by D. L. Kramer
"In some of the very tiny villages, they still take children for unpaid tithes since the people don't know any differently. In the larger villages, where they've actually been learned the tithes are gone, the church guards have set up a rather profitable business of buying and selling children. Children who run away or get separated from their parents quickly disappear. For those peasants unfortunate enough to have too many to feed, they promise the parents their children will have a better life and pay less than a copper task for them."
"And you didn't do anything to stop it?" Bear demanded.
Rial sighed, not bothering to look at Bear. "You'll forgive me, Your Majesty," he said to Nahtan. "But the Mo'ani's red cloaks do stand out a considerable amount. They're also quite dedicated to wearing them. The auction masters and church guards figured out very quickly that if red cloaks were seen around, then they were about to be caught. If you want to clear out the slave trade, you're going to have to be more subtle."
Nahtan nodded his head, considering what Rial said. No one there would recognize him, even by name, except for possibly his own family. Like the Mo'ani warriors, however, he was also very dedicated to wearing his red cloak. If the villagers were truly that uneducated, what would have been the purpose for the past kings of Herridon to keep them? He looked to Adie.
"Why are the villages that are so far away part of the kingdom?" he asked. "Especially if they're so small and hold no tactical advantage."
Adie considered it for a moment. "My grandfather mentioned something about the 'southern wars' once when I was little," she said, shaking her head slowly. "But I don't remember exactly what he said."
"I've never heard Matthios mention it," Evaine added. "So it would have occurred before he was born or possibly when he was very, very young."
"I asked if you wanted Mo'ani here," Rial reminded Nahtan.
Nahtan shot him a dark look, then turned to Bear. Yes, Mo'ani would be able to tell him about the wars, but Nahtan had other people at his disposal that Rial didn't know about. "Have Meda check the library," he said deliberately. "If there's information on them there, she'll know where it is." Bear, Yenene and Mo'ani were the only three besides himself who knew that Meda's knowledge didn't come from the books and scrolls in her care, but rather from her tie to Jensina as one of her servants.
"Good idea," Bear said, nodding. "She loves knowing things other people don't."
"Could you crack the window a little more?" Adie asked, turning to Evaine. She then looked to Nahtan. "Your daughter's temperature certainly goes up when she sleeps."
Nahtan couldn't help but smile. "She got it from her mother," he said.
As Evaine pulled back the shutter on the window, Adie nodded her appreciation.
"So what do you want to do?" Evaine asked Nahtan.
Nahtan met her eyes. "I don't have any choice," he answered. "I cannot stay here and let them wreak havoc in the southern villages. But I'm not going to go thundering in there with a few thousand Mo'ani." He paused to look at Rial. "As it's been pointed out, I'll have to be more subtle than that." He shifted his gaze to those in the office. "I want to know everything we can find out about the history of those villages, these 'southern wars' and anything you can dig up about the BishopLord and church guards who were there." As his friends nodded silently, he looked again at Rial. "I'd like a written copy of everything you can tell me about the land there. Our maps are quite vague, besides being older than Mo'ani."
"Of course you would," Rial said, leaning back in his chair.
Nahtan shifted his balance, his sword driving into Janec's blade with a heavy thrust. Janec twisted quickly to the side, letting Nahtan's blow fall against the training yard's fence. Nahtan turned with Janec's shift, bringing his sword around for another swing.
"You know," Janec managed, holding his sword with both hands to absorb the treacherous blow. "I'm still on your side."
Nahtan paused for the briefest moment to circle to his left. "Sorry," he apologized, taking a deep breath. His hands were sweaty and if it weren't for the gauntlets and archer's brace on his left hand, he wouldn't have nearly the grip he did. Even with the brace, his wrist was complaining; shooting sharp pains down his fingers and up the length of his arm. "But Bear won't let me do this to him."
"Because he'd cut off his own hands with a blade," Janec responded. "I know, I've seen him with a simple dagger." He turned his sword, bringing it high to intercept Nahtan's next strike with a loud clang. "But I wish you'd remember that I was never a Mo'ani warrior."
