Authors: Vera Nazarian
One of these would stand to love the Regent Grelias despite all odds, unto death.
And all three were loyal to the City Tronaelend-Lis, and would lay down their lives for it, if they must.
The three men stood in silence. Two of them were tall, elegant, very much alike in some ways, and yet as different as sun and night.
The one that was night had exceedingly dark long hair with a pale streak running through it, a silver albino lock on his right side, and opaque eyes, so beautiful and pale that they too could capture in them the sun, like clouded crystal, like ice. His pale wax-fine skin stood in sharp contrast with his raven locks.
The other man—he whose hair was like the sun, a bright long shocking mane—was tall and well formed like his dark counterpart. He stood motionless, waiting, it appeared, for someone else to respond.
The third man was shorter and older than the first two, and with a receding hairline. Poised and calm, with a gaze of warm intelligence, he looked from one to the other patiently, for it appeared that a decision was based upon these two agreeing, while he had already finished his argument.
“
It appears,” said Elasand Vaeste, “that I must bring up the idea of the Guilds Council carefully, first with the Regentrix, if I manage, and then with Hestiam. I can rely upon the consistency of her responses more so than his. . . . That way, she will probe his mood, prime him for my Audience of two evenings hence.”
“
Undoubtedly he will never be as receptive as she is to you,” said the man with the sun-hair. He had well-defined eyebrows that were unusually dark for someone so pale-haired, lending him a vivid intensity. However, his eyes were lazy and half-lidded, possibly hiding repressed laughter.
Elasand watched him blankly, saying nothing.
“
It is settled then,” said the third, older man, almost with relief, and to dispel the tension. “You, my dear Elasand-re, will be the first to bring this up tomorrow, when you see Deileala.” His voice was soothing, pleasant, and yet only a very close observer would note the traces of nervous exhaustion that made his expression more than usually mask-like.
“
You see,” the older man continued, “I find that at this point, I am simply in no position to suggest it myself first. I have worked for months to produce the degree of equilibrium at
Dirvan
that we are all enjoying. So it’s vital that it must be someone like you, Lord Vaeste, someone who has—shall we say—a ready listener in Deileala.”
Elasand ignored the older man, watching instead the other with the pale hair. “You still have not acknowledged,” he said to the blond, “that a Bilhaar dozen has been dispatched against me. My lord, I would like to know why.”
The half-lidded eyes never changed their expression. “You are mistaken,” said the blond man. “There is no logical reason I would want to snuff out your valued life, my Lord Vaeste. Ridiculous, when you are who you are, and so needed. You know that very well. Besides, you and I both know those I send always finish the job.”
“
We also both know that Bilhaar never act on their own. If not you, then is someone else in the Guild giving orders in your name and without your knowledge? Well? Is it Marihke, your right-hand man, or is it Feran the so-called Butcher of the Fringes? Is there a power fracture in the Guild?” Elasand’s eyes were alive with sarcasm and anger.
“
The matter is closed, Elasand-re,” replied the Guildmaster of Bilhaar in the same soft deep voice, never changing the lazy expression of his eyes, never turning away. “I will not make an accounting of the Guild to you. Nor will I continue on the subject.”
“
But you will continue trying to eliminate me.”
The blond man laughed softly. “Nonsense, Elasand-re. You have grown paranoid like the Grelias. You insult my intelligence. Don’t you realize that if I wanted you dead you would have been dead?”
“
Not unless you are playing a complex game,” said Elasand. “In which case, I will be taunted with ‘failed’ attempts long before the final one is made, so that the ultimate blame will not repose on you.”
“
Ah, the blame, always we are handed the blame,” recited the blond master assassin, turning away with a light smile still on his lips. His profile, silhouetted against the swooning sun, suggested an artist rather than a murderer.
“
My lords,” the older man said in a conciliatory manner. “May we forget differences for the moment and return to the matter at hand?”
