The Legend of Asahiel: Book 02 - The Obsidian Key (29 page)

Dynara responded without anger or apology. “Tell me, how are women regarded in your land?” Before he could answer, she continued. “Here, we are treated much like mules and horses, animals of service and little more.”

Torin opened his mouth to press the issue, before thinking suddenly of a better way around it. “Suppose I were to accept this gracious offer,” he began, his skepticism plain. “What would be in it for you—should I find the Finlorians, prove my claim, and return home with my talismans in hand?”

“You mean, in addition to knowing that I’ve helped save the lives of your countrymen and perhaps a few of my own?”

“Yes, in addition to that.”

Dynara grinned. “It so happens that in the journey itself, you would be doing me a favor. Certain”—she paused, as if searching for the right word—“elements within my clan have become a source of disruption. I have a sister, in particular, who has become dissatisfied with some of the principles of my leadership. I’ve done what I can to tolerate her opposing views, but I will not have her sowing seeds of dissension among the ranks. Were she not my sister, I would have silenced her voice long ago. I’m afraid that if I wait much longer, I may have a civil uprising on my hands.”

“You want her to be among those who accompany me.”

“I’m certain she would be among the first to volunteer. Of primary issue between us is what role we Fenwa should play in the ongoing struggle between Lorre’s armies and the rogues of Wylddeor. Our position has long been one of neutrality: Let them grind one another’s bones to dust. My sister does not agree. She feels that if the Southland falls, our freedoms, too, will be threatened.”

“And what do
you
think?”

Dynara’s expression darkened. “I need not explain myself to you. Only, rest assured that I have the best interests of my fellow Fenwa at heart. Should my sister join you, even for a time, it will grant her the opportunity to satisfy her wild cravings, and give me a chance to mend the rifts she has caused. All three of us will have what we want.”

Or so it would seem. Torin would have a fresh set of guides, Dynara would be rid of a malcontent, and this sister might get her chance to take action against Lorre’s threat. If the Granmarch was being as honest with him as he’d been with her, it struck him as a fair arrangement. Skewed toward Dynara, of course. For if he failed, the Sword and Pendant would fall to her—unless her sister also was unable to return, which might be exactly what the Granmarch was hoping for. But Dynara held all the advantages. It only made sense that they should have to play by her rules.

“The lady’s proposal is most gracious,” he reiterated with a low bow. “Should it please her, I would be happy to accept her offer.”

“Good. Then I shall send for and have word with my sister. In the meantime, you will be set free in order to prepare as you see fit—under armed
protection, of course.” She turned to the guard who had locked Torin in his leather shackles. “Amber.”

Amber nodded and stepped forward. As she worked to release his bonds, Torin again bowed his thanks.

“One more thing,” Dynara said, her face pensive. “If it’s elves you’re looking for, you might do well to visit first with a woman I know. Her name is Necanicum. She used to live among us, but resides now in a region of the Fenwood all her own. She is among Yawacor’s eldest known citizens, and must be approached with utmost caution. But it seems to me that her wisdom may be of use to you in this matter. And better that than to seek audience with Lorre, who is as likely as not to kill you before you come within a dozen paces.”

Torin nodded, though he wasn’t so sure. Would Autumn have suggested he visit with Lorre if the man was truly as ruthless and implacable as everyone seemed to believe? Of all those he had encountered upon this voyage, he still trusted Autumn the most. Then again, Lorre’s was the only name she and Raven had mentioned, and even they had done so in fair warning. They may not have known this Necanicum. As long as it was en route, what could be the harm?

Moreover, he dared not dismiss any advice the Granmarch had to offer, for as of yet it was her aid or none at all.

“Any counsel my lady would give would be most helpful,” he replied.

Dynara’s smooth face was expressionless. “Rise.”

Torin did so, wincing at the pain in his cramped knees.

“I will keep these for now,” the Granmarch stated, handing the Pendant back over to Naia. “You will have them again when all other preparations have been made.”

He forced himself to nod. “As you wish, my lady.”

