“No,” Tallis said, a bit puzzled by this sudden change of subject. “I think it’s a special gift that you have, and it’s yours to give to who you want, when you want, and when you feel it’s right.”
“All right. Thank you.” Brannon relaxed a little. “Can I sing for you again? I want to.”
Tallis smiled, pleased beyond words. “I would like that.”
Brannon stood and went to the altar, standing up straight and as tall as his small form allowed. He didn’t sing for long, and the song was slower, more introspective than the last. Tallis listened quietly, understanding the meaning even though he didn’t know the words.
“Thank you,” he said, when Brannon finished. “For letting me listen.”
* * *
Chapter Eight
Owain and Calessa rode some distance away from the temple without speaking. The broad dirt road gradually narrowed until it was barely wide enough for the carriage, and then curved to follow a quiet river. The water sparkled in the sun, and the wind rustled in the tall grass, making the ride quite pleasant. Calessa was glad that Owain was giving her some time to regain her composure before trying to make conversation.
About half an hour later, he pulled the carriage off the road next to a large, flat rock that jutted out over the river. He hopped down and offered a hand to her, and they settled on the sun-warmed stone, watching the water lazily wind around a curve. “The first time I met Emory,” Owain finally said, smiling slightly, “I was stuck in a tree.”
“A tree?” Calessa couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yes, a tree. I was eight. I had heard the servants talking about making kites, and I thought it sounded grand, so I went outside, made a kite, and quite promptly lost it in the tree. I climbed up to get it and then couldn’t get back down.”
Calessa covered her mouth, trying to not laugh at the thought of a small Owain stuck in a tree.
“Emory was a teenager then – he’s several years older than me – and his family was visiting mine. He found me stuck in the tree and tried to use magic to help me down, but it didn’t work. He was very put out.”
“I can imagine. How did you get down?”
“It finally occurred to him to try a spell that didn’t directly involve me.” Owain shrugged slightly. “He flew up to get me. He’s very good with air currents and that sort of thing.”
“Handy. But why didn’t the other spells work?”
Owain smiled slightly. “I told you I was immune to Emory. It’s true. His tutor called me a magical sinkhole of sorts. Magic has no effect on me whatsoever. It slides right off.”
“How interesting!” Calessa exclaimed, fascinated.
“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” Owain said. “It applies to me as well. I don’t have a single drop of magic. Not even enough to light a match. That part’s not really surprising, though; nobody in my family is a mage. Anyway, no one knows why I’m a magical dead spot.”
“The professors at the Academy would love to try to figure you out,” Calessa mused, hooking her hair behind her ears as a light breeze tossed it about.
“I’m sure they would,” Owain said dryly. “Emory fancies himself as something of an academic and spent several years trying to puzzle it out. He liked it, though. He says I’m the only person who has ever looked at him with clear eyes.”
“Does he involuntarily pull people under that spell?” Calessa asked.
Owain looked at her and said mildly, “If I say yes, will you report it to the Warders?”
“It’s not a crime if he can’t help it,” Calessa said. “What he did to me today, however, was different.”
Owain shrugged. “I’m sure he can help it. Emory is almost obsessed with being in control. Oh, yes, Calessa, what he does is very purposeful. But he does like the fact that he can’t enspell me. I think he looks upon me as something of a challenge.”
Calessa thought about this for a moment. It seemed to her that Emory still controlled Owain – he just did it with emotional manipulation instead of a spell. She was fairly sure that pointing that out wouldn’t get her very far, however, so she decided to change the subject. “Then explain to me why I’m not hauling him up on charges.”
“How should I know?” Owain asked. “I assume that you’re more interested in finding whatever it is you’re looking for than putting him out of business.”
“Yes, but I’d settle.”
Owain shrugged again. “You have to understand something, Calessa,” he said patiently. “I wouldn’t tell you any of this if I thought it could be used against him in any way. Despite the fact that I know who and what he is, I care for him. I can’t help it. I have faith in him. He’s not going to be caught – at least, not by you and your friends.”
“I might believe that we won’t be the ones who catch him,” Calessa said, “but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to be caught.”
“As you like,” Owain said, his tone indifferent.
Calessa sighed. “I like you, Owain. I honestly do. But he is not a good man.”
He gave her a sideways look. “As I said – I know who and what he is. You don’t. So please don’t advise me on the subject of his moral value.”
“Let’s talk about something else,” Calessa said.
“Can I ask you a question solely out of my curiosity?”
“Certainly.”
“What is it that Emory stole?”
“In all honesty, at this point, I’m not sure he’s stolen anything.”
“Oh well.” Owain shrugged. “I was just curious. He doesn’t often let me in on his plans.”
“That’s probably safer for you.”
“Yes, it is.”
* * *
Tallis and Sienna spent a frustrating day trying to track the chest, with very little success. After the first hour, Sienna ventured the opinion that whoever had stolen it had made every effort to hide his or her tracks. Since the thief could Gate, there was no way to follow any trail he had made. The chest itself should have been easier to track, but one locator spell after another failed, no matter how hard either of them tried.
