by James Wyatt
“Fairhaven!” A steward’s voice outside his cabin door penetrated the depths of his exhaustion, and Janik sat up in bed. Looking out the window, he could see the square towers and carefully planned streets of the Aundairian capital below. He jumped up and threw the clothes that were scattered around the cabin into his backpack, then slung it over one shoulder. He felt his pocket to make sure Dania’s letter was still there, then hurried out of the cabin with a backward glance to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.
In his years of travel, Janik had never become accustomed to crowds-standing amid a sea of people waiting to disembark, feeling somehow like a sheep being herded for shearing. Even though he was tall enough to see over the heads of many people, he still felt swallowed up in crowds, as though he might drown in their relentless tides. So he breathed a relieved sigh when he finally made his way off the airship, through the busy mooring tower, and down to the relatively quiet, wide streets of Fairhaven.
Now what? he thought. He stood in the red brick plaza outside the mooring tower and tried to collect his jumbled thoughts. He had spent much of the four-day journey from Sharn planning what to do at this moment, but the assassin’s attack and his stint as airship pilot had driven his careful plans from his mind.
First things first, he thought. I’ve got to put this bag down somewhere, and I might not find Mathas today.
He looked around to get his bearings. In contrast to Sharn, with its mile-high towers reaching up to claw at the slate clouds above, Fairhaven spread serenely beneath a clear blue sky. Only the great alabaster palace at the city’s center, to Janik’s right, towered more than several stories. Neat clusters of white-plastered houses lined wide, clean streets. In this part of town, the houses and shops all sported carved lintels and elegantly arched windows. He was surprised by all the green-orderly rows of trees displaying gold and red leaves divided the major roadways, and lush ground covers hinted at beds of colorful flowers in the spring. He spotted the blink dog emblem of House Ghallanda on a large building near the plaza. Shifting his pack on his shoulder, he started walking.
Janik settled himself in a luxurious room in the Ghallanda Inn then wandered into the city. He set out to master Fairhaven, as though he were on another Xen’drik expedition, learning its streets and shops, paying particular attention to fine restaurants and booksellers. He spent the whole of his second day wandering the University of Wynarn, amazed at its size and grandeur compared to Morgrave University, where he taught between expeditions. Everywhere he walked, he kept thinking he saw people he knew-not just Mathas, but Dania, Krael, and-setting his pulse pounding-Maija. But none of his exploring turned up what he sought.
The morning of the third day, Janik sat on his bed, one boot on and the other in his hands, planning the day’s search. He was startled out of his reverie by a sharp knock on the door. “Who’s there?” he called, stuffing his foot into his boot and looking around for his sword.
“Kelas ir’Darran.”
“Kelas?” Janik found his sword, drew it, and walked to the door. “What are you doing here?” Holding the sword in his left hand, he hid it behind the door as he swung it open, forcing a smile to greet the Aundairian.
Kelas’s smile looked genuine enough. “I’ve got some information that might help you, Janik,” he said.
“Information?”
Kelas held out a scrawled note. “Mathas Allister will be pleased to dine with you at the Dragonhawk Towers for luncheon today. That’s the address,” he added, as Janik took the parchment.
Janik shot Kelas a quizzical look. “You found him for me? Why?”
“Too slow!” Kelas laughed. “You should have left for Thrane by now. Instead, you’ve spent two days learning every back alley of Fairhaven and apparently not asking a soul where you might find your friend.” Kelas’s face grew serious. “You saved my life and the lives of a lot of other people on that airship, Janik Martell. So I’m willing to believe that you weren’t lying to me about your business here. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a Brelish spy, and certain people would like you to complete your business and be on your way.”
Janik studied the address Kelas had given him, momentarily speechless.
“Besides,” Kelas continued, “it wasn’t hard to find him. As you said, we’ve got him under surveillance.” Smiling, he turned and started walking down the hall. “Enjoy your lunch!” he said over his shoulder.
“Thanks,” Janik called after him, still staring at the note in his hand.
Dragonhawk Towers, Janik thought. He remembered the restaurant-he had walked past it several times in the previous days. It looked like the kind of place Mathas would frequent: finely carved columns at the door, warm firelight spilling out the windows, high-class clientele, probably very expensive.
I never went in. Why? Janik closed the door and sat down on the bed.
Because I thought I might find him, he admitted.
Again he found himself rehearsing the meeting in his mind. Always he saw the old elf’s face wearing a mixture of horror and reproach, not at all the kindly expression Mathas had worn most of the time Janik had known him. His breath started coming faster and he stood up, pacing around the room as he tried for the hundredth time to think of something he could say-something that would make the horror of Maija’s betrayal and the shame of his ill-advised romance with Dania go away. The spacious room felt much too small. Grabbing his coat, he strode out the door and down to the street.