“
Fine,” said Elasand. “If you, my Lord Chancellor, will back me, and if the Bilhaar will agree to refrain from
anything
for the duration of these two days, I may have success with the Grelias. In which case we will all have a chance at the much-needed reorganization of power. I believe it’ll benefit all the Guilds immeasurably, not to mention the rest of the City.”
“
Fine with me, also,” said the Guildmaster of the Assassin Guild. “We will do nothing. But only for the two days. If, Vaeste, you do not succeed in convincing the Regent that after a hundred years it is high time to hold an official meeting of the Council of Guilds, I promise we will act in our own way.”
“
Which means—” began the older man gently.
“
Which means war, naturally,” interrupted the blond man, his eyes coming into hard focus. “Guild war, civil war, chaos, and bloody apocalypse. We all know what it would take to wipe the Grelias stagnation off the face of Tronaelend-Lis.”
“
Yes, the beginning of the end. What it would take, according to you, would be hell for the rest of us,” said Elasand darkly.
“
Please, my lords!” began the older man, now despairingly. He looked from one to the other—both proud, both angry, both hating the other, despite their outward equilibrium. “Please,” he continued, looking at the one who was the Guildmaster of Bilhaar. “War is the one thing we must not ever consider! There are always other alternatives—”
The Guildmaster of Bilhaar directed his look at the older man for the first time. “Sometimes,” he said, “there are no alternatives to war. Even now as we speak—of Guilds and petty internal politics, of
restructuring
—there is
one
who comes knocking on our door. ‘Lord Vorn’ you call him—Oh, don’t be afraid, my Lord Chancellor, I know all about that, since I know everything. Well, let me tell you. I have a strange little feeling about this one, this peculiar Lord Vorn of yours. . . .”
“
What do you mean?” said the older man in a wooden voice.
“
I have a feeling,” the blond man said, watching him from underneath heavy-lidded eyes, “that what you are most afraid of in the political sense is about to fall upon our heads. Something quite greater than a meeting between Grelias and the Council of Guilds.”
Elasand watched him intently.
“
Don’t misunderstand me, of course,” continued the blond man. “I, like all of you, will not benefit from any external interference. I do not welcome a foreign invasion—yes, Lord Chancellor, do not cringe, I’ve pronounced the very words you cannot seem to face, the words that give you nightmares—”
“
A foreign invasion!” exclaimed Elasand. “What in the world?”
“
I’ll explain later,” whispered the Lord Chancellor.
“
And not only will my Guild resent any act of aggression against this City,” went on the master assassin, “but we may be counted upon to negotiate a joining of certain forces—”
“
Enough! What are you talking about?” said Elasand. “Have I been away so long from this wretched City that I do not know?”
In response, the Lord Chancellor briefly related the incident at the Inner Gates of the Palace. He spoke of the dark twelve, of the strange deaths.
“
Why didn’t you tell me all of this immediately, lord?” said Elasand in a rising voice. “Because it changes everything!”
“
How so?” The Chancellor no longer bothered to hide his worry.
“
It should in no way change your plans for Deileala and her brother,” said the blond assassin with a smile. “Rather, I think it now makes everything much easier. You need only allow the Guilds Council idea to be swept in with the general momentum of panic in which Hestiam is now wallowing. Terrified as he is now, the Regent will listen to anyone who offers advice. Thus, we will ‘restructure’
and
get ready for war at the same time. Quite efficient.”
“
Please,” the Lord Chancellor said. “In the name of everything we hold sacred, we must not think that way! Do not even begin to think of war. Despite what you insist, there are always alternatives, even now. Now, everything is so delicate, at such early stages . . . I can see perfectly beneficial opportunities stemming from this Lord Vorn and his country—things like trade, an injection of new energy, something even more wonderful—”
“
You are deceiving yourself, Chancellor,” said the Guildmaster of Bilhaar. “What kind of a beginning is it when these strangers come uninvited and mysteriously eliminate our Palace guards? How can you possibly trust them at all?”
