The Shadow Of What Was Lost (56 page)

Karaliene smiled, her expression
softening. “Of course. You must be eager to see them. And I
know
they
will be delighted to see you. Your father’s been so worried, Torin.”

Wirr grimaced. He wondered
exactly how much trouble he was going to be in for going to Desriel. At least
it would be a private scolding, he consoled himself, and only after the –
hopefully happy - reunion. “Lead the way,” he said.

Karaliene hesitated. “First, let
me arrange for some quarters so that you can rest. And bathe,” she added,
taking in his weary expression and ragged clothing. “Your mother would likely
faint if she saw you in this condition. Another hour or so of waiting won’t
kill them.”

Wirr grunted. “Good point.”

He trailed after Karaliene,
mentally steeling himself for what was to come, the whirlwind of attention and
false smiles that he had dreaded for so long.

There was no turning back now.

***

Wirr waited nervously.

He had just spent the last two
hours being clucked over by the palace tailor, an older man who had nearly had
a heart attack when he’d seen what the prince was wearing. First Wirr had been
bathed by some servants – a most uncomfortable experience in and of itself – and
his hair had been cut to the latest style of the city. His beard, which had
grown out to be quite scraggly since Thrindar, had been trimmed down to a neat
goatee.

Then he’d been given a torrent of
information regarding the latest news from Calandra, most of which he doubted
he’d remember if anyone quizzed him. Still, it was enough to get by. He could
always plead tiredness if the questions became too in-depth.

Now, he was waiting for his
family – his father, mother and younger sister – to come and greet him. He
didn’t know whether to feel excited or anxious. Would they have changed in the
last three years? Would they still see him as they once had, or had the time
away coloured their opinions of him?

He fiddled with his sleeves
again, frowning at the lace on the cuffs. The entire suit felt odd,
uncomfortable, against his skin after so many years. It made him feel like a
child again, no longer able to choose what he wore.

The sound of the door opening
made him flinch. He spun to see his father’s familiar blue-cloaked frame in the
doorway, with his mother and Deldri peering in behind. They all stared for a
moment, silent, as if surprised to see each other was really there.

Then there was a blur of motion
and he was being swept up in a fierce hug from his father, squeezing out a
laugh as the pressure on his ribs made it hard to breathe. Elocien had always
been so reserved; this was an unexpected display of emotion, though not
unwelcome. They were soon joined by two more bodies as Geladra and Deldri
joined in the hug, his mother emitting a couple of sobs as she held him in her
arms.

Suddenly he couldn’t stop from
smiling. As much as he had dreaded returning here, he
had
missed his
family - even his father, with whom he had never truly gotten along.

“It's good to see you,” he said,
grinning, as they all finally separated.

Geladra gave him an affectionate
smile, dabbing at her eyes. “We’ve missed you.” She stepped back, examining
him. “Calandra has been good to you, Torin. You look strong and healthy.”

Wirr nodded, still smiling,
though the comment sent a pang of guilt through him. His mother and Deldri
hadn’t been told where he’d been - didn't know, even now.

“The last few years were more
than worthwhile,” he said honestly. “You got my letters?”

“We did,” said Deldri, her tone
reproachful. “You could have described some of your battles in them, though.”
Though neither his father or mother looked much different – a little more tired
around the eyes, perhaps, and his mother with slightly more grey in her hair –
the changes in Deldri were dramatic. Gone was the chubby nine year old, and in
her place was a slim, confident-looking girl that was tall enough now to look
him in the eye without craning her neck.

Wirr smiled. “There wasn’t much
to tell, really. Sometimes the barbarians attacked our fortress, but they were
never organised enough to pose a real threat.”

Deldri nodded. “I heard you came
back with Aelric Shainwiere,” she said suddenly.

Wirr blinked in surprise. “I…
yes, we met on the road back.”

“What’s he like?” Deldri leaned
forward, her expression eager.

Geladra sighed. “You can harass
your brother for gossip another time,” she said in a stern tone, rolling her
eyes. “We have much to catch up on.” She sat down, and everyone followed suit.

They talked for an hour or so,
soon lapsing into the comfortable style of conversation that Wirr knew only
came with being related. He kept talk of Calandra to a minimum, instead
focusing on what had been happening in the others’ lives. His mother and sister
did most of the talking; Deldri especially chattered on for quite some time,
much to Wirr’s astonishment. When he had left, she had been so quiet that he
would often forget she was even there.

