A Bond of Three (20 page)

Sorran shivered once more. He could not deny the feeling of strength that flowed from them, seeping into him, spreading throughout his body in a slow tide. Then it occurred to him that the feeling came from all around them, as if it poured out of the ruins.

“Can… can we return to the palace? Maybe someone there has knowledge of this place.” He met Tanish’s gaze. “I am in no mood to continue this ride.” There were too many questions rampaging through his tortured brain. What he craved now were answers.

Tanish nodded. “I agree. Let us go back. I shall ask Malin if he knows aught about this place.” He smiled. “He is the oldest person I know. Surely he will know something.”

Sorran had recovered a little, aided by their strong support. He glanced around at the ruins, noting the broken columns and crumbling walls, all adorned with ivy and bell-like flowers of white. He frowned. “Now that I see it clearly, this is an ancient place. Whatever purpose it served has long been forgotten.” He placed his hand over the blemish. There was no heat emanating from it. He closed his eyes for a moment and let the power of the place—for there
was
power all around them, that was undeniable—wash over him. He felt no threat but rather a sense of peace that settled on him like a fine silk robe, soft and subtle. He breathed it in, taking it deep within.

Tanish left his side and plucked his robe from the boughs. “This is damp, but it will dry in the sun as we ride.” He held it open, and Sorran slipped his arms into it and tied it around his waist. The fabric was cool against his skin. Tanish and Feyar returned to their shelter and collected their robes and cloaks. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, its clouds wispy white, the storm now only a memory. The air temperature had risen to a comfortable level.

Sorran climbed onto Forena’s broad back and patted his neck. Forena twitched his ears and tossed his head. “Beautiful Forena, so brave in the dreadful storm.” He smoothed his mane and then took up his reins, which Feyar had unwound from around the column.

Feyar swung himself up onto the black stallion’s back. “I shall leave first, lest we cause suspicion at the palace.” He bent low to kiss Tanish on the mouth and then brought his horse level with Forena. He leaned across to cup Sorran’s cheek and placed a tender kiss on his lips. His eyes gleamed. “And we shall meet tonight.” With that, he tugged at the reins and directed his mount the way they had arrived, riding at a gallop.

Sorran watched his departure, his stomach churning. His disquiet at their discovery warred with his nervous apprehension at the thought of what was to come.

Tanish stood beside him, holding Nerita’s reins in one hand. “Do not dwell on this place, Sorran. I promise I shall seek answers.” He patted Sorran’s thigh. “And we have something much more delightful to think on.” He smiled and climbed onto Nerita. “I for one am looking forward to it.” He nudged the horse forward, keeping the pace steady, allowing Sorran to follow him.

Sorran barely noticed the passing scenery as he trotted behind Tanish. His thoughts were consumed by the ancient carving.

What can it mean?

Somewhere there had to be an explanation.

S
ORRAN
LEFT
Tanish in the stable and hurried through the cool, stone-flagged corridors to his room. As he passed the royal audience chamber, he glanced inside. King Feolin sat in the window, leaning back against the stonework, his eyes closed. There was such an air of weariness about him that Sorran’s heart went out to him. The deep colors that had surrounded the king the day they met had faded, leaving the odd flickers of blue, woven through with brief flares of black. It did not bode well.

Sorran hesitated to enter the chamber, only to be met by Malin, who was exiting the room.

He raised his eyebrows but then smiled, his wrinkled face kind, eyes twinkling. “How was your ride, Your Highness?” He glanced at Sorran’s attire and frowned. “Oh, you were caught in the storm.”

Sorran shrugged. “A little water does no harm. But I know Prince Tanish would speak with you.”

Malin nodded. “Doubtless he shall find me at some point.” He gazed at Sorran. “Is there aught I can do for Your Highness?” Malin’s tone was warm.

“I was going to speak with His Majesty, if this was an appropriate moment. I have not spoken with him since my arrival.” Something in the monarch called to Sorran.

Malin hesitated but then appeared to reconsider. He stood to one side and gave a low bow. “I am sure he will be delighted to speak with you, Prince Sorran. Please, enter.”

