The Key (20 page)

‘And you know me,' Lord Penbarin adds with a glint of humour in his eyes. He looks at me for a lengthy
moment, a finger falling across his full red lips. ‘Hmm, what gift shall I endow you with? Any suggestions, Ethan?'

Lord Penbarin is having some fun with us. Isabel laughs. But Ethan takes him seriously. ‘Why do you ask me, my lord?'

Lord Penbarin smiles, looking from Ethan to me, and back to Ethan again. Turning away he mutters, ‘I thought that was rather obvious.'

The matter is thankfully dropped and a few minutes later we're standing outside another set of high double doors. Before we even get a chance to knock they're opened by King Richard himself. While not exactly tall, his long robe gives him that appearance. He looks well, and is certainly cheerful enough. He greets Lord Penbarin with a grin, welcoming us inside. When he sees Ethan, he embraces him with a hearty hug.

‘At last we meet again!'

‘How are you, sire?'

King Richard laughs, throwing his head back. ‘Excellent, my good man.' He waves his hands around, showing us his luxurious surroundings. ‘Much better than that filthy prison you rescued me from.'

Ethan can't get the grin off his face either. They're like two old friends meeting after years of separation.

King Richard drags Isabel into his embrace next. ‘My dear Lady Madeline –'

‘It's Isabel, sire,' she reminds him, and not the name she used when she had last seen him in the past. I remember it, I was there. I put poison in her glass.

‘Of course!' King Richard exclaims. ‘I must say, undisguised, you look lovelier than ever.' The King turns to me, instantly picking up that I'm a Truthseer. He
becomes a little guarded. It's a natural response. No one likes their personal thoughts on display. ‘And who have we here?'

Lord Penbarin introduces me. ‘This is Rochelle Thallimar, to be Initiated at dawn. She is one of your Named.'

King Richard nods deeply. ‘Welcome, my dear.' He takes my hands, and even though they are gloved, he feels their power. His eyes linger on mine for a minute, assessingly, but he doesn't say anything. I'm swamped with an uneasy feeling, but he soon lets go of my hands and the feeling evaporates as if it never existed.

Lord Penbarin excuses himself, and the second we're alone, King Richard's demeanour does a full about-face. The eyes aren't laughing any more. He has picked up on the underlying gravity of our visit.

‘Can I order some food for you, or do you want to get straight to the point?'

Ethan says, ‘We need your help, sire.'

Without hesitation he replies, ‘Then you shall have it. Tell me, what can I do?'

‘Well, you could show us around.'

‘The palace?'

‘Yes, sire. All of it.'

‘That could take all night.'

‘Then we had better begin.'

Trusting us implicitly, King Richard begins our tour. And without anyone noticing, I slip off my gloves, shoving them into my pocket for fast retrieval if needed. We go through many rooms, including the suites of the lords and ladies that live here, including their servants' quarters. Only King Richard could pull this off so smoothly. He is obviously a seasoned diplomat and well liked by all.

And while in all these rooms, Isabel and Ethan distract whoever is in there with conversation so that I can do my work – inconspicuously touching the walls, floors, furniture, anything that might harbour a secret panel, doorway or cavity. I only have to lay my hand on the wall in one place, to feel – to
see
– what lies within or behind it.

Dawn approaches as we finish searching the palace, and still nothing is found. We end up in the courtyard, looking around. Lady Arabella is here, cleaning out the bird cage, emptying the tray of food, sweeping the floor of droppings and refreshing their water supply. It strikes me as strange that she should be doing this menial job herself. Of course I don't say anything. Maybe she loves her birds so much, she doesn't trust anyone but herself to look after them.

As I think these thoughts I pull my gloves out of my pocket and start putting them on. Lady Arabella notices and goes quietly still.

‘What are you doing without your gloves on? How long have they been off?'

Her voice is harsher than I've heard it before, and this takes me by surprise. She notices and quickly softens it. ‘I don't mean to alarm you, my dear, but I thought I taught you to keep those gloves on at all times.'

I try to think of an explanation quickly. ‘They're a little tight, my lady. Occasionally I like to stretch my fingers.'

