Authors: J. V. Jones
That night
Tavalisk sloughed off his third incarnation as pupil to a wiseman and took on
his fourth: poisoner and shaper of his own fate.
It took Rapascus
five weeks to die. Tavalisk, being a novice, was inclined toward caution.
Rather a slow, debilitating sickness followed by an almost inevitable death
than a quick and suspicious demise. Rapascus hadn't known a thing--so much for
his knowledge of foretelling. In fact, near the end, the wiseman had become
rather touching, begging Tavalisk to see to it that his books, his writings,
and his possessions were sent to the great library at Silbur. It was his way of
reaching out to the Church that had excommunicated him.
He was also
anxious to ensure that certain books and scrolls were sent to the young scholar
Baralis. "He is a man of rare genius," said Rapascus in one of his
last lucid moments. "Yet his conscience needs to be shaped. He must learn
the value of goodness and mercy. And I hope, with these books I send, to be
able to teach him both."
Rapascus died the
next day.
The books were
never sent. None of them.
That night
Tavalisk rode as fast as a fat man on a horse could ride. He headed to the
nearest village, eager to find out if any parties were due to cross the ranges.
He was lucky, a caravan of traveling performers was due to leave the following
day. With Rapascus' gold, Tavalisk bribed them to return to the wiseman's house
with him and begin their journey a day later.
Early the next
morning, Tavalisk began to sort through all of Rapascus' belongings. Space was
limited in the caravan, and he could only afford to take the best of Rapascus'
collection. He loaded chests with rare books and scrolls, hating every decision
that involved leaving something behind He would have had it all if he could.
Finally, he came to Rapascus' religious works: his poems, his commentaries, his
reinterpretation of the ancient texts. They were a heavy lot, and Tavalisk was
just about to leave them when an idea occurred to him. Hastily, he flicked
through some of the papers, eyes scanning the works for rare jewels. He found
brilliance, insight, faith; great leaps of intellect lay only paragraphs apart
from humble affirmations of belief. The man had indeed been a genius.
Tavalisk promptly
repacked the trunk, throwing out many books to make way for Rapascus'
theological works. The books that the wiseman had specifically asked to be sent
to Baralis were not discarded, however. Tavalisk would keep them with him to
the grave.
Finally, he was
ready to leave. The wagons were loaded up, and the performers were anxious to
be on their way. Tavalisk looked around Rapascus' house one last time. There
was an oil lamp still burning on the desk. As he walked toward the door, he
picked up the lamp and dropped it on the pile of abandoned manuscripts. They
crackled into flame the moment he closed the door.
By the time they'd
ridden to the foothills, the house was burnt to the ground.
Gamil coughed,
bringing the archbishop back to the present. "Your Eminence seems a little
distracted," he said. "Should I bring you a little something to
awaken you?"
Tavalisk's hand
shot out, catching his aide by the arm. "I am not an invalid to be nursed,
Gamil," he said, releasing his grip. "Now tell me your news and be
off."
"Highwall's
army is due to arrive in Bren today, Your Eminence."
Tavalisk
immediately put all thought of the past behind him. The present was what
counted. "And Annis? Is that intellectual little city represented in the
numbers?"
"Yes, Your
Eminence. Two battalions. Most Annis troops have stayed behind, though. Ever
since Queen Arinalda was found lying dead atop an Annis banner, the city has
lived in fear of invasion by Kylock's troops. In fact, just this morning I
heard news that the largest part of Kylock's army was last spotted heading
toward Annis, not Bren." Tavalisk made a smacking sound with his lips. "Kylock
avenging the death of his dearly beloved mother. How touching." He poured
himself a glass of cool, white wine. "Of course, with Kylock's troops tied
up in Annis, Bren will have a greater fight on its hands. The armies of
Highwall are not to be sniffed at."
"Certainly
not now that Your Eminence has donated so much money to the cause."
"Donated!"
said Tavalisk, bringing pudgy hand to chest. "No, not donated, Gamil.
Loaned.
War is just another commodity like grain and rare spices, and it is up to
me to invest our money wisely. A war loan to Highwall is just such an
investment"
Lesson given, the
archbishop turned his thoughts to other matters. "If Kylock's forces are
on the move to Annis, then how is he managing to keep Halcus in line?"
