Duty (Book 2) (7 page)

“On the contrary,” Gen replied. “We commoners quite expect these outbursts from you unpredictable aristocratic types.”

The Chalaine laughed quietly, sniffling as she wiped her eyes again. “You are not a commoner anymore.”

“Once a nobody serf, always a nobody serf.”

“Oh Gen, please don’t take that comment about you being ‘nobody from nowhere’ seriously. You know I don’t think that. You are an important symbol of strength to everyone, including me.”

“Yes, but falsely, I think. The way the stories are told, I danced around on the demon’s head before he broke every bone in my body with a lucky swing. All I want to do is protect you. Whatever is thought of what I do matters little, as long as you are safe.”

“But it does!” the Chalaine contradicted, gripping his forearm and marveling at its strength. “And it’s not just the demon. It started at the Trials. It continued with your defense of my honor. It serves you well to despise the fame, but never deny its importance! The people need something to believe in as dark times approach.

“Chertanne and I are only the potential of what may come. For now we are powerless and weak. People may love the idea of the perfect beauty and the savior of all, but they can’t grasp it. I can’t even grasp it, as you now know all too well. But your place in history all of us can understand. Your present actions and obvious virtues we can imitate. And you have inspired immeasurable goodness that you should feel proud to have fostered.”

“Maybe,” Gen said, “but you seem to have forgotten that you do the same.” She released his arm and turned her gaze back out into the night.

“The only good I’ve done is either imagined or yet to come, so if I have some reputation, then it is certainly fabricated and not deserved.”

“Not true. Do not protest! Do you know when I saw you for the first time?”

“At the feast, or did you see me at the docks?”

“Before then.”

“Really? When?” she asked, curiosity piqued.

“I ask you to keep this to yourself, if you would.”

“Of course I will.”

“Fenna may have described to you my appearance and dress when I came to the tournament field as like ‘someone straight from the Damned Quarter.’ I was. I was in the Damned Quarter the day before the Trials, the day you came to visit the children.”

The Chalaine’s hand went to her mouth. “The Damned Quarter!? How did you end up there, of all places?”

“That is a story for another day. What I want to tell you is that I watched you in secret when you came. You were nervous, but you had compassion and love for those wretched children. You sat with them, you fed them, you sang to them. You held them on your lap, uncaring of what it did to what you wore or what discomfort it caused you. It was then that I knew you
were
virtuous, you
were
kind, you
were
beautiful, and that you had more power to do good in this world than I would ever have. In short, that you were worth protecting, whatever it cost. Chertanne will be no boon to you, but you need not let him destroy that good part of you that I saw that day.”

She sighed. “Sometimes I think he already has. Thank you, Gen. I will try to look forward with a bit more hope, and I promise I will never yell at you again. You certainly don’t deserve to be the victim of my frustration.”

“Feel at liberty to yell at me whenever you like. Whether you need a Protector or someone to verbally abuse, I am at your service.”

The Chalaine laughed again, feeling lighter of spirit. There was something old about Gen, as her mother had said. Everything and everyone around him might writhe in tumult, but like a garden wall he stood calm, come sun or storm, abundance or want.

“I think Fenna would object if I took advantage of your good nature too often.” At the mention of her name, Gen smiled, the first time the Chalaine had seen him do so in person. A wave of jealousy washed over her, and she fought it back with effort. “Is Fenna much like Regina?”

“In some ways. Regina, like Fenna, was beautiful and playful, though Regina was more devious and cunning. It was difficult to tell what Regina felt, but Fenna shows her emotion plainly, for which I am grateful.”

“You may wish to return the courtesy of showing emotion plainly, if you want to win her. You do face some competition.”

“Kimdan. I know.”

“Yes. But other young men at court pay her a great deal of attention, as well. Even those who don’t give her a good look when she passes by.”

“I’ve seen them give you both a good look.”

“This bothers you?” the Chalaine asked.

“Fenna I can understand, but you are always veiled and wearing a loose robe to hide your shape. For all any man knows, you might be bloated, scaly, and hideous.”

“Thank you,” the Chalaine laughed, though he seemed perfectly serious. “Well, she is quite a beauty. You should feel quite fortunate that she takes an interest in you.”

“I do,” he said and smiled again.