Walking always helped to clear his mind. Years of long overland treks had taught him to subsume his mind into the pace of his long legs, to think of nothing but the rhythm of his own steps. Some part of his mind was always alert for danger-it had to be, in the wilds of Xen’drik-but he was able to turn off the part that planned and remembered and worried. So he walked, winding through the now-familiar streets of Fairhaven. Almost without conscious intent, he found himself standing in front of the Dragonhawk Towers at luncheon time.
“All right, Janik,” he muttered, finding to his relief that the long walk had stilled his mind. “Mathas is your friend, or was once. Trust him.”
He pulled on the door and went inside.
He cast a quick glance around the crowded restaurant and spotted Mathas, sitting at a table by a window, staring out at the autumn leaves. The elf’s hair was grayer and cut shorter than the last time Janik had seen him-but they had just returned from a long expedition when Janik had seen him last. In civilization, Mathas always kept his appearance up.
A genuine smile spread slowly across Janik’s face as he crossed the room. Mathas saw him and got slowly to his feet, deep wrinkles surrounding his mouth and eyes as he returned Janik’s smile.
When he reached Mathas’s table, the old elf threw his arms around him. Janik returned the embrace, then settled himself into the chair across from Mathas.
“I can’t begin to tell you how pleased I was to receive your invitation,” Mathas said.
“It’s great to see you, old friend,” Janik replied, his throat tight. “I-”
“I was particularly amused,” Mathas interrupted, “by its bearer. I was not aware that Kelas ir’Darran was a mutual acquaintance.”
Janik laughed, suddenly at ease. “I only met him on the airship here. After he threatened to throw me overboard, I started to like him.”
“For three years he’s kept an eye on me,” Mathas said, lifting a cup of tea to his thin lips. He took a sip, then said, “He’s starting to feel like an old friend.” He smiled. “But that might be because I was starting to forget what the company of old friends feels like.” His voice was utterly without blame or anger, and Janik returned his smile.
“I had as well, Mathas, and I’m sorry for that.”
“Kelas indicated that I am soon to leave the country. I must admit to some curiosity regarding our destination.” Mathas sipped his tea.
“Did he now?” Janik laughed.
“Well, not in so many words. I pieced it together.”
“Something like that. So where are you taking me?”
Janik took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I got a letter from Dania.”
Mathas arched an eyebrow. “Really? What did she have to say?”
“Not very much, actually, but she urged me to come to Thrane.”
“Thrane? Hmm. Last I heard, she was in Karrnath.”
“What have you heard, Mathas? I’ve been so completely out of touch-it was all I could do to find you here.”
Mathas leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “Precious little, I’m afraid, and it’s been some time. I saw Dania before we both left Sharn. She told me she’d written to a friend of her father’s in Karrnath, and he’d agreed to give her some work-mercenary work, I believe. I came here shortly after that, so if she ever wrote me a letter, I never received it.”
“When was that?” Janik asked.
“Just after the war ended. We had been back less than a year.”
A waiter approached, and Janik realized he hadn’t looked at the menu. He glanced at it quickly while Mathas ordered, decided on a Cyran duck dish, then fiddled with his fork as he asked, “So, did she talk about me?”
“What do you think, Janik?”
“I think you two probably discussed me to death, but that might just be my inflated sense of self-importance.”
Mathas smiled. “Of course we did-as we have done many, many times over the years. As usual, we came to no conclusions.”
“I hurt her pretty badly, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.”
Janik turned sideways in his chair, scanning the crowded room. Mathas turned his gaze out the window for a moment, then looked back at Janik. “What did she say in her letter?”
Janik sighed. “Nothing about … what happened. It was actually the third letter I received. The first two were from the Cathedral. It’s really the Keeper of the Flame who has invited me to Thrane.”
Mathas leaned forward. “The Keeper of the Flame? What does she want with you?”
“Unclear. I pretty much ignored the first two letters. I didn’t feel like taking up any holy quests. Of course, Kelas assumes the Keeper wants to send us on a mission against Aundair.” Janik smiled.
“And Dania wrote to reinforce the Keeper’s invitation?”
“Exactly. Here, I’ve got the letter.” Janik pulled the folded page from his coat pocket and handed it across the table. He quoted the words he had read a hundred times. “Dear Janik, I’m writing to add my voice to the invitation you’ve already received. I urge you to come to Thrane and hear what the Keeper of the Flame has to say. And so on.”
Mathas read the last few lines of the brief letter, then handed it back to Janik.
“So she has allied herself with the Church of the Silver Flame?” Mathas asked. “Interesting.”
“Yes, that’s one of the things that puzzles me.”
“Well,” Mathas said, looking at the ceiling. “Now that I think about it, I believe that the friend of her father’s in Karrnath was affiliated with the Church. Perhaps she has simply risen through the ranks to some military position with the Church?”
“Possibly. Anyway, as you can see, the letter says nothing important-nothing about our past together, nothing about Xen’drik or Maija …”
“Or me,” Mathas interrupted.
“Nothing about you.”
“So why have you come to take me to Thrane?”
“If the Keeper wants to send me on some expedition, then I need you.” Janik sighed and studied his wine glass. “And I can’t face Dania without you.”
