Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (25 page)

“Because he doesn’t reside in Teraz, but travels with Jubal.”

Gilmael caught his breath. “Are you saying he’s in Tenerith?”

“He was until the turn of the year. It seems Jubal sent him away once the news of Malkon’s death reached him. Probably as a precaution should we have got wind of the adept and decided to seek him out.”

Jareth swore. “And no one discovered he was there?”

“No one knew enough to look for someone like him,” Yovan pointed out. “It’s only because of Dylen and Riodan’s investigation his existence came to light. What about Jubal, Kes? Has he departed Tenerith as well?”

“As far as my agents can determine, he’s still there. But he’ll likely leave as soon as the fighting begins in earnest. He’s always done so in the past. There’s no reason for him to change that pattern now.”

“Especially with the death of his son,” Jareth said. “He’ll be even more careful and avoid risking himself in battle.”

“So he’ll be directing the rebellion from afar once more,” Gilmael scornfully said. “Craven as always.”

“But wily enough that we must never underestimate him,” Rohyr said. “And we must keep a close watch on Xeren and how he’s dealing thus far with the debacle in Asmara. The loss of an entire diplomatic delegation will have put him in an awkward position.”

Dylen snorted. “Diplomatic delegation, my arse. It was a team of assassins that Riodan and I fought.”

Rohyr grimly smiled. “The arrest of the surviving Terazian embassy staff will have undermined Xeren’s position to an extent. Whatever his influence over Anri, he would still have had to justify supplying the Ferrendas with that much help. I’d like to know how he explained so many Terazians dying for the Ferrendas’ cause. One further concern—Malkon’s death will have serious repercussions on the Ferrenda succession.”

“But of course!” Jareth exclaimed. “His heir is now Prince Kilion, Xeren’s son.”

“Which means Jubal will be hard-pressed to ensure Kilion doesn’t follow Anri’s lead should he try to make peace with Ylandre,” Yovan said.

“Or he might just have him assassinated,” Gilmael suggested. “A rumor has surfaced that Jubal sired a son out of wedlock. A pure-blooded Varadani.” He let the others digest the unexpected news before continuing. “However, a legitimately born nephew by a brother still has precedence as heir over a bastard son if we go by ancient Varadani law. So the question is: would Jubal try to overturn that law when he still hasn’t a throne to sit on? Or would he kill his nephew if he desires his own son to succeed him? Of course, that would put him in direct conflict with Xeren.”

“Not to mention the whole of Teraz,” Jareth commented. “By Veres, surely he wouldn’t be so stupid as to make an enemy of the Ferrendas’ staunchest ally.”

“He wouldn’t,” Yovan said. “He’s no wantwit for all his arrogance. It’s more likely he’ll try to circumvent the law if he can’t overturn it.”

“Get confirmation of that rumor first,” Rohyr said. “I’d rather not waste time speculating about something—or someone—who may or may not exist. But if Jubal does have a by-blow, it would certainly muddle the situation further.”

“Why can’t royal families keep things straightforward?” Dylen grumbled. “Verily, there are times I’m tempted to resign my position and retire to the countryside.”

Rohyr chuckled. “Except that you enjoy what you do too much to deprive Gil of the most capable adjutant he’s ever had. And you’d be bored to death with country living. You’d drive Riodan quite mad with your complaints.”

Dylen blushed faintly while the others softly laughed in agreement.

“I won’t deny your betrothal took me by surprise,” Yovan said. “But I’m very pleased you resolved whatever held you apart before. So, are all the preparations for your binding in order?”

“They are indeed, Uncle,” Dylen replied. “Though truth be told, I still pinch myself to make sure I’m not merely dreaming this all up.”

“Having second thoughts?” Jareth teased.

“Nay,” Dylen firmly said. “I want this. I want
him
.” He smiled at Rohyr. “I’m finally, truly happy.”

Rohyr smiled back, his eyes bright with pleasure. “It was about time.” He looked around the conference table, his smile fading. “It appears we’ll be riding to battle sooner than we expected. Gil, I trust we can count on Losshen’s support?”

“Zykriel only awaits your summons.”

“Excellent. He’ll go with the vanguard, as will Dy,” Rohyr nodded at his brother. “He’ll lead the Vireshin troops in my son’s stead. Lastly, I appointed Ranael commander of this campaign. Captain Henaz will go as his second. Kes?”

