Protector of Thristas: A Lisen of Solsta Novel

by D. Hart St. Martin

  “Well, we rode into Terses. I had no inkling. The stable, everything looked normal. But when we got inside, several Elders and an even larger number of Thristan Defenders greeted us. I should have told her to run, right then. I should have yelled out and then run out after her. Instead, I stood beside my horse dumbfounded. I failed her.”

  “All right. Enough. You’re exhausted. Why don’t you get some sleep in the study. Then we can figure out what to do.”

  “I’m a mess. I should bathe first.”

  She passed her hand down the side of his face. “You need sleep more than a bath. I’ll wake you before dinner and you can clean up then.”

  Korin shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I think sleep has abandoned me.”

  “Let me help you set the cot up,” she offered.

  “No. I can do it.” And with a sigh, he stood up tall and straight and marched his way out of the dining room. Lisen listened to his steps retreating through the Keep, and once she could no longer hear them, she, too, rose and meandered her way to her office. In this way she hoped to give Korin plenty of time to close himself up in the study.

  In her office, she sat down at her desk, an audible sigh slipping from her lips. The answer to the first question on her mind was obvious. She couldn’t not go to Thristas; she couldn’t help Rinli from a distance. She would have to sit with her, talk to her, perhaps even guide her gently into her power, and she couldn’t do that from here. So, if Korin had come to bring her back with him, she would go.

  The next question, generated by the answer to the first, got itself all tangled up in protocol and proclamations and laws. She couldn’t leave Garla without a leader, not in such precarious times. Hence, her first task was to summon Nalin. But how to tell him why without writing it in a letter that could get lost or stolen or, even worse, read by an unscrupulous person. Because she and Korin had to be well gone by the time he got here. An urgent letter sent via messenger would still take a day-and-a-half to get to Seffa. Add to that Nalin’s ride back, and if Lisen waited for his arrival, it would delay her departure for Thristas with Korin by three days or more.

  Tanres. Tanres was the answer.

  And bit by bit, she worked her way through a plan that by all rights should have been given half a year at the least to formulate, but with only an afternoon, she gathered the puzzle pieces and put them together. The picture was as yet incomplete, but she and Korin would have days on the road together to work through the holes in the Thristan end of their plan.

  “So, letters to Tanres and Nalin went out while you were sleeping,” she explained hours later to Korin as they sat at a late dinner alone in their bedchamber.

  “Why Tanres? What has she got to do with this?”

  “Because I want to take Kopol with us. She’s loyal. She knows the desert well for a Garlan. And I trust her.”

  Korin nodded. “As do I.” He took a bite from a leg of lamb, and the juices slipped down his chin. Lisen reached out with a cloth and wiped his chin clean. She nibbled on a sliced apple; it was late, and she’d already had dinner with Nas and Sen. “The children know I’m here?”

  She nodded. “I told them.”

  “And?” He sopped up juices from his plate with a chunk of bread.

  “They asked if your being here had to do with Rinli. I told them yes and that we’d talk to them before they went to bed.”

  Korin rubbed his head. “Damn ride,” he said wearily. “I’ve grown too old for all of this nonsense.”

  Lisen smiled.

  “So,” he continued, “we’d better get to them, then.”

  “We have time. It’s winter. It’s still early. And they’ll gladly stay up as late as it takes.”

  “You’re leaving a lot on your Will.” Korin speared a piece of meat with his knife and placed it in his mouth.

  “I’m reluctant to do it, but what else can I do? Leave Garla in Nasera’s hands?”

  “But what about their annual trip to Casille for Greatdark? Especially with the baby this year.”

  Lisen dabbed a piece of bread in the juices on his plate and took a nibble. “There are lots of options. Bala goes with the children. Or Bala, the children and Kirana come here for the holiday. I’ve included an official invitation in the letter Tanres will give him. Oh, and while I was putting this all together, I redrafted my Ascension Decree and my will.”

  “Why?”

