Treason, p.11
Treason, page 11
part #1 of Treason and Truth Series
Ull travelled to the last mainland country to be still in conflict. He found the Queen beset by treachery; she didn’t want civil war, but scheming factions meant she didn’t know whom to trust, who would help her stop the fighting. He showed her the stones and she picked the grey one. Instantly, she could recall all the conversations she’d had with her advisors. She located two traitors, both of whom denied it. Ull whispered to her and she laid a hand on both. The Queen latched onto their thoughts and memories and prove the treachery. The fighting ceased. She had become the Memini or ‘a memoriter.’ Over time, the spirit of magic within her would become known as a memor.
Ull thought his work done, the destructive civil wars tearing the lands apart were ending, peace stole over those same lands and soon prosperity would burgeon in croft and town. Sitting in the Queen’s Palace, watching the storm-ravaged sea, he drew out the remaining stones. They foretold unfinished work. He spoke to Queen Arelia and discovered that there were offshore islands. When the weather calmed, Ull travelled to them. The winds blew him south to a long island, split asunder by war and stupidity. Expelled from the first camp, Ull knew that the man or woman he was hunting for must be in the second. He crossed their lines, deliberately drawing attention to himself and was taken before the officer of the watch, who listened to his stories and laughed at him for a crackpot until one of his guards said he’d heard of Ull. He was passed up to the commander, a son of the northern Pasha. Time had taught this man to be distrustful and although he had heard rumours from the mainland, he asked to see the stones, to confirm Ull was who he claimed. Ull held them out, the yellow, the pink and the red. The man shunned the red, too blood like. The pink didn’t speak to anything within him, too gentle a colour, too soft a calling. In the yellow he found neither unease nor weakness, but clarity and calling. Reaching out, he lifted the stone carefully, asking what it did. Ull, unsure if he liked the man, said it would be for him to find out.
The man managed to observe the proceedings at the treaty unnoticed; he managed to see the flaws and the double-dealings. He saw the treachery of the opposing side and saved his father’s life. He showed the treaty for what it was and the sides came to a more amicable agreement. Over time, the island became united. The new Espier – an espien – saw to that.
The next country Ull arrived at was an archipelago of islands to the north of the first. Each island was at war with its neighbours. He found a man who bore a spider’s web as his standard. He knew that to end these fights it would take someone of exceptional cunning and patience. He showed the man the last two stones and he picked the red. By this time, more than two years had elapsed since Ull’s first appearance. People had felt the magic in the world and were beginning to wield it. The power gifted by the red stone was that of the Sentire. It gave the bearer the ability to sense the use of magic, moods and the elements. He soon found that the other lords on the islands were using and abusing magic. He tricked them in turn and brought an uneasy truce. He became the Guardian of the Isles and kept them peaceful until nobody wanted to fight. He encouraged trade with the mainland, found the richest farmland and fishing stocks, the minerals and resources they needed and soon the isles prospered.
Ull still had one stone left: there was a land he hadn’t discovered. He asked the Sentire, who told him that to the east was a land which lived in perpetual predawn light. Ull made his way there. The fighting had ceased of its own accord, but the country seemed red with blood, stark against its northern snows. Ull was invited to a sanctuary of ladies who were trying to heal the wounds, both with prayers to Aluna and more practical herbs. He showed the stone to all the sisters, but none would take it, thinking it merely a bauble with no use. A novice was drawn to the gentle beauty of the pink hue. She hesitated – what the sisters had refused, she should not accept – but Ull held it out. Standing on the cliffs, she accepted the stone and a blinding white light streamed from it, shooting into the sky over the Ranaegir Sea where it joined others far off in the sky. They combined into one bright strand that then split and covered the lands in a dome of bright white threads of light. Somehow, Ull knew that all twelve stones were giving off the light. The light faded but, before it disappeared, it turned to gold. Strands of light bound themselves around the Meithrin’s wrist for the briefest moment, before being absorbed. The novice glanced at Ull. Both faces showed surprise. Over the next few days, the novice learned to wield the healing power of the pink stone. She became the Meithrin. Time showed that the magic on Erinna had been bound within the stones. Few now could wield it outside the twelve bearers.
