Protector of Thristas: A Lisen of Solsta Novel

by D. Hart St. Martin

  Korin handed Lisen the bottle.

  “A toast to Lael,” Lisen said and pulled out the cork.

  Not long after, she and Korin headed back to the Keep, leaving their friends and their family to celebrate on their own.

  “That was lovely,” Lisen said as they mounted the steps to the great entrance. Korin nodded, and they entered the white edifice with its supporting columns. Safe once again, or at least as far as her Guard was concerned, Lisen paused in the hallway. “Life,” she mused, and Korin paused beside her. She looked up at the ceiling high over her head. “It’s forever changing.”

  “Indeed,” Korin replied. “Change is the rhythm of the desert.”

  Lisen took his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I like your desert. I always have.”

  “Niko,” Korin reminded her, and the two of them separated and headed together to her office. Only the primate of Avaret could require an explanation of the Empir, and Lisen intended to comply.

  Madlen sat in Rinli’s chamber, morose for reasons she couldn’t define. Rinli’s departure three weeks ago had filled Madlen with dread. Something was changing, but try as hard as she might, Madlen couldn’t comprehend it. One part of her wanted Rinli to never come back, not with the Elders’ Council continuing to meet and saying nothing of what they were meeting about. The decision regarding Tinlo was made; what could they be talking about now?

  But the other part of her soul desired Rin more than she ever had before. A desire to hold Korin’s daughter in her heart, hold her tight and safe, and praise Mantar, both Maker and Destroyer, that she still lived. That’s what held Madlen captive—feelings of awe and worship that possessed no boundaries.

  Something was changing, and Madlen felt herself changing, too. She’d been a frivolous girl before Tinlo’s failure to attack, but now she’d matured into an ever-thoughtful woman, ready to accept what Mantar and even the Garlan Creators had prepared for her.

  Her sadness dissipated, and she wiped away the tears she hadn’t felt falling. Rinli had to come back; her destiny was in Thristas. No matter Madlen’s feelings, Rinli would face it all and persevere.

  Mantar’s Child. It began as a whisper in her mind.

  Mantar’s Child. A louder thought.

  Mantar’s Child. She put her hands up to her ears to block the scream and realized only after she’d done it that the scream was silent to the world.

  “Mantar’s Child.” There, she’d said it. Out loud. No one could hear save she, but her doubts had dissolved. Rinli was Mantar’s Child. And one day everyone would know it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  THE GIFT OF FORGIVENESS

  Rinli stood in front of her wardrobe, entranced by a mirage—a mirage of pictures or images or—she wasn’t sure what. What she did know was she shared experiences with her mother that she’d never been aware of before. The attempt on her mother’s life by Akdor Ba. The attempt on her own life by Tinlo. The manipulation—of her mother by that hermit, of herself by her mother. Indeed, they shared experiences, and therein lay a truth, a truth Rinli couldn’t yet define.

  She returned to her wardrobe, saw the light-grey wool tunic with the panels of Ilazer-green silk and made a decision. She’d always avoided wearing anything resembling Ilazer green, but her growing respect for her mother had motivated her to commission this particular tunic immediately upon her return to Avaret nearly two weeks ago. She’d intended to save it for the closing dinner, but she felt a need now to say thank you to a parent who continued to reach out to her despite every insult Rinli had lobbed at her. And today was the perfect day because today her mother would sentence Akdor Ba.

  The sentencing of a noble for an offense against the throne carried with it a host of delicate considerations, and Rinli didn’t envy her mother the task. It brought her back to her own experience with the Elders’ Council. At the time her exclusion from their discussions regarding something as important as a threat on their Protector’s life, on her life, had seemed a way of diminishing her importance. Now she thought perhaps their leaving her out might have been a decision borne of wisdom.

  Dressed and feeling—perhaps for the first time—like her mother’s daughter, she trotted down the stairs, her long hair loose, fostering an air of freedom. Unlike the time between Council sessions when the Keep maintained a small contingent of guards working while sending the rest to Pass Garrison or out to recruit new members, guards stood everywhere. Each one nodded to her as she passed, but when she reached the door to her mother’s office, she was surprised to find herself blocked from entering.