“So, we know he got out of the forest with it,” Sienna said, upon finding the exact spot where the Gate had been formed. “Bravo, us.”
Tallis moaned in reply.
“And naturally, if he can Gate, which he clearly can, then he could be anywhere in the world by now.” Sienna sat down heavily on a nearby tree stump. “Barring the Elder’s paranoia about the new religion, we haven’t even the foggiest notion where to start.”
“Are we allowed to give up a case as a lost cause?” Tallis asked, flopping down on his back and looking up at the stars.
“I very much doubt it,” Sienna said tartly. “Although it’s quite tempting to say that the Elder hasn’t told us everything and beg off that way.”
“I wouldn’t anyway,” Tallis said with a sigh.
“No,” Sienna agreed. “Nor I. This is important, much more important than I first thought.”
Tallis opened one eye and peered over at her, though he could barely see her in the dim light. “I thought you weren’t religious.”
“I’m not,” she said. “However, although the gods may be hypothetical, the Emperor is not. He existed, and there is a great deal of evidence to support both his existence and the magical power of the Regalia. If that chest did indeed contain the Mirror, we can’t let it fall into just anybody’s hands.”
“I hope it’s been sold for money; then it might turn up,” Tallis said. “I don’t know why anyone would steal the Regalia for any other purpose. No one except the Imperial family could use it, and the Imperial family is dead.”
“I know that, but with the Imperial family dead and the Regalia left without an owner, it could possibly be bent to someone else’s will.”
Tallis shook his head.
“You and the Elder might not want to believe that,” Sienna said evenly. “And I’m not saying it’s true. But someone else might believe that it cou
ld be done, and that might lead to them stealing it. This is all theoretical, anyway; we don’t really have anything other than theories to go on. For that matter, the objects would be so imbued with magical power that it’s possible someone might be trying to siphon the raw power out of them, bypassing the question of ownership completely.”
Tallis let his head thunk into the tree behind him. “This is a nightmare,” he said.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Sienna said. “We need to put out feelers into the black market now that we know exactly what we’re looking for. I’ve more contacts there than you have, I expect, so I’ll be writing birds half the night. By tomorrow, we’ll hear back from the Academy at least. It may be as simple as going through the list of people who can Gate.”
“We can hope,” Tallis agreed.
Sienna nodded. “I’m going to camp out here,” she said. “It’s a nice enough night, and I’ll be ready if someone happens to come by to commit some evil, make some Gates.”
Tallis chuckled. “All right. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night.”
He went back into the Monastery and spent a brief and frustrating meeting with the Elder, detailing the lack of progress he had made. The Elder still managed to be excited that Tallis had managed to track it at all, even though the trail had ended so abruptly, and expressed his confidence that they would find the item soon. This did not improve Tallis’ temper in the slightest.
Brannon was asleep in his bed again when he got upstairs. Tallis didn’t blame him; the Temple had been far too cold for a comfortable night’s sleep. He shifted the boy over slightly and crawled into bed next to him, and was asleep moments later.
* * *
// “Dragon, dragon, I’m bored.” The prince crawled up onto the top of the dragon’s belly. The dragon had been napping on his back in the sunlight, the softer scales of his underside making an ideal landing place for a small boy. He opened one eye at this disturbance. “Tell me a story,” the boy demanded.
/ Once, there was a little boy, / the dragon said, his voice sleepy and amused. / A little prince who was always pestering people. One day, he woke up inside a dragon’s stomach after being eaten for disturbing a nap. /
“Hey!” the prince protested. “That’s not a nice story at all!”
/ It was nice for the dragon, / the dragon replied. / The little prince was very tender. /
“You can’t threaten to eat me!”
/ I wasn’t threatening anything. I was just telling you a story. /
The six-year-old boy’s eyes narrowed as his sulk intensified. “You’re so mean,” he said, rolling around a little and tickling the dragon’s stomach. “Father’s in one of his big important meetings and Mother’s been in with the maids preparing for tonight for hours, and why does she have to wear so much clothing anyway?”
/ She wears so much because when it’s formal wear, all the clothes have special meaning and everyone expects to see them, / the dragon explained patiently. He was quite accustomed to the prince coming to him with questions that nobody else would answer, and could only imagine how the maids would respond if he had laid that inquiry on them. / I don’t really understand women either. Just wait. Soon they’ll be dressing you up. /
“Nope,” the boy said in a conspiratorial tone. “I already dodged the maids. They think I’m hiding in the back storerooms.”
The dragon laughed to himself at the prince’s tone; he was clearly quite proud of himself. / I’ll make a deal with you, / he said. / If you’ll go back inside and let them dress you up, I’ll go with you tonight. /
“Father said you’d be there tonight anyway,” the boy said. “Since you’re supposed to protect us and all.”
/ Do you know what that means? / the dragon asked. / It means I’ll stand behind the Emperor’s throne and look stern. /
“So if you say you’ll go with me, will you play with me so I’m not bored?”
