by Jeff Wilson
Edryd turned to face Seoras once more. “Who is this master of yours?” he asked. Edryd supposed that he really ought to have been curious about at least that much.
“I won’t speak his name. He would hear it,” Seoras said, a bit of inner torment raising the pitch of his voice as he spoke.
“Ulensorl,” Edryd guessed, and as soon as he said the name it was a guess no longer. The shaper’s reaction, more than confirmed the truth.
“It is not safe to speak that name,” Seoras said. “It will draw his attentions, and he has many servants to carry out his will.”
“You and the draugar would be chief among them?”
“Yes, but there are more; many, many more.”
“And are you are going to tell me who they are?” Edryd asked.
“Those that matter most, yes,” Seoras agreed. “The King of Nar Edor conspired with him, and together they tried to use Beodred to bring about your grandfather’s death and the fall of House Edorin. My master also found others in your kingdom, including your brother, who agreed to destroy you, men who shared his desire to bring about the end of the Sigil Corps. He bears a grudge against the Sigil Order of old. He is searching for you now. He will use you if he can, and kill you if he cannot.”
It was too much for Edryd to take in, that a dark sorcerer responsible for the cataclysm that destroyed the Sigil Order, was still alive some five hundred years later, and actively searching for the last descendant of his ancient enemies. “He may try,” Edryd said, sounding more confident than he felt. “From what you are telling me, he failed in everything you have described. He will fail again.” Edryd said all of this slowly, careful to present a front that he was unaffected by any fears born from the information Seoras had just disclosed.
Seoras certainly must have had much more to tell, and Edryd should have stayed to learn all that he could, but he was having a hard time keeping up the pretense that he knew what he was doing, so he turned around and left without speaking another word. Seoras was, as a result of receiving such dismissive treatment, left with a much stronger impression of his former pupil. He stood silently admiring Edryd’s courage as they parted ways, feeling a devotion to this young man, and a hope that he had not known for many years.
As soon as Edryd was beyond the property walls and safely around the corner, he picked up his pace. It was time to be gone, and if he never saw Seoras again, he would count himself a fortunate man.
Aelsian was waiting for him when he returned to the Interdiction. “Are we ready to go?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Edryd said. “I have to speak with Eithne.”
Aelsian gave Edryd a puzzled look. “Surely there will be time to talk as we travel to Ossia?”
“I’m not coming,” Edryd explained.
The navarch didn’t like this. He didn’t try to ask Edryd why he had made this sudden decision, but he put forward the most powerful argument that could be made against it. “You cannot do this to Eithne,” he said. “After what she has been through, she doesn’t feel safe. She won’t even leave your room. You cannot leave her. She doesn’t trust another soul on this ship.”
“That is why I have to speak with her,” Edryd said, feeling truly guilty about the whole thing. “You will take care of her. I know I can trust you to do that.”
Looking displeased, Aelsian assented. “I don’t suppose you can tell me what is so important that you would do this?”
“I have business in Nar Edor,” Edryd answered, without elaborating any further. This was as much of a surprise to Aelsian as anything Edryd could have said. He knew that Edryd had no desire to ever return to his home.
Edryd wasted no time reaching the room aboard the Interdiction that Aelsian had provided for him. Eithne was inside, reading a small white book by the light that came in through a rounded window. It was the book Irial had borrowed from Uleth, the book written by Aelsian’s friend Ludin Kar. They had retrieved this and some of Eithne’s belongings from the cottage, along with a few pieces of Irial’s simple jewelry that Eithne was keeping in a box.
Edryd removed his coat and hung it beside the door before taking a seat near Eithne. “You are going to go on to Ossia ahead of me,” Edryd said. Eithne looked upset, but she didn’t complain. “You can trust Aelsian. He is my friend and he manages my home. You are going to be safe there, and I will come as soon as I can.” Edryd did not tell her about Seoras. He couldn’t. Not now and perhaps not ever.
