The Shadow Of What Was Lost (25 page)

Wirr hesitated, then nodded.
"Done."

"Good." Karaliene
released a deep breath. “I think I can manage that much without raising any
suspicion. None of the Gifted, mind you – the Desrielites might be a little
unhappy if we go back one or two short.” She smirked at the thought. “I can
organise someone to be at the northern gate of Thrindar at dawn tomorrow. I
assume you won’t be staying longer than necessary.”

“I think that’s a fair guess,”
admitted Wirr. “Thank-you.”

Karaliene inclined her head. “You
know that if you’re caught, you won’t be able to claim any ties to the throne
without starting a war?”

“I know.”

They both stood, signalling the
end of their conversation. “What should I tell the others?” Wirr wondered
aloud.

“That’s the least of your
worries.” Karaliene watched him for a moment, then abruptly stepped forward,
giving Wirr a long, tight hug. “Be safe, Tor.”

Wirr smiled affectionately.
“Thanks, Kara,” he said, returning the embrace.

At that moment the creaking of
the door indicated someone had entered. Wirr and Karaliene leapt apart, turning
to face the entrance.

The swordsman who had fought in
the contest earlier stood in the doorway, hand frozen on the door frame as he
stared at them. There was an awkward silence.

“I apologise, Your Highness,”
said the young man stiffly, giving a slight bow in Karaliene’s direction. “I
should have knocked.”

He spun and vanished, shutting
the door behind him.

“Aelric!” The princess’ call came
too late; he was gone. She turned to Wirr. “I am going to have to do some
explaining later,” she sighed, an exasperated look on her face.

Wirr hesitated. “Is that safe?”

“What?” Karaliene had been
staring at the closed door; she waved him away distractedly. “Don’t worry,
Aelric is trustworthy. A bit full of himself at times, but eminently
trustworthy.” She saw Wirr’s expression. “Oh, very well. I won’t tell him who
you are.”

Wirr felt his eyebrows raise a
little. “Are you two….”

“No.” Karaliene made a face.
“Friends, but not suited to each other like that. I just wish he felt the
same.”

They began to walk back through
the corridors. “So do any of your friends know who you really are?” asked
Karaliene, her tone curious.

Wirr grunted. “If there was one
thing father was exceptionally clear on before I left, it was that no-one else
was to know.” He saw her surprised expression and scowled. “He said that anyone
I told would have to be killed.”

Karaliene grinned, though Wirr
didn’t see the humour. “I’m not judging,” she said. They made the last turn,
coming back in sight of the guards outside the room where Taeris and the others
were waiting.

Karaliene put her hand on Wirr’s shoulder,
holding him back for a moment. She looked him in the eye.

“Do you even want to go back to
Ilin Illan?” she asked quietly.

Wirr held her gaze for a moment,
then glanced away.

“They must be wondering where we
are,” he said, gesturing to the door ahead.

Karaliene nodded thoughtfully.
“Of course.”

They walked the rest of the way
in silence.

***

Davian stirred as the door opened
and the princess walked in, trailed by a drained, sombre-looking Wirr.

The room had been uncomfortably
quiet since they’d left, with only Dras and the other members of the princess’
entourage occasionally chatting amongst themselves, and that at a whisper so
that Davian and the others could not overhear. Taeris had made a few polite
efforts at conversation, but had been bluntly ignored. He'd stopped trying
after the first few minutes.

Everyone rose as Karaliene
entered. She looked around to make sure she had everyone’s attention, then
spoke directly to Taeris.

“There will be no asylum,” she
said in a clear voice. From the corner of his eye, Davian could see Dras
beginning to smirk. “Andarra will have nothing to do with helping a murderer,
or one who has been accused of such ” – she looked with disdain at Caeden as
she said the words, who flushed beneath her gaze – “ but neither will we act to
turn you over to the mercies of the Gil’shar. Tonight you will stay at The
Juggler, an inn near the northern gate. I will send word you are coming; we
have friends there and you should be safe. At first light tomorrow, you are to
leave Thrindar and not return. You will receive no further aid, and any claim
you make to have met with us here today will be denied.”

With a final grim glance at Wirr,
she spun and strode from the room, her entourage trailing after her. Dras
lingered a moment in the doorway, shooting Wirr a long, curious look before
following the others.

They were escorted from the
stadium by a couple of soldiers; once outside the men vanished, leaving Wirr,
Davian, Taeris and Caeden facing the milling crowds once again. There was a
moment of silence as they all looked at Wirr.

Wirr returned their looks
levelly.

“I suppose we should go and find
this inn,” he said.

Without anything further, he
started off northward.

Davian exchanged glances with his
other two companions, then sighed and set off after his friend.

Wirr had a lot of explaining to
do.

***

The room was quiet.

Faintly from below, the
boisterous sounds of laughter and men clapping to a musician’s beat filtered
through the floorboards, but from within the room there was only an awkward
silence. They had eaten their meal in the common room in a similar silence;
with the patronage the inn was seeing this evening, it had not seemed prudent
to discuss their situation until they could do so in private.

Finally Davian took a deep breath
and turned to Wirr, recognising that his friend was not about to volunteer
anything. “Well?”

Wirr looked at the floor,
grimacing. “Well what?”

“Come on, Wirr!” Davian burst out
in exasperation. “The princess knew you; she picked you out and you had a
private conversation with her – at the end of which, she told us that there
would be no help from her! I’ve been patient with you for a long time about
your past, and
especially
so since the El-cursed sha'teth, but... I
think we’re owed the truth now. We’ve come too long a way to have our plans
fail like that without an explanation.”

