Call of Sunteri (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 2) (33 page)

The room remains silent aside from Twig and Flitt whispering together at the edge of the table closest to Margary. The king, who is still looking over the letter, strokes his daughter’s shoulder as she rests against him.

“Come and dance, Paba,” she whines. “It’s been a week of you saying tomorrow, tomorrow. You’re always in here,” she sniffles and looks away from me, and I feel her rejection like a stab in my gut. She knows what I almost did. She has to. This isn’t like her at all. The king sighs, long and low. He hands the letter to a page at his shoulder and nods to the hearth, and the page crosses to it and drops the parchment into the fire.

“We’ll adjourn for the night,” His Majesty says. “I’ll consider the libraries with counsel from Anod and Gaethon, as well as the schooling and ships, and we’ll have a new treaty drafted tomorrow.”

He tips Margy back and she looks up at him.

“Go and tell them to be ready for our song, hm?” he says softly. “I need to have a word with Sir Hammerfel and Mentor Eldenae and then you and I shall have our dance.”

The princess slips from her father’s lap and smoothes out the skirt of her gown. As she crosses toward the door she looks over her shoulder at me and shakes her head so slightly that I might have imagined it. While the others at the table gather their things to leave, I pull my gloves back on to conceal the swirls. We bow to Prince Vorance as he slips out behind Margary. The others follow him into the dining hall.

“See me after,” Uncle murmurs to Rian before he files out to the hallway leading to the rest of the palace. He closes the door behind him, leaving us alone with the king.

“I want to see the stone,” King Tirnon says as soon as we’re alone. He holds out his hand. Rian produces it from one of his pouches and rests it in His Majesty’s palm. “So my son’s voice emanated from this object, and that is your basis to accuse him of dark dealings?”

“Your Majesty, you know everything we know. Based on the information, it’s difficult to come up with any other explanation.”

“What of this Dreamwalker Mya mentioned?” the king closes his eyes and sets the stone on the table. “What do you know of it?”

“His name is Jacek,” I say, “he was born in Sunteri and banished to the Dreaming, where he took the mantle of a Dreamwalker and claimed it for his own. I have seen him, Your Majesty. He has shown me things.”

The king beckons me and I cross to him. He rests a hand on my shoulder and looks into my eyes, searching them. Again, I can’t look away. I mustn’t. I will myself to focus on something else. His lashes, the bridge of his nose. Anything but those welcoming pools of blue.

“Could he have grip on my son?” he asks me pleadingly. “Could it be that Eron’s darkness is a result of this Dreamwalker meddling with him?”

“It’s possible, Your Majesty,” Rian ventures.

“It is possible,” I echo, “but Sire, if you’ll allow me to speak my mind?”

“Please,” King Tirnon nods, and I steel myself. What I’m about to say won’t be easy for him to hear, and I’ve never been good at speaking, especially in situations like this. But I feel I have to say what’s been on my mind for so many months now. I take a deep breath.

“I fear the prince’s motives. He schemes to own things that should never belong to him. I fear that his actions will allow this darkness into Cerion. Your leadership has made this kingdom great, sire, and I fear that when the throne goes to Eron, the generations of peace that the Plethores have worked for will come to an end.” I pause as the king sinks into his chair.

“I have been in the grips of the Dreamwalker myself, Your Majesty,” I go on. “I have seen the disturbing way that he thinks and works. He has acted through the prince at least once before. He is interested in Prince Vorance and Princess Sarabel as well. I saw through his own eyes, how he lurked outside the palace. He was unable to enter, though. The wards placed here kept him out. He did manipulate your staff. One of them took something of Princess Margary’s.”

I rest my hand on the ornately carved wood of His Majesty’s chair as Rian comes to stand beside me. The king slumps forward and rubs his temples with one hand as he considers my words.

“I will increase the patrols around the castle and ask Master Anod to strengthen our magical security to the city’s outskirts.” He sighs and pushes himself out of his chair again, looking first at Rian and then at me.

