The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy (10 page)

The finery worn by council attendees was astonishing. Jak had never seen such elegance and expense. Women’s dresses were elaborate concoctions of soft, muted colors with large, puffy shoulders and tapered arms. The attire worn by men also favored fashion over function, resulting in such horrid things as stiff, incredibly restrictive collars that choked their wearers.

Jak reached up again, planning to give his neck a satisfying scratch when Zecus leaned over and whispered, “The baroness is watching.”

Shooting a quick glance past Sergeant Trell, he found Lady Vivienne indeed glaring at him, almost daring him to pick at his collar.

Jak dropped his hand, shifted in his seat, and turned away from the noblewoman. Keeping his voice low, he muttered in exasperation, “Why do we have to wear these blasted things anyway?”

A small smile crept over Zecus’ face.

“A snake does not worry about boots.”

Jak stared at his friend, confused.

“Say again?”

“Words from my father,” replied Zecus. “It means ‘worry about what is important,’ I doubt your collar is worthy of your ire.”

Jak frowned. Zecus was right.

“Am I permitted to worry about why we are here?”

Zecus nodded, muttering, “I am.”

Lady Vivienne had yet to reveal the purpose of their visit to the First Council proceedings despite persistent questioning by Jak, both last night and this morning. The baroness had ignored every inquiry made.

Eyeing Zecus, Jak asked, “You are
sure
you don’t know why she wanted you here?”

The Borderlander hesitated briefly before replying.

“I do not believe so.”

Jak stared closely at his friend, curious at the choice of words.

“That’s not a ‘no.’”

Zecus gave him a sidelong look before shaking his head.

“I do not wish to give voice to a hope that may be false.”

Physically and mentally shrugging, Jak let the issue drop. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and waited for something to happen. As he sat there, a tiny smile of wonder graced his lips. He, Jak Isaac of Yellow Mud, was in the Oaken Duchies’ capital, sitting in the Council House, surrounded by nobles. A disbelieving chuckle slipped from his lips.

Yesterday morning, after washing away the sweat and grime from morning drills, he returned to his room. When they had arrived at the enclave, the Shadow Manes had given Nikalys and Kenders private rooms in a tower as some sort of honor. Nikalys insisted that Jak remain nearby, so he had received a room on the same floor as his brother.

Later in the afternoon, the baroness summoned him to her offices and announced he was going to Freehaven. Jak was surprised Sergeant Trell had succeeded in convincing the noblewoman to allow him to come. Lady Vivienne had proven she was a person who preferred to give orders rather than take them.

With no explanation of what was happening, the baroness pulled a large, metal key from the folds of her dress, faced the rear wall of her office, and dragged the key vertically along the stone, top to bottom. Upon reaching the floor, the wall appeared to flutter as if made from canvas rather than stone.

A moment later, the baroness implausibly stepped into the wall. Jak stared at the inky void with wide-eyed trepidation. Kenders had explained the concept of a port to him, but seeing one this close had been disconcerting.

Sergeant Trell had gone next, followed by Zecus. Jak was the last to step through, entirely unsure what he should expect. One moment he was in Lady Vivienne’s cold and dark office at the enclave, the next he was in a warm, richly furnished room, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming through garden window. Plush couches and cushioned chairs filled the room, a massive, four-post bed against the far wall.

Glancing behind him, he found a different stone wall, one crafted of smooth white stone with gray specks. The strange, dark line delineating the port entrance hovered on its surface.

Lady Vivienne swept him aside and draped the palm of her hand over the obsidian globe on the key’s bow. The white stone wall solidified in an instant. Apparently, they were in Freehaven. The baroness had Southern Arms guards escort them to their room after issuing a stern warning to not touch anything. They were to be ready at dawn the next day.

As the soldiers escorted the new arrivals through the structure, navigating a confusing series of hallways, they occasionally passed an arched window which allowed Jak to steal a quick glance outside. Much to his disappointment, all he could see were the sides of other buildings or a lush garden full of flowering bushes.

The trio spent the entire evening alone in a well-appointed room with a view of a stone wall. Four Southern Arms stood outside their door, refusing to speak with them or let them leave. Jak felt more prisoner than guest. Had Sergeant Trell not seemed so calm about the situation, Jak would have been quite concerned.

