The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy (44 page)

“Good evening.”

Skipping all pleasantries, Tobias eyed the aicenai and said, “We need to talk about your student.”

Khin said nothing. He simply peered at Tobias, his ice-blue eyes sharp and intense.

Clearing his mind of all thoughts in an instant, Tobias drew forth an image of a fat beeswax candle centered on a silver plate, both of which rested on a table in a darkened, windowless room. Focusing on the flickering flame dancing about the imaginary wick, he glared at the aicenai and waited. After a few moments, a nearly imperceptible twitch rippled over the aicenai’s parchment-thin face. Tobias recognized the emotion behind it in an instant.

Surprise.

Giving Khin a slight, lopsided grin, Tobias said softly, “You are
not
the first of your kind I have met.”

Khin remained quiet for a time, continuing to stare intently. Eventually, he dropped his gaze, stepped aside, and asked, “Would you like to come in?”

Tobias nodded once.

“Thank you.”

As he hobbled into the sparsely appointed room, Khin shut the door behind him. Tobias glanced about Khin’s lodgings, eyeing the pair of reed mats on the ground and the plain table set against the wall. The unmistakable scent of Yutian incense hung in the air.

“Not one for decorations, are you?”

When Khin did not answer him, he turned to face the aicenai, keeping the image of the burning candle locked in his head.

After a few moments of quiet, Khin said softly, “This is unexpected.”

Tobias let a small chuckle escape.

“It is hard to rattle your kind, is it not?”

“It takes a great deal,” admitted Khin. “May I ask whom you have met?”

Tobias let the image of the candle fade away and drew forth his memories of the lush, tree-filled valley in central Cartu. Massive, worn granite rocks jutted from the steep hills. A swollen creek meandered through a clearing populated with a small cabin made of long pine trunks. Patches of white snow lay clumped in the trees’ shadows.

Khin stared at him blankly.

“I do not know that place.”

“The Yaubno Mountains. Near Glasshollow in central Cartu.”

“What is its significance?”

Tobias pictured the primary resident of the cabin stepping from its door, an aicenai, but one with a longer face than Khin and darker eyes.

“Ah,” murmured Khin. “Larin Lathruna.”

Tobias was mildly surprised.

“You recognize her?”

“I do,” said Khin. “How long has it been since you were there?”

Seeing no harm in answering the question, Tobias said, “Close to a century.”

“I see,” said Khin. “And how did you find her?”

“I was not looking for her if that is your question,” said Tobias. “I was looking for the cabin.”

Tilting his head slightly, Khin said, “The cabin?”

“For two straight turns, I had the same vision over and over again. Me, marching up that mountainside, through the trees, and to that cabin. Each time, it would end before I ever got to see what—or who—was inside. After perhaps the twelfth time, I set off to find it. It took me years, but I succeeded. And once I did, I stayed a while.”

“Why?”

Tobias shrugged.

“Larin was in hiding, I did not want to be found, and we got along. It was a good arrangement.”

“How long did you stay? What sorts of things did you discuss during your time there?”

Noticing that the aicenai’s eyes were particularly intense again, Tobias quickly reinforced the image of the beeswax candle. Glaring at Khin, he said pointedly, “Stop it. Now. I refuse to let you watch my thoughts.”

“I do not observe unless there is ample reason.”

“I don’t care what your reasons are,” said Tobias. “My thoughts are
my
thoughts.” He paused and, with a certain significance behind his words, added, “Swear an oath, Khin. Swear that you will stay
out
of my head. I want your word. As an aicenai.”

A tiny frown creased Khin’s lips.

“Such an oath is not given lightly.”

“Swear, Khin. Or I’m leaving and you can be left wondering why I ever came.”

Khin’s face remained blank as he said, “Larin shared much about my kind, it seems.”

Tobias nodded once.

“That she did.”

Tobias suspected that he knew more about aicenai than perhaps any living soul not of the ancient race. He was exploiting some of that knowledge now. Honoring a promise made was the pinnacle of an aicenai’s moral code. Their word was as strong as the Sea of Kings was deep.

After a long, drawn-out silence, Khin said, “You have my promise.”

Tobias let the flickering candle fade from his mind.

“Thank you.”