“I will ride with you.”

“As will I,” Gilmael said.

“My thanks. Jath, as much as I desire your martial skills at my disposal, I need you to keep an eye on the Terazian situation more. Gil’s people would benefit greatly from your connections in the diplomatic corps.”

“Understood.”

Yovan added, “And perhaps we can maneuver a few pawns into place with regards to Prince Kilion.”

“That would be most helpful, Uncle.” Rohyr smiled humorlessly. “Well then, let’s hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.”

* * * *

“Ho there, Tristen!”

Tristen paused midway down the pedestrian lane skirting the Hospitallers’ center and waited for Argil to catch up with him. He returned the latter’s greeting with a grin. They saw each other only sporadically now as their respective courses took them down different academic paths.

“What are you about in this part of town?” he asked when Argil reached him.

“Visiting a ‘friend’ if you must know,” Argil archly replied.

Tristen chuckled. “Rather early in the day, isn’t it?”

“Better early than not at all. I’m heading home later; taking an evening coach to Ilmaren. My brother is leaving for South Vihandra to help an ailing uncle manage his estate.
Aba
wants us all around to see him off.”

“Ah, you expect him to be away for a goodly while?”

Argil shrugged. “It will depend on when our uncle recovers his health if he recovers at all. But let’s not talk about so disheartening a matter.”

He had bought skewered grilled innards from one of the food stalls fronting the hospital and shared them with Tristen. They munched on the toothsome snack as they continued on their way down the lane toward the waiting shed near the main intersection.

It was good to catch up on each other, Tristen thought. Until a fortnight back, he had kept company almost exclusively with Mirdan and for some reason it was starting to pall. He wondered why that was and whether on some level he blamed his friend for the break with Keosqe. Had Mirdan not propositioned him in the first place…

“Strange to see you alone without that Sivash fellow,” Argil remarked. “I got so used to seeing you together.”

“We aren’t joined at the hip,” Tristen said.

“But you certainly acted like you were.”

Tristen grimaced. Yes, they had acted thusly and look where that had led. “I don’t see Mirdan much nowadays. He’s taken the afternoon shift at some tea-room in the west district. He told me he has to earn a bit more if he’s to finish his course.”

“He does? I had the impression he was from a family of substance going by his attire and demeanor.”

“I thought so too.” Tristen frowned. Come to think of it, he really knew nothing about Mirdan’s background. Neither his hometown in Edessa nor his kin. “I never thought to ask. I also took it for granted he was well-off.”

“Didn’t we all? By the by, I hear you’ve moved out of Lord Keosqe’s house.”

Tristen sighed. “I did.”

“Well, well, so you decided to be independent at last.” Argil smiled approvingly. “I knew you had it in you.”

It was tempting to just agree with his friend. But Tristen’s conscience reminded him yet again that deception had cost him Keosqe’s love. He swallowed painfully.

“I didn’t move out on my own volition,” he mumbled. “He asked me to leave.”

Argil stared at him, shocked. “Why? Did you do something, or…?”

“He believes I cheated on him … with Mirdan,” Tristen morosely replied. “My fault. I deceived him and when he found out…”

He flushed when Argil regarded him incredulously.

“So you
were
lovers!” Argil shook his head. “All this time you were sleeping with him but you kept denying it. Concealing it even, as if it were a dirty secret.”

“I didn’t want my brother to know,” Tristen said defensively. “Gossip gets around very quickly.”

“It already did,” Argil pointed out. “The whole north district suspected if not exactly knew for a fact that you were carrying on an affair with him.” When Tristen looked at him aghast, he said, “Oh come now, surely you aren’t that naïve. I mean, no one could say for sure since neither of you spoke of it or confirmed it, but I imagine most everyone guessed from the way he doted on you and how you … well, you looked at him differently.”

“What do you mean? How differently?”

“Not as a houseguest or ward definitely. Let’s just say it was obvious you lusted after him though you did your damn best to hide that you did.”

“I didn’t do a good job of it then.” Tristen sighed. “So much for trying to keep a secret in this city.”