She mulls over this explanation for a minute. ‘I'll talk to Arkarian to see what he can do. For now, you will have to put up with them. You'd better hurry.' She points to the approaching dawn. ‘You still have to change.'

Isabel grabs my arm with excitement. ‘Come on, let's
see what tunic they've picked out for you.'

‘What are you talking about?'

She explains, ‘White is for a novice apprentice. I had a white tunic at my Initiation, but was lucky ‘cause they gave me a blue sash. This gave me status above the usual novice Initiate.'

We get to our allocated chambers to find a deep purple tunic laid out on the bed, with a golden sash beside it. Isabel gasps at the sight, running her hand down the velvet fabric.

‘Oh, wow.' She calls to Ethan, ‘Look at this! What does it mean?'

Even though I agree it's a beautiful garment, I don't know why Isabel is making such a fuss. Ethan comes over and takes the sash in his hands and lets it run through his fingers a few times. ‘The gold sash is the Guard's highest honour.' He glances at me, and his thoughts catapult into my head, wondering what I've done to deserve it.

Isabel too looks perplexed, but her inner thoughts are under control. ‘What about the purple tunic?'

Ethan backs off a little. Turning away, he works hard at screening his thoughts. He knows, but doesn't want to say.

‘What is it?' Isabel asks.

He glances at me with a frown between his brows. It gives me an eerie feeling that something is terribly wrong.

‘How would I know?' he says. ‘You'd have to ask Arkarian.'

Isabel picks up the strange vibe coming from him and drops the subject. But their reactions only make me want to know more. They start moving around as if the
conversation never came up. I drag on Ethan's arm.

‘Hold on. Tell me what you know.'

‘Nothing!' he snaps, his eyes flicking away.

‘Tell me, Ethan, or I'll probe your thoughts until I dig out the information along with half of your brain.'

A flash of annoyance comes into his eyes. Then he says, ‘Look, all I know is that purple stands for loyalty.'

There's more, I can tell. ‘Go on.'

Reluctantly he adds, ‘A loyalty so strong that the wearer is likely to … give their life for the cause.'

‘The colour of martyrdom,' I mumble mostly to myself. Is that what Lorian picked up in me when he probed my brain last night? Come to think of it, that line in the Prophecy that's supposed to relate to me talks about victory and death. How does it go?
Take heed, two last warriors shall cause grief as much as good, from the midst of suspicion one shall come forth, the other seeded of evil, yet one shall be victorious while the other victorious in death
.

A loud knock on the door and Lord Penbarin lets us know the time has arrived. Ethan leaves the room and I change into the tunic, trying to put that disconcerting idea of death out of my mind. Isabel helps me adjust the sash, then the matching cloak, pulling the hood right over the top of my head.

‘Look,' she says. ‘Don't worry about what Ethan said. That stuff about martyrdom, he could be wrong. He often is.'

A smile tries to form, and I relax a little, but only a little. The prospect of dying for whatever cause is hard to shake from my thoughts.

‘Ethan thought he was my soul-mate once,' Isabel goes on. ‘When all the time it was Arkarian.'

‘Yeah? So how do you know who your soul-mate is?'

She shrugs. ‘All I know is that Arkarian said we all meet our soul-mates at least once in our lives. It's up to us to recognise each other, or else miss out on true love.'

What a melancholy idea. But even this thought takes second place when we open the door and find Ethan arguing with Lord Penbarin.

‘But who picked it out?' Ethan demands to know.

‘That's something I can't –'

They notice us and stop in mid-sentence. Lord Penbarin bows his head in recognition, while Ethan simply stares at me with his mouth hanging open. ‘You look amazing.'

‘Here, here,' Lord Penbarin mumbles. ‘Now that you're ready, my dear, I'll let the Tribunal know.' He turns, gives Ethan a hard stare, then hurries off, taking Isabel with him.

‘Arkarian will be sorry he missed this,' Ethan says.

I want to bring up the reason for his argument with Lord Penbarin, but my nerves are feeling the pressure of the coming Initiation. I decide I'd rather not know. Ethan's words make the Initiation sound like a momentous event and my hands begin to shake. I double-check that my gloves are on, then slip my hands into two side slits in the long cloak.