Finally Geladra glanced at
Elocien, who gave her a slight nod in return. “We should go,” she said, tugging
on Deldri’s arm. “Your father and Torin have other things to speak of.”

Deldri pouted but acquiesced,
rising and giving Wirr an abrupt, affectionate hug before leaving. Wirr grinned
as he watched them go.

“Deldri is growing up,” he said.

The duke nodded absently. “Too
fast,” he sighed. “I’ve already had Houses asking whether their sons might be a
suitable match.”

“Already?” Wirr shook his head.
“They really are vultures.”

Elocien stared at him for a
moment, then chuckled. “I see your time away has done nothing to dampen your
dislike of them,” he said with amusement. His smile faded, expression turning
serious. “I’m so relieved you are safe, Torin. When the news came about the
school….”

Wirr grimaced. "I suppose I
have some explaining to do."

He spent the next hour relating
his last couple of months to his father. He told Elocien most of the story,
including Davian's true role; as much as it hurt, there seemed little point in
keeping his friend's ability a secret any more. In the end he omitted only
Taeris' real name, and the fact that Taeris and Caeden had accompanied them
back.

Elocien was surprisingly
understanding throughout the tale, so much so that for a moment Wirr considered
telling him the truth about Taeris and Caeden as well... but he dismissed the
idea as soon as he'd had it. Those two needed every opportunity to convince the
Tol to restore Caeden's memories, without Administration's interference. And he
remembered his father's opinion of Taeris, all too clearly. 'A monster', was
what he'd called him three years ago. 'The very worst of the Gifted.'

No. He couldn't say anything. The
risk was too great.

When Wirr had finished, Elocien
let out a long breath.

"You've been through so
much," he said, shaking his head in wonder. "I want to be angry at
you for going to Desriel, but... it seems that running away ended up saving
your life. For that, I am truly grateful.” He leaned back. “I should tell you,
too – we found out about the Elder who tricked your friend into leaving. Tol Athian
have him safely locked away in their dungeon, but he refuses to say anything.”

Wirr felt his eyebrows raise;
with all that had happened, he’d almost forgotten how this had all started.
“That is good news,” he said, nodding. He determined to pay Ilseth Tenvar a
visit at some point.

Elocien leaned forward. “So. Your
letters seemed to indicate you were happy enough, but tell me. How did you find
the last few years?”

Wirr thought for a moment. “They
were the happiest of my life,” he said sincerely. The sentiment was laced with
sadness and regret, though. Any thoughts of his life at the school always would
be, now.

Elocien smiled. “I'm glad. I
always wondered whether it was the right choice, sending you there.” He bit his
lip. “Given what has been happening here, I suspect it was the best choice I’ve
made in a long time.”

"You're talking about
uncle?"

Elocien nodded. "He's...
ill, Torin. I think he -"

A knock at the door cut him off;
after a few seconds the door opened and a young woman's face appeared. A Shadow,
Wirr realised absently, not really paying attention.

The girl's eyes were on his
father. "Duke Andras," she began in a formal tone, "I have some
news I think...."

She trailed off.

Wirr started as he realised the
girl was staring at him, mouth agape. He flushed, shuffling uncomfortably...
and then frowned. There was something familiar about her. He looked up,
studying her black-scarred features properly for the first time.

"Asha?" he whispered in
disbelief.

Suddenly he was being wrapped in
a fierce embrace.

"Wirr!" Asha was
hugging him so tightly it was difficult to breathe. "It's really
you?"

Wirr laughed, though it was a
mostly stunned sound. "It's really me, Ash." Remembering where he
was, he dazedly disentangled himself and glanced over at his father, who was
looking on in amusement.

"Asha is from Caladel,"
he explained to Elocien. "She can be trusted, though - I'll swear to it.
It's not a problem that she knows where I've been, these past few years."
He turned back to Asha. "Asha, this is going to come as a shock, but I
need to tell you something."

There was silence for a moment as
Elocien and Asha exchanged amused glances.

"I know, Wirr. Or is it
Torin, now?" said Asha, green eyes sparkling.

Wirr gaped at her in silence for
a few seconds.

"How?" he asked.

"Your father told me."

Wirr glanced at Elocien, who
nodded his confirmation; Wirr rubbed his forehead, trying to come to grips with
the information. "But... why?"

"Because I trust her,"
said the duke simply.

Wirr shook his head in disbelief.
"I... but you...." He trailed off, dumbstruck.