“You must understand that barring titles and ranks, Eron is my boy. I am king, yes, and he is the heir to my kingdom. He is my son, and I will always love him and try to see the good in him. If his own father cannot have faith in him, then who will? I cannot give up on Eron. Not yet.

“Seek out this Dreamwalker. Do what you will to end him. Whatever it takes. I will lend you whatever aid you need. If after his demise, Eron keeps his wicked tendencies…” his voice trails off painfully and he looks away into the fire. “I will deal with it.”

The music in the dining hall changes, and Margy pushes the door open again.

“Paba, they’re playing it!” she calls to him, and the sound of her voice smoothes the worry lines from his face and brings him peace.

“Be safe,” he dismisses us with a nod and allows Margy to pull him away by the hand, into the room beyond.

“I’ve got to stick with her,” Twig says to Flitt as the door closes. “Don’t forget, okay?”

“Course I won’t! See you soon,” Flitt grins and waves as Twig hops up from the table and then shoots off, straight through the wall into the dining room. When he’s gone, Rian turns to me.

“So,” he says quietly. His jaw is clenched as his gaze falls to my hands again. Slowly he takes my right hand, pulls my glove off, and holds it to the light. The fine golden lines catch and flash in the firelight. He draws me closer and I think he might kiss me, but instead he pulls the collar of my gambeson away and strokes a finger along what I’m sure must be more of the lines on my collarbone.

“When were you planning to tell me?” he asks, his voice tinged with pain and anger.

I pull away from him and tug my collar up again. His prickly tone sets me on edge. Standing on the table, Flitt watches our exchange, hands on hips. She’s angry, too.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say defensively. “When would have been a good time? When we were escaping the dreaming with our lives, or while I was defending you from Sorcerers and Necromancers? Or would later have been better, in front of the whole guild and Tib and Mevyn, in the middle of the tavern?”

Rian doesn’t answer. He simply shakes his head and thrusts my glove at me before turning away.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” I say. “I was going to tell you when the time was right.”

“You don’t understand…” he trails off and sighs and then spins to face me. “You never should have come to the palace. If I had known, I would have refused to allow it.”

“Refused to allow it?” My jaw drops. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “So now you decide where I can and can’t go? What gives you the right?” Rian scowls and shoves the door open.

“We’re going to the guild hall. Quickly. We can’t stay here, especially not now.” He stands there waiting, holding the door while my ears ring with fury. How dare he? Out of spite, out of pure rebellion to his sudden need to control me, I plant my feet and cross my arms.

“Azi,” Rian growls and shuts the door before he comes back to me again. “Think about it. Think about what you can do. Think about the liberties you’re afforded by your station and by the trust so many people have in you. Do you think just anyone could show up at the palace and be brought directly in to the king inner chambers? Where he’s meeting with his most trusted advisers? You think anyone can simply grace his presence and be welcomed? No, they can’t, Azi.” He grips my hand and a lump forms in my throat as his what he’s saying starts to sink in.

“You’re welcome in Kythshire, you’re welcome in the palace, and you’re trusted by those closest to the king and the king himself. The Dreamwalker knows that. He knows it, and he’s given you magic now to link you to him. A way of letting him in where he couldn’t get in before. To spy. Do you see? We have to leave. Now.”

I nod, too choked up to be able to speak through the tears that burn my eyes and spill down my cheeks. The palace is a blur as Rian pulls me along through the winding polished hallways and finally out of the gates and into the street beyond. How could I be so stupid? How could I not have seen?

When I set foot on the icy cobbled stones of the street, I feel the darkness sink over me. Rian whispers a ward, but not soon enough. My eyes close and I fall to my knees in the street, overcome by the Dreamwalker, who had been lurking just outside. Waiting all along, just for me.

Azi

“Do not blame yourself, Rian,” Uncle says. “You had no way of knowing. Here, set her in the chair. Yes, good. Make her comfortable. Azaeli. Azi. Try to wake her while I set the wards.” His voice is far away, wrapped in a cloak of darkness, snuffed by something powerful and cunning.