With that, Dynara smiled, just a hint, before making her exit. Naia went with her, while the jailor Amber and her halberd-wielding counterpart held him back in what he supposed was a show of proper respect. Only, they forgot to arrest his gaze, which clung with a will of its own to the Nymph leader’s retreating form. It found its focus in the hypnotic swish of the woman’s hair, the supple sway of her rounded hips, and the seductive twitch of her heart-shaped buttocks—which traded kisses with every confident stride.

E
VHAN, CAPTAIN OF THE
C
ITY SHIELD,
stood at attention before the Circle of Elders, doing his best not to sway with the exhaustion that gripped him. It had been a long day, from the moment of his arrival upon the perimeter gates of the palace, to this one, in which the Circle had gathered to hear his tale. It was a story he had told at least a dozen times that day, and to a dozen different people—from the perimeter sentries to First Elder Thaddreus himself.

He told it now as he had before. Of how, after completing a sweep one night of the secret route of escape reserved for the city’s royals, he had happened upon a band of ruffians, members of a particularly notorious gang of thieves known to operate within and without Krynwall. Recognizing him by his ropes of office, the thieves had taken him hostage. For the past two weeks and more—the entire time during which he had gone missing—he had been held against his will in one of their hideouts right here within the city walls. It had been a harrowing ordeal, surviving on little water and even less food, while his captors plotted as to how to make best use of their unexpected find. Taking advantage of the dissension among them, he had managed at last to free himself, dispatch his abductors, and make his escape.

It was an incredible tale, but measured out with a perfect mix of grandeur and aplomb that held his listeners spellbound. On top of that, there was the physical evidence—the hideout itself and those left behind. A team of City Shield led by Jovanek, the acting Fason, had been sent forth earlier to inspect the location and confirm his account. Among the slain bodies, all of whom were recognized as known criminals, the team had found various materials—ropes, gags, instruments of torture, drafts of ransom notes, and the like—which would seem to support the missing man’s story.

“You should not have been out alone, Captain,” Thaddreus observed when all relevant testimony had been delivered. “You are lucky to be alive.”

Evhan nodded with due deference. “A foolish mistake, which I do not intend to repeat.”

The First Elder did not respond right away, but fixed him with a calculating gaze. “With respect for all that he has been through, I move that Evhan be relieved of duty until such time as he has made a full recovery,” he determined at last.

“With respect to
you,
First Elder,” Evhan replied firmly, “and to the es
teemed members of the Circle, I think my recovery may be served best by being allowed to return to my duties at once.”

Several of the Elders nodded, while others shook their heads in wonder, all applauding the young man’s courage.

But Thaddreus was unconvinced. “At this time, with the legions away, we must be doubly vigilant against any hint of a threat. We cannot afford a chief defender who is prone to lapses of judgment such as that which led to your capture.”

“Elder Thaddreus—”

“I am lord regent,” the older man corrected. “Until the return of our lord king or his appointed caretaker, you may address me as such.”

Evhan bowed in apology. “Forgive me, lord regent. Much has happened in my absence, and I am only now coming to terms with it. But it seems to me that with the legions away, this city needs every able-bodied defender who is willing to serve. And I am willing. Your own physicians have pronounced me well. If a demotion is in order, I will gladly accept it. Jovanek,” he added, with a glance across the chamber at his fellow City Guardsman, “has served capably in my absence. I would not see him stripped of his interim title. Only, do not ask me to sit around like a wounded hen, as I have done these past two weeks, but let me offer my life in defense of yours and the citizens of Krynwall as I am sworn to do.”

It was an expressive speech, if not quite eloquent, one that roused the spirits of his fellow guardsmen within the hall and drew shouts of approval from the majority of Elders giving ear. Their people needed passion such as his, the Fourth Elder said. Was he to be punished for being a victim? asked the Sixth. What of his resourcefulness and bravery in setting himself loose and dispatching his assailants? added the Ninth.

It was not often the voices in this chamber were given cause to unite, but they seemed to do so in this instance. Their vote of solidarity spoke volumes to the young Evhan, revealing just how fearful and desperate they had become. It was something not even he had counted on.