Nahtan paused to smile faintly. "You were a church officer," he said. "And since that's who I'm mad at, you'll do."
"Ah," Janec stepped to his right, bringing his sword around towards Nahtan's back. "So you're venting your anger at an entire extinct establishment on me?"
Nahtan ducked under Janec's blade, flipping his sweaty, dark hair out of his eyes at the same time. This was what he had been waiting for, someone who could keep up with him and his sword while carrying on a conversation. Although Janec was Adie's age, he could still use a sword with all the power of a younger man. While bent over, Nahtan shifted his sword to his right hand and pulled the skinning knife from his boot. As Janec's swing pulled him around, Nahtan pushed Janec's sword away with his own, then came up with the flat of the skinning knife against Janec's armored side.
"I win," Nahtan smiled, brushing his hair from his eyes again, this time with his arm. There was no mistaking that he could have driven the razor sharp blade between the leather straps and buckles had it been a real fight.
Janec stopped to take a breath before looking down at the knife. "I thought you threw punches, not pulled knives."
Nahtan's smile grew. "I can't anymore," he said, holding up his braced wrist. Leaning over, he put the skinning knife back. Driving the point of the practice sword into the packed dirt, he pulled off his gauntlets and started unbuckling the heavy armor protecting his chest and back. "So I have to improvise." He pulled the breastplate over his head and hung it over the fence, then his padded tunic. "Any luck finding Mallin yet?" he asked.
"Well," Janec started, sheathing his sword and pulling off his own gauntlets. "That's what I was doing when you were kind enough to drop your challenge at my feet."
Nahtan smiled. "You were waiting for a couple of the guards to check back in and tell you if they'd found him," he corrected. "So I figured you weren't too busy."
"That and you couldn't find anyone else."
"Not for a lack of trying," Nahtan said.
Janec sighed. "I know he's in the city, it just takes a few hours to track him down. Why did you want to talk to him?"
"I want him with us when we head south," Nahtan answered. "He was able to talk some sense into the church guards at the waystations and saved a lot of lives. I'd like him there in case he can do the same thing again."
"Any idea when you're leaving?" With his hands bare, Janec pulled his sword from its sheath again and felt along the edge for any nicks, turning it to watch for any distortions in the afternoon sun's reflections on the steel surface.
"Not yet," Nahtan shook his head. "But it probably won't be for several weeks. I want to know everything I can about the land and villages before we leave."
"Probably wise," Janec nodded. "Have you given any thought to who should run things here while you're gone?"
Nahtan stopped. He hadn't considered that. He would be gone for well over a year and would definitely need to empower someone to handle the city and neighboring holds while he was gone.
"I'll have to think about that one, too," he admitted. Rather than thinking of someone right off, he had a sudden list of people that he wouldn't be giving that much control to.
"What about an army to clear out the slave traders?" Janec continued.
Nahtan gave him a deliberate look. "Are you doing this on purpose?" he asked. He knew Rial had been right and he couldn't march thousands of men into the villages. If it didn't scare the citizens completely away, it was almost im
possible to hide that large of an army, and the church guards and slave traders would know well in advance that he was coming. How he was going to solve the problem, he didn't have the faintest idea.
Janec chuckled. "Just fulfilling my position as advisor and pointing out things you should attend to," he responded.
"I think I've had enough advice from you," Nahtan decided, shaking his head as Janec chuckled again. "And yes, you've gotten even with me for dragging you out here." Picking up his armor, he tucked his gauntlets into his belt, then pulled his sword free. "I trust you'll let me know if you think of anything else?"
"Of course, Your Majesty," Janec bowed slightly, still smiling.
Nahtan rolled his eyes and left the training yard. Reaching his room, he left his things in a corner, then paused to change into clean clothes and tie his hair back. He didn't really want another lecture from Meda, so he made sure she couldn't complain too much about his appearance. Leaving his room, he turned down the hall leading to the library.