Asha laughed. "As eloquent
as I remember."

Wirr smiled back, heart lighter
than it had been since he'd first heard about the attack at Caladel. "How
is this possible? How did you get away, and how are you here?" His grin
slipped a little. "And fates, Asha... why are you a Shadow?"

"Slow down, Wirr. Too many
questions at once. It's a long story." She paused. "Though one thing
you should also know... I'm Representative for Tol Athian, now."

Wirr stared at her, certain she
was joking. When she stared back, entirely serious, he just shook his head.

"I must be dreaming,"
he muttered, though the smile didn't leave his face.

Asha suddenly bit her lip.
"Wirr. Is Davian with you?"

Wirr's smile faded, and he looked
away. "Ah. I'm so sorry, Ash." His voice cracked. "He's... we
lost him."

Asha watched Wirr for a few
seconds, then shook her head. "Did you see him die?" Her tone was
calm.

Wirr paused, thrown a little by
her response. "No, but... he's gone, Ash. I want to believe he might have
survived, too, but -"

"He's not dead, Wirr."
There was certainty in Asha's voice. She stared at him for a long moment, then
looked away. "I know he's not dead."

Elocien coughed. "You two
have a lot to catch up on," he observed. He gripped Wirr by the shoulder.
"I have other matters that need seeing to right now, but you can stay for
a while, talk. Once people know you're back, your movements are going to be
watched fairly closely. You may not get an opportunity like this for some time."

Wirr nodded, rising and embracing
his father. “It’s good to see you.”

Elocien smiled at his son. “You
too.”

"Elocien," Asha called
out before he departed. "Can I tell him...."

Elocien gave her a slight nod.
"That's fine." He left.

Once his father was gone, Wirr
turned back to Asha, a wide smile on his face. For the first time in a long
time, his heart was light.

"Now," he said, still
grinning. "Tell me everything."

Caeden shuffled his feet, unable
to hide his discomfort.

He glanced again around the
spacious, well-lit room, its luxurious furnishings just as intimidating as the
other finery he'd seen on his way into the palace. Aelric reclined in a
well-cushioned chair in the corner, looking relaxed. Taeris was also seated but
in stark contrast to Aelric was visibly tense, leaning forward and staring
absently at the thick carpet, his shoulders hunched.

Caeden understood his
apprehension. Their entrance to the palace had gone surprisingly smoothly once
Aelric had vouched for them at the gate, but that had been the easy part. Now
they needed Karaliene herself - Karaliene, who had so obviously mistrusted them
in Thrindar - to believe them. To
help
them, rather than turn them over
to Administration. Even given Aelric and Dezia's relationship with the princess,
Caeden still expected armed guards to burst through the door and arrest them at
any moment. From the way Taeris looked, Caeden suspected the older man felt the
same way.

The rattle of the doorknob
turning made him flinch, and he straightened as Taeris and Aelric both rose.
The other two men bowed as Karaliene slipped into the room, alone; after a
moment of relief Caeden quickly, awkwardly copied them.

There was silence for a few
seconds as the princess studied he and Taeris, and Caeden flushed beneath her
disapproving gaze. Even so, just as he had at Thrindar, he couldn't help but
stare a little too. It wasn't just that Karaliene was attractive - though she
undoubtedly was, and he was far from blind to the fact. But she had a...
presence. A way of commanding the attention of everyone in the room, just by
being in it, that Caeden found more than a little mesmerizing.

He dropped his eyes again before
his staring became too obvious, and Karaliene fortunately didn't seem to have
noticed. She sat, gesturing for the others to do the same.

"I cannot stay long, but I
wish to make one thing clear before we begin," said the princess to them
as they took their seats. "I am here because people I trust believe you
can help fight the Blind. That does not equate to me trusting you." She
tapped her teeth with a manicured fingernail, watching them intently.
"Now. My understanding is that Tol Athian's Council are refusing to help
you, and that you would like me to use my influence to see if their minds can
be changed. Is this correct?"

Taeris blinked, looking a little
taken aback at Karaliene's straightforwardness. "It is, Your
Highness."

Karaliene hesitated, glancing
across at Aelric for a moment before continuing. "I
am
willing to
do this," she said, her tone heavy with reluctance. "My name would
not be directly involved, but some of the Houses have been trying to gain my
favour for a while now. I can think of at least one that has a loose alliance
with Athian, and would be willing to pressure the Council to help you, without
asking too many questions about who you are."