“Another smile from the dead-faced man. He must be stricken, indeed,” the Chalaine quipped. Gen smoothed his face but answered nothing, and the Chalaine respected his silence. She felt grateful for her mother’s advice. Talking with Gen gave her a stillness of mind and brought a smile to her face when but an hour before she would have thought both impossible. Her emotion spent, exhaustion prevailed upon her, and the chill made the warmth and comfort of her bed suddenly appealing.

“We should go,” the Chalaine said, taking Gen’s arm the way she saw Fenna do. “It’s difficult to see through this veil in the dark, so if you could assist the Lady Alumira down the stairs, she would be in your debt.”

“I would be honored to do so.”

As they walked arm in arm across the dark balcony and descended the marbled stair, the Chalaine imagined the hall well lit and filled with the noises and smells of celebration. Ladies and Lords danced in bright clothing to lively music, while others feasted and talked of trivialities with each other. As she and Gen came down arm in arm and step by step, the dancing and music stopped. Voices hushed as all turned to watch them arrive. The assembled patrons bowed as she approached the floor, for here was beauty latched to strength; and while the ladies looked at her with envy, the men dared not look on her at all. When he was beside her, all were beneath her and she was who everyone thought she was—strong, beautiful, and divine.

The vision faded as they reached the door that led from the hall, the same door Chertanne had tried to drag her through so many weeks ago. The Chalaine reluctantly let go of Gen’s arm as he opened the door for her. After he was assured the hall was safe, he let her through and took up his normal position half a step behind her. The Dark Guard were visibly relieved at her safe return, and she hoped she hadn’t caused Gen any trouble with Captain Tolbrook or Regent Ogbith.

“Thank you, Gen,” the Chalaine said, turning as she opened her door. “I am sorry I was so cross earlier. Please forgive me.”

“There is no need. Sleep well.”

The Chalaine closed the door, threw her veil in the corner, and lay down. Sleep came quickly, and when she closed her eyes to dream, she was running. . .

Cadaen cracked the door.

“Gen requests to see you, your Grace.”

“By all means, let him in!” Mirelle replied happily. Cadaen swung the door open wide and Gen strode in and bowed.

“Your Grace,” Gen said, genuflecting. “I am sorry to bother you so early this morning.” Mirelle sat in front of the fire to dry her hair as her maid brushed through it.

“Quit troubling yourself with all that bowing and scraping, Gen,” Mirelle said as he finished his bowing and scraping. “You may go, Kora.”

“Yes, your Grace,” she said, handing Mirelle the brush and leaving quickly. Mirelle stood. Her breakfast—sweet bread, jam, and cider—waited for her on a nearby table.

“Now, good morning, Gen,” Mirelle smiled, crossing to him and embracing him. “I am delighted that you came to see me.”

Gen received the embrace awkwardly, not quite sure why the First Mother showed him this tenderness so often.

She held his gaze with her bright blue eyes. “I can only hope you are here for the pleasure of my company and not because of some pressing matter.”

“Your company is as pleasurable as it is difficult to find oneself in, but I do have something I wish to talk over with you, if you’ll permit.”

The First Mother frowned teasingly at him. “Well, that was certainly an unfortunate and diplomatic answer. Come, eat with me and let me know what is troubling you. And shut the door the rest of the way, Cadaen.”

“But, your Highness. . .” Cadaen protested.

“Do it, Cadaen!” Mirelle commanded as kindly as her exasperation would permit, and Cadaen reluctantly complied. “I’m not sure what further stunt you’ll have to pull to earn that man’s trust.”

“I think he fears I’ll behave dishonorably toward you, Highness,” Gen speculated.

“Dishonorably?” Mirelle grinned, sitting. “Do tell me more. And quit using honorifics when we are alone or in informal situations. I can tolerate such behavior from other people, but when you do it, it just annoys me. Now what dishonorable things is he afraid that you will do to me?”

“I hadn’t anything specific in mind,” Gen answered lamely.

Mirelle chuckled. “You are certainly Tolnorian. Please, sit. There is enough for two. Here,” she said, breaking off a piece of sweetbread and pressing it to his lips. “Tell me if this isn’t the finest sweetbread you have ever tasted.” Gen chewed the bread and raised his eyebrows, Mirelle watching his reaction with pleasure. “Marna has some secret that elevates it above ordinary sweetbread to something more sublime.”

“That is very good,” Gen concurred. “I wonder that she doesn’t serve it in the commons. She would earn everyone’s undying good opinion.”