Inside the doors, Meda sat at a table, a scroll opened before her. She looked up at him as the heavy doors swung silently shut.
"You didn't wash your hair," she said pointedly. "Or bathe."
"Not yet," Nahtan admitted, smiling faintly. "But I expect to be back in the training yard soon."
"And you still smell like rusted metal," Meda finished, ignoring his statement. Her long brown hair was pulled up in a topknot similar to Adie's and her light brown eyes met Nahtan's easily. As always, her face was as perfect and beautiful as the first time Nahtan had met her so long ago at Mo'ani's Stronghold. She had been his original tutor and Nahtan had to wonder if she would ever view him as other than her student.
"Bear told you what was going on?" Nahtan asked, leaning on the lectern by her table.
"Yes, you're heading south to Edgewind," Meda nodded. "Trying to save a land you haven't seen since you were younger than Valry."
"You don't approve?" Nahtan was surprised to hear such a tone from her.
Meda studied him for a moment, then sighed. "I don't disapprove," she corrected. "There are forces at work there that Jensina, Halona and Zakris may not be able to help you against." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "When you faced Zared before, it was with the three gods on your side. But now, Zared is in a form that even they cannot see or touch--only sense. If they feel him start an action, Zakris can move to stop him, but Zakris cannot stop a mortal from making a decision and following through."
"So you're saying rather than face Zared in mortal form, I'll be going up against mortals corrupted by him," Nahtan stated.
Meda nodded her head slowly. "They cannot know your thoughts or your future," she reminded. "The fate Halona wrote for you is still hidden to all but her."
Nahtan smiled faintly. "Zakris and his daughters can't know what I'm going to do," he agreed. "But neither can Zared. Rial, Tonek and Lord Corydon were able to break the Archbishop's grip there with their combined armies--and the gods could know what they were thinking and planning. That was even with Rial sending the Takis Mo'ani back to Takis Hold before they left for the villages."
"I wish you would take this more seriously," Meda said.
"I take it with the utmost seriousness," Nahtan told her. "But I refuse to stay here and know that the slave trade is still going on when I have the power to stop it."
Meda studied him for a moment. "You see yourself in that boy."
"I see much of myself in him," Nahtan agreed. He leaned further over the lectern. "Enough that maybe we should check his back for one of Jensina's Symbols." His voice was quiet and deliberate. He had learned well from Meda over the years. Her skills in discussions and debates were as sharp as his skinning knife--the only memento he had allowed himself from his time with the cruel trapper who had bought him as a very young child.
Meda shook her head the slightest bit. "I only know what Rena has told me of your past life," she said. "But you admit that in it you were blinded by your bloodlust and prejudices. Don't return to judging others before you know their story."
Nahtan smiled. For her cool exterior, he knew how deeply Meda was devoted to protecting him for Jensina.
"I won't," he assured her. "And you know how precious life is to me now." He straightened up. "But don't you see I'm the only one who stands a chance against Zared's followers? He can see what any other mortal is thinking or will do when set upon a certain course. All he knows for sure about me is that I'm not afraid of him."
Meda couldn't help but smile. "I think I agree with Lady Adiella and what little sense you had got ripped from your mind with your horse's death."
"And I've agreed with Adie on several occasions," Nahtan said. "Now, do you happen to have any information for me on the southern wars?"
Meda raised an eyebrow at him. "I ought to make you find it for yourself."
"But you won't do that since you know I don't really have the time." Nahtan smiled at the exasperated look she gave him next.
"You know of Valerik of Olorun?"
"Kile's ancestor back about--what--eight generations or so," Nahtan nodded. "You told me some about him when Gahrit wanted to read what Mo'ani had on Thaniel of Basiyr."
"Very smart young man," Meda mentioned, her eyes distant for a moment. "Between his mind and his sister's and brother's sword arms, Corydon Hold will one day be more secure than the Stronghold."
Nahtan nodded absently, waiting for her to continue.