"He's left a
full quarter of his troops in Halcus, Your Eminence. And there are the knights,
too. Currently Valdis is as good as running the city of Helch. Tyren has
ordered the execution of all the lords and noblemen who insist on attending
rites given by the old priests and bishops. He's keeping the whole thing quiet,
but our spies have discovered that he ordered his knights to confiscate the
worshipers' houses, their assets, and their women. We've even heard rumors of
torture and worse."
"Tyren's
after gold as well as converts, Gamil."
"That may be
true, Your Eminence. But Tyren has to make out he's only after converts, or the
knighthood wouldn't stand behind him. The knights can't kill men for personal
gain, it's against their deepest beliefs."
"Beliefs take
second place to loyalty in the knighthood," snapped Tavalisk.
"Absolute obedience to one's leader is the founding tenet of Valdis. The
knights will do anything Tyren wants-including murder or torture--they have to.
They have sworn an oath of loyalty. Oh, some knights may be stupid, and others
may be rogues, but for the most part it's blind, unquestioning faith that
enables Tyren to get his way. Tyren knows this, of course, and uses it to his
advantage at every turn." The archbishop eyed Gamil sharply. "Tyren
is one man who can count on the dedication and discretion of his
underlings."
Gamil coughed
nervously.
Normally Tavalisk
would feel pleased at delivering such a thinly veiled insult, but he was too
worried to enjoy the embarrassed flush that rose up Gamil's neck. Baralis' decision
to let Tyren have free reign over Helch troubled the archbishop. He could see
why the man had done it: he had more pressing trouble in Annis and Bren, and he
lacked the manpower to deal with all three cities, so he left the one he'd
successfully conquered in the hands of someone who could manage it for him.
Obviously Baralis wasn't fussy about who his bedfellows were.
Or did he have a
choice? "Gamil, have you any reports about knights heading north toward
Bren?"
"Yes, Your
Eminence. There are reports of knights leaving Valdis every week now. All
fully-armed and heading for Bren."
Then Baralis had
given Tyren Helch in return for the knights' support in the siege. Having
discovered the truth behind the strange relationship, Tavalisk began to feel a
lot better: he hated things he couldn't understand. But the concept of tit for
tat was one he was very familiar with.
Now he only had
one thing to wont' about: why was the main part of Kylock's army heading for
Annis, when it was so obviously needed in Bren?
"So the
wiseman Bevlin is dead now?"
Tawl bowed his
head. "Yes." He intended to say no more, but Bevlin's letter had
changed things. Freed himnot from guilt, but from
blame.
"He died
by my own hand. I held the blade, Larn directed my actions."
Behind him, Tawl
heard Melli take a quick breath. There was silence for a minute, perhaps
longer.
Jack looked at him
during the silence, his gaze never faltering. Finally he said, "So now we
are on our own." Once again Tawl was surprised by Jack. All morning he and
Jack had talked, yet still he couldn't take the boy's measure. One minute he
would be mature, grave, even, like now. The next he would be full of wonder,
excited, and sometimes naive. But then he was just a boy, after all-nineteen,
no more-so what did Tawl expect?
Slowly, through
tales told and experiences exchanged, they were coming to know each other. Tawl
had just finished his story. He told Jack about how, nearly six years ago now,
Bevlin had sent him to look for a boy out of a prophecy. He went on to tell him
the prophecy, and Bevlin's interpretation of it. He told him about Larn, and
why the island had to be destroyed.
Jack surprised him
for the first time by telling Tawl that he had heard of Larn. He recounted a story
of his own, one told by a man named Stillfox, which involved a girl born on the
isle. Tawl was pleased that the boy had knowledge of Larn: just like the fact
that they both knew Melli independently of each other, it drew the circle
closer.
The most difficult
part for Jack was revealing his own story. There was no mistaking his
reluctance when he finally admitted he could use sorcery. He told how he was
forced to leave Castle Harvell, how he met up with Melli and they were both
captured by Baralis. How they escaped, and how, during the cold Halcus winter,
they had been separated. He skipped over the following months, murmuring that
he was taken in by a Halcus family. From the look on the boy's face when he
spoke, Tawl guessed there was more to the tale. He didn't press Jack for
details, though, remembering Bevlin's words:
"There
is much in all
of us that bears no questioning. "
The wiseman had
been wise in so many different ways. Jack went on to tell how he was taken in
by a sorcerer in Annis and was learning how to curb his powers, when he heard
that Melli was in danger in Bren.
