Brother Thief (Song of the Aura, Book One) (16 page)

Chapter Twelve:
Unexpected Allies

  
The announcement of the Dunelord’s death was made to the public the next day. As many of the general population as could be gathered was huddled in the now-empty Royal Marketplace, hushed and bristling with excitement; some hostile, some expectant, and some just glad for a holiday, no matter the cause.

  
The cleric himself stood surrounded by his new silverguard on a balcony high above the massive throng, robes neatly straightened, belt neatly tied, and hair combed back behind his shoulders. His ears were left untied, proudly proclaiming his break from Ymorio’s tyranny… and shouting his own supremacy, no doubt. That was what Gribly thought as he stood behind the guards, next to Lauro in the passage behind the new ruler.

  
The nymph slowly raised his hands above his head, gazing out over the gathered crowd. They remained silent, wondering what to think of this inhuman character few had seen and not many believed in.

  
“I will waste no words,” the cleric said. His voice wasn’t loud, but the crowd’s reaction told Gribly they could hear the speech as well as he. “You know the cruelty you have endured; you, the ones on whose shoulders Ymeer was built. You know the injustice you have suffered.”

  
Not exactly true,
the boy told himself. The injustice was real, of course, but he knew most of the poor wouldn’t lift a finger to build anything the higher class wanted built. They were comfortable being beggars, even if it made them miserable in the end. From the cries of support that echoed around the courtyard, though, it seemed as if the masses were eating up every word.
This man- I mean nymph- could be an even more dangerous enemy than the Dunelord, if he wasn’t our friend… and we don’t even know that much, really.
Gribly shifted uncomfortably, drawing a contemptuous glance from the perfectly composed Lauro.

  
The thief rolled his eyes at the uptight wind-boy, then turned back to concentrate on the cleric’s speech. He’d missed quite a bit of it in his musings.

  
“…And that is why, my people, that I have done what I have done. Under my rule you will prosper, not wallow in decay! I, Dunelord Argoz Greenwood, will bring the glory and brightness of the Forgotten Age to Ymeer. You, its people, will be the ones who stand fast and proclaim your freedom and power to the world! Stand now, and shout to the skies for this new age that I bring you!”

  
They’ll be standing, all right. And you’ll be standing on their shoulders, no doubt.
This man was establishing himself as the next Dunelord, then. Well enough, if he would come through on his promises.

  
The impassioned cleric concluded his speech and motioned to his men situated in the square below. Gold coins and sweet-treats were hurled out in sparkling showers over the crowd, who scrabbled for the prizes like farm chickens after grain. He certainly knew how to manipulate the public.

~

  
That night, a day and a half after Lauro had killed Dunelord Ymorio, the real orders of business were discussed. Lauro and Gribly waited patiently while Cleric Argoz dealt with the few nobles who still chafed under the sudden change in authority. He had a way with words, that was for sure. The thief had never seen a man- well, not a
man,
he knew now- who seemed so ready to please, and succeeded, yet always seemed to come out on top of any deal, any discussion, or any argument. He was a politician as much as a holy man.

  
“That will be all, my lords,” the aging nymph told the assembled aristocrats. He nodded cordially to them all, and the majority of them nodded back, satisfied.
He commands them while still pretending to be their friend,
Gribly noticed for the hundredth time.
Perhaps he even believes what he tells them. He’s a visionary, too… or just too controlled to let his motives show.

  
As the line of sober noblemen and important traders filed out of the room, Gribly allowed his eyes to wander for the first time since coming there.

  
The assembly had met in a spacious chamber directly under the rear of the Highfast Shrine. The marble-sand walls almost sparkled under the brilliance of a thousand candles lit in a ring around the circular space. The myriad of little lights cast a flickering, somber shade over everything, splitting the line between light and shadow. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling with more candles; smaller versions of the ones in the Shrine above. A low, wide stone table in the shape of a circle was the only furniture, surrounded by an identical stone bench.

  
The perfect lair for this cleric,
Gribly thought. He smiled, thinking sneakily of the empowering element in every inch of the hollowed chamber.
It’s the perfect lair for a Sand Strider, too. A Sand Strider like me.
Even now he could feel the enlivening current that seemed inherent in all marble-sand, pulsing excitedly beneath his roughly-sandaled feet.

  
Whatever happened tonight, he planned on winning. Looking over at Lauro’s grim, confident expression, he knew the wind strider had the same thought. It occurred to him quite suddenly and in a way he hadn’t thought of before, that, if it ever came down to a game of survival again, he absolutely needed the young warrior on his side.

  
With a clang, the iron door that led out of the chamber closed, leaving only the two gifted youths and the elfin cleric inside.

  
“Keep the entrance open,” Lauro said in a low voice. Cleric Argoz raised a bushy eyebrow at him. “I’m not taking any chances with you,
Dunelord
,” the soldier-messenger explained. “Cleric though you be, you’re a nymph and therefore inclined to just this sort of trickery. If I err in our dealings, it will be on the side of safety-
not
naivete.”

