The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy (21 page)

Raela marveled at Tandyr’s tranquility. She had known him in his previous forms, most recently the divina Norasim, and he had never been able to remain as at peace as he appeared now.

After a few seconds of quiet staring, Tandyr spoke, his tone even and calm.

“What sort of ‘error?’”

The former duke met the saeljul’s composed stare with a disappointed frown, evidently displeased he had been unable to upset Tandyr.

“When I left the castle, I brought a number of loyalists along with me. After moving through the port I had opened a few miles north of the city, I sent them away with instructions to meet me at a prearranged location while I attempted find a decent place to observe the battle.”

“Hold,” muttered Raela. “You opened a port in the middle of your lands? That was brainless. What if someone had seen you step from a port?”

The longer people believed Vanson was nothing more than the weak, ineffective Duke of the Borderlands, the better.

Vanson shook his head, saying, “I may have a few short-comings in your eyes, but being witless is not one of them. I scouted a small gully three turns ago and have had men guarding it since. Trust me, it was empty when I arrived.”

“Then what was your error?” asked Raela.

“Well,” muttered Vanson. “As this city is built on what I am convinced is the flattest land in all of Terrene, short of marching with the unwashed masses of the Sudashians, I would never be able to find a suitable vantage point to watch Gobas fall.”

Raela glared at him.

“Which explains why I found you standing in the Dust Men’s tower.”

Vanson shrugged and said, “It was as—”

“The mistake, please.” interjected Tandyr. “What was the mistake?”

The duke’s gaze flicked to the ijul. For a brief moment, undeniable trepidation filled his expression. Raela steeled herself. If Vanson was ashamed or afraid, this was bad indeed.

“Before I sent my loyalists from here, I gave them a number of documents and valuables to carry for me. I made the mistake of putting everything together, and handing it to a rather feckless baron to carry. When I eventually arrived at the camp, I discovered that four men had waylaid him—”

Raela sat upright, fully alert. Her voice was tight with accusation, she snapped, “You didn’t!”

Tandyr held up a hand, motioning for her to remain quiet. “Allow him to finish, please.”

Raela glared at Vanson, but remained silent for the moment. Slipping her hand beneath the folds of her own thin robes, she felt for the small pouch strapped around her waist. Pressing it against her right hip, she felt the oblong, finger-length stone contained within the purse. She never let hers out of sight.

Vanson’s gaze shifted between Tandyr and Raela, he was hesitant to continue. After clearing his throat, he said, “The bandits—Marshlanders by all accounts—took the baron’s coin and valuables.”

“And what was with those valuables?” asked Tandyr.

Vanson paused a moment.

“Ah…Suštinata na pori.”

Raela pushed herself from the Sovereign’s Chair and advanced on the sovereign, her bare feet brushing through the thick, red rug as she demanded, “Does that body you inhabit have an illness of the head?!” She halted at the bottom of the wide steps, mere paces from the pair. “Perhaps I should strike you down right now and force you to find another mortal to infect with your stupidity!”

Vanson tensed, his eyes wide and alert. He was waiting for some signal that she was reaching for the Strands. She would never be so predictable. The poisoned dart she had hidden in the broach hanging from her dress would kill him within four breaths.

Vanson said in a hushed tone, “You wouldn’t dare. You need me.”

“Do we?” she shot back. “Your role is complete, is it not?” She jabbed a finger at the half-open door nearby. “Gobas has fallen and the Borderlands are in our hands. Tens of thousands of refugees have already flooded into the Marshlands with more crossing the border every day. Duke Rholeb’s ability to form any sort of effective resistance diminishes with each Borderlander that shows up at his gates. The Marshlands will fall even faster than this forsaken land!”

The God of Strife’s expression hardened.

“Duke Everett and I can—”

Waving a hand in the air, Raela interjected, “You can do
nothing
! Everett will do whatever he is told to do. By Tandyr or by me! He’s a simpleton, a shield to protect us from the north. You’ve served your purpose. You are a duke without a duchy!”

Vanson shot back, “I am a
God
!”

A derisive laugh leapt from her lips.

“Fine. You’re a God. In present company, that means little. What you are is a fool! No! You are worse than a fool.” Taking a swift step forward, she peered up into his eyes and whispered with thick, hot vehemence, “Even the biggest fool in all of Terrene would not have lost one of the Suštinata!”

