Protector of Thristas: A Lisen of Solsta Novel

by D. Hart St. Martin

  “Yes, that’s all. Then Fa…I mean, my father…brought us up here.”

  “Thank you, Rinli,” Hozia said. “We will consider our decision. When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow night.” Rinli shook her head. “I mean, not tonight, but the night after.”

  “We understood that,” Raakon said gruffly.

  Hozia looked to Raakon then back to Rinli. “We’ll keep Tinlo in the holding cave until we decide, but I’m afraid it will probably be after you’re gone. We could send word.”

  Rinli shrugged. “It wouldn’t change anything. I’m the Protector of Thristas. I have to come back one way or the other.”

  “You may go now.”

  And with a nod and the dominating thought that she wanted them to find Tinlo guilty, Rinli left the chamber wondering how it was she could be the Protector of Thristas and not have a say in these proceedings. Now there’s something I’ll have to change.

  At the end of a fitful night, Lisen awoke to sunrise in an ugly mood. Not only had she not slept well, but her dreams had slithered around her like snakes seeking to strike. Her mind floated in a space filled with tendrils of obscuring smoke, but one kernel of certainty eased her distress. The current crisis had passed and all was safe. Thank the Creators. For now.

  Rinli lay awake, snuggled into Madlen’s back, listening to her breathe. Such a simple thing, breathing, and yet a sign of life. Madlen is alive. I’m alive. We survived. Even two nights later this fact surprised her. Whatever the Elders decided to do with Tinlo, she wouldn’t know until she returned from Avaret again. For now, her satchel sat packed next to the entrance to her chamber, and she couldn’t sleep.

  She rose up slightly and put her lips to Madlen’s ear. “Madlen,” she whispered.

  “Hunh?” Madlen moaned.

  Rinli hesitated. All day her mind had chewed on the same thoughts. No longer simply Rinli anymore, she had to accept the obligations of her new title. She’d first begun ruminating on this when she’d been hustled out of the Elders’ chamber without so much as an acknowledgment of her status. But what was her status? She was the Protector of Thristas, but what did that mean? To her mother it hadn’t been much more than one title in a series of many, but the treaty explicitly stated that she, Rinli, was responsible for defining her potential role as ruler of Thristas. She could change her title or even abdicate when, on her eighteenth outcoming day, Thristas gained full independence from Garla.

  When I return from Avaret this time, there will be changes. She didn’t know what those changes would look like. She possessed no desire to usurp the role of the Elders’ Council; their place as the guardians of The People should remain sacred. She must somehow find a way to work in concert with them, but how? This was where her mind balked and would move no further. Again. Her thoughts would then lead her to Madlen, again, and she would sense the separation growing between them. As children, they’d played as equals. As adolescents, they continued to play and giggle, but Rinli felt the time for giggling coming to a close. Her investiture had divided them; they were no longer equals. Her throat tightened, but she forced the tears back.

  “Madlen?” she tried again, this time determined to awaken her friend, her lover, and begin the discourse that inescapably would alter their relationship. Rinli loved Madlen no less than she ever had; it was the nature of that love which was evolving. Or maybe this was how she’d always felt. Perhaps for Madlen as well, which was why she needed talk to her. Now. Before she left for Avaret. “Please, Madlen, I’ve been thinking.”

  Madlen rolled over and opened one eye. “Ugh, I hate it when you start thinking.”

  “This is important.” Rinli sat up, but Madlen made no attempt to join her.

  “So. Talk. I’m listening.”

  “I want you to consider the question I’m about to ask before you answer.” When Rinli saw Madlen nod, she turned away to look anywhere except at her. “How do you really feel about me?”

  “I love you.”

  “I asked you to consider your answer.”

  “It won’t change. I love you.”

  Rinli shook her head sadly and wondered how she, three years younger, could understand this better than Madlen. But then she felt the Tribe slowly rustling out of their slumber. The moment for leave-taking had arrived.

  “It’s time,” she said, melancholy settling upon her.