  
“Trying to convince ourselves, are we?” smiled Argoz unnervingly. He stared through a flame at the two wary youths. In his hands he gripped what looked like a golden staff; a sort of elongated candlestick with a white candle affixed to the top, ringed with thin gold loops and tiny curving shapes. “Despite the insult of your mistrust of my kind, I understand your urge for caution.
Open,
” he intoned deeply, and tapped his staff on the ground once.

  
The door behind him ground open and outwards, then all was still as he shambled over to the marble-sand table. The three of them now sat equal distances apart, looking for all the world to Gribly like a council of magicians or sorcerers plotting to rule the world.

  
When he said as much out loud, Lauro rolled his eyes in a very un-lordly fashion. Argoz smiled indulgently and answered his statement.

  
“None of us here are sorcerers, young one, me least of all. For one: if we were we would not be able to stand this place…
especially
this room. My bringing the nobles of the city- and, consequently, both of you- was to ensure that neither you nor the prince was a sorcerer or Pit Strider in disguise. That kind has tried to trap me before now, and will do so again in the future if I am not so careful.”

  
“Me or the prince?” Gribly gaped. He just wasn’t getting used to all these secrets, even now…

  
“Yes,” the nymph replied, “The
prince
. Only a man living in this Aura-forsaken desert wouldn’t know the name and characteristics of Lauro Vale, Prince of Vastion. When you spoke his name in my chambers two days ago, I became convinced you had met the prince himself. I excused myself from Ymorio’s presence and went searching for him at once- and, I might say, you were lucky I found him when I did.”

  
“You’re a prince????” was all Gribly could ask the older boy.

  
“Yes,” Lauro said simply. “But the fewer who know it, the better.”

  
“Indeed,” the cleric agreed calmly. “In this troubled time, the agents of chaos and disorder would spare no time in trying to take your life… if they knew where you were.”

  
“So, my friend,” Gribly commented dryly, “you’re on the run too?”

  
“Not exactly,” Lauro explained. “My father, King Larion, decided that this would be the best way for me to prove my royal blood… and my courage. He was right- Argoz has agreed-”

  
“Wait!” the thief interrupted. “You’ve been talking behind my back! Both of you!”

  
“We’re nobility,” shrugged Lauro, “We don’t have to tell you any of this.” His face was serious, but his tone was joking and friendly. Perhaps he wasn’t really so stuck up as he sounded most of the time.

  
“But our deal-” Gribly protested.

  
“-Is taken care of.” The cleric finished. “The prince and I have spoken some already, and while I cannot say we are friends, we have at least agreed to be uneasy allies.”

  
Very uneasy, if he’s asking you to keep every door open and every weapon in sight,
the thief thought to himself.

 
 
“Well,” he began, “That’s… good, I suppose.”

  
“Indeed,” the cleric nodded, and turned his attention to the wind strider. “But the question still remains, Prince Lauro:
why are you here?
I am honored with your visit, however stealthy. I can even guess at your intentions from what I know of the prophets. But what is in your message you have not shown me, and I suspect it carries more importance than any of my guesses.”

  
Gribly’s head started to spin almost as bad as it had when talking to Traveller in his dream. Politics and Religion were too much for him to handle.

  
“You are truly foresighted, if you can guess my motives,” Lauro responded in his fancy nobleman’s talk. “I think now the time has come.” Drawing from the battered pack he still kept near him, he removed the complicated, dirty scroll Gribly had seen before, and handed it to Argoz. “This message was meant for Dunelord Ymorio, of course,” the prince told the nymph, “but as he has forsaken the natural order my forefathers established for all of Vast, I trust you will be better able to set that order in place once more.”

  
“I am a loyal cleric, my prince, in spite of my methods. You may trust me.” The nymph rubbed the tips of his long ears in anticipation, taking the scroll from Lauro and reading it hungrily. His face grew grayer and grayer the farther he read.

  
“Can you read Old Vastic?” Lauro asked Gribly aside. His tone didn’t suggest he expected a yes.

  
“No. I can understand common-write, but that’s my limit,” he responded, trying to act as if he was proud of the fact. Lauro snorted but didn’t comment. A long pause followed while Argoz read.

  
When the cleric finished scanning the document, he looked up, face ashen. Carefully rolling it up with precise movements of his long, pale hands, he returned the parchment to Lauro.

  
“I was aware that Ymeer had been overtaken by corruption long before now,” he said gravely, folding his hands inside the voluminous sleeves of his robe. “That is why I chose to come here after the old, sad man who was the Highfast cleric before me died. It has been my mission to save the city in any way since then.” The nymph took a long, hard look at the prince. “I was not aware that this… sobering state of affairs was so widespread.”

  
Gribly was watching Argoz as the cleric spoke, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Lauro flinch. “What does he mean?” he asked his friend. It was some time before the older youth responded.