Seventh Born

by Rachel Rossano

  The High King gestured to the men surrounding Hadrian. Silas and another man stepped to Hadrian’s side and turned him around to face the crowd. He bowed and saluted us formally. Then straightening his shoulders, he spoke.

  “I swear to serve Pratinus and her people with all of my ability. I shall protect her, keep her, and watch over her as a dutiful father watches over his children. My service is to her people and her lands from this day forth. May I be found worthy of this task, capable and wise in performing it, and honorable in all.” Suddenly I felt his presence, distant and remote, in my head. “This I swear.”

  The room was silent as he turned. Walking the length of the room, he approached the table prepared on the opposite end. Taking the seat in the center, he sat with Tristan on his left and Horace on his right. Silas and Kronen bowed and left. Gradually, the noise in the room went back to normal.

  “Now that was impressive,” Renato whispered.

  “What?” I asked. “What was so impressive?”

  “That sending.” Manvel reached for the platter of mutton. “I heard every word of his sending clear as day.”

  “Maybe it is true, him being the best.” Clovis mused.

  “If so, we have just seen history today,” Janus said. “Remember this until you are old and gray, little sister. You were there when Hadrian Aleron was instated as Sept Son, and the whole room heard his sending.”

  I wanted to say that I would never forget these past two days. But there was a chance that they would ask why, and some part of me did not want to share my memories. At least, I didn’t want to yet. I glanced around at them digging into their food with their usual gusto. I was certain they wouldn’t understand the uniqueness of the willows or the wonder of finding out that I was more like them than I had ever imagined. They would probably laugh at my ignorance of the basic concepts of sending and receiving, and I wasn’t ready for that.

  I looked down the room toward Hadrian. He was listening to something Horace was saying, his dark head tilted slightly. I wished that he would look my way. If only I had the training and could send to him. I wanted to thank him again for the wonderful afternoon.

  “I don’t relish his sandals,” Manvel commented as he leaned across me for the honey.

  “Why?”

  “He is going to have a mess to untangle soon when the High King dies. Also, it is rumored that the Mesitas already doesn’t like him. You know how much trouble he can make for one with the goddess.”

  The desire to ask for more information was strong, but Manvel turned back to his meal and the topic changed to Kortka. I finished my meal in silence.

  Hadrian

  I WAS SHAKING WHEN I finally was allowed to retire well after midnight. The few bites of dinner I had managed to force down my throat turned my stomach sour. The doors barely closed on the heels of the servants when I sagged into the nearest chair. Closing my eyes, I withdrew.

  Almighty God. All powerful, all knowing, all seeing. You have promised to not desert those who claim the salvation of Your sacrifice. I seek you now. I need you, Father. Only you can help me now.

  A sharp knock on the outer doors drove through my prayerful thoughts like a nail. Hoping that whoever it was would go away, I brought my hands to my head and tried to retreat again. The person knocked again, this time harder.

  “I know you are in there, Ilias.” Errol’s sending could not be shut out.

  “Come,” I replied reluctantly.

  The door opened and then closed. As the lock clicked fast, I looked up. “What do you want?”

  Errol simply watched at me for a moment. “If it is any consolation, your sending was clear even to the edges of the room. I commend you.”

  “Thank you, now leave me.” I rose and walked into the bedroom.

  “Headache?” he asked, following. The man didn’t know when to take a hint.

  “And exhaustion.” I held out a shaking hand. “Is this normal?”

  He glanced at it. “Shaking, nausea, headache, all of them are common symptoms of overuse. You mean to say this is the first time?”

  “Of getting these symptoms, yes, this is a first for me.”

  “You are fortunate,” he muttered sinking into a nearby seat. “My first time was after sixth level testing. It happens to most talents when they have overused their abilities during a short period of time.”

  Rubbing my temples, I closed my eyes. “It was the testing. Three hours of testing and then that sending.” My head throbbed and my stomach churned at the memory of all those tastes at once.

  “Don’t worry. The symptoms will pass. By tomorrow morning you will be back to normal. Now we have to talk.”

  I groaned. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” The bed was only a few feet away, and I longed to collapse upon it and sleep.

  “We have to talk now. I am going to be gone tomorrow by the time you are awake.”

  “Gone?” That roused me. I had been counting on Errol’s support for the next week. He alone would understand how difficult this was going to be. He would advise me on how to deal with the Mesitas and ease me through the ceremonies. “What do you mean you are going to be gone?”

  He rose and crossed to the windows. As he closed the drapes he announced, “I am taking Zezilia away immediately. The next few days are going to be rough, and I don’t want Ilar getting cold feet about her training. If I remove her, he will have to do more than say no to stop it.”

  “The Mesitas is going to skin me alive once he knows for certain that I do not serve the goddess.”

  “Which is exactly why I must get Zezilia away before Ilar can verify it.”

  I lowered my head to my hands as a new wave of nausea washed over my senses. Even in my sickened state, I could see the reason. “So why are you here to speak to me?”

  “I need the use of your land.”

  I lifted my head and blinked at him. “My land?” The only land I owned was a willow farm in the south.

