Six Heirs

by Pierre Grimbert

  They all understood what that meant.

  “It’s tragic, but at least we will know the fate of some of our friends,” declared Grigán. “Lady Corenn, would you mind reading them to us?”

  She gathered up her courage and began, pronouncing each name with gravity, despite the fact that she desperately wanted to finish the reading.

  “Jalandre, Rébastide, Mess, Humeline, Tomah, Braquin, Nécéandre, Tido, Rydell, Lonic, Salandra, Darie, and Effene...”

  “Poor Humeline,” Bowbaq murmured after a long moment of silence. “Poor all of them.”

  His pain was sincere, as was the pain of Corenn, Grigán, and Léti. But at the same time, they were freed from the painful uncertainty that had gnawed at them until now. They weren’t any less tortured than before; all had sensed the terrible news for some time.

  “The parchment that you found must have been the same type of list,” Grigán remarked. “But you and your children are the only Arque heirs, right?”

  “Yes. The family had another branch, but they died out with my grandfather’s brother.”

  “How did the Züu make these lists?” Léti asked.

  “Excellent question. That brings us back to one of the three we brought up earlier.Who started all of this?”

  “Corenn, I’m sure you have an answer you want to suggest,” said Rey.

  “Maybe. But I would like to hear your opinions first. If I tell you now, that might influence your judgment.”

  “All right. I suggest we immediately eliminate the idea that the Züu are solely responsible. They never act on their own.”

  “That’s not true,” objected Grigán. “History is full of exceptions. The Züu have always used their...influence to preserve and expand their territory.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of the Kurdalène story too. Don’t forget that I’m Lorelien. But the heirs never planned on annihilating Zuïa’s cult, at least not that I know of. Nor invading their island!”

  “That’s true. I didn’t even know that they existed two moons ago,” Bowbaq added.

  “You, no,” Corenn said in a serious tone. “But another heir? Or several?”

  “Do you think it could be one of our own?” Léti said, surprised.

  “I don’t know. It’s possible. That would explain the precise lists, at least.”

  “The Guild might have found the names and addresses,” Rey proposed. “Just a little bit of research, two or three ‘hands-on’ interrogations, and the Züu would have all the necessary information.”

  “That’s a possible explanation. The other, more frightful one requires the culpability, or at least the complicity, of an heir.”

  Léti observed seriously, “Unless it really is their goddess who is judging us.”

  A silence spread over the group, no one wanting to react to the idea, too fantastic and horrifying.

  “Well,” Corenn began again, “think. What could bring someone to unleash all this?”

  “I want to say greed, because that’s often the right answer,” Rey said. “But I don’t see how that could be true in our case.”

  “Vengeance,” Grigán said with confidence, “I know you don’t agree with me, Corenn, but I am almost sure I’m right. Only revenge could bring someone to carry out such horrors.”

  “Who would want vengeance upon us?” Bowbaq asked.

  “And why?” Léti asked, incredulous.

  “Lots of people, maybe. The nobles who still grieve their emissaries, like in Goran or Jezeba. A descendant of Nol the Strange. An heir, unhappy with his lot in life.”

  “None of these reasons seem to justify the assassinations of eighty or a hundred people,” Rey objected.

  “You really think so? I will give you an example: your own, actually. We all know that Reyan the Elder carried the enviable title of Duke Kercyan. A title that should have been passed on to you, as well as the land, the castle, and the family’s wealth. On returning from the island, everything was taken from him. And you received nothing. Is it really inconceivable to think that you, or any one of the heirs whose ancestors were disgraced, could develop over the years an unrelenting blind hatred, tinged with madness?”

  “That sounds so real coming out of your mouth, I’m starting to wonder how I haven’t considered it before,” Rey jested, wincing. “All right, fine, a point for you. Your explanation still has one flaw. Since I have nothing, how could I have hired and paid the Züu?”

  “Someone as mad and determined as I described could very easily hide away his riches for years. And I wasn’t accusing you, either.”