"Of course, Your
Highness," said Taeris quickly. "I can't tell you how -"

Karaliene held up a hand,
forestalling him. "I haven't finished. There are conditions." She
looked Taeris in the eye. "Fortunately, I have had your... past explained
to me. That, and the fact that you warned us about the Boundary before anyone
had even heard of the Blind, is in your favour. I am satisfied that you are
truly here to help."

Taeris' eyes betrayed a glimmer
of surprise, but he nodded in mute acknowledgement.

Karaliene's gaze hardened as it
switched to Caeden, who shrunk a little beneath it. "Your companion, on
the other hand, remains a mystery. He has been accused of a terrible crime,
regardless of where it was committed - and there has been no evidence to
suggest that he was not the perpetrator, not even from his own lips. I am
taking an enormous risk letting a man like that into my city, regardless of who
has vouched for him. As such, I will require something more from him." Her
tone was cold, and she still addressed her words to Taeris, as if even speaking
to Caeden was distasteful to her.

Caeden stared at the ground,
swallowing. It was harsh treatment, but for all he knew it could be justified.
"I am willing to do whatever you need of me, Your Highness," he said,
keeping his tone meek. If they could not convince the princess to help them,
their chances of making any progress with the Tol were slim.

Karaliene nodded, then walked
over to her desk, picking something up out of one of the drawers. Caeden paled
as he recognised the black torc in her hand.

"You want me to wear a
Shackle," he said quietly.

"Yes. And I will be the one
to bind you," replied Karaliene, looking him in the eye. "Other
people have vouched for you, believe you could be the key to defeating the
Blind - and they may well be right. But ultimately, I am the one giving you
refuge here. You're my responsibility while you are in Ilin Illan." She
arched an eyebrow at him. "So these are my terms. You will wear the
Shackle, and under no circumstances will you leave the palace grounds without
my express permission. Agreed?"

Caeden hesitated. He knew there
was little choice in the matter, knew that they were beyond fortunate to have
the princess' help at all. But the thought of putting a Shackle on again made
him cringe.

And... it would mean he had no
way to slip out, no way to speak to Havran Das without the princess knowing he
had left.

Eventually, though, he took a
deep breath and bared his left forearm, holding it out towards Karaliene.

"Agreed."

The princess examined him for a
moment longer, and his breath caught as he locked gazes with her. Her
expression became a hint more disapproving after a second, and Caeden reddened
as he realised he was staring again; he looked away awkwardly only to blush
further as he saw Aelric glaring at him from the side. He finally fixed his
eyes firmly on the ground, flinching as Karaliene touched the cold metal to his
forearm.

The black metal turned to liquid,
slithering and moulding itself to his skin. The world immediately seemed
duller, more grey, as if some of the colour had been leeched out of it. Caeden
sighed, then smoothed down his sleeve again.

Karaliene paused, then gave a
satisfied nod. "I can feel the link."

Then she turned back to Taeris,
evidently done with Caeden. "You may stay here too, if you wish - there
are few enough Administrators around, so it's as safe a place for you as any.
You should both be able to pass as servants; I'll have someone organise quarters
and some appropriate clothes. Use the servants' entrance if you want to come
and go without attracting too much attention. Just don't wander too far into
the main parts of the palace, and try to keep your excursions to the evenings,
when there are fewer people about. If an Administrator does happen to recognise
you, there will be nothing more I can do to help you."

"Understood. Thank-you, Your
Highness," said Taeris.

Karaliene inclined her head and
then glanced across at Aelric, who was still scowling at Caeden. "Aelric.
Can you please show these two to the east wing, and have Bacira make up some
quarters there - maybe use the rooms near the gardens that 'Zia and I sometimes
use for study? They're near enough to the other servants to not arouse suspicion,
but isolated enough that no-one should really notice that they are being
occupied."

Aelric finally tore his gaze from
Caeden, bowing to the princess. "Of course, Your Highness."

Karaliene rose, and the three men
stood in deference. The princess' eyes again met Caeden's for an instant, and
again his stomach fluttered. He looked to the side straight away this time,
inwardly cursing himself. Reactions like that could only land him in trouble
here.

Oblivious to Caeden's thoughts,
Karaliene gave them all a tight nod.

"I'll set things in
motion," she said to Taeris. She slipped out the door.

There was silence for a moment,
and then Aelric gestured to the hallway. "We should get moving. The
quicker we get to the servants' wing, the less likely you are to be spotted,"
he said, eyes hardening a little when he looked at Caeden.