Eithne handed him the book. It was special to her. It was memories of her sister, and stories of an older time that she had read through many times. “I’m keeping the one you had, with the Huldra and the Ældisir in it, but I want you to have Irial’s book,” she said.
Edryd accepted it a little too casually, thinking that Irial’s book really should have been returned to Uleth. “That is one of my treasures,” she said, reprimanding him. “You have to take good care of it.”
He assured her that he would, but Eithne did not seem satisfied. He caught her staring at his coat, the one she had used as a blanket in the palace. Edryd knew what she wanted. She had admired his pins more than once. Edryd removed his coat from the peg it rested on and returned to his chair. He did not need any of the emblems. He was not a part of the Sigil Corps any longer so he did not need the symbols that marked his rank, and he had chosen not to embrace any of his family names, so he did not need his family crests.
“You can choose one,” he said, turning up the collar on the coat. Eithne picked out a silver pin, on which a raven was represented in settings of polished black opal stones, which reflected every possible color within their dark depths. These precious stones surrounded a blue black sapphire that formed the bird’s eye. It matched Eithne’s features well and he supposed that is why she had chosen it. Though Edryd did not realize it, excluding the sigil blade, this pin was beyond any measure, the most valuable thing in his possession. It was the emblem of House Elduryn and proof of his bloodline. Because of the rarity of the black opals, there was no chance it could have ever been convincingly simulated.
“That is the symbol of my father’s house,” Edryd said, “House Elduryn.”
Eithne beamed with pleasure, and it eased his guilt to know that it could be a comfort to her.
“You can wear it if you want,” he said, encouraging her. “As far as anyone will know, you are my sister, Eithne Elduryn.”
“I never had a family name,” Eithne said excitedly, grabbing her own coat and moving the pin around the collar of the cloak, trying to find the best position for it.
Eithne hugged him. “I will keep this for you until you come back,” she said. “I will protect it, and wait.”
Edryd’s heart was heavy as he left the Interdiction. He felt like he was doing something wrong, but the things he had just learned from Seoras had made the decision for him. He had to return to Nar Edor. Edryd walked back towards the Broken Oath. He would find someone there to take him where he needed to go.
Epilogue
Edryd recognized no one. The two men serving food and drink to the customers were new, and the innkeeper, Greven, of whom it could be inferred from the constant sounds issuing from the kitchen and his being too busy to make an appearance, was clearly in need of all the help he could get. The inn was filled with far too many customers, none of whom appeared to be paying for their meals, and the space was more crowded than Edryd could recall having ever seen it.
Thinking only this morning that there was a need for several new public houses competing for business with the Broken Oath, Edryd had predicted a surge in the innkeeper’s business prospects, but he had not expected this. Edryd pushed his way in, and of necessity, was not delicate about moving people aside. At this moment, there were no other establishments in which he was more likely to find a ship’s captain in need of a way to regain his ship.
There were a few injured or otherwise defeated men concentrated at certain tables. These servants of the harbormasters had surrendered their weapons and suffered
the removal of any symbols on their uniforms, but their former loyalties could be identified by what was left of the tattered coats which they still wore. As for the rest, they consisted of deck hands and sailors mixed in with tradesmen and common townspeople, all of whom were wearing looks which expressed how uncertain they felt about their fates.
The reason behind this sweating assemblage of men and women was a puzzle that was soon solved. Edryd learned from the frequent complaints circulating through the room that the Ascomanni had seized every last store of food in the town. If you wanted to eat, anything at all, there were only two options: Ascomanni controlled areas where food was readily available, or Greven’s Inn.
Those who had been on the wrong side of the fighting generally chose the latter option. In either case, the food was controlled and supplied by the Ascomanni, but here at least you did not have to eat it in the company of people who had just attacked and killed a considerable portion of the island’s population.