  “You know who I am,” she declared.

  “Aye, my lord.”

  “My mother requested I meet with her here before this afternoon’s meeting began. You are keeping me from complying with a direct order from your Empir.” Although she managed to keep her expression stern, inside she couldn’t help smiling at her tone of authority.

  “Aye, my lord.” The guard opened the door and stepped aside. Rinli entered the office and realized as she did so that she was interrupting an important discussion between her mother and Holder Mutar Ba.

  “Forgive me,” she said with a nod and started to back out.

  “No, no, Rinli. Come in.” And her mother complemented her invitation with a backward wave of the fingers of one hand. Hiding her discomfort, Rinli took a seat on the bench on the opposite side of the room from where her mother sat at her desk, Holder Ba in the center chair right in front of her.

  “Mutar,” her mother said, presumably resuming the conversation, “be assured that I have taken everything surrounding this case into consideration in determining your brother’s punishment. Including the feelings you expressed to me in your letter.” She held a piece of parchment up, and Rinli watched as Holder Ba nodded.

  “Thank you, my Liege. It has been a difficult time for my family.”

  “Of course, it has. And clearly, despite your legal battles with him, you love him very much. Be patient. In a few moments you’ll hear my decision which I trust will leave you with some hope.”

  The holder rose, and Rinli’s mother stood to escort him out the door. She put a reassuring hand to his mid-back and said something Rinli couldn’t hear right before the door closed behind him.

  “Now,” her mother said, turning to her, “are we still going riding once I’ve taken care of Akdor?”

  “I…I think I may not want to. Another day perhaps?” Up until this moment, Rinli had planned on that ride, but something…something said this wasn’t the time, that once again changes were on the wind.

  “Of course.” Her mother sounded confused though agreeable. “Now. Go and sit with your father. I’m not sure if there’s anything to be learned from today’s proceedings, but I’m sure you’ll find it if there is.”

  Rinli jumped up, gave her mother an impromptu hug, which felt awkward not only for her but, she suspected, for her mother as well, and then started to leave the room.

  “Thank you,” her mother said, bringing Rinli to a halt.

  “For what?” she asked, looking back.

  “Your tunic. It’s lovely.”

  Rinli smiled at her mother, then turned and left, pleased her tribute had been noticed.

  People mingled throughout the hall. In years past, Rinli would have stood in the middle of them all, her heart pounding in anxiety. Today, she knew her place, and she was one of them. Why couldn’t she feel like this in Terses? Because I don’t know the rules. Not the laws of the mesa nor the Tribe nor The People. Not the unspoken guidelines by which all Thristans lived. No, it was the unconscious soul of The People she must know, and she and her father were due for a long conversation on their return to the desert.

  She worked her way through the crowd to the public entrance to the Council chamber, climbed the steps to the observers gallery and made her way down to the first row. Her father awaited her there as the room began to fill. Everyone wanted to know what Ariannas would do with the man whom the impaneled judges had d
eemed guilty of treason. She knew her Uncle Nalin had sentenced Elor’s mother to death for a similar crime, but Nalin had been acting as an avenging Will, believing the Empir’s protracted absence after her abduction indicated she was dead. So, although technically Lorain Zanlot had been executed for treason and not for murder, Holder Corday had chosen to end Zanlot’s life without mercy.

  All this and more she’d learned from reading the scrolls in the third floor library. She didn’t think her mother knew what she’d been doing all the days and nights this visit when she’d arrived late for meals or missed them entirely. She suspected, however, that her father was fully aware of how she’d been drinking up every bit of the past she could find, hoping it would help guide her in her quest to lead the Tribe.