For just a moment, shame filled Vanson’s eyes. It was fleeting, but Raela had seen it. With a final, derisive snort of revulsion, she stepped backward.

“Idiot.”

She glanced at Tandyr to see what he thought of Vanson’s momentous gaffe and found the ijul standing extraordinarily still, hands clasped together at his waist as he stared at the ground.

Raela shook her head.

“Blast it, Tandyr! If this doesn’t get you upset, what will?”

A few moments later, Tandyr asked softly, “You have more to share, do you not, Vanson?”

Raela glared at Vanson.

“There’s more? What else did you do? Report our plans to the High Host?”

Withering under the combined intensity of her burning stare and Tandyr’s eminently cool one, Vanson uttered, “I admit to the gravity of my error. However, you have made one yourself.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“What does that mean?”

“Duke Rholeb is indeed beset by the exodus of refugees. And if he were the only one we had to worry about, we could feel secure about the situation.” He paused and licked his lips. “Unfortunately, that is not the case.”

Raela shook her head, muttering, “I enjoy riddles as much as I do your company at the moment. Speak clearly.”

The unexpected sound of soft laughter drifted through the empty hall. Surprised, she turned to stare at Tandyr and found the saeljul still staring at the ground while shaking his head, a slight smile on his lips.

Confused, Raela asked, “What about this is humorous?”

Tandyr sighed and said with mirthful resignation, “It was only a matter of time, I suppose.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Raela. “What was only a matter of time?”

Baffled as well, Vanson stared at Tandyr and asked, “Do you know what happened with the First Council? How could you? We haven’t spoken in—”

“I know
nothing
for a fact,” snapped Tandyr. His mirth vanished as quickly as it appeared. “However, your mediocre attempt at being cryptic is as transparent as a pane of newly spun glass.” The saeljul walked away from them and headed up the stairs.

Raela watched him for a moment before asking, “I don’t suppose you’d like to share?”

Upon reaching the Sovereign’s Chair, Tandyr faced Raela and Vanson, sat down, and pressed his back into the chair’s cushions, letting out a soft sigh of approval.

“This is a nice chair, Vanson. I can see why you grew used to it.”

Speaking with a quiet intensity, Raela said, “One of you had better tell me what has happened.”

Tandyr’s eyes flicked up sharply and stared at her, saying, “You know, for one who preaches the efficacy of a good lie paired with quiet restraint, you exhibit a stunning lack of patience.” The flickering torchlight lent a maniacal quality to the saeljul’s eyes. Of all the Cabal, Tandyr was the most dangerous. The others were predictable. Tandyr was not. Behind his current façade of calm and control bubbled a cauldron of anarchy.

Shifting his gaze to the former duke, Tandyr asked, “Duke Rholeb no longer defends his lands alone, does he?” It was more statement than question.

Vanson frowned.

“No, he does not.”

Raela shut her eyes and sighed.

“Tandyr, you swore that would not happen.”

“I was wrong,” answered the ijul plainly. “Shall we quit because of that?”

Opening her eyes, Raela shook her head and muttered, “No.” Looking over to Vanson, she asked, “How did that happen?”

“How it happened does not matter now,” said Tandyr. “I am more interested in who is aiding him.” Staring at Vanson with his ice blue eyes, he demanded, “What has Lord Tilas reported?”

“The Southlands and Long Coast have pledged their support—and armies—for the Marshlands.”

“Why?” asked Raela. “On what are they basing their decision?”

With a frown, Vanson’s said, “Apparently a handful of Borderlanders made a rather convincing case before the First Council. Duchess Aleece claims that I am deceiving everyone, that I am hiding the invasion.”

Tandyr shrugged.

“Then they are not fools. What do the others say?”

“Two other duchies are leaning toward offering assistance as well,” replied Vanson. “The remaining three have remained neutral so far.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, Raela said, “So the Marshlands will be defended by the armies of
three
duchies—perhaps more?”

Vanson shook his head, replying quickly, “Yes, but it will take time for them to move their forces into place, especially the Long Coast. Besides, we have mages. They don’t. They would need to have an absolutely overwhelming number of soldiers to stand against us. And they simply don’t have that.”

