Solomon's Journey

by James Maxstadt

  “Do you think that’s the best way to go?”

  “I do. From what you’ve told me, we now have the biggest army in the Greenweald.”

  “Yes, well, a lot of that has to do with the beating that Towering Oaks took.”

  “Regardless. We have the numbers.”

  Childress regarded her and sighed. “Why do I think you have plans that you’re not filling me in on?”

  “Because I do, of course,” Jocasta laughed. “Why should I tell you everything, old man?”

  “So that I can protect you from the impetuousness of youth, obviously,” Childress responded dryly. “What are these plans?”

  For a moment, Jocasta considered making something up. Telling him that she had plans for Whispering Pines to become the ruling House. Anything to get him riled up.

  But no. Childress was fun to tease, but he was too sharp for that. He’d see through her. Besides, she did need him.

  “I don’t know,” she finally said. “I’m just not going to have our House be the pawn of others any more. Not Towering Oaks, not Glittering Birch, and not anyone else. We control our own destiny from here on out.”

  “I see. I confess that I don’t see our past cooperation with the other Houses in quite the same light you do. Be that as it may, I do have news to share with you.”

  “Great. Spit it out.”

  Childress glanced at the door that was still open. Jocasta sighed, got up and closed it and then returned to her seat. Protocol said that Childress should have been the one to rise, but given his age, Jocasta made an exception.

  “Now spit it out.”

  “Jamshir is alive.”

  “No kidding. We knew that already, didn’t we?”

  “We did. But we weren’t sure what it meant. Was he plotting revenge? Was he preparing for war? Now we have answers. I managed to slip someone into place over there.”

  “And?”

  “And he’s doing nothing. He’s sequestered himself in his chambers for days on end, refusing to allow even his servants in. According to my source, the smell is so ripe that no one can even stand to be near the rooms.”

  Jocasta laughed. “He always was a lunatic.”

  “There’s more,” Childress said.”

  “Go on.”

  “His army is in disarray. General Bragnold is nominally in charge, but he walks around in a fog. When he answers questions, it’s almost as if he’s in a dream. He issues no orders or directives.”

  “Then why don’t they get rid of him?”

  “They can’t. He answers directly to Jamshir and no one else. No one has the authority to remove him. Oh, some isolated groups are training on their own, but the majority are treating it like an extended holiday.”

  Jocasta narrowed her eyes.

  “Are you suggesting something?”

  “Suggesting? Me? No, I don’t suggest, dear. I recommend, counsel, and advise. But I never suggest. I will tell you the best course of action, and you will either do it, or you won’t.”

  He smiled to take the severity from his words, but Jocasta noted that it never reached his eyes. No, the old man meant every word of what he said.

  “Then out with it.”

  “Attack. Now. They are weak and vulnerable. If you don’t feel your troops are ready, align with Towering Oaks again. Now is our chance for revenge.”

  She considered Childress. She never took him for a reactionary, but here it was. Even for all his wisdom he couldn’t see the path forward that would benefit their House the most.

  “No,” she said. “In this I do reject your ‘counsel.’”

  “Then what? We continue as we have been?”

  “Of course not, Lord Childress. You forget yourself. You have a Head of House now. One that you helped put in place. Now, you’ll listen to her. When she chooses to seek your help.”

  Childress opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap. For the first time since Jocasta had known him, from the time she was a child, there was ice in his voice.

  “As you wish. I’m sure you know better.”

  I might, she thought, rising from her seat and leaving him there.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  An hour later she stood on the training ground, watching her soldiers bash each other with wooden practice swords. They were undisciplined, the trainers as well as the trainees. Yet, there was a certain savagery to it that was gratifying to watch. Right now, she didn’t need shipboard discipline. She needed killers who would wade into battle unafraid.

  “Lady Jocasta.” Darius stood at her elbow.

  “Mmm?”

  “You have a visitor.”

  “And? Find out what he wants and get rid of him. I’m busy.”

  “He’s from Towering Oaks, Lady. He says he’s been sent here by their Head of House.”

  Jocasta sighed. She wanted to send this emissary on his way. But they weren’t ready yet. This was the part she hated. Playing nice for the sake of politics. Well, hopefully that would all be over in the near future.

  “Bring him here…no wait. I’ll go to the library. Bring him there.”

  This was Towering Oaks. They didn’t need to see any of House Whispering Pines training.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The man was waiting for her when she arrived. Unlike Childress, he wasn’t seated at his leisure, instead standing ramrod straight where he could see her enter.

  “Lady Jocasta,” he said, and bowed.

  She had to admit, his form was excellent. That vaunted Towering Oaks discipline.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked.

  This one could work for Childress, she thought, when her blunt opening had no effect on him.

  “My name is Orlando. I come from House Towering Oaks, at the behest of Lady Shireen, our Head of House.”

  Jocasta felt her eyebrows rise involuntarily. There was no hiding her reaction from this Orlando.

  “You were expecting a different name?” he smiled.

  “As you knew I would be. What happened to him?”

  “Well, we haven’t made this public knowledge, but given the relationship our two Houses share, I’ve been given the go ahead to fill you in.”