  “Rin.” Madlen finally sat up on their pallet. “I am sorry. About Tinlo, I mean. If I’d known he was that…oh, I don’t know.”

  “That captivated by you? No. It’s not your fault.” Still seated, Rinli pulled off her nightshift and exchanged it for the tan tunic she’d laid out this morning.

  “You shouldn’t come back.”

  Rinli wondered what that caution had cost Madlen. “I have to. You know that. Now, get dressed.”

  “What if the Elders decide to believe him?”

  “With three witnesses on my side?”

  “His own grandfather was there. How do you expect that to turn out?”

  Rinli shrugged. “Then my father will find a convenient way to kill him and make it look like an accident.”

  “Precisely. Like he accidentally got stabbed.” Madlen scowled at Rinli. “No one will ever be able to guess how that happened.”

  “Just get up, will you? The mesa is stirring, and I don’t want to have to leave without you there to see me off.”

  “All right.” Madlen stood up and looked around the chamber.

  “It’s over there,” Rinli said, pointing to the stool in the corner where Madlen always threw her clothes. Then she pulled her leather leggings up to her knees and stood to bring them up to her waist where she laced and tied the thong to hold them there. She found her boots where she’d set them and plopped back down on the pallet to put them on.

  “I’m ready,” Madlen announced and turned to face Rinli.

  “So am I.” Rinli stood, and they met nose to nose.

  “It gets harder every time,” Madlen said softly.

  Maker and Destroyer, Madlen. It’s never… She decided to shift the subject. “I have an idea.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s go wait outside Fa’s chamber. When he comes out to get us, we’ll be there waiting for him.”

  Her dark eyes sparkling in the torchlight from the hall, Madlen focused her gaze on Rinli, and Rinli knew Madlen sought a kiss. Accepting that what she and Madlen shared was crumbling and reforming as they stood here, Rinli kissed and held her like always, felt a tear roll down her cheek but wiped it away before Madlen released her and might see it.

  Then Rinli picked up her satchel, and together the two lovers took their last trip for this visit through the tunnels together.

  In the stable, with her father, Hozia, Madlen and the stable hand, Rinli surveyed their little group. She’d left Garla a girl with no status beyond that which she’d gained from being the daughter of the Empir. Now, she would return with a title. What did it mean? It had no tangible meaning that she could see at the moment. Her role remained undefined, and that would have to change. She decided to relinquish her pride, admit her confusion to her mother and ask for her help.

  Farewells exchanged, she and her father mounted up and rode out onto the desert under a twilit sky. She and Madlen had exchanged rushed and hidden heart touches, and the melancholy played in Rinli’s soul again. When she said good-bye to Madlen, she believed she’d said good-bye to all they’d been together. And saddest of all, Madlen still didn’t understand.

  She followed her father away from Terses, and at the edge of hearing came two words in the soft voice of the one she’d left behind.

  “Safe journey.” It blew in on the wind and out again so quickly, Rinli hardly knew she’d heard it when it was gone. Just like our love. And Rinli kicked her horse and jogged up next to her father. For sixteen years they’d made this trek. Soon, she’d do it without him, leaving him with his spouse where he belonged. I am changing. The desert is changing. Everything is changi
ng. But will I recognize it when it’s done?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  FIERCE CHILD OF A FIERCE DEITY

  “So we either put the trial on early to get it over with or we schedule it near the end…” Nalin paused, and Lisen already knew the conclusion he’d come to in the middle of his sentence.

  “Early,” she decided, agreeing with him, and inked her stylus to document her notes for Chesa. “Day three or day four?”

  “Day three,” Nalin said with a nod.

  “And then there’s these,” Lisen said, producing a small stack of letters. “Mutar sent these to me. I got them right before we left for Thristas but forgot about them until this morning. I haven’t gone through them yet, but he says they implicate his brother fairly definitively.”

  “Then we put them in the evidence pile for now.” Nalin took them from her and set them on the appropriate stack.