“Very well,” Thaddreus agreed at last, as if accepting it as the only way to quiet the mounting furor. “Let the record show that the Circle has completed its review of this matter and voted to reinstate Guardsman Evhan to the position of Fason, captain of the City Shield, with full rights and privileges thereof. Guardsman Jovanek is thus relieved of his temporary duty in order to rejoin the First Rank. Lieutenant?”

Jovanek saluted, first to the speaker of the Circle, then to his captain, returned from the dead.

Thaddreus sighed. “This session is adjourned.”

B
EFORE DAWN THE NEXT MORNING,
Evhan strode the palace halls, still amazed at how easily his ruse had succeeded. He had taken a calculated risk in returning like this, one that might have exposed not only himself, but his entire brood—that which he had joined within the secret tunnels beneath the city. But with both Darinor and Allion away—they who were
least likely to be fooled—the time had come to execute the next phase of attack. In the end, none had dared disagree with he who insisted it to be a risk worth taking.

“Sir!” Kien greeted, snapping to attention before the door to the chambers he was guarding.

“At ease, Bearer,” Evhan replied, returning the other’s salute. “You are well this morning?”

“Yes, sir. And you, sir?”

“Immeasurably better than this time a day ago,” Evhan admitted. “Scrapes and bruises. Nothing that won’t heal.”

“Glad to hear it, sir.”

And he was, Evhan could tell. Like most of the others, Kien was genuinely elated to see him again, and find him well. It was this, more than anything, that had made them all so easy to deceive. The people of this city were on edge as only frightened humans—so keenly aware of their own mortality—could be. With all of the uncertainty that surrounded them, they were in dire need of good news, and the unexpected return of their chief guardian served that purpose, leading most to welcome him with open arms.

“Is our lord regent occupied within?” Evhan asked.

“He is not yet risen, sir.”

Evhan frowned with disappointment. “It is important that I speak to him at once. Would his loyal guard permit me a brief audience?”

Kien hesitated. An instinct, perhaps, born of training. “If the captain can wait but a spell, the master chamberlain should be along with breakfast within the hour.”

“I would rather not be delayed, but neither will I command the bearer to put aside his sworn duty.”

The guardsman fidgeted. “Let it not be said I denied my chief commander,” he said finally, stepping aside. “Only, bear that in mind should our lord regent recommend I be put to task scrubbing privies.”

Evhan shook his head. “That will never happen on my watch. You’ve been a faithful guardsman, Kien. First Torin, then Allion, now old man Thaddreus. If only your royal charges were as dependable as you,” he said with a wink.

Kien responded with a wry grin, covered up quickly with a cough and a salute. “You’re an inspiration to us all, Captain.”

Evhan bowed, smirking inwardly at the usefulness of this newfound hero status. It would make that which he intended to accomplish so much easier.

“Please see to it that we’re not disturbed,” he said, as he opened and then closed behind him the chamber door.

Inside, the speaker’s sitting room was layered in the gray shadows of predawn. Coals burned dimly in his hearth beneath a blanket of ash. A hint of morning brightness limned a pair of shuttered windows.

In the unbroken silence, Evhan could hear clearly the old man’s breathing, deep and even. Glancing about once more, he made his way toward the adjacent bedchamber. It, too, was empty, save for the sleeping regent. Even in slumber, Thaddreus’s aged forehead was furrowed, his thick brows knotted.
He wore a pinched, discerning look, such as that which he had been wearing the night before, during Evhan’s review before the Circle.

The captain paused, thinking back. Thaddreus had been listening closely, Evhan knew, though that review had marked the third time the Elder had been audience to his tale. Searching for inconsistencies, perhaps, for any sense that the Fason’s prolonged disappearance was part of something more sinister than the abduction of a high-ranking city official. There were none to be found—Evhan had made certain of that.

Avoiding examination by the physicians and healers sent to look him over had been the biggest challenge, but he had done so by assuring them that he only needed rest—and by giving each a ten-piece of silver to simply deliver their reports and leave him be. Together, they had agreed. None would speak out now, for the risk of censure all would face.

And yet, judging by Thaddreus’s reaction the night before, Evhan’s work was not yet finished. Despite his unerring testimony and the supporting evidence, despite the favorable analysis given by the physicians, despite the eager embrace of his fellow guardsmen and the general populace, the Fason could see that Thaddreus required additional persuasion.