  The two-minute warning bell sounded from the tower outside, and Rinli’s heart started to pound. What a moment. She couldn’t imagine how her mother felt right now. This was power—the ability to dictate another’s fate. It could carry a person away, Rinli realized, and yet her mother had never seemed “carried away.” How did she do it? How did she balance the greatness of her power with the simplicity she shared with Rinli’s father when Avaret was quiet between sessions? However she did it, this was how Ariannas Ilazer survived the heady seduction of supremacy.

  The bell sounded again, and the room settled into quiet. The door to the Empir’s office opened, and the judges came out first, Bala cradling her new son. They took their places behind the table but did not sit. Next came the Empir’s Will. Cane in hand, he headed for his chair beside the throne. Finally, the Empir, and everyone stood. She strode in, a piece of parchment in her hand, and gestured for the room to sit. A little shuffling as the Council complied and then quiet took over again.

  “Bring in the prisoner!” Rinli’s mother shouted because her voice had to carry out into the hall beyond the public entrance. She stood and waited. It was an easy wait compared to Akdor’s. He had been forced to sit three days in the dungeon after the judges had rendered their verdict. The Empir wanted all her judges present for this so she had put back the sentencing until Bala could attend. Bala sat calmly and pulled the baby up into the nursing sling, his feet up and head down into the pouch, and Rinli wondered absently if her father had ever nursed her in the middle of some important meeting.

  A scuffling in the back signaled the arrival of young Akdor. The guards brought him up the steps, his hands and feet shackled, his head shaved. Did that mean execution? Or had the guards performed the act merely in preparation for the possibility?

  The guards led him to the steps and helped him up onto the dais, and standing on either side of him, they planted themselves as poor Akdor shook a little but remained upright.

  “Do you have anything to say for yourself before I pass sentence?” the Empir asked.

  “Oh, my Liege, I am so sorry. I was a fool. Please. Forgive me.”

  When he said nothing more, Empir Ariannas pulled the parchment up and spoke. “I’ll be brief.”

  This is it, Rinli thought, the manifestation of power.

  “Akdor Ba, having been found guilty of treason in the attempted assassination of your Empir, you are hereby sentenced to life in exile on the island of Kakalos.”

  Akdor went limp, but the guards caught him and kept him from falling. “Oh, thank you, my Liege,” he said, on the verge of some sort of outburst. Rinli felt as though she were inside of him, aware of every emotion roiling about within his soul. “This will be such a relief to my family.”

  “I caution you,” her mother continued, “do not take this lightly. Your crime against the throne is grievous and could have resulted not only in my death but in a series of subsequent events that might have brought our world to a crisis point. Your constant companions on the island will be guards, several of them. You will be allowed visitors, but they must first petition me for permission to see you. Anyone found visiting you without said permission will be sorely punished. Do you understand?”

  Akdor nodded. “Yes, my Liege. Thank you, my Liege.”

  “Don’t thank me until after you’ve seen the place. I hear it’s cold, wet and windy, and the accommodations are primitive at best. Now, off with you. The guards going with you have been notified, and they will take you now. You will have a few minutes to say farewell to your brother and any other family, and then you must go.”

  As the guards started to grab him, he yelled out, “I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t deserve your mercy, and I laud you for it. I can never hope for your forgiveness. I know I’ll never be able to forgive myself. I am so, so sorry.”

  Rinli jumped up from her place on the bench and rushed to the steps where the guards, nearly carrying him, brought Akdor down to take him from the chamber. She blocked their way, forcing them to stop. She knew her mother watched from above on the dais, but her soul demanded its moment with this man.

  “I’m so sorry,” he muttered softly as they met face to face.

  Rinli looked into his eyes, saw true contrition welling out from them and said, “I forgive you.”

  Gasps sounded throughout the Council chamber. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken loud enough for everyone to hear. Head down, she side-stepped to allow the guards and a now-willing Akdor to move past her, then raised her head again to look up at her mother on the dais. Tears? Did she see tears in her mother’s eyes? But for a second, and then her mother shook her head and waited for the guards to get Akdor fully out of the room. Rinli made her way back to her place and sat down. Her father grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Nothing more, but she knew he approved of what she’d done.