  “You would think we’d have this all figured out by now,” Lisen commented. “I mean, how many Council sessions have we sat here at this table and planned?”

  “Over thirty, right?”

  Lisen leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. “Creators.”

  “Of course, we’ve never had to properly place the trial of an attempted assassin into the schedule before.”

  “True.” Lisen laughed and straightened up. “All right, what’s—”

  Chesa barged into the room, interrupting them. “My Liege, your spouse has just pulled into the stable. With the Protector.”

  Lisen jumped up from the table. “Forgive me, Nal.”

  “Go. I’ll be here.”

  Lisen bounded out of the room, through Chesa’s office and out to the portico. She’d been telling herself “any day now” for two days, all the while fearing she’d never see Korin or Rinli again. That night, two weeks ago now, had shrouded all hope in doubt. She’d hidden her despair from everyone, but it had clouded her every breathing moment.

  She slowed down as she neared the stable. If she kept running, she’d throw herself into Korin’s arms and would have to face the prospect of self-recrimination later. She mastered her respirations and forced herself to step into the stable casually. A couple of stable hands busied themselves about the horses, and Korin and Rinli, intent on their baggage, didn’t notice her at first. They both looked well, uninjured, lively. A sigh escaped her. They were home and they were safe.

  “Mother!” Facing her father, whose back was to Lisen, Rinli sighted her first. She beamed a broad smile at Lisen, and Lisen smiled back. Then Korin turned, and Lisen watched him soften under her gaze. He stepped to her, put his right palm out and rested it on her chest. She echoed his gesture, and they stood there, his eye locked on hers, briefly. Then they broke apart.

  “Welcome home,” Lisen said. She looked over his shoulder to Rinli who moved towards them with slow, deliberate steps. “And Rin.”

  “Thank you, Mother, but it really isn’t my home anymore now, is it.”

  “Stop it, Rin,” Korin said, though it sounded more like a good-natured tease than a rebuke. “It’s as much your home as Thristas is.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Well, let’s get you in,” Lisen said and led them out of the stable and up to the Keep.

  “Mother?”

  Lisen paused and turned to Rinli who was following her parents. “Yes?”

  “Could you make some time for me?”

  “Of course. A ride?”

  Rinli smiled. “Yes. I’d like that.”

  With one curt nod, Lisen whipped around and trotted to catch up with Korin. The two strode together up the steps and through the portico into the palace. Korin tossed his satchel to a nearby servant and said, “We need to talk.”

  “My office?” she suggested, but as Korin stepped forward into Chesa’s office, she stopped. “No. Nalin’s in there.”

  “He should probably hear this, too.”

  “All right.” His somber tone quickened Lisen’s heart. She wasn’t going to have to ask about what happened two weeks ago; he would tell her.

  Nalin rose as the royal couple entered. “Korin,” he said. “Welcome back.”

  “Holder.”

  Lisen watched as Nalin registered Korin’s grave intent. “Should I leave?” he asked.

  “No,” Lisen replied. She took her seat next to Nalin, but Korin, even after weeks of riding and likely poor sleep on the ground every night, seemed unable to settle. He stood there, worrying his hands, then finally spoke.

  “Madlen’s young admirer made an attempt on Rinli’s life.”

  “Creators,” Nalin muttered.

  “Fourteen nights ago tonight,” Lisen said.

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “You know how I knew, Korin. It woke me up in the middle of the night, and I called out to you.”

  Korin had opened his mouth to respond, but her last words silenced him.

  “You heard me,” she said.

  Korin turned away and with both hands wiped some loose hairs out of his face and back on his head. “Damn it. You know I want no part of your magic.”

  “Where would Rin be if I hadn’t?”

  He looked back over his shoulder but stopped short of connecting with her eyes. “I take your point.”

  “What’s to become of Tinlo?” she asked.

  Finally, Korin came to the table and sat down next to her. “Four of the Elders took all our statements. He remains in their custody while they consider his guilt or innocence.”

