Hallowed Bond (Chronicles of Ylandre Book 2) (17 page)

“It’s an honor to be of such interest to Hadrana-
tyar
,” he said. “But I’m still at a loss as to what he’s supposed to assess in me.” He suddenly thought of something. “Surely you don’t suspect me of being a templar like him!”

Rohyr nodded. “I did wonder if you were a latent one,” he admitted. “But Tenryon says there’s no way you could have eluded our notice if that were the case.”

“Your notice?” Dylen was struck by Rohyr’s choice of words. “You speak as if—”

He stared at the Ardan. “You—Are
you
a templar?”

Rohyr and Tenryon exchanged a glance. Rohyr met and held Dylen’s startled gaze.

“I am.”

“Holy saints!” Dylen stared at his brother in awe. “But it isn’t known? I mean, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“Outside of the brotherhood, only Eiren knows,” Rohyr answered.

“Because he’s your physician,” Dylen guessed.

Rohyr smiled approvingly. “You’re very perceptive.”

“Nay, it was the logical conclusion.” Dylen frowned. “So not even Imcael knows?”

When Rohyr shook his head, Dylen looked at him wonderingly. “Why keep it a secret?

Hadrana-
tyar
doesn’t. About what he is, I mean.”

“Ten is the face of our brotherhood; the one known to take and train our acolytes,”

Rohyr explained. “But secrecy serves my interest best. The knowledge that I possess such power can inspire fear and sow distrust and can also encourage malcontents to use them to challenge my rule. Imagine what the separatists in Tenerith could do with the knowledge. They’d claim that I would use my power to reduce the people to thralldom.”

“Which only goes to show how highly you templars are regarded,” Dylen said.

“Or suspected,” Tenryon wryly remarked.

Dylen’s frown deepened. “Does this mean your power isn’t solely derived from the Essendri potential?”

“Say rather that I have two wellsprings of power,” Rohyr clarified. “One for strength and the other for depth and range.”

“I don’t understand.”

“In addition to the usual skills possessed by gifted
enyra
, templars are blessed with abilities exclusive to the brotherhood alone,” Tenryon explained. “When properly trained, a templar can wield those abilities with utmost precision and tap the depths of his personal store of power as well. But to sustain the use of any skill for a length of time requires additional strength and the level of it differs from templar to templar. Rohyr is one of the most gifted templars alive because of the boost he receives from the Essendri potential.”

“Fascinating.” Dylen leaned forward, intrigued. “So you thought I might be one as well.”

“Yes,” Rohyr replied. “But, as Ten pointed out, it isn’t possible.”

“Even if an infant’s nature doesn’t resound at birth, it can’t be suppressed come adolescence,” Tenryon said. “We would have sensed your presence then.”

“I see.” Dylen looked at Tenryon wonderingly. “But if I’m not a templar, then
what
am I?”

“A rogue adept,” the Herun answered.

“A what?”

“Rogues comprise an extremely rare breed of gifted Deira that straddles the divide between the templars and born healers,” Tenryon elucidated. “Three skills mark the templars as such. First and foremost is the ability to recall their past lives. You have no such memories. Even had you blocked them, either Rohyr or I would have been able to unlock them if they were there. Second, you can’t meld your mind with another to the extent of controlling his body and will. But you
can
direct your mind’s energy with a remarkable degree of precision and strength. Now that’s a trait templars share with healers. You can also enter another Deir’s mind and completely immerse yourself in his innermost consciousness without fear of stranding yourself within. It’s a power healers possess and templars don’t.” He eyed Dylen speculatively. “I wager you used that particular talent to good effect with your patrons.”

Dylen shrugged. “I saw no harm and much profit in discerning their deepest desires and meeting them if I could.”

“And it afforded you protection from those with less benign intentions,” Tenryon assayed.

“It did,” Dylen admitted.

“Thank Veres for that,” Rohyr said. “Well then, will you help me train him, Ten?”

“Most definitely,” the Herun replied. “Such talent must not be left untapped or, worse, misused.” He smiled at a wide-eyed Dylen. “What say you to a lesson in translocating?”

Dylen caught his breath. He abruptly rose to his feet, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “How about right now?” he challenged.