Lastly, in a voice
barely above a whisper, he spoke about his feelings toward Kylock. "I feel
we are connected in some way," he said. "Whenever I hear his name,
something pulls against my blood. All along I felt as if I had to head to Bren,
yet it seems only right that I didn't arrive until Kylock was here, too."
Tawl had nodded.
The picture grew clearer with every word Jack said. Their lives were laced with
connections: Melli, Baralis, Larn, Bren, and Kylock. Even Bodger and Grift.
Hundreds of leagues apart they had been, yet they drew closer with every
breath.
All through the
telling, Melli had sat quietly on a pallet. Sometimes Nabber was there,
sometimes not. Bodger was in the small cellar watching over Grift, who was
still sleeping, and Maybor, despite everyone's protests, had gone out.
Now there were
only three of them: it was time to talk of tomorrow. Tawl felt a light pressure
on his shoulder. Melli's hand brushed against his cheek.
"You two must
leave," she said softly, relieving Tawl of the burden of saying it
himself. "Highwall's armies are due here any day now, and once they arrive
it will be difficult to escape from the city." She tried, unsuccessfully,
to keep the strain from her voice. "Besides, with a full-blown siege to
attend to, Baralis' attentions will be diverted elsewhere. He won't have time
to search for me."
Tawl ahnost
believed her. But he knew Baralis: give him a thousand diversions and he would
still track Melli down. "We will leave tomorrow." As he spoke, he
raised his hand and linked forgers with Melli. He never missed an opportunity
to touch her. "Time is running out. Already it might be too late. Kylock
is getting more powerful by the day; he has the Four Kingdoms, Bren, and Halcus
in his pocket. Annis may be next." Tawl shook his head. "If you and
your baby are ever to be safe, Kylock and Baralis must be stopped."
"I
know," said Melli. "I want you to go." She withdrew her hand,
bringing it to rest on her belly. "I am carrying the only living heir to
Bren. And it is your duty, Tawl, to see that the baby takes its rightful
place." Her words were formal, prepared. While he and Jack had been
talking, she had obviously been planning this. Tawl was touched by her bravery.
Even now, when she had the most to lose, she was making it easy for him to go.
"How far is
Larn?" asked Jack.
"A few weeks
away." It was much more than that, but Tawl wished so hard it was less
that it didn't feel like a lie. "We'll need supplies and horses."
"We'll get
them once we're clear of the city." Tawl looked quickly to Melli, unsure
of how she would take such talk. He should not have doubted her strength, for
straightaway she said:
"Nabber
should have enough cash on him to purchase a battleship."
"Nabber will
stay with you," Tawl replied.
Melli shook her
head. "No. The boy is lost without you, Tawl. He'll just moon around until
you get back. Let him go with you." There was fierce determination in her
deep blue eyes.
And no end of
steel in her soul. "Very well," he said. "Nabber will come with
us. Now, you must promise me something." He didn't wait for her assent.
"Bodger knows the secret way out of the city. When the Highwall army has
settled in, I want you to send Bodger with a message, telling them who you are,
whose baby you are carrying, and requesting safe haven. If they agree, I want
you to leave the city straightaway and make for the Highwall camp." Tawl
looked Melli directly in the eyes. "Unless you promise me this, I will not
leave your side."
Melli nodded once.
"Better the enemy than Baralis," she said, echoing Tawl's thoughts
exactly.
"Highwall
isn't the enemy," said Jack. Tawl and Melli both looked at him. "They
don't want Bren for themselves, they just want to send Kylock cowering back to
the kingdoms. If Melli comes to them carrying Bren's heir, then they'll welcome
her with open arms. Even if they conquer the city, they know they can never
rule it. They'll just be creating another empire. Putting Melli's child in its
rightful place will be the only way to stabilize the north once Kylock has been
beaten. Bren must have a strong, unchallenged leadership if the north is ever
to know peace."