Wirr shook his head, still
staring at the floorboards as if he could see through them and was watching
something in the room below. “I want to,” he said, desperation filling his
voice, “ but I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” He looked up at Davian, his
expression serious. “In fact, I’m fairly sure it’s not. Otherwise I would have
told you earlier. Years ago, Dav. I swear it.”

Davian gaped at his friend. “I
think the time for you deciding what’s best has passed, Wirr,” he said, his
tone harder than he meant it to be. “Tell us, and we’ll decide for ourselves.”

Taeris, who had been watching
Wirr closely, gently interjected. “Perhaps Caeden and I can go downstairs and
get a drink,” he suggested.

Wirr thought for a few moments,
then nodded, his face clearing. “If you’re thirsty anyway….”

“Parched.” Taeris looked at
Caeden, inclining his head towards the door. “Shall we?”

Caeden followed Taeris out the
door. When it was shut, Wirr allowed his shoulders to slump, and he sat heavily
on one of the beds. “I’ve made some mistakes, Dav,” he admitted. “Perhaps one
of them was not telling you the whole truth from the very start.” He gestured,
a resigned motion. “Ask your questions, use your ability. I will answer
everything, complete and honest.”

Davian felt some of his anger
fade as he watched the forlorn figure of his friend. “Thank-you, Wirr,” he said
quietly. He tapped his lips with a finger. “How do you know the princess?”

“She’s my cousin,” said Wirr,
without a trace of humour.

Davian gave a disbelieving laugh,
but his smile faded when Wirr's expression didn't change. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Despite his
obviously downcast mood, the corners of Wirr’s mouth twitched upward as he watched
Davian’s reaction.

Davian felt his brow furrow as he
tried to grasp this information. “So... you’re….”

“Torin Wirrander Andras, son of
Northwarden Elocien Andras. Third in line for the throne of Andarra, behind
Karaliene and my father.”

Davian shook his head, dazed.
Wirr had to be making a joke... and yet there had been no black smoke from his
mouth.

He just looked at his friend in
stunned silence for a few seconds, feeling as though he were really seeing him
for the first time. Wirr had always had natural bearing and presence; suddenly
that made sense, was put into context. His polite avoidances of potential
romances at the school were him being cautious rather than picky. And the way
he'd never wanted to talk about what the future held for him at the Tol…

“You were never going to Tol
Athian,” realised Davian aloud, accusation in his voice.

Wirr shook his head. “I would
have been taken to Ilin Illan separately, avoiding Athian altogether. I was
meant to integrate into court life, keeping my abilities hidden. Ceasing all
contact with the Tol and anyone associated with it.” He hesitated. "The
thing is, Dav - wherever the Vessel that created the Tenets came from, it's
tied to the line of Tel'Andras. Tied to
my
bloodline. It was meant to be
a way of ensuring that the Gifted would need to earn the trust of the royal
family before the Tenets could be changed, but...."

Davian went cold as he processed
the implications. He stared at Wirr in disbelief.

"You can change the Tenets?
By
yourself
?" he asked, voice little more than a whisper.

Wirr held up a hand. "Not
yet - hopefully not for some time, to be honest. My father and uncle were the
ones tied to it. When uncle dies, his connection will pass to Karaliene. And
when my father dies, his will pass to me." He looked at Davian nervously.
"So... you see why I didn't tell you?"

"Yes. Fates, yes of
course," said Davian, shaking his head. The burden of responsibility Wirr
must have been living with, these past few years, was beyond anything Davian
could imagine. He felt a chill run through him. “But if you remove the Tenets,
wouldn't it mean another war?”

Wirr shook his head. “I have no
intention of annulling the Tenets - I want to amend them, so there’s a balance.
Remember our discussion a couple of weeks ago? I’m not just Gifted, Dav. I’m my
father’s son. He and my uncle both know about me; they’re the ones who put this
plan into motion. The Treaty won't continue to be a tool of oppression, but I'm
not going to allow the Gifted the absolute power they once had, either.” Wirr's
tone was quiet, but laced with a heavy seriousness and certainty that Davian
had never heard from his friend before.

He digested what Wirr had said in
silence for a while, still reeling over the revelations.

"So... your father knows
about you - sent you to Caladel," he said eventually. "But he
created
the Tenets. Does he really want you to alter them?" The idea went against
everything he knew about the Northwarden. Davian knew not to put too much stock
in rumours, but over the years, he'd heard so many about Elocien Andras that
he'd assumed there had to be some truth to them.

Wirr hesitated. "Growing up,
he hated the Gifted as much as anyone I've ever met," he conceded after a
moment. "But when he found out I was one of them...." He shrugged,
looking awkward. "I think it changed him. Changed the way he looks at us.
He regrets making the Tenets the way they are, but he can't do anything about
it now - he's already used his connection to the Vessel. That link can't be
used again until it passes to me."

Davian frowned; it was still
difficult to imagine the Northwarden being sympathetic towards the Gifted, but
Wirr wasn't lying. "What about your uncle, then? If he's in favour of
this, why doesn't he just find one of the Gifted and amend the Tenets himself?"

“He and my father may agree that
the Tenets should be changed, but neither of them trust the Tols, either,"
admitted Wirr. "It's the Gifted's role to actually say the oath once the
Vessel is activated - all it would take is for them to change my uncle's
wording on the spot, and there would be nothing anyone could do about it."
He sighed. “I'm hoping he'll use me when I return, to be honest. I was too
young, had no control over my abilities when all this was explained to me. But
now....”

Davian nodded, almost dizzy at
the thought. "So who else knows?"

“To the best of my knowledge,
there was only a very small group who knew the whole truth – my father and
uncle, the Council at Tol Athian. Talean and the Elders at Caladel.” Pain
flashed across his features at the last for some reason. “It feels good to
finally tell you, though.”