Khin inclined his head and said, “In exchange, I ask that you do not share your knowledge of that which I am capable with anyone.”

“Broedi knows, yes?”

“He alone,” acknowledged Khin. “It took him twenty years, but he reasoned out my skill. I hold a promise for him as well.”

“Yet he told no one?”

“He values the…insight I provide.”

A wry chuckle slipped from Tobias.

“That’s Broedi. Always wanting to know what others are thinking yet keeping his own thoughts buried beneath five feet of stone.”

“Why are you here?” asked Khin, clasping his bony hands before him. “Something about my student, yes?”

Glancing around the room, Tobias nodded in the direction of the table and chairs.

“Mind if we sit down? My leg gets stiff if I stand too long in the cold.”

Khin extended an arm toward the chairs.

“Please.”

Tobias shuffled to the table, hoisted himself into one of the chairs, and rested his walking stick against the wall. As Khin moved to the other chair and sat opposite him, Tobias asked, “You knew Eliza and Aryn, did you not?”

Khin inclined his head.

“I was here at the enclave while they were, yes.”

“Did you know them well?”

Khin shook his head slightly.

“What is the point of your question?”

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, Tobias said, “Whenever Eliza would get it in her mind to do something, something that even the most foolish of all fools would find outlandish, she would get this glint in her eye. It took me years, but I eventually learned that once you saw that, you stopped arguing. You might as well yell at a stone to fly like a hawk.”

“I know of what you speak.”

Tobias folded his hands, squeezed them tight, and murmured, “I just saw that glint again, Khin." He frowned. “It took two hundred years, but I saw it again.”

19
^th
of the Turn of Luraana, 4999

Zecus huddled beneath three layers of clothes, shrouded in the shadows of the southwestern wall, a worried frown on his lips. He stood rigid, gripping Simiah’s reins in his hand, Boah to his left, his father on his right, the trio of men anxiously staring at the moonlit courtyard. Simiah huffed, sending a misty breath into the night. Zecus reached up and scratched his horse’s neck.

Boah whispered, “Are we sure this is wise?”

“You have asked that question a dozen times,” murmured Joshmuel.

“And you have yet to give me an answer.”

Joshmuel was quiet for a moment before saying, “Be quiet, Boah. Else you will be walking the entire way home.” The words were firm, but kind.

Boah hesitated before giving a short grunt in response.

Swiveling his head to his right, Zecus locked eyes with his father. Even in the dim light of the wall’s shadow, Zecus could clearly see the worry lining his father’s face. Apparently, he shared Boah’s reservation. Zecus sighed and stared back to the empty courtyard. That made three of them.

Boah cleared his throat. A few moments later, he coughed again, louder and more insistent this time.

Sighing, his father grudgingly asked, “What is it, Boah?”

“Oh, may I speak now?”

“Will you ask if this is wise again?”

Zecus smothered a smile.

After a short pause, Boah said, “No.”

“Then speak,” murmured Joshmuel. “But try to do so quietly, please.”

“Well,” whispered Boah. “I was wondering if either of you had yet to come up with a plausible tale to tell the guards?”

Zecus stared at the open northwestern gate, knowing three men stood outside the keep’s entrance.

“We’re going for an early hunt in the forest?”

Boah murmured incredulously, “Who in the Nine Hells goes hunting at this time of night? In this blasted cold? Easterners are odd, yes, but they are not mad.”

Zecus remained quiet. He did not have answers.

Joshmuel said, “Perhaps they will not ask questions.”

Boah grunted, “And if they—” The Borderlander cut off as a horse’s low nicker drifted through the courtyard.

Zecus whipped his head around and stared out into the moonlit yard. There was nothing but gravel, stacks of firewood, and benches.

Boah muttered uneasily, “Uh…did anyone else just hear another horse?”

Before either father or son could answer, Zecus heard the crunching of horses’ hooves on gravel paired with a quiet chuckling. The sounds seemed as if they were only a dozen feet away, yet Zecus still saw nothing.

Suddenly, a gentle shimmer rippled through the air, like heat rising from the ground on a hot Borderlands day. Within a single breath, four horses and two riders appeared before them. The tomble White Lion sat on Nundle’s chestnut, a dark cloak draped over his shoulders—hood flipped back—and his walking stick laying across his lap. Kenders was atop her black and gray horse, Smoke, wearing a pair of tough-spun riding pants and a matching overcoat, her hair pulled back into a single, tight bunch. Their horses—along with the two behind them—were laden with packs and saddlebags.