/ I will. Within reason. We can’t mess up your nice clothes and we can’t disturb anyone. /
The prince laughed. “Well, all right,” he said. “If only because it’ll be really funny to see all the maids’ faces when they realize I snuck past them and have been out here the whole time.”
/ You are a troublemaker, / the dragon informed the prince, as if he might be unaware of this.
“I know. Mother says so.” The prince slid off the dragon’s stomach and landed in a heap. “Change? That way you can come inside with me. And they’ll dress you up, too.”
/ I know. All right. / The dragon shifted in a blur of gold and purple, and calmly picked up the deep purple kimono where he had draped it over a bench, pulling it on. He wore it more like a bathrobe than a formal kimono, which made the prince giggle. “Shall we?” he asked, extending his hand to the prince, and the prince smiled and took it. //
* * *
Tallis yawned and stretched, feeling warm and comfortable. He had had a good dream, although he could not recall off the top of his head what it had been about. He thought there had been a dragon in it, but he wasn’t sure. He was more well-rested than he would have thought he would be, given the hour he had gone to bed.
He slowly opened one eye and watched the sun slanting across his bed. The light had woken him. He frowned, suddenly coming more awake. He was always up before the sun hit his bed in the monastery. It didn’t get that far across the room until after breakfast. Sienna had woken him the previous morning, but with her outside the monastery, it seemed he had overslept.
There was a muffled noise from next to him and he looked down to see Brannon, still comfortably burrowed in the blankets. He rubbed at his eyes for a moment, then sank back into sleep.
“Uh oh,” Tallis said.
“Hmm . . .?” Brannon let out a huge yawn. “’m sleepy, lemme ‘lone . . .”
“You’d better get up,” Tallis said. “It’s after breakfast.”
“It’s wha?” Brannon yawned again. He opened one eye and when the sun hit it, sat bolt upright. He paled. “Oh no,” he said. “I’m late for service.”
“Yeah,” Tallis said. “I just woke up. I’m sorry.”
“I’d better go – ” Brannon scampered out of the bed, hastily adjusting his robes from where they’d become askew while he slept. “I’ll see you later,” he said, and without another word, he darted into the tunnel and was gone. Tallis watched him go with his half-formed sentence on his lips, and took a moment to pray for the boy’s safety as he got up to dress for the day.
* * *
Brannon ran full tilt down the hallways, hoping that some miracle might have occurred and the Elder might not have noticed his absence. He knew that this was impossible – he was always there in the mornings when the monks began to arrive – but it was still worth a hope.
He had no such luck. The service had just ended when he dashed inside. The Elder swept through the crowd and went right for him. “Where have you been?” he thundered.
“Upstairs,” Brannon said plaintively. “I fell asleep in the monastery. It was too cold down here.”
Elder Edrich took the boy’s hands, feeling the warmth in them, and frowned. “You’ve been talking to the Warders again, haven’t you,” he said.
“No.” Brannon shook his head.
“You’ve been very interested in them.”
“You said not to, so I didn’t,” Brannon said.
“I don’t believe you,” the Elder said sharply. “You’re lying.”
“So what if I am?” Brannon retorted. “It’s not like you haven’t been lying all over the place.”
The Elder’s face clouded with anger. He raised one hand to strike him, but then took a deep breath and lowered the hand. “Luan Qiang Yu,” he said, “you have been a most ungrateful little boy lately.”
Brannon looked down at the floor. “I just wanted a friend.”
“You have disobeyed me. You need to trust the adults in your life to do what’s best for you.”
“I hate you,” Bran
non said. “Leave me alone.” He shook off the Elder’s restraining hand and ran for the niche he called his bedroom.
Edrich caught him by the sleeve before he could make it more than three steps. “I don’t think so,” he said, the anger plain in his voice. “We have yet to discuss your punishment.”
* * *
Although still worried about Brannon’s abrupt departure, Tallis decided that there was nothing he could do for the boy at the moment. After grabbing a quick breakfast, he was on his way outside to meet Sienna when something in an intersecting hallway caught his eye. He stopped, backed up, and turned around. Brannon was sullenly scrubbing the floor in the corridor. It was one of the main halls in the monastery, wide enough for at least four men to walk abreast. The knees of Brannon’s robes were soaked through with soapy water, and he was muttering to himself as he pushed the rag back and forth.
“Brannon?” Tallis walked over. The boy wouldn’t look up, even though he clearly knew that Tallis was there. “Why are you scrubbing the floor? I thought they didn’t want you out where I might find you.”
“Well,” Brannon said, scrubbing viciously at a nonexistent spot, “you found me.”
“Did I do something wrong?” Tallis asked cautiously. He wasn’t sure he understood the logic of the situation. Although the Elder had clearly given up on hiding Brannon, it seemed silly to put him out in the hallway where anyone could see him.
“Elder’s mad,” Brannon said. “I missed morning services this morning. I was warm when I came in, so he knew I’d been in the monastery. Wasn’t hard to figure out where I’d been.”
Tallis blinked. For a few moments, he was too incredulous to respond. The fact that the Elder had made this connection meant that he knew damn well Brannon’s room was too cold. “He’s punishing you for finding a warm place to sleep?”
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