  “Oh, really? I was starting to doubt my own innocence.”

  “Grigán, according to your theory, why wouldn’t this man, thirsty for vengeance, just wait until we were all reunited on the island? Why would the Züu instead do everything they could to prevent us from meeting up?”

  “Precisely to prevent us from doing what we’re doing right now: finding the one responsible. I’m sure we must know him. We just have to search among those who are still alive.”

  “The culprit could easily fake his own death,” objected Yan, who was forcing himself to forget his own worries to participate in the communal reflection.

  “We will never find him,” Bowbaq said in despair. “We don’t know who it is, we don’t know what he wants—”

  “We will find him,” Corenn declared firmly. “Our only chance of getting out of this mess is to have a conversation with him. A candid conversation.”

  Rey threw in, “I’m pleased to see that everyone here realizes how futile fleeing would be. Beyond living on the summit of some inaccessible mountain, or in the middle of some desert, sooner or later we’d be flushed out one by one by the Züu and the Grand Guild.”

  “Thanks, Rey, I really needed something to cheer me up,” Yan said.

  “Aunt Corenn, we aren’t getting anywhere. Tell us what you think.”

  Five attentive faces turned toward the Mother, who took her time collecting her thoughts.

  “Well, I don’t think that the Züu started this either. That would mean they are acting solely out of religious fanaticism, and nothing, to our knowledge, has pushed them to do that. So they were hired.”

  No one interrupted her, waiting impatiently for her to continue.

  “Maybe it is a bit naive on my part, but I do not think that vengeance could make someone, even someone who had gone mad, assassinate children they did not know and never could know. Especially since the victims more or less share his misfortune, and certainly aren’t responsible for it.”

  Grigán couldn’t help but add, “You know what I think about vengeance and madness.”

  “Yes, I know. But in my opinion, someone as deranged as you have described could not organize something that requires so much preparation. And it seems to me that his behavior would have given us reason to begin suspecting something years ago.”

  “Maybe. But not all the heirs came to the gatherings.”

  “Logically, those who did not come were either uninterested or completely ignorant about Ji and of their ancestor’s past. So they would not have much reason to hate us so vehemently.”

  Grigán didn’t offer any more objections. He remained unconvinced, but had no more arguments left.

  “I think, in spite of everything, and as horrible as it sounds, it is one of our own. The Züu are too well-informed about our history and our traditions. How many people in the world know about the Day of the Bear? One hundred? One hundred fifty? Not much more. And how many have been to the island?”

  “You think it has something to do with the island?” Bowbaq asked.

  “I am sure of it. There’s only one interesting thing about the heirs—what’s on that island.”

  “I don’t see how that would make us targets. We don’t even know what it is,” Grigán disagreed.

  “Sorry to interrupt you,” Rey said, “but could someone tell me what there is on the island?”

  Corenn and Grigán exchanged a look, but their decisio
n had already been made.

  “I am sorry, but we cannot speak of it,” Corenn declared. “We have already gone too far...”

  “Wait, wait—I am, myself, an heir. I would appreciate it if you kept that in mind, so I can get something out of it for once.”

  “I’ve never been to Ji either, you know,” Bowbaq said to the actor. “It’s not so important, it’s not an obligation.”

  “We made a solemn oath,” grumbled Grigán, “as did our ancestors before us. No one has ever broken it. We aren’t going to start for you.”

  “That’s a shame, I thought I’d found some open-minded people—”

  Corenn cut him off. “Your curiosity will soon be satisfied anyway. We are going to the island on the Day of the Owl. As we have always done.”

  Yan, Bowbaq, and Léti froze. This statement was heavy with meaning.

  “That’s only a few days away. A little earlier, a little later, what’s the difference?”

  Grigán responded clearly. “We aren’t allowed to talk about it, except when we’re on Ji. That’s all there is to it.”

  Rey gave up on trying to change their minds, and signaled to Corenn to continue.