Ull relaxed; his long journey over. He had located those with the ability to wield the power in the stones. The star stones themselves protected their bearers. The bearers discovered they could communicate through the stones and, in certain cases, share their skills. They managed to keep the lands peaceful. Ull travelled to the mainland. He wandered for a while contemplating his home, longing to return. He found the Sennachie still trying to mend the hurts in her country. He stayed with her, helping. Then one day he opened the book and found there a spell. He went at night and stood in the light of the moon. He spoke the words of the spell and nothing happened. He was still on Erinna. In a rage, he summoned all the stone from the surrounding country and sent it at the moon, trying to block out the mocking light. The summoned stone missed and started revolving, forming the lesser-moon. In that rage, Ull lost his balance and fell to his death from the tall, thin outcrop of rock he had created. During the years he had been in the world, stories of his first appearance had spread. The lesser-moon was named Cisluna and collectively the moons became the Alcis. Soon, people prayed to both.
* * *
Laioril smiled at the boys. “And that, my princes and young Cal, is the story of the Majistar Ull, the founding of the Ring of Twelve – later to be known as the Cearcall – and the advent of the Ullian Spirits, or magical abilities, and the hues of those spirits. The story of the Cearcall and the spirits is, however, another matter – another story for another day.”
“What was the spell that Ull cast before he created Cisluna?” asked Tain.
“No-one is certain, lad. No-one knew at the time from what the legends tell us. Maybe it closed the link between Annire and Erinna. We will never know. Maybe it is better that we don’t. Only the fact he came from Annire made it possible for him to cast it at all. Some legends tell us that the magic he used came from his world and not ours. That the magic on Annire differs from that on this world. It may be true, it may not, but no-one has ever matched his magic, that much is certain.”
Arkyn took a peach from the stack of fruit. He was halfway through eating it – and listening to his brother and Laioril talking – when he realised something. “Chief, where do you get peaches from?”
“Oh, we find them; you know how it is, lad.”
“The only place they grow in this part of the empire is our gardens here. What would father say if he knew?”
Laioril winked. “I believe last time he was told by the head gardener he said, and I quote, ‘Good. We can’t eat them all. When we’re not here, send them a basket occasionally. Save them the trouble of having to climb in and pick them.’”
All three lads laughed.
“But we are here,” pointed out Arkyn.
“Yep, and you’re eating the fruit, lad. I don’t know how we get the reputation for poaching. I really don’t.”
The boys spent the walk to Ceardlann talking about Ull’s story and what each of them would do if they had one of the spirits. The Princes knew that the star stones existed for their mother had owned the blue one, though she had been unable to wield it.
When they reached the house, they were informed King Adeone was sitting on the lawn with the Comptroller and Lady Elantha. The boys ran out again and greeted their father. Cal following sat next to Elantha and started entertaining her. Adeone watched him unobtrusively. The more he saw of Cal, the better pleased he was that the lad was at Ceardlann. Elantha seemed to like him and his sons were somehow freer. He asked what they’d been doing.
“Talking to Laioril; he’s been telling us about Ull,” replied Tain.
“You don’t want to believe everything that old rogue tells you, but that story is one of his better ones. Where did he get to?”
Arkyn said shrewdly, “The creation of Cisluna. I’ve never heard him get so far. He usually stops with the Jeci.”
“Neither have I. That is unusual. You must all have been listening very hard. I’ll have to ask him what his secret is so I can pass it on to your tutors. They, by the way, haven’t seen much of you for a couple of days.” Adeone grinned at the shifty appearance his charges now had. “You thought I wouldn’t find out. Be warned, I might be further off but that doesn’t mean I’m not getting updates from everyone here; messengers are very useful. Mind you, Tain, I’m a bit concerned; you’ve not destroyed anything yet.”