Mathas smiled kindly. “What are you afraid of, Janik?”
Janik sipped his wine, thinking, while the waiter set their food in front of them. After the waiter left, he said, “I’m afraid-” His voice was shaking, and he took a deep breath to steady it. “I’m afraid of the past, Mathas. I’m afraid that seeing her will make missing Maija hurt that much more.” He looked down at his plate.
“Three years have not dulled its bite?”
“Not in the least. I’ve been keeping myself busy-always on the move. It keeps my thoughts from running away with me. But I dream about her all the time, and I keep thinking maybe she’s going to just show up and apologize and make things the way they used to be. I even talk to her sometimes, as if she were still with me.”
“Then you have no clearer idea of what happened?”
“What happened? You saw as well as I did-she took the Ramethene Sword from me and gave it to Krael.”
“No, I mean what happened in her heart. Did you see any sign of a change in her, some dissatisfaction or anger that might cause her to leave us that way?”
“Did we have a big fight in the ruins-is that what you’re asking?” Janik’s voice rose. “Did I drive her away? You think maybe she caught me in bed with Dania?”
“That’s not what I mean, Janik. Nobody thinks what Maija did is your fault, and I know perfectly well what happened with Dania. All I’m saying is that you were obviously closer to her than Dania or I was. I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of people-even you humans-after all these years, and I was completely surprised by what she did. If you have any insight that could help me understand her behavior, I would certainly like to hear it. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry, Mathas.” Janik shook his head. “I was as surprised as you were. I still lie awake some nights trying to understand it, and I just can’t.”
Mathas cut a bite of venison and chewed it slowly, then set his fork down. “So when do we leave for Thrane?”
THRANE
CHAPTER 3
In contrast to the ride from Sharn, Janik enjoyed the journey from Fairhaven to Flamekeep. Agate Star was an airship built for luxury, easily twice the size of the ship Janik had sailed on from Sharn. Her main deck boasted a grand pavilion containing a luxurious dining room, a lounge, and even a small library, though Janik found nothing on its shelves to catch his interest. The deck had room for chairs, and the cabins below were spacious and comfortable.
Janik and Mathas had boarded in the late morning and expected to arrive in Flamekeep shortly after dawn the next day. The old friends enjoyed a fine luncheon together. As always, Janik let the elf choose wine for him, and did not regret the decision-Mathas had extensive knowledge of wines and exquisite taste. Their conversation ranged widely over their shared past without ever straying too close to Maija or dwelling on Dania. Janik was eager to hear of Mathas’s activities over the past three years, and found with some surprise that he had plenty of tales to share as well.
Janik spent the afternoon on the deck while Mathas retreated to his cabin to study. He watched the plains and rolling hills of Aundair far below, idly wondering at what point they became Thrane. No natural feature marked the border, which he supposed might be the reason it had been so hotly contested during the war. He saw two different places-easily a three-day journey apart-where the land still had not recovered from some pitched battle fought there in the last years of the war. He supposed one or the other might lie on the border set in the Thronehold Accords. He wondered how long it took for the earth to heal a scar like that.
As the autumn sun drew near the horizon behind the ship, bathing the deck in golden light and long shadows, Janik changed into formal clothes and joined Mathas in the dining room. In place of the sunlight and chatter of luncheon time, the dining room was now dancing with candles and alive with the soft music of a small orchestra. Janik found Mathas at a small table near the window, just as he had in Aundair the day before.
“I find myself drawn to windows these days,” Mathas said as Janik took his seat. “I don’t know what it is-I can find endless amusement in just staring out, no matter what’s on the other side.”
Janik peered out the window himself. The fiery glare of the airship’s elemental ring all
but drowned out the Ring of Siberys in the deep blue sky, the golden belt of dragonshards that circled the world. He looked at Mathas and grinned. “You must be getting old.”
“Nonsense,” Mathas said. He sipped his wine. “I was old when you were born. In fact,” he continued, “I believe the last time I was in Thrane was before you were born. King Thalin was such a strange man, so … devout. His presence made those around him feel uneasy, as though they might be called upon to praise the Silver Flame at a moment’s notice. I expect the Keeper of the Flame will be much the same.”
“Is it true she’s a child, this Jaela Daran? Eight years old?”
“I believe she must be eleven by now, but yes, a child,” Mathas said. “Ruling part of Galifar like a queen, Sovereigns help us.”
“There must be a regent or something-someone who does the work of government on her behalf?”
“I believe so-a council of clergy of some sort. It’s absurd to imagine an eleven-year-old in charge of affairs of state.”
“Quite. Do you think we’ll be dealing with this council, then? Or someone else?”
“I have no idea,” Mathas said, then he gave a laugh. “Maybe Dania.”
“Sovereigns help us,” Janik replied, rolling his eyes dramatically.
When a waitress approached the table, the two fell silent, not wanting to offend the young woman, who proudly displayed the emblem of the Silver Flame around her neck. She took their order and withdrew, and Janik took the opportunity to change the subject.