“If you ask her, I’m sure she’ll bake a loaf just for you. Anytime I see her, you are half of what she talks about. Now, what did you want to tell me?”

Gen leaned back in his chair and recounted her daughter’s outburst of the night before. The First Mother’s levity disappeared instantly and she stopped eating as he talked, her face paling and turning grave.

“I don’t know if she would object to me telling you this,” Gen finished, “and you may know some of her concerns already. I don’t think I have the influence and ability that you do to aid her in these struggles. I can help her with enemies of flesh and blood, but I think she needs you to see her through the rest.”

“Do not doubt your own wisdom. You have done the right thing in telling me,” she said. “I have not spent the time I should have with her. So much to do! You would think that preparing to relinquish one’s reign would be easier. I have to see her, but the Council of Padras arrives today and I’m sure I’ll be forced to meet with them until well after dark. Churchmen like to hear themselves talk.”

“They are here to see to the Chalaine’s protection, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Then wouldn’t they need an extensive overview of the grounds and every building on it?” Gen asked.

Mirelle’s face brightened. “You are absolutely right! And I’ll be damned if I’m going to lead a bunch of Churchmen around in the cold. But on whom do I lay this task? Since the lake was frozen over, they were forced to ride for over a week in the cold. They will be irritable and I suspect more than a little annoyed about being out in the freezing weather even more.”

“Ethris is the obvious choice,” Gen suggested. “He can rattle on for hours about anything, which will give you more time, and the Padras will be too intimidated by him to offer him much complaint.”

The First Mother thought for a moment. “It’s perfect,” she said. “I may get the whole afternoon with her if Ethris can hold out that long.”

Cadaen cracked the door. “A message, Holiness,” he said. “The Padras have arrived and await your attention in the Great Hall.”

“Thank you, Cadaen,” she acknowledged. “Shut the door. Curse it all, they are early. Can’t I get just one meal with you where we talk about the weather, or music, or books? I am in your debt, as usual.”

She stood and brushed through her hair quickly. Gen retrieved her cloak for her and helped her into it.

“I fret over my daughter excessively, and I do not want to leave her unsupported and motherless during this difficult time. And the next time she tries to go out during the night, you grab her and hold her there, scandal notwithstanding. I’ll defend you in the matter. Your arm, sir.”

Gen extended it and she took it, kissing him on the cheek and thanking him again. Cadaen fell in behind them as Gen escorted her over the bridge and into the tunnels underneath the Great Hall. Her scribe, Mafeus, met her there and started to outline her schedule for the day.

“Forget all that,” she interrupted. “Cadaen, I want you to find Ethris for me and bring him to me immediately.”

“I am your Protector, Highness,” Cadaen protested. “Send Gen. He is off duty.”

“Cadaen,” she remonstrated. “Do as I say. The Padras specifically requested to meet Gen, and I will help get him through it quickly so he can get some rest. I will see you shortly.”

Cadaen bowed stiffly and left.

“Mafeus, I will be with my daughter from lunch through dinner. Please have her informed.”

“Yes, Highness,” Mafeus said, following as the First Mother started forward. “But I received a request from the Blessed One. He wishes to dine with you this evening.”

Mirelle stopped dead in her tracks. “What? Has Kaimas arrived, then?”

“He should still be two days out, as I reckon it,” Mafeus explained.

“Go check with the House Guard and see if he arrived during the night and bring me word. Go! Yet another unwanted distraction.”

“What does Kaimas have to do with Chertanne’s request to take dinner with you?” Gen inquired. Gen knew Kaimas served as court Magician for Shadan Khairn, though he knew little besides. Kaimas, due to his nationality, was not as well known as Ethris.

“Kaimas,” Mirelle explained, “is Chertanne’s ‘handler,’ for lack of a better term. He is also Ethris’s brother. When we were in Aughmere last spring, Chertanne’s manners improved considerably whenever Kaimas watched over him. He is a frightening man, but if he has arrived, we will likely see Chertanne behave much more ‘nobly,’ if the term can be applied comfortably in his case. It isn’t anything to worry about. Let me introduce you to the Padras and see if we can’t spare you as much boredom as possible.”