Caeden flushed again, but nodded.
He and Taeris exchanged relieved glances that things had gone so smoothly, and
then they trailed after Aelric.

***

Caeden lay on his new bed,
staring at the ceiling.

He’d been trying to sleep for
hours now, battling both the warm evening and his own frustrations in search of
rest. A breeze sighed through the open window, providing momentary relief from
the heat and accompanied by the distant murmuring of the city below. It was
well past midnight by his reckoning, but from the sounds of it, Ilin Illan was
far from asleep too.

Despite it being only his first
night at the palace, this new situation was already beginning to chafe at him.
It would take time for Karaliene's political machinations to achieve anything
at the Tol, and Caeden accepted that. But that didn't mean he should be sitting
idle. He felt sure he could be doing something –
anything
other than
just lying around, hoping that either Taeris or the princess could eventually
convince the Council to help him.

He stared out the window and
pondered again how best to contact Havran Das, the merchant Alaris had talked
about. He'd ventured outside his room earlier for some fresh air and taken
careful note of the guards' routine patrols, even spotting a small supply gate
he thought would be unattended at night. The only other brief excursion from
his quarters had been to the library, where, much to his delight, he’d found
more detailed maps of Ilin Illan than he’d had time to look over.

Havran Das’ store had been easy
to locate - it was clearly marked, large and in the upper city, quite close to
the palace itself. An influential and successful man, then. Caeden didn’t know
whether that made him feel better or more nervous.... but for the moment, it
barely mattered. All the information he'd gathered was useless if he couldn’t
find a way to slip his Shackle.

He sighed, staring resentfully at
the black metal sitting snug around his arm, a constant reminder that Karaliene
could pinpoint his location at any time. For all the finery around him, he was
effectively just a prisoner once more.

He gave the Shackle a gentle tap,
wondering if there was any way to remove it. Nothing happened except for a
slight metallic ring. He closed his eyes, concentrating, trying to will it to
fall off. He wanted it gone,
needed
it gone, so he could find out who he
really was.

Still nothing. He grimaced,
opening his eyes again and gazing morosely at the ceiling. Travelling here,
he’d felt like he had a greater purpose; the blazing light of his tattoo and
the sense of urgency Taeris had lent their journey had done little to dampen
that. But he was isolated here in his room, the time already beginning to drag
- and with the Vessel now secured in Tol Athian, his tattoo gave off only a
dull, flickering glow. It all combined to make him feel cast adrift, like his
opportunity to get answers was starting to slip away.

The need to take action settled
in his stomach, almost painful. He was tired; he should just try to sleep.
Everything would seem less upsetting come morning.

But the knowledge remained that
even if he felt better then, he would still be no closer to understanding who
he was. What his purpose was in all of this. He gritted his teeth as the
frustration built in his chest, intense and hard.

The Shackle retracted, dropping
noiselessly from his arm and onto the quilt.

Caeden stared at it, stunned, for
a few moments. It had come off. He’d done it, though he had no idea how.

Then he felt a flash of panic.
Karaliene would know. Wouldn’t she? The princess was most probably asleep at
this hour; perhaps it would go unnoticed, at least for a time.

He waited in the darkness, frozen
to the spot for several minutes, listening for the sound of soldiers rushing to
his door. No-one came. Gradually he relaxed, sitting up on the bed and staring
at the Shackle. He could try putting it back on, but he had no idea when – if
ever – he’d be able to take it off again.

And even if he was able to
reactivate it, he doubted it would still be linked to Karaliene. This might be
his only opportunity to act before his newest custodian realised something was
amiss.

Heart pounding, he fumbled around
in the darkness for his clothes. Once dressed he slipped out into the corridor,
nerves taut as he strained for any sign of discovery.

The hallways were all but empty
at this hour and he made quick time, soon locating an exit to the palace
grounds that he thought would be unguarded. Holding his breath, he cracked the
door open, waiting for a shout to indicate he’d been mistaken.

There was only silence, with the
occasional snatch of city noise in the background. He slipped through and
gently shut the door behind him.

The thick shrubbery and moonless
night made staying out of sight relatively easy, much to his relief. He
secreted himself behind some bushes, keeping his breathing calm and steady,
straining for the sound of the next patrol. Once, he thought he heard a noise
behind him – the crunch of leaves underfoot, perhaps – but when he spun, there
was no-one there, and he put it down to his imagination.