Sorran dipped his chin in acknowledgment and entered the chamber. He crossed the pelt-covered floor and knelt at King Feolin’s feet. “Your Majesty.” He waited, head bowed.

Seconds passed. “Prince Sorran, I am glad to see you this day.” The king’s voice was tired and worn. Sorran looked up into dark eyes, the skin around them creased, the lines speaking to Sorran of pain. The king patted the wide sill next to him. “Come, sit with me awhile. I would know my son’s betrothed better.”

Sorran bowed his head and then walked over to the window seat. He sat, hands folded in his lap, and studied the king. The colors around him told Sorran much, and in that moment, a wave of sadness rolled over him. Tanish was going to lose his father. Nothing had been said, but some part of Sorran knew.

“You seem happier than when last I saw you, Prince Sorran.”

Sorran gave a start. “I do?” He had no recollection of being observed. Then he considered that the last day had brought him hope and the promise of intimacy between himself and his soon-to-be lovers. He smiled. “You see much, Your Majesty.”

A smile cracked the king’s face. “It pleases me that you are happy. I take it things progress well with Tanish? At least, when the boy is not off riding with the soldiers.” His forehead furrowed.

Sorran moved swiftly to placate the king. “Prince Tanish has been attentive and has shown me every kindness.”

The king’s stern features relaxed. “That is good.” He winced, his hand going to his chest.

Sorran caught his breath. “Can I send for a healer, Your Majesty?” It astounded him that there was not one in attendance.

King Feolin gave him a sad smile. “You are a thoughtful boy. Tanish will have a good consort when he ascends the throne.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “And though it would make sense to call for a healer, there are none left here in Teruna.”

Sorran stared at him in surprise. “But what happened to them?”

King Feolin grabbed hold of the stone edge surrounding the window, his knuckles white, the skin tight across them. “No one knows. It is said that we are paying for some great sin of the past. That is why Teruna suffers in this way.” He snorted. “Great sin. Nonsense.” He peered intently at Sorran. “Are there yet healers in Vancor?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” But even as he uttered the words, Sorran recalled something he’d overheard during a council meeting between his father and the royal advisers. Vancor’s healers seemed also to be disappearing, and none of the younger generation possessed the inherent skills.

The king sagged against the stones. “You must leave me, boy.” His face was suddenly gray.

Sorran was on his feet in an instant. “Is there no one I may fetch to aid Your Majesty?” Black flickered around the king, alarming him.

King Feolin struggled to draw breath. “It is nothing. A spasm only.”

Sorran came closer and took hold of the king’s hand, squeezing it. “Then I pray it shall pass quickly.” The colors told him otherwise.

The king looked up at him and grasped his hand. He stiffened, clearly in pain.

Sorran winced at the force of his grip. “Breathe, Your Majesty. Breathe through it.”

King Feolin locked gazes with him and focused on him as he struggled to draw breath. Sorran did not break eye contact. He held on to the king’s hand, synchronizing his breathing, and all the while concentrated on maintaining his composure. Slowly King Feolin’s cheeks regained their color, but Sorran knew all was not well.

“Fetch… fetch Malin,” the king wheezed.

Sorran nodded and left the chamber, running. As he sped along the corridor, his sandaled feet making little sound against the flags, he sent up a silent prayer.

Let him live long enough to see his son wed.

T
ANISH
PATTED
Nerita and watched as Timur wiped down Forena.

“So the storm caught you, Your Highness?” Timur winked. “Among others.”

Tanish was not worried by the remark. He and Timur had grown up together. When he was younger, Tanish was often to be found playing in the stables, begging to groom the horses. Timur’s father was the head of the stables, and no one had batted an eye at seeing the young prince and the stable boy playing together. At least, no one had seen fit to inform the king.

Tanish laughed. Feyar’s stallion was already wiped down and receiving a good feed. Tanish knew Timur would tell no one. When Timur had first shared that his aunt had been
Seruan
, Tanish had known he could trust the youth. He had never spoken of Feyar but had trusted that Timur would keep his secrets.

Then he remembered his task.

“Timur, thank you for what you did.” He clasped Timur’s hand. “But I must speak with His Majesty’s adviser.”

