The Orphans' Promise (29 page)

Léti had grown tired of this dead conversation and walked away to join Bowbaq. When the actor and the warrior went at each other in this kind of verbal joust, it usually took a while. To Rey’s delight, he ended up getting the last word, putting Grigán in a bad mood.

“I didn’t know there were so many kinds of weapons,” Bowbaq said sadly.

The giant was engrossed, examining a thistle. It was a sort of long-bladed dirk, each side of the blade fitted with rows of teeth. When pulled out of a successful strike, the steel must inflict atrocious wounds that were nearly impossible to treat.

“Only evil-minded people use those sorts of things,” Léti stated, trying to convince herself just as much as reassure the giant. “The only reason we’re learning to carry a weapon is to avoid becoming a victim.”

“Maybe. Maybe not…” Bowbaq responded, in his solemn manner.

He continued his tour, Léti silently following. Not long after, his eyes fell on a modest-sized painting—hardly three feet wide—but one that was teeming with detail.

His heart beat with emotion. Bowbaq exchanged a look with Léti before calling Crépel over.

“What does this canvas represent?”

“That’s King Arkane,” the intendant answered, pointing to one of the many people in the scene. “The last time he was seen, before he got kidnapped by the Loreliens. He abdicated the throne just after he was released, which happened two moons later, and with no explanation. They say this painting depicts the last time he was truly happy.”

Léti called Grigán and Rey over, and the heirs stared at the painted scene with interest. Almost 120 years earlier, an artist had accompanied his king to a small Lorelien island, sketched a few lines, and then immortalized his subjects in a painting upon his return. The exact pose was certainly an invention.

Although they were the most knowledgeable on the subject of Ji, never had the heirs heard anyone speak of it. But it was plausible.

The canvas represented the wise emissaries that traveled to the island of Ji. Standing tall with their heads held high, the eleven people posed before a rocky labyrinth that was all too familiar to the heirs. The sensitive artist’s vision rendered the scene with the necessary weight that the historic moment merited.

Rey sent Crépel off to fetch Corenn and Yan. Rife with emotion, the heirs tried to place a name with each person. Léti felt her heart throb at the sight of Tiramis, who was the only woman in the photo and must have been her ancestor. The Kaulien standing next to her had to be Yon. It wasn’t hard for them to recognize Moboq of Arkary, almost as big and no less bearded than Bowbaq. They also found Rafa de Griteh and Ssa-Vez of Jezeba, who were dressed in such obviously traditional attire so as to leave no doubts about their national identity. The man in the priest’s robe must have been Maz Achem of the Holy City.

Only four of the members remained unidentified. The oldest might have been Saat the Treasurer, counselor to Prince Vanamel. Without hesitation, Rey pointed at Duke Kercyan, recognizing him from the several portraits he had seen before. The other character wearing a noble cape, therefore, had to be the Goranese Prince Vanamel, which only left one: Nol the Strange. The root of it all.

Everyone thought they could read a deep sadness in his eyes. They looked on in reverie, amazed that a 120-year-old canvas could depict such a subtle detail.

“My great-grandfather, King Arkane, hid that painting as soon as he returned to Junine,” Séhane said. “My grandfather never cared much about it, and my father, unfortunately, didn’t live long enough to bring his personal taste to the castle’s décor. In fact, it was found only last year. It represents a scene that I hardly want to remember, so I asked that we hang it in a room I rarely visit.”

The queen had taken some free time to take a walk with Corenn along the castle’s ramparts. As soon as they had started walking, the Mother had asked Séhane about the strange painting in the armory.

“Do you know where they rediscovered it?”

“I know what you are thinking, Corenn. Arkane could have hidden something else, an object that had something to do with his mysterious adventure on Ji. Sadly, the canvas was alone.”

The Mother didn’t hide her disappointment. As Séhane guessed, she had counted on finding a new clue that could teach them something more about the island’s secrets, and the identity of the Accuser. Yet another hope annihilated… Since there wasn’t any more to say on the subject, Corenn tried to bring up another, one that was close to her heart. “Do you have any news from Kaul? I have been absent for more than three dékades and have no idea what’s happened there.”

“I don’t have much information to offer, I’m afraid. I think that your Ancestress was ill for a few days. I haven’t heard any rumors about troubles in the Matriarchy. Do you want to send a message to your friends? One of my vassals could take care of it…”

“Thank you, Séhane, for the generous offer, but that would be far too dangerous for us, for the Mothers, and even for your messenger. The Züu and the Grand Guild must have eyes and ears in Kaui by now. We should avoid any contact with our previous lives.”

“You are wise, Corenn,” the queen complimented. After a few moments of silence, she added, “Would you want to sit at my side at the next assembly of barons? Please don’t refuse; I really need some good advice. The kings are all too young, too ambitious, and sometimes too clever for me. They will devour my beautiful country like a pack of starving wolves when I’m gone. Oh, Corenn… Junians deserve to be happy.”