  “Right. As I was saying, in my opinion the only thing that could interest anyone in the heirs is the secret on the island.”

  “Well, now I’m going to have trouble following!” the actor complained.

  “That’s why,” Corenn continued, “I am almost sure that it must be one of the heirs. Only the heirs know about it.”

  “And so?” Rey interrupted.

  “Corenn, I’m curious to hear how you’re going to explain the connection between the assassins and Ji,” said Grigán.

  “Only two things can be the cause. Only two things, since we have already dismissed vengeance as a motive, can drive a man to such acts. Ideology and self-interest.”

  “Now I’m the one who’s completely lost,” Léti said. “What’s ideology?”

  “The convictions and beliefs, moral, political, philosophical, religious, or otherwise, that an individual or a group hold to be true. Simply put, their opinions on a subject.”

  “I don’t see how the heirs’ gatherings could go against someone’s beliefs,” Grigán said. “Or we’d be talking about madness again.”

  “I do not think it is about ideology either. I am more inclined toward self-interest.”

  “I should have stuck with my answer from earlier,” Rey joked. “Is there treasure there?”

  “I wish. At least that would make everything clear,” Grigán answered. “What kind of self-interest? Wanting to keep anyone from finding out about the secret?”

  “Something like that. I think the man behind all of this knows a lot more than us about the island’s mysteries.”

  Corenn let some time pass, enough for her words to sink in.

  “Maybe he has always known about it, or maybe he recently discovered it. But it’s obvious that there is something fabulous on that island. Riches, limitless power, supreme knowledge. You know, it could be any number of things like that.”

  Grigán nodded. Corenn’s theory was very reasonable.

  “Whatever it is, he doesn’t want us to discover it. Something very peculiar has happened, or will happen, on Ji. That’s why our enemy did everything he could to keep us from getting there. And that’s why we need to go.”

  They stayed silent, impressed by Corenn’s ability to reason, and more than that, by her conclusions, so weighted with implications.

  “Who do you think it is?” Bowbaq finally asked.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t have any names to propose. Given the evidence, it must be someone who has considerable wealth...”

  “But the only rich heirs are the descendants of Arkane of Junine,” Grigán said. “Who never came to the gatherings, Thomé excepted.”

  “And the Arkane lineage is coming to an end,” Corenn added. “The queen Séhane will die without children; the barons are already arguing over the throne.”

  “Remember when I said that Ji was nothing more than a curse?” Rey commented. “But this queen has to be our main suspect?”

  “In theory, yes,” Corenn responded, “but I already had the chance to meet her, and she didn’t seem all that devious. She is an elderly woman who cultivates kindness and politeness, while the barons display only condescension. Moreover, she doesn’t know the secret.”

  “Since I’m missing a piece, you could say a very significant one at that, you will have to excuse me for not understanding right away,” Rey complained again. “Do we at least know if she’s still alive?”

  “She is not on my list, which leaves us some hope.”

  “Maybe we could ask her for help?” Yan suggested. “She would do it, for your ancestors.”

  “And what kind of help do you want from her? We won’t be any safer in the Baronies than here,” Grigán answered.

  “Actually, I was thinking, since she’s a queen, she could more easily find traces of the other heirs.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Corenn announced, upon consideration. “Maybe that is what we will do, if we do not learn anything on the island.”

  “I have something else to propose,” Rey responded. “The Small Palace Market.”

  “In Lorelia?” Grigán asked. “What do you want us to do there?”

  “Meet the Züu. And buy information from them. That’s what I was planning to do before I met up with you.”

  “Refresh my memory,” Corenn asked. “I know I have already heard about it, but the details escape me.”

  “Once a dékade, in the old Royal Commerce Commissioner’s palace, they host a market that is a bit special. There, anyone can sell any type of merchandise, even illegal. Especially illegal, actually, as that is what is exchanged there most often. And the Züu are there...how should I put it? Permanently.”