Timur waved his hand. “No need of thanks, Your Highness. I am pleased to see you all returned to the palace in safety.”

Tanish smiled at him and then crossed the courtyard to enter the heavy door that led into the palace. He went straight to Malin’s chambers, a little way from the audience chamber.

Malin was seated at his table, parchments strewn across it, but he was staring at them unseeing. Tanish had never seen him so distracted. The late-afternoon sunlight fell through the window in solid beams, hitting the table and revealing motes of dust that danced in the light. The harsh beams revealed every crag and crevice in Malin’s features, and Tanish was overwhelmed by the man’s fatigue.

“Malin?” Tanish spoke quietly.

Malin jerked up his head and made as if to rise from his seat. “Your Highness—”

Tanish waved him to remain seated and then took the chair facing him. “Is all well with you?”

Malin opened his mouth and then closed it with a sigh. “I am weary, Your Highness. Nothing that a night of good sleep could not cure.” He smiled. “It is an honor to have you in my chambers, though I would admit to being curious as to your purpose here.”

Tanish settled back into the worn chair, its wooden arms smooth. “What do you know of the ruins out to the west of the city? I confess, until today I had always ridden past them without a second thought, but we took shelter there from the storm and I find my interest piqued.”

Malin’s brow creased. “The ruins? I know nothing.”

Tanish slumped. “I had thought you the most likely person to know. From first glance it seems to have been a temple of some kind.”

Malin stroked across his lips with a wrinkled finger, deep in thought. “There may be something written pertaining to it in the
Sanrual
.”

Tanish frowned. “What is the
Sanrual
? I have never heard this word before.” Malin gazed at him, clearly startled. Tanish felt the hairs rise on his arms. “Tell me, Malin.”

There was a moment of silence before Malin spoke. “It is a place only known to the kings of Teruna and their closest advisers. It lies beneath the palace.”

Tanish stared at him. “And what is it?” He had thought every inch of the palace was known to him.

“It contains all the ancient texts that tell of Teruna’s history.” Malin sighed. “I should not have spoken of it. And but for other issues weighing heavily upon me, I would not have done so.”

“I would have learned of its existence eventually. May I see it?” Excitement rippled through him.

Malin studied him for several long moments, then hunched his shoulders. “I can think of no reason why not.” He straightened. “But there must be no word of this to your father.”

Tanish nodded eagerly. “I swear it.” He bounded to his feet, anxious to see this hitherto secret place. “May I go there alone, or must I be accompanied?”

Malin rose from his chair, laughing. “I had forgotten how impulsive you were as a child. It gladdens my heart to see you have not lost this quality.” He reached for a staff and leaned upon it. “Come, I will take you there.” He led the way from his chamber, through corridors where Tanish had played as a little boy, alone. Malin entered the throne room and walked toward the rear, where heavy wall hangings depicting diverse views of Teruna adorned the walls, from its high vaulted ceilings down to the stone floor.

Malin paused at the farthest hanging and turned to face Tanish. “Remember, not a word to the king.” Tanish gave a solemn nod. “Then take that lamp from the wall over there and bring it here.”

Tanish did as instructed and picked up the lamp, its wick soaked in oil, already burning with a golden flame. Malin pushed aside the heavy covering to reveal a small wooden door, bare of ornamentation except for a lock. From beneath his long black robe Malin withdrew a key on a chain around his neck and slipped it into the lock. The door creaked opened stiffly.

“When was the last time my father visited the
Sanrual
?”

Malin gave him a wry look. “His Majesty has been here but once, the day I told him of its existence.” He pointed toward the hinges. “I oil it, once a year, in the hope that he may change his mind.”

Tanish reeled at this new information. “Why would he not come here? Surely there is much to be learned from such texts.”

Malin grew still, the lamplight flickering on his face. “When you speak thus, your words fill me with hope for the future of Teruna.” He patted Tanish on the shoulder and gestured to the narrow staircase that dropped away into complete darkness. “Take care as we descend, but first close the door behind you. None shall see it. The covering will fall back into place.”

Tanish pulled the heavy door shut and then sniffed. “How is it that the air is not stale?”

“There are conduits that lead from here to the outer walls of the palace.”