“
My dear, I am an optimist by virtue of my extensive political experience.”
“
And yet, you are an idiot,” said the blond. “Despite your diplomatic finesse, your years of shrewd excellence, you’ve never had to take significant military steps. Or argue your political cause while being faced by a relentless enemy.”
“
I am afraid in this case my lord is right,” said Elasand. “Lord Chancellor, this new matter is more serious than anything this City ever had to face. In truth, I’ve had an uneasy feeling on my way here, as though somehow I knew a misfortune was about to pass, something dark and sad—a premonition. Of night, of all things. Of twilight.”
“
You realize, by the way, that the Summons from Grelias had been signed and sealed by me and Deileala, and not Hestiam,” said the Lord Chancellor. “The Regent had in fact barely acknowledged my suggestion that it was time Lord Vaeste showed himself at
Dirvan
after an absence of months. Lately, Hestiam has been immersed more than usual in his dark moods, oblivious to all but himself.”
“
No, actually I didn’t know,” said Elasand softly.
For, I myself have been too absentminded, too much immersed in
violet
dreams
. . . .
“
In any case,” Elasand continued, “I am here now. And I will see to it that my Audience with the Regents will perform the necessary function.”
“
You do that, Elasand-re,” said the blond man quietly.
Elasand threw him a look of utter blankness.
The metallic grizzled sunset had, in that instant, died out. Twilight came to swallow the chamber, for a span of heartbeats, before true black of night.
Then, out of the darkness, swelled three orbs of
color
. Slowly they bloomed from a bare flicker of the moon’s shadow, to a livid candescence, to a full marvelous monochrome light that bordered on
yellow, blue
and
orange
from the three different sources. So pale it was, so unsaturated, that to most this was considered nearly perfect
white
. Naturally, such supreme workmanship could only be found here, in the heart of the Light Guild.
A pause came, which they weathered by contemplating the blooming of the orbs. A small innocent distraction.
“
I must be on my way then,” said Elasand. “I haven’t eaten and I am tired. We’ve arrived just this afternoon, and I still owe my Beis kinfolk the duty of a guardian for the remainder of the evening.”
“
I’ve heard a Wedding is in the works,” said the Guildmaster of the Assassin Guild, smiling that faint infernal smile—infernally infuriating to Elasand, that is. “My congratulations to your lovely cousin Lady Lixa,” he added. “You must invite me to the Ceremony and let me nuzzle the Bride before she is locked away forever by that stuffy Daqua. Lixa has the freshest cheeks, the palest throat—”
“
How the hell do you know Lixa?” said Elasand darkly but with bland control.
“
How the hell do I know her? Why, the way I know all things. Ask me a better question than that, Elasand-re.”
“
I will not bother to insist you keep away from her,” said Elasand with a shrewd semblance of indifference. “You may have her followed and watched all you like, of course. None of it matters. Simply remember that she is not significant enough to be a cause of your possible compromise. Keep that in mind, my lord.”
In response came deep laughter. “Do not fear on her account,” he said then, quieting down. “I have no desire or care to pursue your pale cousin, my friend. You have my assurance on that. I merely wanted to hear that telltale stiffness in your voice when you are worried. For, I know you too well. And despite what you think, I rather missed not having you here in the City.”
“
Then don’t push it,” said Lord Vaeste.
The lazy half-lidded eyes watched him.
“
My lords, shall we go our ways, then?” said the Lord Chancellor.
Bathed in bright pasted-on
color
light, the three men proceeded to exit the chamber.
As they did thus, the one of the three who was the Guildmaster of the Light Guild closed and locked the door to the room behind them.
* * *
T
he philosopher awoke with a start, feeling the cool breeze of evening, hearing the ghostly lull of the gardens about him. One last piercing sunray fell upon the smooth pool, and shattered the peace of the water’s surface. When it dispersed, there was only dusk.