  “You want us to bargain with them?” Grigán protested.

  “Why not? If they gave me the option to buy back my life, you better believe I wouldn’t hesitate.”

  “Just walking up to the Züu doesn’t seem safe,” Corenn objected.

  “The Small Palace is a truce zone. The Crown uses it as a method to keep an eye on all the traffic, and the place is overflowing with spies. The officers watch the entryways and guarantee safety. To my knowledge, everything’s always gone smoothly.”

  “I’m warning you, Corenn, I refuse to haggle for my life with assassins.”

  “The idea repulses me, too, but maybe we should try that avenue, if Ji doesn’t deliver a solution.”

  The warrior didn’t add anything. He figured he would make himself heard when it mattered.

  “Well, either way, the best we can do for now is wait for the Bear. That leaves us two days to think it over,” he concluded, standing up from the table.

  His companions soon did the same, then they all attended to their nightly chores, except for Léti, who approached the warrior. “There are three days left, right?”

  “Two. You’ve counted wrong.”

  Léti froze.

  “That’s impossible! That means that today was...”

  She couldn’t finish her thought, which died in a sob.

  Feeling awkward, Grigán waited hopelessly for someone to come help him, but no one had paid any attention to their conversation.

  “It was the Day of the Promise, yes,” he finally said. “I thought you knew, everyone thought you knew...”

  She turned around and observed each of her friends. Yan seemed to be sulking.

  “I’m going to go for a walk,” she said to Corenn, tearfully, before running off.

  Four inquisitive faces turned toward Grigán, who mumbled, “I didn’t do anything. I can’t fix all our problems.”

  He refused to offer any other explanation. Yan wanted to go and comfort Léti, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

  Surely, she would prefer it if Rey were the one to go.

  For everyone, it was an extremely long wait for that fateful day. C
uriosity gnawed at each of them, as did anxiety at the thought of exploring Ji and its mysteries. Needless to say, the prevailing tension in the group didn’t improve the atmosphere.

  Rey and Grigán stuck to haughtily ignoring one another, except when the actor made a joke behind the warrior’s back, which happened often enough, and consistently triggered a more acerbic verbal spat.

  Léti didn’t know how to act toward Yan, and he didn’t know what to think or how to react. From time to time, the young woman would make an attempt at reconciliation, but was it out of pity? She also spent a lot of time with Rey. In the end, Yan decided he wouldn’t make any decisive moves until things became clearer. Léti soon made the same decision, and so things between them remained unchanged.

  Grigán spent most of his time patrolling the area surrounding their camp and keeping a close watch on the island. He didn’t come back to camp until nightfall, when it became impossible to discern a boat landing on the small island. His biggest fear was that they would fall right into a trap set by the Züu on Ji, and even if they didn’t talk about it, everyone else feared the same thing.

  From the start they considered the question of how they would cross the sea to the island, but the problem was soon resolved. The fishermen of Berce, like plenty of other fishermen, simply left their boats on the beach. So all they needed to do was “borrow” one. Grigán had already picked out a craft, equipped with a sail, whose owner lived outside the village. The skiff, separated from the rest by a few hundred yards, might escape the Züu’s likely surveillance.

  The rest of their preparations didn’t amount to much. The warrior asked them to make a few torches and suggested that they take advantage of their forced inactivity by gathering provisions of all varieties. As usual, Grigán took charge of hunting and brought back plenty of game.

  But, at the end of the day, they were still left with a lot of free time, which they filled as best they could. Rey tried to give his companions lessons in different Ithare dice games, but none among them was a very good player, whereas the actor was very experienced and won almost every round.

  They thought for a moment to be entertained by a demonstration of Bowbaq’s powers; he could not say no to Léti’s urgings. But the results were far from spectacular. The horse that served as a guinea pig simply charged and whinnied, as if it had gone crazy. Worried about maintaining their low profile, Grigán asked that they stop the experiment, to the great disappointment of Léti, Yan, and Rey.