  “You can’t imagine I could go riding off to face unknown possibilities without assuring my affairs were well in order.”

  “So you’ve named Insenlo instead of Nas.”

  Lisen slapped him on the arm. “I might have. Before Elor rejected him. No, if I don’t return, Nalin is to stay on as Will until Nasera is eighteen.”

  Her words fell between them like a huge rock in the road, nearly crushing them both, but he took a deep breath and recovered.

  “I admire you for preparing, but I don’t like what you’re preparing for.”

  “My daughter’s life is in jeopardy. I’ll do anything to save her.”

  “Including die?”

  “Creators, Korin.”

  “Well, what else does ‘if I don’t return’ mean?” He tossed his napcloth on his half-full plate and pushed his chair back. “Damn it, I have no stomach for this.”

  “I don’t know what anything means at the moment,” Lisen said softly. “I really don’t. But it’s Thristas. And they’ve always hated me. Or hated the Empir, more precisely. And until we know what we’re doing, I’m leaving all possibilities open.”

  Korin lifted his wine glass to her. “Then here’s to knowing what we’re doing. Soon.”

  Lisen raised her glass and struck hers against his. “To knowing.” Neither of them smiled.

  They both drank, putting a brave face on a fearsome task, recognizing they must maintain this face until it was done. In front of the children first, then with Tanres. And Kopol. Always with Kopol, for the entire ride. And even with each other, alone together at night, they could never allow themselves the luxury of worry or concern. Concentrate on the mission.

  Korin raised his glass again. “To the children.” Lisen nodded, glasses clinked, and they both rose to tell a thirteen-year-out boy and an eleven-year-out girl that their mother and father would be gone in the morning on an adventure. Lisen already knew what to say. “Not to worry. We’ll be back sooner than you know.” They’d never lied to their children before, not like this, and with luck never would again. But the thing Lisen couldn’t stomach was thinking of her two children here, worrying. And so she would lie.

  “I tried to convince them to let you in to see her alone,” Hozia explained while Madlen nodded weakly. As Hozia continued, Madlen wanted to tell the Elder to forego the details because they were irrelevant. Madlen would get to see her Rinli, and that’s all that mattered. That Hozia had to go in with her left her disappointed but grateful that she had seen Rinli once already and was about to see her once again.

  “All right then,” Hozia concluded. “Let’s go.”

  This time Madlen nodded with enthusiasm. She’d survived the lecture; now she could see Rinli. Hozia would have to remain with them, but Madlen trusted her—trusted her to keep whatever she heard to herself and not share it, not even when the hearings began. Which wouldn’t happen until Korin returned. Had he reached Avaret yet? Her father had said it might be possible for him to get there in nine or ten days. That is, if he didn’t collapse or if his horse didn’t collapse under him. And would he bring the Empir back with him? Madlen had seen the fear in Rinli’s eyes that she struggled to hide, and her mother could be a comfort.

  They rounded the corner to Rinli’s cell together, and the two Defenders stationed there puffed up and challenged the Elder and her companion.

  “No visitors,” the woman of the two declared.

  “I am Elder Hozia, the senior Elder of the Council. You will admit me.”

  “We have our orders,” the man said.

  “And I am the young w
oman’s advocate. Give me access to her, or I shall see you are removed as Defenders.”

  “And the girl with you?”

  “This woman is a witness and a friend. Let us in to see the prisoner.”

  The two Defenders conferred between themselves, speaking softly, but Madlen could catch enough to know that they had orders to deny anyone access—very specific orders. But when they turned back to the two hopeful visitors, Madlen heard her dream fulfilled.

  “You may have a brief time with the prisoner,” the woman said. “But when we order you out, you must come out immediately or there will be consequences.”

  “Of course, but don’t make it too brief. I am her advocate, after all.”

  Hozia urged Madlen through the hole first, and when Madlen arrived on the other side, Rinli jumped up and ran to her. Right palms to the other’s left chest, they greeted one another, and Madlen’s joy and sadness all burst out in tears that slipped down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “No,” Rinli replied, shaking her head. “Never apologize to me.”