  “It is far enough south that they will have difficulty extracting her, and if you sell it to me it will not pass to your brothers with your ascension. It is a perfect location for training a young talent, reclusive, beautiful and quiet. Besides that, the house is big enough for my wife and daughters.”

  I began waving him away as soon as I understood. I was certain that if I didn’t lie down in the next few moments my head would explode.

  “Agreed. Now leave me.”

  “I shall. I promise you that you will feel better tomorrow.” He came over and laid a hand on my arm. “I shall be praying for you. You have a long road before you.”

  “I know,” I managed weakly.

  “Sleep,” he instructed, pushing me toward the bed. I obediently crossed to it and fell in. The moment my head hit the softness my awareness faded. I vaguely remember hearing the sound of him shutting the door.

  Zezilia

  I WOKE TO DIMNESS AND the murmur of rain outside my widow. Rolling over, I looked out at the gray sky, thankful that I had been able to explore the gardens the day before. I was just replaying the events of the evening when a sound outside my door drew my attention. A muffled thump and a flurry of whispers drew me from my bed. I plucked my wrap from the end of my bed and crossed to my door.

  “You must be quiet,” a female voice hissed.

  “But the queen is awake,” protested another.

  “The Donellea isn’t.”

  Easing the door open, I found two handmaidens opening my empty traveling boxes on the sitting room floor.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as I opened the door all of the way.

  Both girls straightened up abruptly and then bowed. “We were instructed to pack your things as soon as you were awake. Drina and I were just preparing the boxes so we could begin as soon as you stirred, Donellea.”

  “Who ordered this?”

  “Your mother, Donellea,” Drina supplied.

  “May we begin?” the first asked.

  I nodded and crossed to my mother’s door
. Tapping lightly, I listened. The summons came immediately. I figured it would. Mother was an early riser, though she didn’t really move from her bed until well after ten.

  I found her as I expected, sitting up in bed with a bowl of fruit in her lap, studying the missives that she received daily. A prolific letter writer, Mother kept in touch with at least ten different Proctor’s wives under Father’s rule.

  “Close the door, Zez,” she said without looking up. “I don’t wish to be gawked at by the handmaids.

  I closed the door. The handmaids were too busy to look.

  “Why did you order my things packed?”

  Looking up from her letter, Mother’s dark eyes were slightly sad. “You will be leaving. For reasons that I cannot understand, your father has decided that you are to visit Master Errol Silas and his family. Since Master Silas is leaving immediately, you are to leave with him.”

  I simply stared at her in shock. When Master Silas had said that he would get father to allow him to train me, I hadn’t believed it. But now that it was happening, I wasn’t sure what to think.

  “From what I understand you will be traveling with Master Silas and his wife to an estate in the south. I hope it shall not be too far south. The humidity can be quite oppressive down there. All that water.”

  “Did he mention anything about training?” I asked.

  Mother’s response was a blank look. “Training? Child, what are you talking about?”

  “Nothing,” I quickly replied. “I should go get dressed for the journey.”

  “That sounds wise. Now come, give me a kiss and bid me goodbye. I shall be rising soon, for I have an appointment with the High Queen in a few hours.” She set aside the letter in her hand and extended her arms toward me. I crossed to be enveloped into a rare hug.

  Even when I was a child, Mother had never been a warm parent. I was always secure in her love for me, but she kept me at a distance. When I first realized this at the age of ten, I had been deeply hurt. That was also the year I figured out that I was the disappointment. But then, I watched her with my brothers and realized that she was distant with them too. Not even Father received warm, uninhibited affection from her. Then, I began to understand that it was just the way she was. It didn’t mean she loved me any less than any of my brothers. She simply wasn’t demonstrative. So, when she gave me opportunity, like this, for a hug and a kiss on the cheek, I embraced it with a whole heart.

  “Now be good, child,” she said, smoothing my hair and placing a scented kiss on my cheek. “Remember your manners and be a well behaved guest. I don’t want to hear that you have been abusing the Silas’ generosity. Treat their daughters well also.” With that, she hugged me again and sent me off.

  I obediently crossed to the door. Behind me, I heard her call for her handmaid and begin giving instructions for the day. As I turned to close the door behind me, I glimpsed her throwing back the covers to rise. I was going to miss her.

  I padded across the sitting room to my own bedroom. Drina and the other maid were packing as though their lives depended on being finished by a certain time limit. I barely rescued a simple long tunic and underslip and the other basic necessities for dressing and grooming myself. In the end, Drina followed me around for the last few steps of fixing my hair and cleaning my face, snatching up the things I finished with as I set them down. She flew away to disappear them into various boxes so that when I stepped into the sitting room ready to leave, the boxes were on their way out the door.

  “Do you know where I am to meet Master Silas?” I asked Drina after she gave instructions to the carrying boy.

  “I believe Master Silas and his wife are going to be leaving from the front entrance,” she informed me.

  “Thank you.”

  She bowed and excused herself, and I made my way to the stairs. The great gallery was empty except for the occasional servant rushing past on one errand or another. I descended the stairs and made my way toward the front entrance. Just beyond the open doors, I spotted a woman. She was standing near two loaded carts as though waiting for someone.

