tightened. Damn, he hated surprises.

  A rocking and banging accompanied by shouts and grunts signaled to Lisen that her barge was pulling into port in Avaret, and all that remained was the formal finessing of the vessel into its dock. She sat at the desk in her cabin finishing up a letter to Nalin, requesting his presence when she questioned Akdor Ba. She held a candle under the waxwell until the wax was ready; then she poured a little out onto the folded letter, pressed her seal into it and blew the candle out while she waited for the wax to solidify.

  In the few moments of privacy remaining to her, she allowed herself to ponder Elor’s investiture and its significance she’d only begun to recognize after it was done. This was the beginning—the beginning of the letting go and allowing children to move on. The ceremony had proceeded without any incident to mar Elor’s self-glorifying moment, and Lisen had performed her role as both guardian relinquishing her responsibility and Empir approving the boy’s assumption of the title. And then, without apology, she’d left, Nasera complaining all the way to the barge. She made promises of sending him to Tonkin soon for a visit, but she wasn’t sure if she’d keep them. How could she when she didn’t trust Elor?

  A knock at the cabin door rescued her from dragging herself any further through that particular cesspool.

  “Enter.”

  “My Liege,” the captain of the Guard began as he stepped in, “the barge is docked and your horse awaits.”

  “Thank you.” As the guard turned to go, she called out, “Captain?”

  He pivoted back. “My Liege?”

  “I need this to go to Holder Corday in Seffa immediately.” She held out her letter, and the captain relieved her of it.

  “Aye, my Liege.”

  “Any word on Akdor Ba?”

  “None that I know of. I’m sure they’ll know up at the Keep.”

  “Of course. You may go.”

  With a nod, the captain left her.

  She stood up and surveyed her cabin one last time for anything she’d omitted from her satchel, and once she’d secured her seal inside and buckled the satchel up, she headed outside into the brilliance that was the Avaret dock in the morning. She found Nasera leaning on the railing.

  “We’re home,” she said as she stepped up to him.

  “I still don’t know why you couldn’t have left me a few more days with Elor.”

  A little petulant, are we? But she said nothing, and when the captain of the Guard nodded to her at the gangplank, indicating that it was safe to disembark, she stepped around her son and strode directly off the barge to her horse.

  “Make sure somebody rides back with Nasera,” she said as she mounted. At the captain’s nod, she kicked her horse into a trot and headed up the street that led from the dock to the Keep, the clip-clopping of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestones echoing off every building. She was already tired, and the day had barely begun.

  Korin’s horse strained as it took the last turn into the Pass and up the hill to Pass Garrison. He could have sent someone else with his letter, but Under-commander Kopol was a friend. An anonymous Thristan dropping off a letter to the Empir would never get Kopol’s attention the way he would. So he’d jumped on his horse the night after talking to Elder Hozia and brought it here himself, to avoid any confusion or delay.

  He could see the garrison’s stone spire rising into the afternoon sky, and he breathed the fierce air of the desert mountains. Only a few yards away into the Pass itself, he knew the air grew moist and cool. But here, once he reached the garrison, he could turn and allow his eye to encompass Thristas like he could from nowhere else.

  He reached the gate and rode in. The panoramic view could wait until he started back down the mountain tomorrow. For now, he had a duty, a mission, and the sooner a guard rode off for Avaret with his letter, the sooner it would be delivered. A young corporal stepped out in front of him, sword at the ready.

  “Halt!” she ordered.

  Korin pulled his horse up and raised his hands. “I am Korin Rosarel,” he said and watched the corporal hesitate.

  “Don’t be a fool, Santek!” a man yelled from somewhere hidden in the shade, but when he stepped out, Korin recognized him.

  “Beser, you scoundrel,” Korin said.

  “Santek,” the gruff captain said, “meet the Empir-Spouse and friend to the Guard.”

  “Oh, forgive, my lord,” the young corporal said.

  In a move he’d perfected over time, Korin dismounte
d and stepped to the corporal. “Nothing to forgive,” he said. “You did your duty.” He clapped her on the back and turned to Beser. “I’m here to see Kopol. It’s urgent.”

  “Head on up, Korin. I’m sure she won’t mind an intrusion from you.”

  “And I’ll see to your horse, my lord,” the corporal added.

  Korin stopped, turned around and smiled at the young woman. “Thank you. And enough of this ‘my lord’ garbage.”

  “Yes, my… Sorry.” She covered her mouth with her hand, and with a nod, Korin left her there.

  He took the wooden stairs to the second story commander’s quarters two at a time. His familiarity with every creak and moan, every well-worn edge and water-damaged tread reminded him of his time as a recruit here. Never had he expected more than this life. Or, if he were lucky, a promotion to Avaret. As a guard, nothing else. He wondered what his mother would have thought of his early retirement into the lofty position of spouse to the Empir. He could hear her hearty laugh. Of a certainty, she wouldn’t have believed it any more than he did, even now.

  At the top of the stairs, he knocked on the Under-commander’s door and waited.

  “Come!”

  She thinks I’m one of her lieutenants or captains, he thought as he entered. He found her at her desk, deep auburn hair clipped to the level of her ears. When he first met her as he was rushing off to rescue Lisen from Ondra’s clutches, she’d been a formidable presence, and as she looked up and recognized him, he thanked the Maker for her strength then and ever since.

  “Korin!” She stepped around her desk and offered him a chair. “What can we do for you?” He sat down, and she returned to her seat.

  “I need someone to take this letter to Avaret. Immediately.” He held the letter up.

  “It’s private?”

  “For the Empir’s eyes only.”

  “Then give it to me. You damn Thristans fail to appreciate the strength of a wax seal.”

  “We don’t fail to appreciate it; we don’t have any wax for it,” he said, passing it on to her.

  She laughed as she pulled her waxwell out of a drawer in her desk. She held it over a candle and waited for the wax within the well to melt. “Do you want one or two guards to carry this?”