Rohyr and Tenryon chuckled. “First rule: No generation of corridors indoors or within populated areas,” Tenryon said as they headed for the door. “The energy of a blossoming can tear stone and steel apart. Imagine what would happen to a Deir caught in its midst.”

“I’d rather not,” Dylen said with grimace. He glanced from the Herun to his brother.

“Though I wager you’ve both seen your share of accidents.”

“Would that we hadn’t,” Rohyr affirmed. “It’s something one doesn’t ever forget.”

Chapter Fourteen

Reunion

It’s good to be back in Ylandre
, Riodan Leyhar thought when he rode into Rikara with his parents. Five years in a foreign land made for interesting living, but nothing could fully dispel homesickness when it struck hard and settled deep in one’s bones.

Despite all the excitement and tension of handling diplomatic relations between his country and oft turbulent Tehara, he had not been distracted much from his yearning for home.

As they rode down the main avenue, he looked about him avidly much like a long immured prisoner might draw in great draughts of fresh air upon being freed. There was nothing really new to see, but his long absence from the capital made everything seem strange and new all over again.

When they came to the first major fork in the avenue, his
adda
parted from them and headed for the north district. But Riodan and Theron rode down the street leading to the east district. They would not enter it but turn onto a wide road on the outskirts that was the beginning of the long drive up to the Citadel. As one ascended the wide curving lane, one got a bird’s-eye view of the city. Riodan felt a faint pang when he caught glimpses of the shingled rooftops of the tallest homes of the west district’s fabled Quarter as well as its many entertainment halls and museums. Memories of a pair of storm green eyes gazing out from under thick raven locks assailed him without warning, and he looked away before he was overcome by them.

Nonetheless, he could not help wondering what Dylen was doing and if he still lived with his father in the townhouse where Riodan had learned the joys and wonder of first love. A part of him cautioned him to expect the worst, but the other part would not listen and continued to hope for the best.

He set aside his pensive thoughts when they approached the gates of the Citadel.

Passing through the outer gate, they came to a stop in the spacious bailey. Steeds were not permitted beyond this point, and so they dismounted and walked the rest of the way through the courtyard and up the stone-paved path to the heavy double paneled door of the Citadel.

It was a typical day at the royal keep, which meant an almost never-ending flow of Deira through the main entrance. As they made their way from the octagonal reception hall with its domed stained glass ceiling and mounted the stairs to the second level, Deira of all stations welcomed them back. But, though they saw many passing acquaintances, they did not meet any whom Riodan counted as friends.

Only in the main audience chamber did he finally spot some of them. Rysander Seydon hailed him almost as soon as he entered the great hall. Riodan happily greeted the Chief Counsellor’s son then stared in amazement at the slender, dark-haired Deir at his side.

“Shino, is that really you?” he said disbelievingly as he looked young Shino Essendri over. The orphaned son of one of Rohyr’s untitled relations, Shino had visited the Citadel often enough to have befriended many of his Essendri kin. “Why, last we met you were little more than a gangly child!”

Rysander clucked mirthfully. “Fie on you to remind us all of Shin’s age, Rio, when he’s been doing his best to appear older than he is. For a diplomat, you are severely lacking in tact!”

“Really?” Riodan looked questioningly at Shino. “But why are you in a hurry to grow up, Shin? Believe me, adulthood isn’t as glamorous as you may have been led to believe.”

“Oh, it isn’t glamour he hankers for but the attention of someone who has an abundance of it,” Rysander interjected with a guffaw.

Shino blushed but gamely grinned at the raillery. “Pay Rys no mind,” he advised Riodan. “He’s just so relieved that there’s now someone younger than himself he can torment with his utterly dull jests.”

“Keep a civil tongue, cub,” Rysander declared sententiously. “You should know enough to defer to your elders. By the way,” he quickly added before Shino could reply.

“Rohyr decided to take him under his wing. So, as of last year, he’s been our esteemed Ardan’s legal ward.”

“Is he now?” Riodan delightedly said. “My felicitations, Shin.”

“Thank you, Rio.”

“And I dare say, Rohyr is regretting the impulse,” Rysander said with a snicker. “A veritable whirlwind Shin is. He’s got energy enough to outlast any ten of us, and saints above, it’s a wonder the Citadel is still standing!”

Shino started to stick his tongue out at Rysander, but he caught himself. He settled for giving his cousin a playful poke in the ribs instead.