This morning, they awoke to find three sets of court clothes provided for them along with a simple morningmeal of bread, cheese, and a tart fruit juice. After eating, Jak attempted to dress. It was a struggle. Sergeant Trell needed to show Zecus and Jak which buttons attached to which loops, which flaps went to the correct buckles. Afterwards, the guards ushered the trio to an enclosed courtyard where a covered carriage awaited them on a pebbled path.

Lady Vivienne was already waiting for them in the cab, an impatient expression etched on her face. Once they had settled, she ordered the door shut and drew the curtains. Jak bit his tongue, upset. He had hoped to glimpse a bit of Freehaven on the way to the Council Hall. Instead, he was forced to listen to the bustling city rush by and try to imagine everything that he was missing.

Upon arriving at the Council Hall, they disembarked in yet another sheltered yard. Lady Vivienne led them through a side entrance of the chambers, giving them explicit instructions to remain silent once inside. Jak had the impression that Lady Vivienne would have liked to toss a blanket over their heads if propriety would allow it.

Fortunately, no one stopped them on their way up to the balcony. In fact, most people seemed to give the baroness a wide berth. Lady Vivienne led them directly to their seats in the front row, and had forced them to wait in near-silence ever since.

Jak sighed, opened his eyes, and dropped his head. His gaze noticed two new arrivals sitting across from him, on the opposite side of the balcony.

With surprise, he muttered, “Huh.”

Two small female figures—no more than three feet tall—sat together, each wearing identical, deep-purple robes and talking in hushed tones to each other. While both had rich, auburn hair, one wore it free and unbound while the other had hers tied into two long braids. They almost looked like sisters.

Tapping Zecus’ leg, Jak nodded in the direction of the pair.

“Look.”

Zecus peered at them, lifted an eyebrow, and said, “Tombles? Here?”

Jak nodded.

“I’d give good coin to have Nundle here. I have a feeling he would be quite excited.”

Zecus chuckled softly, saying, “And water is wet…”

Jak smiled and scanned the balcony, spotting a handful of other souls that were odd to his eye. Three ijuli sat together on the far side of the room, their tan skin and black hair marking them as tijuli. Jak frowned. Their light, loose robes looked quite comfortable.

“Why do they get to—?”

“Hush!” interrupted Lady Vivienne in a whispered voice. “Keep your tongue or wait outside!”

Jak glared at the baroness, his annoyance flaring again, and demanded, “When is this going to start anyway?”

As though his question were the cue, a door opened behind the long oak table. A pale man wearing a white tunic and crisp, black breeches emerged and strode forward, moving to stand at the center of the table. He waited as the attendants below hurried to stand against the walls of the chamber. The multitude of people in the balcony began to quiet, the buzz of conversation fading quickly.

Jak muttered, “Thank the Gods.”

He felt Lady Vivienne glaring at him, but he did not care.

Once the room was quiet, the man called out, speaking crisply, snapping off each word.

“Citizens of the Oaken Duchies, ambassadors, and honored guests, I present the First Council.”

His words echoed throughout the chamber.

“Representing the Northlands Duchy, I present to you Duke Anders’ prime minister, Lord Hader, Baron of Carinius!”

Stepping forth from the door behind the table marched a man in black leather armor trimmed in gold cloth ribbing. He carried a pole upon which a black pennant hung, the gold and white image sewn upon the flag obscured by the cloth’s folds.

Jak stared, confused. The man looked more soldier than baron.

Sergeant Trell leaned over and whispered, “An honor guard of the Black Watchers, the baron comes next.”

Jak glanced over and nodded, grateful for the explanation.

The guard marched to the center of the table, turned sharply to the left, and strode to stand behind the chair at the far end of the table. He lowered the pole until it rested at a gentle angle, unfurling the black flag to reveal an emblem of a white teardrop-shaped shield with a golden tower at its center.

Two other men strode from the doorway, heading directly for the chair where the Black Watcher guard stood. The first was thin and balding, wearing a muted gold tunic, black pants, and black leather boots. The man following him wore garb matching the announcer and carried a leather binder under his arm.

The first man reached the chair, pulled it back from the table, and sat down. Immediately, the man behind him laid the binder upon the table and opened it. Jak assumed the man sitting down was Lord Hader, the Baron of Carinius.