A few minutes later we arrive at the Tribunal Chambers, and Ethan takes a deep breath. ‘Are you ready?'

‘No way,' I reply honestly. ‘I'm not prepared. I don't know what to expect. I've got a sick feeling of dread inside. And I think I'm going to throw up.'

He tries to reassure me. ‘You'll be fine. They're going to welcome you in there.'

‘I'm a traitor, Ethan. I was a member of the Order and
I turned on my own kind.'

A look of outrage fills his face, his eyes widening, the blue turning cold and hard. ‘The Order is not your kind! It never was, OK?'

‘Of course it wasn't! I didn't mean that.' He watches me quietly. ‘It's just, there's a stigma attached to what I did and I can't get rid of it. I see it in people's eyes. Everyone here knows my history. And because of that fact, they don't trust me.'

‘It's just your nervousness, Rochelle. You're imagining it.'

‘I'm a Truthseer, Ethan.'

He glances away to the ceiling for a moment. ‘Arkarian trusts you. And, well, I've already told you I do too.'

His words are comforting. He has no idea how much. I watch his face as his eyes turn from the ceiling towards me. They lock with mine, and for the world I can't look away. Something passes between us, something I can't name, but is as real as my hand or my heart.

Behind us the doors swing open, making us aware that we're not alone any more. Ethan puts his hand under my elbow and I follow his lead as he takes me to the centre of the room.

‘My lords and ladies,' he announces, then turns to bow directly to our own King Richard, sitting to the right of Lord Penbarin, ‘and kings and queens, allow me to introduce the eighth Initiate of the Named. Her name is Rochelle Thallimar.'

A round of applause follows. There are others in the room. Isabel is one, and a collection of strange faces sitting on stalls to one side. A stool appears behind me and I sit on it, as Ethan walks from the circle to go and sit beside Isabel. He grips her hand as if he's suddenly become nervous. I try not to think why; I have enough
of my own nerves to contend with.

Lorian stands and everyone's eyes zoom to him. He raises his hands towards me, then motions them to the surrounding circle of ten.

‘In a moment all the good lords and ladies will honour you with a special gift, welcoming you to the Guard. Before they do so, I am going to bestow
my
gift upon you.'

Murmurs ripple around the room. Apparently this is not the normal procedure. Lorian quietens everyone with one stern look. When all is still and silent, he comes over to me and raises his hands over my head.

‘Rochelle Thallimar, do you swear fealty to the Guard and its cause?'

‘Yes, my lord.'

‘My gift to you is the entwining of your powers of Truthseeing and touch, so that from this moment on you will not only be able to hear the thoughts of others, but, through your hands, know their
loyalties
as well.'

The murmurs grow louder and Ethan runs back into the circle. ‘My lord! A word, please.'

Lorian's hands lower and he sighs as if half expecting Ethan's reaction, yet dreading it at the same time. ‘You may speak.'

‘The gift is very generous but … also dangerous.'

‘Perhaps, but we are all in danger now, Ethan. A skill such as this –'

‘– is a death sentence.'

Lorian remains silent. Ethan continues. ‘We all know there is a traitor among us. With this gift you are empowering Rochelle with the ability to identify him or her. If the traitor is in this room, Rochelle will be killed before she leaves this palace, and you know it. My lord –'

‘Ah, but if the traitor is identified in this room, right now at this gathering –'

‘This is preposterous!' Lord Penbarin and Lord Samartyne call out together. Queen Brystianne is next, gliding off her seat, followed by Lord Alexandon, looking just as outraged.

King Richard comes right into the circle. ‘My lord, is it correct to assume you suspect one of the Tribunal members to be this traitor?'

‘I wish it were not so,' Lorian replies in a weary tone.

As I think about what Lorian wants me to do, I see his point. The traitor has to be found, and if Lorian can do this through me, then I don't see how I – or anyone – can say no.

‘There is one serious flaw to your plan, my lord.'

All heads turn to the back of the circle. Sir Syford steps off his stool and comes towards me. ‘Should Ms Thallimar name one of us, it will be one traitor's word against another.'

The murmuring starts again. Ethan spins around, staring hard at the Tribunal members agreeing the loudest. I shake my head at Isabel, and she tugs Ethan back into his seat.