The Comptroller who had remained silent since the boys had joined them said, “I appreciate the fact you added ‘yet’ onto that, Sire. I’m sure Prince Tain is finding his feet.”
“Now, now, Comptroller, whatever gives you that idea?”
“Experience, sir.”
Chapter 18
A PLEASANT RIDE
Late Afternoon
Palace – King’s Chambers
ADEONE LEFT CEARDLANN MID-AFTERNOON, his straight-faced charges having assured him they would return to their studies. As he crossed the ford out of the valley, he slowed to give Sergeant Marsh and his guards time to get in position. Landis’ actions over Jenner and his subsequent warnings had been clear, and Adeone didn’t have any reason to tempt fate with this ride. He idled along the road not wanting to return to Oedran quickly. If he timed it right, he’d be able to ignore everything waiting for him. He rode through Dellwood thoughtfully. The small village boasted an inn, several houses and a fork in the road with the second path petering out into marsh. He glanced at the unkempt inn. Old Ezra did his best, but it appeared he might need a hand. Adeone decided to send someone along. The guards and residents of the Rex Dallin used the inn as much as the village.
The guards on the Dallin Gate saluted smartly as he passed. He inclined his head in thanks and slowed so his guards could reorganise. They’d been riding behind him on the road, but he had to be flanked in the city. Marsh caught his eye and inclined his head. Adeone merely winked. He had no good reason to make his sergeant’s life more difficult.
They made good progress through the city and sooner than he wanted, Adeone was dismounting. He nodded to Jack – who came forward to take Pursuit’s bridle – asking if all was well.
“Aye, well as ever, Sire.”
“Pursuit enjoyed the ride. Let him into the paddock for a bit when you’ve rubbed him down.”
“Will do, Sire. He isn’t the only one to have enjoyed himself.”
Adeone chuckled and crooked an eyebrow.
“Sergeant Marsh seems very relaxed, Sire.”
Adeone snorted. “Very quick, Jack.” He left for the Inner Office, contemplating that the old groom had sharp eyes and remarkably sound instincts.
He entered the Outer Office easier than he had been for days. His relaxed gaze swept around the room.
His hopes for a quiet afternoon and evening vanished.
His secretaries, Jacobs and Kenton, were missing. Richardson’s face was graver than he’d ever seen it, a guard he didn’t know saluted, and Landis’ face was a warning.
Something had happened, something serious, something that would have repercussions. If it had been a rebellion, he’d have been contacted at Ceardlann. That meant something else, something in Oedran, something that threatened him. Everyone was now waiting for him to be told, for his reaction, for his orders. A tense atmosphere pervaded his rooms. Everyday jobs stopped; everyday routine paused. Silence instead of small everyday sounds. Adeone’s skin crawled. There was only one thing that could cause this. His Defender’s presence spoke volumes. With an unspoken agreement, he and Landis entered the Inner Office alone.
The King sat behind his desk, crooking an eyebrow. “How would I have died?”
PART 2
Chapter 19
HILLBECK’S STORY
Late Afternoon
Outer Office
TRAPPED IN THE OUTER OFFICE, Sergeant Hillbeck of the Palace Guard wondered if he would see the dawn. He had never intended to be party to a plot to poison the King. Never intended to do anything but investigate. Searching for truth had placed him in a precarious position and now that the King’s life had been attacked it made his uncertain.
Standing around for hours wasn’t what his dreams had promised when he’d left the Rex Dallin. The city was meant to be full of possibilities, not boredom and aching feet. The Teran Arms’ dark, dank atmosphere had suited his mood the evening of Queen Ira’s death; the beer wasn’t worth the coin, but something drew him back day after day until the curious and judgemental stares stopped. Then came the fateful evening. Sitting in his usual dark corner in the small room, drinking the flavourless beer, frustrated by boredom, anticipating the hangover, trying to find something that would give him meaning, he’d overheard their conversation.