  She was about the age and height of my mother, but otherwise she looked nothing like my mother. Dark hair escaped from her pins and braids to curl in all directions. The simple gown of blue revealed the pleasantly plump frame of a matron. Her face, when she turned in my direction, was open and welcoming. She smiled at me as I approached.

  “Please Donelle, I am looking for Master Silas,” I said.

  Her smile blossomed wider. “You must be Donellea Ilar,” she replied.

  “I am.” I couldn’t help but smile in return.

  “Good, then all we need is my husband and we can set off. I am Donelle Silas, Errol’s wife.”

  I saluted her. “I am pleased to meet you Donelle.”

  She laughed. “Call me Adreet. I am not used to being called Donelle. It is such a formal title. You shall be living with us after all. I don’t allow formality among family and friends, and from what my husband tells me, you shall be part of our family. My girls will be so delighted to have another sister.”

  “You have daughters?” I asked before I completely thought about it. Her relaxed manner was contagious.

  “Ah, yes.” She smiled broadly. “I have three. You would think with a talent like Errol for a father they would have some talent, but they don’t. They can’t sense a sending between the three of them. Now, you, however, I understand have plenty of talent. It will be so nice to have another talent in the family for a time. We haven’t had one living with us since Ilias.”

  “Ah, I see you have met each other,” A new voice interrupted. I turned to find Errol Silas himself watching the two of us with great amusement. “Made friends?” he asked.

  “Of course, darling,” Adreet declared. “Are you ready to leave? We have a long trip ahead of us.”

  “We do indeed, my dear,” Errol agreed. “Are you ready?” he asked me.

  “I would like to say goodbye to my father and brothers.”

  Errol’s face grew solemn. “I am sorry, but they are in a meeting that is scheduled to go until the noon meal. I don’t think that will be possible. However, when we reach our destination, you will be free to invite them down for a visit.”

  Although I was disappointed, I nodded. It made sense.

  “Very well,” he said. “Shall we mount?”

  The three of us climbed into the covered cart and our journey began.

  Chapter IV

  Hadrian

  “Heathen,” the Mesitas spat. “You would give the choosing of the next High King over to a heathen.” I watched the color rise in his cheeks as the anger in his voice bounced off the walls.

  “I think he is about to explode.” Korneli commented to me. I resisted the urge to turn and meet my old friend’s gaze, but he was correct. The Mesitas did look as though he were about to burst. I frowned.

  “At least he is stating his stance openly,” Tavey offered, the thought soothing.

  “True,” I admitted. He was stating it openly before the entire council and the High King.

  It was comforting to have some close friends nearby. Though they had missed my swearing in, the moment that word of my selection reached them, they had both hurried to my side. Though Errol would have been more experienced help, I was more than thankful for their supportive presence, especially considering this twist.

  The Mesitas’s usual pale face was flushed and his breath ragged as he continued to spew forth accusation after accusation at me. The High King waited, his face stern, for the man to finish. Finally, after the old man’s words came to a stumbling halt, the High King spoke.

  “Thank you, Mesitas, for bringing this to our attention.” The Mesitas executed a wobbly bow and returned to his place, as the High King turned to me. “Sept Son would you like to speak to this man’s accusations?”

  “I would, my king, if you would allow me.”

  High King Honorus nodded his head. I rose to my feet as slowly and regally as I co
uld. From my place at the king’s right hand, I did not have far to walk to take my place before him.

  “Sire,” I said, saluting him formally, right palm to left shoulder. “Not twenty-four hours have passed since I took my oath before you all in the dining hall. Nowhere within that oath, written by our forefathers, was there a mentioning of the goddess or worship. Yes, I am the follower of God, the almighty creator of heaven and earth, but that does not mean I cannot perform my duties as a Sept Son. I shall choose a High King, when the time comes, based on my knowledge of what the needs of this nation are, according to the laws and statutes. I shall oversee the training of the talented and the facilitating of learning and knowledge. I shall advise the High King on political matters as he requests my advice. All of these duties are completely unrelated to my religious affiliation. Yes, I worship and serve a different deity than you, but I am still a man, still a servant of the High Throne, and still the Sept Son.”

  “That can be changed,” the Mesitas muttered.

  High King Honorus frowned over at the man. “If you wish to speak then speak, otherwise be silent.”

  “I was just saying that the title can be changed,” he declared loudly.

  “Though that is true, I think it is hardly relevant to this discussion.” The High King was frowning in earnest. “Now that he has been sworn in and I have condoned the previous Sept Son’s choice, it shall be hard to reverse the selection. Besides, there are no others qualified.”

  “There are two other seventh sons, My King,” the Mesitas pointed out.

  “Young and inexperienced, none of them have the qualifications of Hadrian Aleron.”

  The look of pure hate in the Mesitas’s face was enough to turn my stomach. Father protect me, I prayed before turning to the High King. “Your Majesty, may I humbly suggest that you resolve this problem by making a declaration. Otherwise, I shall have difficulty in fulfilling the requirements of my office.”