Someone’s hands are on me, shaking me, pinching me, slapping my face. It feels small to me, like pebbles thrown into the ocean. Unimportant. A distant reality. Still I cling to it and fight myself closer. The darkness is feeding on my rage at being tricked, bleeding it away from me. More builds in its place. How could I be so blind? Why didn’t I see?

I’m aware of something sinister at the edge of the cloak, another presence that’s working to shuffle through my thoughts like a deck of cards, sifting and watching and searching.

“
Get away from me!
” I scream in my head, trying in vain to fight it.

“Look at it,” Rian says with disbelief. “She’s covered. How did I miss this?”

“Mentalism originates far beyond our borders, magically speaking,” Uncle explains. “It is a rare craft, barely seen anymore. Only the most omniscient of creatures can wield it, and even then they must be discerning. They must act with great caution.” Uncle says.

“He means fairies,” Flitt pipes up. “It’s strictly fairy magic. Everyone else isn’t supposed to be allowed. Hey Azi, wake up!”

I push closer to the voices. Fighting the darkness is like crawling uphill through thick mud. Everything hurts. I can barely breathe, and then he’s here, in front of me, crushing me with the darkness that swirls around him.

“You’re not real,” I say to Jacek. He laughs and keeps shuffling through my thoughts. I’m sleeping, I know I am. It’s just like before in the tavern and in the fairy ring. It’s in my head. It isn’t real. All I have to do is open my eyes.

“Okay, here goes,” Flitt says from the other side of the darkness, which is thickening now and pushing me back. Something strikes my chest, hard. It knocks the breath out of me and sprays a blinding light of every color across the darkness. Jacek screams in pain and the darkness shrinks back. The light is emanating from my chest, from the pouch that holds Flitt’s diamond. I shield my eyes and look away.

“Oh no you don’t, Azi. You look at me.” Flitt bobs in front of my face and starts to grow. Her eyes are swirling with every color: red, blue, green, purple, yellow, orange. I’ve noticed them before, but never this way. Never with her face this close to mine, as large as my own. The way the colors swirl and sparkle in her eyes is the most perfect, beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I try to catch my breath as she locks her gaze to mine and I fall into her, away from the darkness, away from Jacek, back into myself.

I gasp and cough as my eyes fly open. Someone is looming over me. I shove him away and leap up from my chair. Before I can think, my sword is in my hands, poised to strike.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Flitt says. She’s back to her usual tiny self again as she floats in front of me, though most of her color is drained to white. “You’re back. Just calm down. He can’t get you. You’re safe.”

At the great hearth Uncle and Rian are standing with their hands up, ready to defend themselves if they need to. I turn and take in my surroundings as I try to calm myself. We’re in the guild hall. A merry fire is crackling in the hearth, and the chairs surrounding it have been freshly brushed clean. I walk slowly to the meeting table and run my fingers along the worn wood. It’s real. It’s all real. I lay my sword on the bench and try to compose myself. Flitt comes to my shoulder and I reach up and press her to my cheek in a careful hug.

“
Thank you,
” I send to her. “
Whatever that was, thank you
.”

“New trick with your diamond. You can thank Dabble. I’m just glad it worked. Oh! Do you think Mouli made sweet rolls? I’ll be back!” She’s gone before I can come up with a response.

I turn slowly to Rian and Uncle who are still watching me with caution.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper hoarsely to Rian. “Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“I’m fine,” he opens his arms and I cross and sink into them.

“I should have seen it,” I whisper. “I should have realized. I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” Rian murmurs into my hair. “I should have, too.”

“Sit down,” Gaethon says. “Both of you, and tell me everything from the start.”

I take a seat in one of the familiar overstuffed chairs and Rian and Uncle sit beside me. Staring into the fire, I tell them everything I can remember from the moment we left on our journey all the way up to our encounter at the village. Rian interjects from time to time, adding his own side of the story.