  “Then what?”

  “If he’s found guilty, they could lock him up permanently in a cell chamber. Or they could execute him.”

  Lisen nodded. “Why did he do it?”

  “I don’t know. Not really. But I believe he wants Madlen and is willing to do whatever he must to have her.”

  “Sad.”

  “I knew there was something wrong with him at the investiture. He had this odd look in his eyes, and I thought he was going to do something then.”

  “A question,” Nalin interjected.

  “Yes?” Lisen and Korin said in tandem, and both of them looked to him.

  “If she’s Protector of Thristas, why isn’t she part of the group passing judgment on this?”

  Lisen considered his question. This had occurred to her as well, but she’d dismissed it. “Perhaps because there’s never been a Protector of Thristas independent of the Empir,” she conjectured.

  “The Thristan Elders are accustomed to dealing with these matters without interference,” Korin said, “and she’s only been Protector of Thristas for a month. It’s a change with ramifications no one has even begun to contemplate.”

  “I never actually intended for her status as Protector of Thristas to entitle her to any real power. That’s something I anticipate her earning as she matures through the next two years.”

  “Yes, that’s how I interpreted it as well,” Korin agreed.

  “So, what happens if they fail to find him guilty?” Lisen asked.

  “I’ll have to figure out how to protect her. I think she expects me to kill him.”

  “That can’t end well,” Nalin commented.

  Korin shrugged. “Oh, I could get away with it all right. But Rinli must learn how to fend for herself. I’m not going to be around forever.”

  Lisen’s stomach knotted at his words. Why, she didn’t know. It was all part of her sense that the danger hadn’t left yet.

  Korin rose. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my Liege, I think I’ll get unpacked and get some rest before dinner.”

  Lisen started to stand. “I’ll go up with you.”

  “No,” Korin said, touching her shoulder, “you have work to do here with the holder.”

  Lisen watched him leave, appreciated the poetry of his strong and supple body, then turned to Nalin. “Where were we?”

  Nalin ruffled through his paperwork. “We’d just decided on the days for the trial.”

  Lisen looked at her notes. “Yes, day three, correct?
”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Of course.”

  “No ‘of course’ to me. You’ve been tense since I arrived in Avaret.”

  Lisen sat back with a sigh. “I can’t tell you what it is because I don’t know. But there’s something coming that I can’t see and I can’t change. And it’s going to change everything.”

  Nalin took her hand. “If anyone else were saying this to me, I’d call them mad. But coming from you? It’s practically a given. And all I can do is hope you’re wrong.”

  Lisen nodded and said nothing, but in her mind, a response took form. And pray the Creators don’t punish me for my sins.

  They only used the no-longer-secret passageway on very specific occasions, and the opening dinner for Council was one of them, the closing dinner being the other. Much as Korin hated this dark narrow space where he and Lisen had once parted ways philosophically, he had accepted that it was the only way to get down to the Empir’s office without being seen by the guests streaming into the Great Hall below. As he did four times a year, he followed his family, Lisen with a candle in the lead, through the wardrobe in the uninhabited Empir’s bedchamber. All three of their children had arrived on time, dressed suitably and behaving admirably well. Even Nasera had relinquished his usual snappish attitude for the occasion, and Korin wondered what had conjured up this miracle. Just enjoy it while you have it, he told himself as he bent down to step into the wardrobe.

  When Korin emerged into Lisen’s office, he saw her blow her candle out and set it on her desk. The children plopped down wherever they ended up—Rinli and Sen at the conference table with Sen tapping her fingers on it and Nas on the bench. Unlike the other two, Rinli didn’t slouch in her chair, and for a moment, Korin thought he saw her in an Elder’s robes, but that couldn’t be, could it?

  She’s changing. She’s changing into someone I don’t recognize. Where’s the girl who teased her brother and sister? Where’s the child who always had a spontaneous hug for her father? Where’s the walking baby who would dig her head into my pouch and then giggle, turning to look up at me, as she nursed?