The Mother agreed, of course. After thinking about it, Séhane’s problems were much more serious, and had farther-reaching repercussions, than the heirs’ misfortunes, which really concerned only an insignificant number of humans.

At least, that’s how it seemed on the surface…

After the midday meal, Corenn and Yan cloistered themselves off in one of the Broken Castle’s many study halls for a new magic lesson. They took great care to make sure the room was empty, for the people of the Small Kingdoms considered magic to be a monstrosity. Séhane would have certainly never allowed her guests to be chased out, or worse burned at a stake, for their sorcery, but it was best to be discreet anyway.

Seeing the Mother’s pensive expression, Yan realized she was about to pass on another fundamental principle of magic. The discipline seemed inexhaustible. At the end of every lesson, the young man wondered what more Corenn could possibly teach him. She managed to surprise him every time.

She focused for a moment before beginning, searching for the right words. “You now know that power cannot create. You draw the strength necessary to harness your Will from within you or from your surroundings. The rest is just a battle of power between your mind and your target.” The lesson had begun.

Yan nodded slowly. He knew just as well as Corenn that it wasn’t as simple as her short speech had made it seem. She was merely summarizing to get to new material.

“What I now propose to you is that we take our definition of
mind
a little further. In fact, our definition of everything: objects, animals, humans, a speck of dust, or a star. To me, everything is the same.”

Her last comment was itself the definition. Yan didn’t make the mistake of commenting on it immediately.

“There is a likeness in all things,” the Mother repeated. “Everything is composed of the same elements. Or rather, the same magical components. Only the proportions of these elements change. Do you follow so far?”

“Of course. Magic is like cooking,” Yan answered, smiling.

“That’s quite true, actually,” Corenn conceded. “But even though we only have
four
ingredients, the combinations are infinite. And the recipes, therefore, are even more abundant.”

“
Fire
doesn’t exist in us,” Yan objected, having already understood the four ingredients Corenn was evoking.

“But of course it does. Not in the way you understand it, perhaps; there’s no little flame burning from the tips of your fingers or the ends of your hair. In reality it’s something spiritual. Something magical!

“Your entire being, as well as mine, all that exists in the universe is composed entirely of a mix of earth, wind, fire, and water. Nothing in the universe is missing one of these elements. The highest skies contain the scent of the deep earth. The
unfathomable depths of the ocean can set themselves ablaze with their own fire. It’s only a question of Will.

“Earth is everything material, palpable, or the body of everything. It’s also the collection of all forces that join and separate things. When you knocked over your shell, you were unleashing your Will on its earth component. Earth is my specialty. It will be yours too.

“Wind is the spirit. The soul, thought. It’s also the most complex of the disciplines. The most mysterious. Who can possibly claim to intimately know human nature, the animal mind, what the soul becomes during sleep, or after death? Only magicians who know such things could declare themselves a specialist of the wind element.

“Water is life, the indispensible element that gives movement to your body, and allows your mind to reason. Without water, you could just as well call this table or this wall
Yan
. They can’t move or think on their own.”

“According to your words, I gather that it’s possible to heal people with magic, is that right?”

“Some claim to have done so. I’ve never risked it, for fear of making the wounds worse. And the languor that accompanies such spells must be unforgiving.”

Yan pushed the subject aside for the moment. Corenn wasn’t through with her presentation.

“And fire?”

“Fire,” the Mother repeated, solemnly. “Well… fire is the tendency all things have to become something else. Fire changes a baby into a child, and then a child into a man. Fire makes you age. Fire kills you. Fire transforms your body into nourishment for the rest of the world, once you devour yourself with your own fire. Fire is time’s most dutiful agent. It’s
the most dangerous of the disciplines, Yan. It’s what we call
black magic
.”

Grigán had asked one of Séhane’s guards to be Léti’s opponent for an exercise. The idea didn’t exactly please the Junian, but a request from one of the queen’s guests was like an order from Séhane herself. He accepted under the condition that they both put on the heavy training gear.

Swords weren’t the Junians’ preferred weapon; they were much better known for their cavalry’s skilled use of the lance, but for the exercise, the man agreed to arm himself with one of the Goranese broadswords, similar to Léti’s. Thus the lesson began.

Léti easily repelled the guard’s first two or three timid assaults, and Grigán pressured the man to be more aggressive. At the beginning, the young woman was content to merely defend herself, while watching her adversary’s maneuvers, just as she had learned.

She feigned weakness when she countered his attack at her legs.
Sharp mind
. The man fell into the trap and focused his assault there.

After a few of these exchanges, Léti stopped faking a lack of flexibility and simply sidestepped the blade.
Firm footing
. The broadsword still grazed her calf, but she had learned to not fear injury. She agilely lunged and pointed her blade toward the startled guard.
Steady hand.