Tandyr said, “Now it is you who is making assumptions.”

The duke looked back up the stairs.

“What do you mean?”

The ijul stared at him, frowning.

“You are forgetting a very important force in all of this.”

Raela, guessing to whom Tandyr was referring, said, “The Progeny?”

Tandyr nodded, his frown deepening.

“You still believe they exist?” huffed Vanson.

“Fool,” muttered Raela. “When has Indrida ever been wrong?”

Vanson glared at her and snapped, “If we subscribe to the infallibility of her words, why are we even bothering with this undertaking?”

Raela shook her head, unable to answer him. She asked herself that same question at least once a day.

Tandyr raised his voice, saying clearly, “Indrida’s prophecies are
not
without flaw. I promise you that.”

Raela turned to stare at the saeljul curiously. He spoke with confidence.

“You know something, don’t you?”

The ijul lowered his voice to just above a whisper and said, “There is no need to debate the Progeny’s existence any longer. There are two of them. A boy and girl, not yet in their twentieth year.”

A quiet moment filled the hall.

Raela asked, “How can you be sure?”

Tandyr lifted his gaze from the floor to meet her stare.

“Cadrin has made some recent progress with the prisoner.”

Vanson took an angry step forward, demanding, “Why are we only finding out about this now? You should have told us this earlier!”

“Do you understand the meaning of the word ‘recent?’” asked Tandyr coldly. “I only received notice a few days ago. The Progeny exist. What we do not know—cannot know—is whether they are aware of this new alliance in the Marshlands and have any interest in aiding them.”

“And here I was thinking you were omnipotent,” murmured Vanson.

“And I thought you were competent,” replied the saeljul.

Not interested in any sort of squabble, Raela asked, “So what do we do now?”

Tandyr looked to her, his expression one of utmost determination.

“We retrieve Vanson’s lost Suštinata and continue as planned.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Raela asked, “And how do we find the lost Suštinata
?
” She glanced over at Vanson. “And, to be clear, I mean the one
you
lost. Not the others.”

The former duke of the Borderlands glared at her in perfect silence.

Tandyr asked, “Did you kill the baron who was robbed?”

Vanson shook his head, replying, “No. He’s alive.” A wicked smile spread over his face. “I’ve been enjoying his agony as he awaits his fate.”

Raela shook her head, disgusted.

With a faint smile and nod, Tandyr rose from the Sovereign’s Chair.

“Good. I have an idea, then.”

Drifting down the stairs of the dais, he passed Vanson and Raela.

“Retrieve him and meet me in the soldiers’ practice yard in one hour.”

Her brow drawn together, Raela asked, “Where are you going?”

Already a dozen steps down the red rug, Tandyr halted, turned to face them, and said, “To visit the mongrels.” With a slight smile, he spun around and resumed his walk toward the double doors.

Raela stared after him a moment before glancing at Vanson curiously.

The duke shrugged his shoulders and mumbled, “Don’t ask me…”

He walked off, leaving Raela staring at both Gods’ backs. Sighing, she shook her head and followed them to the doors.

12
^th
of the Turn of Luraana, 4999

A low, heavy thudding rumbled across the rolling prairie.

Rhohn immediately crouched low to the ground, dropping his head below the shafts of the tall, dry grass. He held perfectly still, peering through the thin stalks of grass swaying in the breeze, staring toward the dirt road, and listening to the distant reverberation. A worried grimace spread over his face as he realized the sound did not belong to horses.

“Blast it.”

A few days ago, he had spotted a patrol of oligurts on the prairie’s horizon, riding atop their ugly part-boar, part-wolf mounts. Luckily, he noticed them first, giving him plenty of time to hide in the grass. The rumbling he heard now could very well belong to those beasts.

Rhohn scowled, noting the way the prairie grass bent with the wind. The gentle breeze was surely carrying his weeks-without-a-wash scent toward the dirt road that rested almost a hundred paces away.

He cursed his error. He was growing lax.

Frowning, he studied his surroundings. Having left the steeper hills behind days ago, the slopes here were gradual and sweeping, a transitional area of land caught between foothills and plains. The hills might be smaller, but the terrain’s rise and fall still played tricks with sounds. Rhohn could not tell from where the rumbling was coming.