  Hozia emerged, and when Madlen turned to look at the Elder, she found the woman smiling at the two of them. “There’s nothing like a friend to make difficult times just a little less difficult.”

  Madlen felt a grin spread across her face. She barely knew Elder Hozia, but she decided she liked her.

  “You two talk. Pretend me away.”

  Madlen took Rinli’s hands in her own, and they squeezed up against the wall opposite where the Elder stood.

  “Any word from my father?”

  Madlen shook her head. “There hasn’t really been enough time for him to even get to Avaret, much less send word back.”

  “Odd. It feels much longer than that. How long has it been? There’s no sense of time in here. I think the guards change, but with just that tiny hole, I hear little and see nothing. Food comes, but I don’t even know if I’m getting fed at the same time as everyone else or not.”

  “You’ve been in here nine days,” Madlen said, deciding that she would start coming by every day to yell what day it was through the hole before the guards could scoot her off.

  “Feels longer. Madlen, listen to me. I don’t know what they’re going to ask you when the hearings do begin, but I want you to tell them exactly what you remember. They caught me in a lie. I don’t want them to catch you.”

  “But you didn’t lie. You didn’t know what you’d done.”

  Rinli brought one of Madlen’s hands up to her lips and kissed it. “I should have known. I’d had ample warning from Mother and Fa.”

  Damn tears. Madlen fought them back this time. “So what you do is…magic.”

  “If I am Mantar’s Child—and I don’t know if I am—you would think a certain amount of what you call magic would come along with that. Then again, it could just be hermit magic, in which case, they’ll probably find me guilty and do whatever it is they do to people who practice hermit magic on others in the mesa.”

  “They…execute them,” Madlen whispered, and Rinli laughed. She laughed for what felt like a long time to Madlen, and then she stopped.

  “The irony,” she said. “Can’t you see it? Tinlo threatens me with his shindah, apparently prepared to kill me. I stop him with the push, and I’m the one who’s going to be executed. I’d cry, but it’s just too damn funny.”

  “Rin.” Madlen’s voice remained quiet. “How can you say such things? It’s a horrible, terrible thing.”

  “And for some reason, it’s my fault Tinlo came at me with a knife.”

  “Elder!”

  “One moment, Defender,” Hozia responded and looked to the two young women. “I’ll go out first. Say your farewells.”

  Locked in a desperate embrace with her beloved, Madlen could see Hozia struggling to get back out through the cell’s entry hole.

  “Get away,” Madlen heard Hozia say. “Don’t touch me. I can do it.”

  “I feel your father preparing to return,” Madlen said softly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He can’t have even gotten there yet.”

  “He’s turning around and coming home.” It was precisely what Madlen saw in her mind—Korin, barely rested from his journey to Avaret, loading up a horse and ready to go. She didn’t know how she saw this, but she’d stopped questioning why. One thing she’d learned separated from Rinli. Whys never brought understanding, only pain.

  He’d taken what some would call sleep and given up on it about two hours before dawn. He’d risen quietly as Lisen remained the captive of her dreams and packed up Lisen’s satchel for her—three tunics, a robe and sandals. He’d never pulled clean clothes out of his own satchel for the duration of his journey back to Avaret, so he’d left it as it was, only pulling a clean tunic from his Garlan supply to replace the disgustingly overused one he’d arrived in yesterday. Then he’d taken both satchels down to the family dining hall and set them by the door there.

  Next, he’d headed into the kitchen for supplies. For the first few days, fresh meat would suffice, but after wrapping up a plucked chicken and a skinned rabbit separately in butcher paper and grabbing some nuts and fruit, he found all the dried meat he could and loaded that up in the food satchel with the other items. Into another satchel he stuffed a couple of loaves of hard bread intended for traveling and three muffins as an early treat.