After a moment, she smiled at him and settled back in her chair.
"Valerik's conquests began in the west where Olorun is," she began. "When he had conquered everything there, he turned his armies to the southeast. When the villages south of here heard of what he did to the other villages he conquered, they sought the help of the single crown city in the north. The king of Herridon agreed to send an army south to protect their villages and intercept Valerik's armies, but only on the condition that if he were victorious, they became part of his realm. The villages' leaders agreed, deciding it was better to be part of a kingdom hundreds of leagues away than to be crushed in the grip of a tyrant conqueror. Over half of the king's armies marched south that same day.
"Eventually Valerik's forces came upon this army that was large enough he couldn't march over it or plow his way through it." She paused to study Nahtan for a moment. "In a desperate attempt to gain control of at least some small part of that land, he divided his forces. The king's general did the same to head off any advancement Valerik might make. Their armies fought each other for almost ten years, chasing each other around in the mountains. In the final 'battle' there were barely fifty men on either side."
"So the villages were where Valerik was finally defeated," Nahtan realized.
"He and his lieutenant were brought to trial in Herridon," Meda continued. "And it was in the Grand Cathedral as they awaited their sentences that Thaniel of Basiyr struck his deal with Zakris."
"The deal that ended with Kile's life," Nahtan said quietly.
Meda nodded her head. "Zakris' priest told the king what deal had been made and the king agreed. Valerik and Thaniel were allowed to return to Olorun and Basiyr under the condition that they never leave again, but Valerik's oldest son was to be sent to Herridon to serve in the king's guard."
"'Until the last son died while in the service of another'," Nahtan quoted. He remembered clearly what Meda had told him at Kile's funeral. After a moment, he met her eyes. "So the villages were nothing more than a prize for the winner of the war there?"
"Basically," Meda agreed. "But they also gave Zakris someplace to hide you from his brother."
"How convenient," Nahtan muttered, drumming his fingers on the lectern. The information on the villages didn't help as much as he had hoped it would. He still didn't understand why the land there was important enough to hang onto. His fingers stopped when he realized Meda may not have helped him figure out how to get an army south without being seen, but he did now have an idea of who to put in his place while he was gone.
Jensina wrung her hands at the thoughts coursing through her mind. Curse Zared, curse Zared and the natural forces that had created him.
"Zared's getting very subtle, you know," Halona said from behind her.
"He should have been cast out," Jensina muttered. She watched as Nahtan spoke with the young lord of Valin Hold, his anger barely contained.
The others in the office were loyal to Jensina, her sister and father--all except Rial d'Valin. She ached to reach out to Nahtan, to assure him she would walk every step of this path with him, but would not manifest herself outside of her temple. Even there, she feared her presence would overpower him, so she refrained from speaking with him through any means other than her priestess. She had given what warning she could the evening before, but wondered if that were enough. She loved her adopted son as though he were of her own body, but couldn't help but wonder if he caught each clue or warning she put in his path. Rial d'Valin was dangerous, and there was an emptiness there that she wished she could warn Nahtan of, but didn't know how to.
"You know, Kile d'Olorun is quite upset at not being there," Halona continued, not seeming to notice her sister's chagrin.
"So is Rena," Jensina said, watching as Nahtan puzzled out the importance of the southern villages. "Doesn't he find solace in knowing he saved his family line from damnation?" she glanced back at her sister.
"Little," Halona said, shrugging slightly. "He had more than a few things to say to Valerik d'Olorun. I wasn't aware I had given their dialect that many ways to insult someone--although I suspect he may have invented more than a few on the spot."
Jensina shook her head sadly as she walked to stand behind Adiella d'Herridon's chair. She sighed as she looked down at Nahtan's daughter, wishing it could be she cradling the sleeping child. A dark, menacing thought surged through her mind and she turned suddenly, tears in her eyes as she looked at her sister. The look in Halona's eyes told her she had heard the same thought. Before either of them could call for their father, Zakris was there, his hands spreading a warding glow around the sleeping child.