Hence this morning’s visit.

Of course, bringing the city’s acting ruler over to their side was imperative in any case. Start at the front, and the rest would follow. Were he not so wary, Evhan might have taken this step against the previous regent, Allion. But he hadn’t dared. Not with Darinor around—he who held them all in check.

He reached down almost idly to pick up a pillow fallen from the speaker’s bed during the night. It was heavy, stuffed with down. Almost gently, he laid it upon the old man’s face. He then leaned over and, with both arms, pinned it in place.

Thaddreus tossed fitfully in natural response before coming awake. At that point, he thrashed and squirmed, crying out in muffled denial. Evhan felt the speaker’s terror as it radiated outward through the smothering material in waves. He bore quite a kick for an old man, but Evhan was young and strong—stronger now than ever before. The regent’s frantic desperation was not enough to overcome the Illychar’s own savage resolve. Soon, the struggles ceased, and the twitching began. Evhan held fast a few moments longer before letting go.

The old man’s eyes stared up at him, frozen wide with fear and surprise. His mouth gaped within the frame of his pronged moustache. Evhan tucked the extra pillow back into place. He then smoothed over the man’s lids and pushed up on the pointed chin. After that, the regent looked at peace, his normally plaited hair freed from its braids to lie across his bedding like strands of woven silver.

The Fason went out after that, drawing shut the bed curtains and returning to the speaker’s sitting chamber. There, he stoked the remaining coals in the hearth, coaxing forth a crackling fire because it would be the expected thing to do. He then removed himself a safe distance, to a chair that he carried to the far side of the room, and waited for the sun to rise.

Some time later, the knock he had been anticipating sounded on the outer door.

“My lord?”

Evhan made them wait.

“My lord, the master chamberlain begs entry.”

At last Evhan stood and moved to open the chamber door.

“Ah, sir,” Kien greeted, and stepped aside. Beside the guardsman, a breathless Stephan bowed his head in surprised greeting over a breakfast food tray.

“Captain Evhan, sir, I’ve brought my lord’s breakfast.”

“Thank you, Master Stephan,” Evhan replied, taking the tray of breads and fruits. “If you will please pass the word, His Lordship is not feeling well this morning, and asks that the Second Elder assume charge of his duties.”

“Sir?” Stephan mouthed with some dismay, craning his head for a look.

“He prefers not to be disturbed,” the Fason reiterated, holding forth his free arm to ward against the other’s entry.

“I shall fetch the physicians at once,” the chamberlain assured him.

Evhan shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I will sit vigil with him myself, and will send for attendants as needed. As it turns out, I, too, am not without need for rest, and the regent and I have much to discuss.”

The chief seneschal frowned his staunch displeasure. “Sir, it is my duty—”

“Your duty is to serve as commanded,” Evhan reminded him crisply. “I speak for His Lordship on this. Anyone wishing to question me will also answer to him later.”

Stephan pouted, but made no further attempt to enter.

“Kien,” Evhan continued, “assure our chamberlain here that everything is under control, and that his assistance is not required at this time.”

Kien saluted and reached forward to pull the other away.

“I can bring the captain another food tray, if he wishes,” Stephan offered.

“Make it dinner. His Lordship and I will share this for now.”

Before the seneschal could utter further protest, Evhan closed the door and tripped the latch.

He went back to his chair, setting the unneeded food—which he would consume later for the sake of disposal—on a side table. Unusual behavior, certainly. Enough to raise eyebrows, perhaps, and spawn a few new suspicions. But he was chief guardian, after all, and three days was not such a long time for which to stall. After the required incubation period, all would be forgiven and forgotten, as the Illysp assumed full control of its host and the newly risen speaker walked among them once more. He need only keep any from discovering the truth until then.

After that, while the others of his brood remained in hiding, the regent, too, would be among them, giving the Illysp a sympathetic ear at the highest level of city government. Nor would it end there. Like most illnesses of the winter season, this one was certain to spread.

Of course, even this was only part of the plan. The numbers he gathered within were but a shadow of the legions being positioned without. When the
time was right, all would be unreined, and their enemies crushed in the resulting stampede.