The apprentice mark on my forehead tingles softly, and I think of all of the times in the past that Rian and Uncle have slipped away to whisper secrets. There is some magic happening now, I know. Some ancient bond between teacher and student that protects and preserves. Uncle leans toward me as I recount, until his elbows rest on the arm of my chair and he’s staring thoughtfully at my face. He has nothing to say for a long stretch once the tale is through, and we sit for a while in pensive silence.

“Were we not facing such a threat,” Uncle says to me, “I would have you show me exactly what you’ve learned. We would categorize it and study it and try our best to replicate it. I would forbid you to use it until we could come to fully understand. But in this case, Azaeli, I shall only say to use it with the greatest discretion. The manner it was taught to you was highly unusual. It’s unknown whether what you see can be seen by others. Use care, my niece.” He pushes himself to his feet and stretches.

“Had I known this quest would be so threatened by darkness,” he says, “I would never have chosen to stay behind. Do not mistake me, Rian. I am impressed with your handling of the challenges that arose. At this time, though, I think it best for me to join you when you return to the others.” He crosses to the hearth, takes a long pipe from a box on the mantle, and stuffs it with herbs.

“What about the negotiations with Prince Vorance and His Majesty, Master? Aren’t you needed?” Rian asks. He seems to be relieved, though, to hear that his master will be joining us.

“You might think so,” Uncle says. “But the king knows my stance and refuses to listen. It would be a welcome reprieve for the both of us, I imagine. I shall send another in my place. Hopefully one who can shed a different light on my side of the argument.”

“What is your side?” Rian asks. I’m impressed. He’s very bold to ask questions I would never dare pose. I watch the exchange between student and master with mild interest. Uncle takes a long pull from his pipe and blows out a slow stream of bluish smoke.

“That we should tread lightly in this alliance with Sunteri,” he explains. “The impending marriage is unwise for many reasons. Take the current state of Zhaghen. It is a place of upheaval. Its citizens are at the brink of rebellion.”

“Theirs is a land of greed and excess,” he goes on. “It breeds Sorcery. Where we in Cerion teach restraint and reverence, they seek only more and more power. The loss of their Wellspring was their own folly. Lending aid to them now would only reinforce their behavior, like a stamp of approval. It would encourage the greed and contemptuous misuse of magic that seems so ingrained in their way of life.

“Sending our princess, his beloved daughter, to that place at such a time,” he shakes his head slowly, staring into the fire.

I think of Sarabel dancing and smiling in the center of everyone tonight, so happy, so carefree. Knowing she’s about to wed the man she loves only to face such a future is heartbreaking. Sarabel has been my friend since we were old enough to crawl across the palace gardens together.

“What can we do?” I ask.

“Azaeli,” Uncle laughs softly and shakes his head, then steps to me and pulls me up from my seat. He gives me an awkward hug and pats me on the head like he used to when I was still a child. “In time, you will learn that it is impossible to fight every battle you’re presented with. Right now, you have a much greater threat to face, remember?”

He turns to Rian, “When will you return to the others?”

“In the morning,” Rian says.

“And you warded the Inn before you left?” Uncle asks.

“Yes, Master.”

“Then go to bed, both of you, and rest. I shall meet you here at dawn.” Uncle nods toward the door.

It’s strange to be back inside the guild hall again. Though we’ve only been gone for a couple of weeks, it feels like it could be a year. Everything seems cleaner, somehow, and smaller.

“He knows about the Half-Realm?” I whisper to Rian as we walk hand in hand toward the kitchens to find Flitt and say hello to Mouli.

“He knows almost everything,” Rian replies. “They wouldn’t leave me alone until I told at least one Master every detail.” I think of the weeks following our battle at Kythshire, how I barely saw him due to all of the hours he was held at the Academy for questioning and evaluation. It was a grueling time for him, during which I tried to respect his exhaustion by not asking my own questions about what they were doing. “I cleared it first, though. With Flitt.”