Of those who were here, the majority appeared to be affiliated in some way with the ships crews that had been employed by the harbormasters. Displaced by the Ascomanni from their ships, on which some of them had previously been accustomed to rely as a place to sleep, they were now competing for space in some of the worst of the towns formerly abandoned buildings, eating food that was distributed at the inn each evening, and fretting over the dearth of ways in which to leave the island.
It was as well that Edryd did not know anyone here. That only meant it would not be unreasonable to expect to go unrecognized, and he could hope that he would be soon forgotten once he left. There could be few who knew of him as Edryd, and more importantly, there would certainly be none that would know him as Aisen, The Blood Prince.
Edryd crossed the room a few times before finding the object of his search, realizing only when he saw him, who it was that he had sought. Leaning forward over his table with his head buried in his arms, sat an idle looking man in expensive clothes. Advancing in years and exhibiting numerous strands of grey in his dark black hair, he fit a description, previously given to Edryd by the former thrall Hedryn, of the captain of the ship which had brought the draugar to An Innis.
Edryd put a hand on the shoulder of the man who sat opposite. The surprised man turned with a fierce objection to this touch, but one look at the sword belted at Edryd’s side and the unfaltering look in his visitor’s eyes, recommended an obvious action to the sailor. He surrendered his seat and left without either of them speaking a word.
“You’re Captain Pedrin Eksar,” said Edryd, after settling into the vacated chair.
Pedrin looked up upon hearing these words. He had a short sharp nose and a round face, somewhat soft in appearance owing to an excess of weight that he carried on his frame.
“And you’re some random clod who I don’t know from anywhere,” Pedrin replied.
“Now that we have gotten through those formalities,” said Edryd, “we have things to discuss.”
Pedrin gave a dismissive shrug, and buried his head back in his arms.
“You are the captain of the Wraith,” Edryd said.
Pedrin looked up then, and in a brief moment of curiosity, began to wonder who this person was and how it was that he knew him. “Was, the captain of the Wraith,” he said, correcting Edryd. “She’s in Ascomanni hands now, and I don’t see clear to how I’m ever likely to get her back.”
“Ah, but I do, if you care to listen,” said Edryd.
Pedrin buried his head back into his arms once more. Clearly, he did not care to listen.
Edryd continued anyway. “I can get your ship released, but I will need a captain and a crew to sail her. It doesn’t necessarily have to be you or your crew, but it might as well be.”
“Not interested,” said Pedrin Eksar, his voice muffled by his coat, no longer bothering to look up.
“You don’t believe me?”
“And why should I?” said Pedrin, who was now sitting up straight for the first time. “And if I did believe you, not that I do, but if I did, what makes you think I would want you anywhere near my ship?”
“You have had far worse passengers than I,” said Edryd, “and it is of my doing, that you are no longer troubled by them.”
Pedrin was now fully attentive. He began to look carefully at the stranger, narrowing his right eye slightly as he studied Edryd’s face. “You’re the Elduryn boy,” he finally said, “the one my masters came here to find. I won’t ask what happened to them, but I won’t thank you for it either.”
“Perhaps you believe now that I can give you back your ship,” said Edryd, declining to confirm Pedrin’s guess, but seeming to endorse its accuracy by not disputing it either.
“Aye, I do believe you could,” said Pedrin, “but I know better than to think that you would be doing so out of the kindness of your heart. I rather expect I would be simply exchanging my old masters for a new one.”
“Look at it as trading up,” said Edryd. He had meant this as a simple joke, but Pedrin brightened visibly as the comment struck at an idea somewhere in his head. Pedrin managed to collect his composure, and his expression changed so quickly, to one of disinterest, that Edryd almost doubted that he had witnessed that short moment of enthusiasm.
“I can’t say your proposal is entirely unwelcome, but let’s hear the entire thing out before I say any more,” Pedrin said.
“I need to get to a certain place, to which I have learned from Hedryn, you have been several times before,” Edryd explained.