Riodan was still chuckling a few minutes later when he located Theron. The senior Leyhar was chatting with Jareth Hadrana, Ylandre’s preeminent envoy and foremost ambassador-at-large. Not long after, Gilmael Calanthe joined them. As head of the most extensive intelligence network in the North Continent, it was not surprising for him to take an interest in what recently returned diplomats had to report. But he was also Riodan’s good friend, and he heartily greeted the younger ambassador.

“How do you like diplomatic work now?” Gilmael gibed. “I hear it was sheer horror dealing with the Teharan rulers. Mayhap you’ll change your mind and join Intelligence instead. At least, you won’t have to bite your tongue when you’re actually aching to give some royal dunce a piece of your mind.”

“But you run the risk of having more than your tongue ripped out if you join Gil’s passel of spies,” Jareth pointed out. “Espionage may give you a freer hand but only for so long as your true identity remains secret.”

“Hush, Jath,” Gilmael protested. “I’m trying to recruit an agent here!”

Jareth snorted. “And take away one of my best and brightest envoys? In your dreams, Gil!”

Grinning widely, Riodan remarked, “I see some things haven’t changed.” He looked around at all the familiar faces. “Indeed, it seems like nothing has changed while I was away.”

“On the contrary,” Gilmael cryptically said. “And some bigger than others. Changes,

I mean.”

Theron scrunched up his forehead and said, “I beg your pardon?”

At the same time, Riodan asked, “What do you mean?”

Gilmael started to address the Leyhars’ bewilderment but suddenly beckoned to someone to approach instead. A tall Deir clad in black and earth green emerged from a nearby press of courtiers.

“Ah, Dy, do join us,” Gilmael said. “It’s as good a time as any for you to meet the Leyhars.”

Riodan almost stopped breathing. Shocked speechless, he thought his heart would give, so furiously did it beat in the wake of his first sight of Dylen Teris. It was not only the total unexpectedness of finding his former lover here of all places that spurred his heart into a virtual gallop. There was also his appearance. When last they met, Dylen had been distraught and it had shown in his dress and demeanor. But, even then, his comeliness had been apparent. Now, impeccably attired for court, his bearing one of courteous aloofness, he was indescribably beautiful.

“This is Theron Leyhar, our present ambassador to Siryana,” Gilmael said to Dylen.

“And this is his son, Riodan. Rio is lately arrived from Tehara, his first major posting and a very successful one I’m happy to say.”

It did not escape either Leyhar that Gilmael appeared to have committed a breach in protocol by presenting them to Dylen rather than the other way around. Riodan wondered how so seasoned a courtier could make such a serious gaffe.

Beside him, Theron was staring at Dylen, an indignant scowl knitting his features.

The scowl turned quite ferocious when Gilmael urged Dylen to stand between him and Jareth with a warm smile ordinarily reserved for close kith and kin. Dylen silently took the indicated place. Gilmael addressed the Leyhars once more.

“Let me introduce my adjutant—” he started to say.

“Who appointed him to the position?” Theron interrupted.

Taken aback by Theron’s unwonted impoliteness, Gilmael did not respond at once but looked at the ambassador curiously. Dylen’s steady gaze did not falter, however, but remained cool and distant. Riodan, on the other hand, inwardly cringed at his sire’s behavior.

“I appointed him at the request of Rohyr,” Gilmael finally replied, frowning slightly.

“Is His Majesty aware of what this Deir used to do?” Theron demanded, eyeing Dylen suspiciously.

“
Aba
! That isn’t important!” Riodan protested under his breath.

“On the contrary, I think it
is
of supreme importance!” Theron shot back.

Gilmael exchanged a surprised glance with Jareth. He looked at Dylen questioningly.

When Dylen shook his head, he turned his attention back to Theron and said, “I assure you, Leyhar-
tyar
, His Majesty is very aware of his brother’s former profession.”

The Leyhars gaped in shock. “Bro-brother?” Theron fairly bleated. He stared incredulously at Dylen. “
You
are His Majesty’s brother”

“Half-brother,” Dylen coolly clarified.

While Riodan and his sire struggled to absorb the information, Jareth raised an eyebrow at Gilmael and said, “Rather loose-tongued today, aren’t you? Really, Gil, how you manage to keep your Ministry’s secrets is beyond me.”