Zecus’ eyes narrowed as he reasoned what Kenders was planning. She had fixed her gaze on him, her eyes hopeful and hard at the same time. She appeared on the verge of saying something, but after a beat, pressed her lips together.

Boah marveled, “Nine Hells, that is an excellent trick.”

Tobias grinned as he replied, “It is, isn’t it?” He motioned to the empty air around them. “I have extended the Weave around all of us now. To anyone outside it, this particular part of the courtyard will appear quite empty. Be careful, though. This particular Weave does nothing to sound. Keep your voices low.”

Zecus barely heard a word the tomble said. He was too busy glowering at Kenders.

Joshmuel took a cautious step towards Tobias and Kenders.

“It would appear you mean to come with us.”

Tobias turned to stare at Kenders, waved a hand, and said, “This is your show, dear.”

Kenders finally pulled her gaze from Zecus and shifted it to Joshmuel.

“Yes, we will be joining you. For a time, at least.”

Zecus ground his teeth. This was foolish.

Joshmuel said carefully, “I am surprised the Manes are letting you go. What say the baroness about this?”

Kenders frowned.

“Nothing. I did not tell her."

Zecus could not believe what he was hearing.

“You are sneaking away?”

She met his gaze but did not answer him.

After a long moment of quiet, Joshmuel asked, “Are you sure that is wise?”

Kenders said firmly, “It is what I’m doing.”

Zecus took a quick step forward, protesting in a hushed tone, “You are needed here!” He shifted his gaze to Tobias. “
Both
of you!” Shaking his head, he asked, “Why are you even here?”

“Because she asked me to come,” said Tobias.

“And you
agreed
? How could you permit her to do this?”

“Permit me?” said Kenders, her voice hushed yet firm. “I asked Tobias for his help, not his permission. This decision is mine to make.”

“And it is a foolish one! Have you thought this through?”

With a firm nod, Kenders said, “I left a note for Jak explaining my actions. I gave Sabine my mother’s necklace should the Manes need to check on me—or Nikalys. Tobias can bring me back here in an instant if necessary. And he can teach me about the Strands as we go.”

Zecus gaped at the little brown-haired tomble.

“And you believe this is a good idea?”

Tobias shook his head.

“Gods, no. I think it’s short-sighted and selfish. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was going one way or the other. I could agree to come, or let her go on her own. This arrangement is the sweetest of the sour.”

Kenders insisted, “We will only stay with you a few weeks. Four at the most. If we have not found your families by then, we will leave you to search on your own.” The resolve etched on her face softened. “You are all here because of me, because of what is happening. Let me help you find your families. Please.”

Zecus hissed, “This is not your fault! The Gods are driving this! Not you!”

Joshmuel said in a soft, warning tone, “Zecus…”

Shooting a glance in his father’s direction, he saw the elder Alsher pointing in the direction of the western gate.

“We do not want to draw attention.”

Refusing to be hushed, Zecus said, “But this is madness! She should stay here.” He whirled back to face Kenders. “You should stay here!”

Kenders bristled at his near-order.

“As it turns out, you do not get to tell me what to do.”

The pair glared at one another, neither willing to back away from their position.

“Son?” murmured Joshmuel. “It is not our place to challenge her. If this is her decision, we will abide by it.”

Satisfaction spread across Kenders’ face.

“Thank you for your support.”

Joshmuel stared up to Kenders and said, “To be clear, I do not support your decision. I, too, find it foolish. However, I am honor-bound to respect your wishes, regardless of their wisdom. You are determined to come. Fine. That is the end of it.” Peering back to Zecus, he added, “There will be no argument from us.”

Glaring at his father, Zecus protested, “But she—”

“Hush!” said Joshmuel. “This is the way of things. Accept it.”

Zecus held his father’s steady gaze, wanting to argue further but knowing this was a battle he was not going to win now. Perhaps he could reason with Kenders over the next few days to turn around and return to the enclave. Pressing his lips together, he dropped his chin to his chest.