  “How nice,” Jocasta replied. “Sit.”

  Orlando took a seat and she did the same. She hadn’t thought to entertain him long enough for such pleasantries, but this was news indeed.

  “Now,” she continued. “Tell me everything.”

  Chapter 14

  The fire that burned the Soul Gaunt was only the beginning. If he thought back to it, although he tried not to, Thaddeus could remember the stone he used to light up the inside of the afflicted Rustling Elm tree. He made that thing flare far brighter than he ever would have believed possible. Right before they took him.

  It wasn’t anger that gave him the strength then, it was fear and desperation. And that strength hadn’t lasted. It gave out too soon, the stone went dark and his next few days were spent in misery.

  Of course, if he were a weaker man, as Shireen seemed to think, he wouldn’t have ended up here in House Subtle Hemlock. Instead, he would have been killed by the Soul Gaunts for their amusement, as they tried to do to the human.

  The light he was creating flickered, then regained its brilliance.

  “Problem?” Melanie asked. She was seated nearby, shielding her eyes against the bright light coming from an orb floating in the middle of the room.

  “No, just lost focus for a moment.” That was true; and, not long ago that would have been enough for the light to fail entirely. Now, it wavered for a moment, then came back every bit as strong.

  “Well, you better stay focused now,” she said, rising from her chair. “I’m going to fight against the light. Ready?”

  Good luck, Thaddeus thought, but said aloud to her, “Ready. Hope I’ll be able to hold it.”

  Melanie started to chant softly under her breath, and shadows began to creep into the room. The light Thaddeus was creating was enough to chase the darkness from every c
orner, but Melanie pulled it from under the furniture and the doors themselves.

  The shadows flowed forward, almost like living creatures. One across from his glowing sphere rose up, forming into a hooded creature, very much like a Soul Gaunt. Thaddeus could feel the shadows pushing at his light, threatening to extinguish it.

  Well, threatening might be too strong a word for what they were doing. Their pushes were more like gentle nudges. Thaddeus let them come on anyway, darkening the room slightly.

  Let Melanie think she was beginning to win. He was going to show her something new.

  He started to push back, her shadows growing weaker. He let a small amount of heat into the spell as well, and the temperature in the room rose a couple of degrees. Thaddeus felt a slight sheen of sweat break out on his forehead. He glanced over and saw the same on Melanie, but her eyes were closed as she fought against him and she didn’t see his grin.

  Good. Then she also wouldn’t see him turn his hands just so, moving the glowing globe in the air toward her. He pushed more heat into it, moved it a little closer still. They’d see how well her shadows worked when the heat was really on.

  Wait? What was he doing? This was Melanie! His friend, his lover, his mentor! He couldn’t do this to her. It was foul play, dark magic that was beneath him. Besides, he loved her! More than life itself.

  He clawed at the air in front of him, as if he were grabbing an invisible rug and the glowing sphere shot back toward him, much too quickly. He yelped as he felt his hands burn before he could shut the spell down.

  It was only then that he noticed the unpleasant ringing in his ears.

  “Damn you!” He nursed his burned fingers.

  Melanie opened her eyes and looked at him sweetly. “You should always be ready for a two-pronged attack.”

  “That wasn’t part of the test!”

  “Neither was adding heat to the light spell and sending it my way!”

  “You promised you’d stay out of my head!” he protested.

  She laughed, and it wasn’t the pleasant sound that often accompanied their time together. This was cold and derisive.

  “Grow up. If you’re going to try to put one over on me, you’re going to get it back tenfold.”

  Thaddeus glared, but her calm expression never changed. Finally, he dropped his eyes.

  “Yeah, all right,” he muttered. “I get your point. I wasn’t going to let it go too far. I just wanted to surprise you.”

  “Now you know what happens when you do. You do know that they’re watching both of us, right?”

  Thaddeus looked up, his eyes shifting around the room wildly. Melanie laughed again.

  “Not in here. Not like that. But if we left this room with you being perfectly fine and me being singed, what do you think would happen?”

  He shrugged.

  “I don’t know either,” she said, her voice growing softer. “But it wouldn’t be good. At the least, they’d remove me as your trainer. They’re probably waiting for you to grow past me as it is.”

  “I don’t want another trainer.” Thaddeus moved closer to her.

  “Think they care? They want you ready.”

  He took her hand. “I’m sorry, for real. But…”

  “What?”

  “Maybe I have started to grow past what you can teach me.” He fought to keep the grin from his face, and when it broke through she narrowed her eyes and punched him in the shoulder. It hurt. Whatever else Melanie was or wasn’t, she was certainly not weak.

  “I hate you,” she said.

  “Nope.” He took her into his arms. “But you don’t love me either.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “Why are they in such a hurry for me to be ready for some task?” Thaddeus asked later.

  “There’s not a lot of members of this House. I’m sure it’s to get more of us out there, doing what we do.”

  “That just it, though. What is it that we do?”

  “You know. Infiltrate the other Houses, get them to do things the way we want them to, things like that.”

  “Sure,” he said, “but why? What’s the endgame?”