We pause in the doorway of the kitchen. Mouli is passing sweet rolls to grubby little hands at the half-door, which is open to a small crowd of street children. Flitt darts between them all, diving to catch the bits of icing that drip from each roll as Mouli hands them out.

“Ah, ah,” Mouli says. “To the water bucket with you! Only clean hands get a treat. Go on. What’s that? Do I get a thank you? Good girl. All right, and one for your brother. You tell him I’m praying for him. Yes, dear.”

I grin and lean against Rian as we watch until the tray of rolls is empty, then I clear my throat and Mouli spins around, startled.

“Oh! By the stars! By the stars and moon and seas alive! Azi! Rian!” She tosses the tray onto the table with a clatter and rushes to throw her arms around us. “Look at you. Look at the sight of you both! Filthy! Oh!” she clucks her tongue and fusses over us in a way that I never thought I’d miss as much as I did. “You could have sent a note. I have nothing prepared for you. Oh, my. Oh, dear.” She wipes her hands on her apron all a fluster and smoothes her hair.

“Mouli, it’s all right. We’re only here for tonight. We just came to say hello,” Rian tries to calm her while I go to Flitt, who’s happily full of icing but still drained of her color. I bend to offer her my shoulder and she flies up and tucks herself into my collar.

“Isn’t it a little late at night to be passing out treats to children?” I ask her as I peer out at the last few who are licking icing from their fingers.

“Oh, they know to come after supper so nothing goes to waste,” she smiles at me and goes to the door. I chuckle to myself as I look at the empty tray and decide not to voice my doubts about how an entire tray of fresh-baked sweet rolls could possibly be considered supper leftovers.

“Go on home now,” Mouli leans out of the door. “Go in pairs, yes. Goodnight.” She closes up and looks us over again.

“Baths,” she says. “And then to bed, both of you.”

Despite the heavy guilt I feel for indulging in something so unnecessary at a time like this, I’m glad to give in to Mouli and soak for a while. It puts my mind at ease after all we’ve been through, and steels me for what’s to come. By the time I wash my armor and braid my hair I feel like I’ve been reborn.

Rian and I wait until she comes to say goodnight, and then he ducks into the Half-Realm and slips through the wall that separates our rooms. We lie in each other’s arms, whispering apologies and plans between kisses, allowing ourselves be as close as we want to be. As close as we can, that is, with Flitt tucked beside my head on my pillow. She’s sound asleep, and we’re careful not to wake her.

“She’s so white,” I whisper to Rian, who turns over to look at her.

“She just needs to rest,” he says. “That little move took a lot out of her.”

“It makes sense, though, fighting darkness with light,” I say. “It was a good idea, and it seemed to really cause him pain.”

“You’re right,” Rian says. He turns back to me with a grin and a glint in his eye. “You might say it was…brilliant.”

“Ha, ha,” I groan and shove him playfully. “Go to sleep, Rian.”

“You too,” he says between kisses to my shoulder. “I mean it, Azi. It’s safe to sleep. Promise.”

His words soothe a worry which I never voiced, one that had been nagging at me since Uncle told us we should rest. I haven’t slept since I was trapped in the Dreaming. With Rian’s arms around me in my own bed, I can’t think of a safer place to allow it. I trust in him and eventually I let myself drift to sleep.

The night passes without a dream, and I’m woken before the sun by Rian’s lips on mine, soft and warm.

“Wake up, Love,” he whispers. “I have something to ask you.”

I groan and stretch and roll away in protest, and he pulls me closer to him.

“I can’t ask you with your back to me,” he laughs softly. I rub my eyes open and catch a glimpse of a much more colorful Flitt still sleeping soundly on my pillow before I turn back to him.

“How long have you been lying awake thinking of questions to ask me?” I ask him, and he shrugs sheepishly and slips out from between the covers to kneel at the bedside.