Although the First Council was meant for the sovereigns of the ten duchies, rare was the occasion when a duke or duchess attended. Typically, a minister acted on their behalf, handling most mundane matters that never required approval of their sovereign.

The redheaded announcer called out again.

“Representing the Foothills Duchy, I present to you Duke Eli’s prime minister: Lord Lucius, Baron of Vale!”

Another soldier stepped from the door, dressed in a slate gray and white uniform and carrying a wooden pole with a white flag draped down. The soldier marched to the center of the table and turned right, walking closer to where Jak sat.

Jak’s stomach sunk as he realized they were going to have to wait for all ten ministers to be announced. Zecus caught his eye and frowned. The same thought had crossed his mind.

Everyone in the chambers waited—some more patiently than others—as each representative’s name, title, and lands were announced before the noble took his or her place at the table. When the fifth member of the Council was announced, Jak sat up and paid attention.

“Representing the Great Lakes Duchy, I present to you Duke Everett’s prime minister: Lord Treswell, the Baron of Deartfield!”

A Red Sentinel stepped from the doorway, wearing a fancier, more elaborate version of the armor with which Jak was familiar. A quick glance at Sergeant Trell revealed a tense man, muscles twitching in his jaw.

Jak empathized with the sergeant. He had dedicated his entire life to the Sentinels, only to discover that his liege lord, Duke Everett, was conspiring with the evil Gods of the Cabal. To what ends, no one knew, but the betrayal Sergeant Trell felt was clear to see.

Once the honor guard took his place, a tall, skinny man with immaculately combed black hair strode forth to take his place under the red and black pennant of the Great Lakes Duchy.

As the baron walked to his seat, Sergeant Trell muttered, “There’s something wrong with that man.”

Jak braced for another withering stare from Lady Vivienne warning them to remain quiet, but instead, she murmured a soft, almost agreeable response.

“Yes, Sergeant, there is.”

Surprised, Jak turned to find the baroness with a thoughtful frown on her face. The next announcement pulled Jak’s attention below a moment later.

“Representing the Borderlands’ Duchy, I present to you Duke Vanson’s prime minister,: Lord Tilas, the Baron of Ethemer!”

Zecus shifted in his seat, sitting up taller.

The honor guard that stepped from the doorway was wearing a dress uniform of muted browns and tans. From what Zecus had described to Jak about the dry and dusty region, he thought the colors were entirely appropriate.

Leaning close to Zecus, Jak asked softly, “Do you know who Lord Tilas is?”

Zecus shook his head, his dark brown eyes following the path of the baron to his seat beside Baron Treswell. Lord Tilas was dark-skinned like Zecus, but his head was shaved clean.

Zecus whispered, “Ethemer is in the southeast, bordering the Marshlands, I believe. Very far from home.”

Jak sat as patiently as he could as the next pair was announced, a Lady Jonda representing the Red Peaks and Lord Osvanni for the Colonial Duchy. He was more interested in the different colored banners and soldiers than the nobles themselves.

Once Lord Osvanni took his seat, the announcer drew himself up an inch or two taller and called out, “Lords and Ladies, citizens of the Oaken Duchies, ambassadors and guests, please rise.”

A soft murmuring of surprise rippled through the crowd. Jak caught a few snippets of whispered exchanges over the rustling of a few hundred people all standing at once.

“—rumors are true, then. I did not—”

“—remember when four attended?”

“—of this is quite interesting.”

Not understanding why he must stand, he did nonetheless, along with everyone in the balcony. He shot an inquisitive look at Sergeant Trell and Lady Vivienne, but neither met his gaze. When he glanced at Zecus, the Borderlander shrugged his shoulders as he rose from the bench.

When the chamber was once again quiet, the man below resumed his announcing duties.

“I present to you the Duchess Adnil, the Lady of Nova Litora and sovereign ruler of the Long Coast Duchy!”

Jak suddenly understood why they were standing. Four sovereigns were here.

Two men dressed in maroon uniforms trimmed with silver, exited the door and marched to an open chair, one carrying the flag of the Long Coast Duchy, the other empty-handed. Once the guards were in place, Duchess Adnil entered the chamber.