  Melanie sighed. “You ask a lot of questions, you know?”

  “So I’ve been told. You haven’t answered mine.”

  “I don’t know. It’s never been discussed with me.”

  “Right. That’s what I thought.” Ever since he came here, Thaddeus had been asking the same question. Why? What was the purpose of their activities? And no one could give him an answer.

  “I’ll tell you what I think,” he finally said. “I think Malachi is playing a game that treats us like pawns. We don’t mean anything to him, as long as he gets what he wants.”

  “Which is?” she asked.

  Thaddeus shrugged. “No idea.”

  She was looking at him strangely. “You’re up to something.”

  “No, not really. Just…thinking.”

  “Uh-huh. About what?”

  Thaddeus looked around, making sure they were still alone and that no one stood outside the room.

  “I think we should find out. See if Malachi’s interests match our own.”

  “And how will we do that?”

  “Not sure yet, honestly. But we have the means.”

  He conjured up a flame, a small thing, made out of nothing. No scrap of paper, no thread, no candle wick. Flame out of thin air. As Melanie watched, he danced it across his fingers, then formed it into a perfect rose, still burning brightly.

  “Finesse,” he grinned. “Something I’ve been working on.”

  “You’re going to give Malachi a flower?”

  “No. I’m showing you that there can be more to what we do than brute force. If I can do this, what can you do?”

  “You mean get inside his head? Are you crazy? No one knows what Malachi’s powers are, but he’s supposed to be ridiculously strong.”

  “Strength isn’t everything. As I said, finesse.”

  “And to what end for us?”

  “I was in line, you know.” He let the flower flare brighter, then droop like it was wilting. “After Celia disappeared, Florian had no heir. I never had any interest in being Head of House, but I was the next one up. I started to get myself ready.” The flower regrew in his hand. “And then I found that I quite liked the idea. Then, Subtle Hemlock came, with the Soul Gaunts.” He transferred the flower from his right hand to his damaged left. With a sudden movement, he closed his remaining two fingers and thumb around it, snuffing it out. “And everything was changed, gone.”

  He looked back at Melanie.

  “Maybe I’ll take this House instead.”

  Chapter 15

  It was still dark when he woke, feeling refreshed. Whatever Yag-Morah gave him to drink worked as she promised. He slept like a baby, no dreams disturbing him and now he felt ready to conquer a new day. It was a nice feeling.

  Gan-Rowe was in the same spot he had been when Solomon slipped off.

  “Don’t you ever sleep?” he smiled.

  The Mar-trollid smiled back. “Of course. All things sleep in one manner or another. I don’t need as much as some, though.”

  “Well, apparently I needed it. I can’t remember the last time I felt this rested.”

  “I am happy to hear it. And my daughter will be as well. She takes great pride in her teas.”

  Solomon pushed himself upright. “She has reason to. If I might ask, where is her mother?”

  “She left us many years ago, when Yag-Morah was still small. Since then, it’s been her and I. Along with the rest of our people, of course.”

  Solomon didn’t know if that meant Yag-Morah’s mother had gone to seek elsewhere, or if she had passed away, but decided it would be rude to ask. “Well, you’ve raised a great kid.”

  Gan-Rowe smiled at the praise. “And now, Gan-Solomon. What would you have of us?”

  “Celia. She’s why I’m here. I need to find her and bring her home.”

  Gan-Rowe turned his sightless eyes t
o Solomon. “I think there is more to your story than that.”

  “There is.” He told the elder Mar-trollid about his relationship with Celia, not leaving out any of the messier details. “I failed,” he said when he finished. “Failed in my duty to my own House, failed in my promise to Florian, and failed to protect her.”

  “And now?”

  “Now, I’ll do what I can to atone.”

  “That’s all it is?”

  Solomon laughed. “You’re too perceptive. No, that’s not all. I love her. More than I’ve ever loved anything.”

  Gan-Rowe nodded. “She was here, as we told you. She stayed with us for a couple of days, and then moved onward when we told her of the gate.”

  “Gate?”

  “The way back to the Greenweald, or to anywhere else, from this world.”

  “Ah, so she was trying to get home herself.” Solomon felt a flash of pride at that. When he first met Celia she was young, headstrong and silly. Very much the pampered daughter of a wealthy House. As their relationship grew, so did she. Now, when she was literally cast into an unfamiliar world, she took the initiative and didn’t wait around for rescue.

  “Indeed. She asked us for advice on how to go about it. We told her of the gate, in the town of Dunfield, and she journeyed there, or at least that way. I’m afraid I have no way to tell you if she arrived there safely or not. The Mar-trollid do not visit that town any longer.”

  “Why is that?”

  Gan-Rowe shifted his bulk. “It has changed over the last few years. What was once a vibrant, friendly town has become a dark and dangerous place, unwelcoming to outsiders and feeding on its own decay.”

  “Forgive me,” Solomon said, “but then why would you send her there by herself?”

  “It’s not the way of the Mar-trollid to interfere with that which others seek. Besides, do you think we could have stopped her?”

  “No, I suppose you couldn’t have. I need to go there, too. Will you point me in the right direction?”