Edryd’s meaning was not quite clear to Pedrin, but he better understood now how it was that Edryd knew about him, and he felt that he knew now for certain who it was that sat across the table. Pedrin had seen Hedryn yesterday, and in a conversation with the thrall had learned what had happened to Áledhuir and Aodra and the other two thralls. They had been killed by this man. Pedrin could hardly have been anything other than impressed.
“This place I’ve been to, several times before as you put it,” said Pedrin, “supposing you gave this place a name, what would it be?”
“I mean to keep that information strictly known only to myself until we are underway,” Edryd said, refusing to answer Pedrin’s inquiry.
It was Pedrin’s instinct to negotiate, and settle upon the best possible terms, but his needs were unequal to Edryd’s, and so was the position from which he bargained. Worse, Edryd clearly knew what his advantages were. “What would you have me do?” Pedrin said, resigned to accept whatever the man asked.
“Have your crew ready, and gather them near the northernmost pier. Hedryn and I will meet you there as soon as it is dark.”
***
Eivendr walked the dark halls of Eidstadt’s royal palace. He had chosen this late hour to avoid being seen, but the wisdom of that idea had been called into question when he discovered what he more reasonably ought to have already known. It was impossible for a king to go about entirely unnoticed. Two servants, and at least that many guards, had all observed him when he passed down the lighted hallways connected to the several rooms which served as his royal living quarters. They had no doubt been made curious by the sight of their monarch wandering about at such an unusual hour.
Thankfully, all of the remaining passageways he had taken since had been completely deserted. More than once he made wrong turns in the dark, and Eivendr had long since grown tired in the process, but he was getting nearer to his destination. Stumbling into some hidden obstruction in the dark, Eivendr formed a series of silent curses to his lips. Were it of any possible beneficial effect, Eivendr would have directed a string of impolite denunciations against the dark thrall, known only by the name Hedryn, who had brought the news that had inspired this trip. But as Eivendr was alone, and as he wished it to remain that way, he wisely suppressed the urge to shout these imprecations down the empty hallway.
Every last bargain he had ever made with these dark men had been a bad one, and nothing ever worked out the way it had been planned. Their information had nev
er been wrong, and not once had they failed to fulfill the terms of any promise, but when things settled out he had ever found his position weakened by the results of the partnership, having profited but very little from their support. It was for this reason that he had sent them away many years ago, and he had seen little of them since.
But this time there had been nothing asked of him. Hedryn had come, he said, only to share a piece of intelligence. Eivendr had listened, believing that there could be no harm in doing so, and received two pieces of information, which if verified would be of incredible consequence, and the details of which, Eivendr could not ignore.
Stepping carefully along the wall, Eivendr progressed onward in the direction of Eidstadt’s great library, his way illuminated by nothing more than faint moonlight reaching in through the windows. He arrived so abruptly that he almost questioned whether he was there when he reached the end of his journey. It all looked so different in the dark.
Stopping at a brazier that stood outside the library doors, Eivendr removed a small pottery lamp and a stoppered vial of oil from his pocket. Filling the lamp with a liberal quantity of the fuel from the vial, he then soaked a linen wick as well, and proceeded to ignite it using the smoking coals from the brazier. This created a small but steady flame that he would need in order to complete his task.
Eivendr pulled open one of the doors and contemplated the idea of taking a rest in one of the many chairs positioned around an enormous table which filled the space that stood before him, but he rejected the idea. He was too anxious to delay his purpose a moment longer than was necessary.
The documents he sought were buried in an archive room in the back recesses of the library. How Hedryn had learned about these records, he had not said, but he had been specific about the exact room in which they were stored and the name of the collection in which they were bundled.
The papers, with which Eivendr was so concerned, were the confessions of a ranking general of the attacking raiders, who had been found and captured hiding not far from Eidstadt in the weeks following the fall of Beodred’s forces a little more than twenty years ago. The man’s name had been Deneg, and the results of his interrogation had been written down. These records included a list of crimes which the raider had either witnessed or committed himself.