“No, it’s got to be his private triniculum…”
“Why?”
He’d ignored them again. He wasn’t interested in the whys and wherefores of his fellow drinkers. There was a marital dispute occurring in the opposite corner. The ruddy-faced wife wasn’t having her scrawny husband’s excuses.
“Ya’re telling me ya expect me t’ simply forgive ya for whoring ‘n’ gamblin’ ‘n’ who knows what else—”
“It weren’t like that, Becka—”
“Sounds remarkably like that t’ me, ya bastard. ‘Ow many others ‘ave the’ bin?”
He’d got the feeling that the couple argued in public most of the time and didn’t care. He’d wanted to get up and shout at them both to shut up.
A lady whose profession was easily readable from her clothes’ suggestive nature had sat down with a jug of ale and poured him a top-up, before trying to engage him in conversation and sell her services. In trying to get rid of her, he’d heard the conversation at the next table again.
“The easiest way is to use the triniculum; we don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, but all I’m saying is there might be complications.”
‘Stuff your complications; I’ve got my own here,’ he thought.
The couple were still arguing loudly and the prostitute had sat on his knee, her legs folded on either side of him, breathing into his ear. She stank of cheap scent and sex. He’d wanted to hurl her from him but couldn’t bring himself to. Her hands had loosened the belt of his off-duty breeches. When she’d slipped her hand into them, he’d had enough. Standing up, he’d tipped her off his lap and into the table, knocking it over. Her pimp had confronted him, but Hillbeck had caught his arm and tumbled him into the table too. Stepping over the collapsed mess of prostitute, pimp and broken table, ignoring the outraged innkeeper, he’d marched over to the arguing couple.
“For the love of Cisluna, SHUT UP! Take your argument elsewhere. Some of us were trying to get a drink in peace.”
A cheer had erupted from the men who’d been at the table next to him. Ignoring them, Hillbeck had left. He’d stomped through the cool night air of Oedran until he reached another tavern, continuing his drinking, fuming about the idiosyncrasies of his fellow citizens. The scene played itself over and over in his head. When the room began to spin, he’d realised he needed to get home and sleep.
This time the cool night air sobered him up and – in that moment of clarity – the strangeness of the conversations he’d heard in the Teran Arms came back to him. He’d never seen the prostitute or her pimp before, yet the landlord had ignored them, and the married couple hadn’t worn any rings. The landlord might have been a grouchy git all his life but he had tended to stop trouble. So, what had been different tonight? Why had so many disparate elements come together? He had shaken his head, trying to focus through his alcohol-saturated body. It was no good. The answers didn’t present themselves, but the questions continued to niggle. He’d weaved his way home and dropped into bed, hoping he’d have forgotten the questions by morning. He hadn’t, and they continued to bother him all through his shift the following day. Captain Haster had reprimanded him for being hungover and later that had seemed odd. Haster was normally subtler than an open reprimand.
The more he’d considered things, the more worried he became. Something was happening, something more than a knife in a dark alley, something that would impact all their lives. He’d wondered what to do and reasoned that his current lack of anything substantial would get him laughed out of Haster’s office – especially as it was obvious that he’d been drinking heavily for days.
He hadn’t known why he was so worried. Eventually, he’d realised it was the word ‘triniculum’. The word was only in use at the Palace for describing the smaller formal dining rooms. There was a story about the word, something to do with a prince or king who hadn’t been able to say triclinium and so the word had changed. The Pala of Lufia still had formal triclinium but in the Palace of Oedran the word was forever triniculum and the only ‘private’ one, currently, was the King’s own.
He’d returned to the Teran Arms the following evening and the two men were there. He’d sat down close to them and managed to overhear something that they said; however, the men had realised that they were under observation. He’d played stupid and started agreeing with what they were saying, even when he thought they were wrong. At the end of the evening, the men apparently thought they’d found an ally. By the time he left the tavern the following evening, the men had confided most of their plan to him. They still wouldn’t tell him their names or the date they’d planned.