  They’ve arrested my daughter. He froze, nearly dropping the last muffin on the floor, and stared at the preparation table in the middle of the kitchen. They’ve arrested my daughter. He didn’t—couldn’t—breathe at first. He remembered the moment Rinli had emerged from his pouch and the joy the entire Tribe had expressed at her arrival. He remembered her giggles. He remembered Lisen’s first moments with their child, blinded by the gryl but with every other sense sparkling in amazement at the wonder of her. He remembered her games with Madlen and how Madlen had adopted her as her own baby, her own little sister. They’ve arrested my daughter. Every memory dissolved in the face of those words.

  He twirled at the sound of boots pounding on the floor, presumably following his candlelight into the kitchen. He had no weapon. He was in the damn Keep. Why would he need a weapon? Why hadn’t he strapped on his knife at least?

  But the figure that stepped through the door into the kitchen presented with a familiar silhouette and a broad smile.

  “Tanres,” Korin breathed with relief.

  “I’d say I’m surprised to see you up at this hour,” she replied, dropping her own satchel to the floor beside her, “but I saw the packs at the door out there.” The retired commander nodded towards the dining room, and Korin shrugged. “So what’s going on, Korin? I get this message from the Empir that she needs me here to cover for Kopol, that it’s urgent, but nothing more.”

  “I’ll leave that to her to tell you,” he replied.

  “Well, clearly you’re heading out, and by the number of bags and the amount of food you’re gathering, you’re not going alone. And how the Creators did you get back from Thristas so fast? Didn’t you leave right after Council?”

  Korin picked up his two supply satchels and stepped past Tanres into the dining hall. He plopped the satchels on the table and invited Tanres to sit down beside him.

  “Not a word to Lisen that I’ve told you.” Tanres shook her head, and Korin continued. “It’s Rinli. The Elders arrested her the moment we pulled into the stable at Mesa Terses.”

  “Creators. On what charge?”

  “Using hermit magic.”

  “That’s against their law?”

  Korin shook his head. “It’s not so much a law as a fear.” Korin slapped his palms on his thighs and stood up. “And that’s all I can say. I have horses to prepare.”

  “And I have to find Kopol.”

  “She wasn’t in the stable when you arrived?”

  “No. The place was as still as the snow forests of Grimmal.”

  Korin nodded. “When you find her, tell her I need her out in the stab
le.”

  A few hours later, as light hinted on the eastern horizon, Korin surveyed the six horses he, Commander Kopol and two of the stable hands had readied for the journey, three saddled and three carrying packs. They’d change them out—pack to rider, rider to pack—to keep them all moving as swiftly as possible. He clapped the two stable hands on the back and then turned to Kopol.

  “I assume Tanres was settling in when you left her.”

  “As though she’d never left. The Empir can rest easy knowing the Keep and the city are in experienced hands.”

  “And the Empir filled you in?”

  “Aye. Yesterday afternoon while you were sleeping.”

  Korin nodded. He’d assumed as much when Lisen had told him Kopol was coming. “So now we wait at her pleasure.”

  Kopol smiled at that, a smile which Korin understood. Guards waited, often joking about how waiting comprised the majority of their duties.

  But the waiting proved to be short-lived. Lisen arrived, Nasera and Insenlo on either side of her. They entered the stable in silence, and Korin assumed the children had fought rising at this hour.

  Lisen stepped over to Korin, and with her right hand she held his head steady as she whispered in his right ear. “Tanres is fully briefed, and I left my letter to Nalin with her. We’re ready to go.” At Korin’s nod, she turned away from him.

  “My Liege,” Kopol called out. “We’d best be on our way.”

  “The commander beckons,” Korin said.

  “Fa, no.” Insenlo rushed to wrap her arms around her father, her head reaching to his chest.

  Lisen looked to Nasera. “Nas, remember, if this goes badly, rely on Tanres and Nalin. Trust their judgment. They’ve been through this before, and they’ll guide you well.”

  “But it’s not going to go badly, right?” Nasera protested. “You promised last night that everything would be all right.”