  With a deep breath, her mother spoke again. “Thank you all, for your indulgence in this distraction. Enjoy the remainder of your afternoon and evening. We will reconvene in the morning at which time we will return to our usual Council tasks.”

  Empir Ariannas pivoted on the ball of one foot and was out of the room before Rinli could take a breath. As Holder Corday and the judges rose to follow her out through the office door, the room filled with the noises of scuffling, talking and nervous laughter.

  “She never fails to impress,” Rinli whispered to her father.

  And her father whispered back, “Neither do you.”

  Lisen sat alone in her study in front of the fire. Less than an hour ago she’d sentenced a man to life on the “Anvil,” and he’d thanked her for it. Preferable to death, I suppose, she thought. But still… She sighed and took another sip of her wine.

  Rinli forgave him. Did I hear her right? “I forgive you.” Yes, that’s what she said. That moment held the distinction of being one of the most, if not the most, remarkable moments of her life.

  And as soon as Rinli had spoken, Akdor had relaxed like a man redeemed. What power did Rinli possess that she could calm the fear and anxiety of a person in the throes of a terrible fate? It had nearly left Lisen speechless. Every word she spoke today, before and after, had been prepared in advance, but once Akdor had left the room, it had taken her a moment to find her voice again.

  Another sip, and she leaned back in her chair. Forgiveness. Akdor had said something about not being able to forgive himself. And that’s when Rinli had stepped in, offering him a gift someone in his position would normally find hard to accept, and yet…he’d accepted it. Was forgiveness that simple? Of course not. Look at her anger at Eloise. Even when Korin had urged her to go to Solsta and forgive the sooth, she hadn’t. She didn’t know the way. And how long had she tangled herself up in multiple knots over crimes committed to save lives and country? All the right reasons, never the right acts. And here was Rinli, opening innocence up to a guilty man.

  “Wow,” she muttered as she realized Rinli was neither her nor Korin’s daughter. Not in this ability she had to comfort the sins out of the sinful. Was it the elusive Mantar’s influence? She’d never pictured that snaky deity doing anybody any favors ever. Or perhaps Madlen had taught her how to cleanse her soul. So, who was Rinli, Protector of Thristas? A hybrid mixture of all the best
she’d known all of her life. It was the only answer Lisen had, and lifting her glass alone, nobody to hear her, she toasted the daughter she’d only now begun to know.

  Two days of Council left and then we’re done, Nasera thought as he all but skipped his way across the plaza. His mother had declared the rest of the afternoon free, and he’d decided it was time to drop in on his cousin. Elor had promised early on in the session to let Nasera know when he’d be available for a visit, but Nasera had never heard from him. So, well aware that what he was about to do was a precocious move, Nasera would drop in.

  Without a second look, the guard at the old palace door nodded Nasera inside. With only a few steps from there to Elor’s door, he was there before he’d formulated the appropriate statement of purpose. He couldn’t just come out and say, “I’ve missed you. Let’s visit like we always used to visit.” That was a little bold and far too obvious. Too childish, as well. No, he had to say something nonchalant, irrelevant, on his entrance to ensure Elor’s welcome.

  He knocked on the door, still reaching for the words.

  “Enter!” Not even a “who is it” which would have provided a few more seconds.

  Nasera cleared his throat, opened the door and was about to speak when Elor preempted him. And he wasn’t alone. He and Tazori Dors sat on the couch together.

  “Oh, it’s you.” A definite note of disappointment.

  “Uh, yes.” Nasera gave Holder Dors a nod.

  “I’m sorry, Nas, but as you can see, I’m busy. You should have arranged a time.”

  “I tried,” Nasera replied, fighting the tears. I’m my mother’s son. She never cries, so I won’t either. “If you remember.”

  Elor stood up from the couch and turned to face him. “You never understood, did you. You’re a child compared to me, immature. I only put up with you all those years because I couldn’t stand your sisters.”