“Only in our respective circles.” Argil hesitated then, disbelief sharp in his voice, said, “I don’t wish to pain you further, but … how does anyone bring himself to cuckold someone like Keosqe Deilen? It beggars belief.”

Tristen looked away, his eyes moistening when regret and shame swept over him all over again. “You don’t,” he whispered. “Not if you have an ounce of sense.”

Argil seemed to consider his answer. “You’ve always had heaps of sense,” he slowly said. “And truth be told, I can’t believe it of you. Not when you care for someone. And, well, despite all your protestations to the contrary and pretense at the opposite, I thought … nay, I
know
you’re very much in love with Lord Keosqe.”

That brought Tristen to a halt. Argil stopped too and calmly met Tristen’s glare.

“I never said—I mean, I will own lusting after him. Who wouldn’t? But love is different! I always complained about his manner with me, remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” Argil replied. “How he’d immure you at home and demand to know who you were with or where you went.” He peered at Tristen curiously. “But you actually enjoyed his possessiveness, correct? I mean, you liked it that someone cared thusly for you and wasn’t ashamed to show it. That he put up with your refusal to reciprocate for so long is incredible. That speaks of true devotion, doesn’t it?”

Tristen stared at him. “Yes,” he choked out. “Yes, it does.” Exhaling forlornly, he looked down at his feet. “I’m such a fool,” he whispered.

Argil sighed and taking him by the arm pulled him along. “There’s a coach approaching.”

They arrived at the shed. Tristen could not lift his head for fear that the other waiting Deira would see that he was on the verge of tears. Argil patted his back sympathetically.

“You’re a fool indeed,” he murmured. “But that’s no reason to not try and rectify the situation.”

“He won’t forgive me,” Tristen mumbled.

“You don’t know that. And you won’t ever know unless you seek it.”

“And if he rejects me? Ah, the shame of it.”

Argil rolled his eyes. “Veres almighty, Tris!” he softly exclaimed. “This isn’t the time to let pride rule you. You want him back? Stuff your pride up your backside and as soon as the opportunity arrives, tell him the truth. All of it.”

Shocked by his friend’s outburst, Tristen could only repeat, “All of it?”

“About Mirdan, your fears. But most of all how you really feel about him.”

Tristen closed his eyes and exhaled. “It is time I stopped hiding, isn’t it?”

Argil gently said, “It was time long ago, but as they say, better late than never.”

Chapter 16

Divulgence

As he alighted from the hired buggy, Keosqe swore under his breath and pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head. It was starting to pour once more. Thank Veres he’d taken one of the small conveyances that plied the narrower side streets of the city. They charged more but he counted the extra cost worth the convenience of being dropped off in front of his house.

He should have known better than to ignore the stormy weather, a given during the spring monsoon. Next time he would arrange to be fetched by carriage from the Ministry of Internal Affairs building. He really preferred to ride steedback if he could not walk, but the incessant rains coupled with gusty winds guaranteed a good drenching even if he wrapped himself in an oilskin cloak.

Cursing a little less volubly, he splashed his way to the front stoop of the house. Only then did he notice the figure seated on the top step, huddled under what little shelter the gabled door canopy offered. The Deir lifted his head, his hair plastered to the sides of his face and forehead despite his hood. It was Tristen.

The youth rose to his feet as Keosqe hurried up the steps. “What in Aisen…?” Keosqe started to say.

Wordlessly, Tristen reached into his tunic and pulled out a flat package wrapped in oilskin. He handed it over saying, “Master Sarvan asked me to give this to you.”

Keosqe remembered that Tristen had started training under Eiren this spring and that his full apprenticeship with the physician would begin the following term.

He took the package, continuing to stare disbelievingly at Tristen. “How long did you wait out here?” he asked.

“An hour, maybe longer.”

“Why didn’t you go into the house?”

“You told me not to come back.”

Keosqe winced. Obviously Eiren had contrived to have them meet once again by using Tristen as a messenger. But the physician had not anticipated Tristen’s sense of shame would deter him from asking for shelter from the rain if Keosqe was not yet home. “That didn’t include waiting out in the rain for Veres’ sake!”

“Didn’t it?” Tristen hunched over, folding his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t sure. And I didn’t want to give more offense than I have already.” He took a step down the stairs. “In any case, I’m glad to have seen you again,
Dyhar
. Good day.”