Padras formed the governing council of the Church of the One. The council currently consisted of seventeen members, and together they held as much authority as the Pontiff himself. That the Pontiff would summon them all to the aid of the Chalaine evidenced his concern for her safety and his resolution to protect her at all costs. To gain a seat on the Council, a man had to be adept in at least one of the magical arts, possess an unwavering loyalty to the Church, and have lived an exemplary life. Padras were elevated from Prelates, chosen by the Council itself when a vacancy came free.

Gen felt a little trepidation about meeting all of them at once. The Council of Padras wielded a great deal of power and had historically not brooked any opposition to their mandates. Only Aughmerians flouted the Church leadership on a regular basis, and there was no love lost between Shadan Khairn and any Church leader in lands under his control.

Chamberlain Hurney straightened at the First Mother’s approach to the doors, bowing deeply.

Mirelle smiled affectionately at him. “Are they here?”

“They await you within, your Grace. Let me announce you.” The Guards pushed open the doors and the Chamberlain planted his feet, striking the tiles of the floor three times with his staff.

“The First Mother of Rhugoth, the Lady Mirelle, comes to her Hall. May I present with her Lord Gen Blackshire, Protector of the Holy Daughter.”

Arm in arm, Gen and the First Mother strode into the hall. Mirelle slowed their pace to a casual walk, and she whispered to him, “Forgive a little posturing. It is good to let such as these know who is in power here.”

The Padras stood as she entered. Two long tables with padded chairs were set before the dais, and at each of the seventeen places steamed a goblet of mulled wine.

Gen noticed several eyebrows raise at their approach, and he couldn’t tell if it were due to the First Mother’s leisurely pace or her company. Rather than let them sit immediately, she waited until she sat on the throne, Gen standing at attention behind, before she signaled for them to sit.

All appeared travel worn and a little cold. The Padras wore deep crimson robes with voluminous sleeves cinched at the waist with a golden rope. A purple stole, embroidered with complex designs, hung over each shoulder. On the left side of the stole the three moons, Trys eclipsed, were represented. One Padra’s stole was different. On his Trys was uneclipsed like the other moons.

He approached the Dais but did not kneel. His face was long and thin with a hooked nose separating two closely set gray eyes. Black hair ringed his head in a perfect circle, and Gen judged that he wasn’t an inch over five-foot six. Despite his diminutive stature and thin frame, his eyes carried a self-confidence and intensity that more than compensated for any lack of size. He appeared to be at least ten years younger than any other member of the Council, though his stole marked him as their head.

“First Mother,” he began gravely, “it is unfortunate that inclement weather delayed our arrival. After we received the Pontiff’s impassioned missive to arrive as quickly as possible, we had hoped the weather would warm and we could join you more quickly. When news of the disastrous events of the betrothal reached us, we were deeply angered. Clearly the Chalaine has not been cared for and protected properly. That a Burka pattern was inscribed inside your Chapel within the inner walls of your castle is inexcusable! That those who perpetrated the act are uncaught and unpunished bespeaks a bungling incompetence! Things will change, starting now!”

His voice, high-pitched and nasal, rang through the hall, his loud accusations echoing throughout the chamber. Gen watched the First Mother stiffen during this diatribe and feared she would say something rash.

“It is good to see you again as well, Padra Athan,” Mirelle said pleasantly. “Was your journey tolerable, even if long?”

“Forget the journey,” he replied dismissively. “We have business to attend to and we cannot delay. This must be Gen behind you.”

“Lord Blackshire. Yes.”

The First Mother answered dully. Padra Athan ascended the dais to stand directly in front of Gen. Gen returned his gaze unblinkingly and assumed his now famous dead face.

“I understood that you were young, but I didn’t realize you were
this
young. I wonder why you are the Chalaine’s night Protector when a more experienced soldier would certainly be advantageous and desirable, as evil is more active in the dark than the day.” His eyes bored into Gen’s. “Well, young man?”

“I am sorry, Padra,” Gen said tonelessly, “did you ask me a question?”

“Ah,” he said, turning away. “You are arrogant and evasive, as I’ve heard. Just remember that what we won’t say often says more about us than what we will.”

“Ask anyone you trust,” Mirelle suggested as Athan returned to the table and sat. “Gen is the best fighter on our soil and quite possibly all of Ki’Hal, excepting Shadan Khairn himself.”

“I doubt that. He is too young,” Athan disagreed. “The Pontiff has vouched for his bravery and moral character, but I can hardly believe he is the best sword fighter, even in this building.”