Prisoner 19 & 20

[maderr]

Chapter Nineteen

“You three look a somber bunch this morning,” Esta said with a frown, setting down the pastry she’d begun to eat. “Did something go wrong last night?” She blinked as a fourth man walked in. “Pardon me – you four. General, to what do we owe the honor?”

“Honor?” Beraht grumbled. “More like insult.” He sat down and stared unseeing at the plate of food set in front of him. He ignored it in favor of the tea set in front of him. It was good…but he had reluctantly conceded the other day that the tea he’d had in Kria was more appealing. But both were preferable to the bitter stuff they drank in Salhara, which he’d never liked except with excessive amounts of cream and sugar – things he rarely got. The Illussor version wasn’t bad, though. And it woke a man up, which was all he could ask for. “Or punishment.”

Everyone ignored him.

“What’s wrong?” Esta asked, then shook her head. “We should wait for Matthias, though.”

“No need,” Matthias said, walking into the room. “I got held up by a minister; but he quickly grew offended by my presence and scampered off to plot assassination.”

Esta frowned at him. “I’ve told you before not to make those sorts of jokes, Matti.”

“Esta, no one would ever assassinate me because they know it means you would take over. I assure you that is enough to scare nearly every man into ensuring I live a very long life.” He grinned when Esta’s frown turned into a glower and she went back to eating, carefully not noticing as he sat down beside her. “Did you mention something about a problem, Essie?” He looked at Dieter, at the same time motioning the servants to depart. “Something must be amiss, if you are joining us.”

Dieter sat back in his chair. “Your Breaker has taken to sleep walking to the Crystal Chamber. In his sleep, he nearly touched that crystal orb. Every time he fell asleep, he began to do it all over again.”

“What?” Esta and Matthias said together. Matthias shook his head and looked at Beraht. “But why?”

“I don’t know,” Beraht said. He picked at his food, then shoved the plate aside and stuck with just the tea. “I barely remember it, really. Just a soft voice that I wanted to listen to.”

Dieter drank his own tea as if it were little more than warm milk. “You talked, too. An entire conversation, though with who I don’t know.”

Beraht held his tea cup tight to avoid throwing it, seeing in Dieter’s face the bastard had been holding that bit of information back on purpose.

“You kept muttering about power, and making it stronger.”

Matthias and Esta paled.

“What does that mean?” Sol asked, frowning at Iah, who was equally upset beside him.

The breakfast room, as cheerful and bright as it was, morning sunshine setting the blues and greens of it ablaze, seemed to darken with the mood of the diners. Rather than cheerful, it suddenly struck Beraht as strained. Trying too hard to be happy. He poured himself more tea, not bothering to sweeten it, and wished it was late enough to add something stronger to it.

“It means,” Matthias said. “That the magic is more out of hand than I thought. The Crystal Chamber isn’t…dead exactly. It’s not living, either. But it’s a…well…it’s powerful. I have never heard of it trying to increase its own power…but it doesn’t really surprise me either. What bothers me is that it nearly succeeded.” He looked at Beraht. “Of course it should have occurred to me that if your power can be used to stop it, it can also be used to amplify it and the Crystal would sense that. I’m sure some of Benji’s loneliness is a factor in drawing you in…”

Beside him Esta nodded. “So you go into this trance every time you fall asleep? Then how did you manage to avoid getting pulled in?”

“He woke me up with it the first time,” Dieter said. “And I kept—“

“Trying to kill me every time after that,” Beraht broke in. He glared across the table. “I’m not sure which was worse – the sleep walking or the waking.”

Dieter said nothing.

“You watched his room all night?” Esta asked, looking at Dieter. “That was kind of you.”

Beraht snorted into his teacup.

“Shall I have a guard set?” Esta asked, and they could see she was already making plans and selecting suitable guards.

“No,” Dieter said. “For one, it should be someone capable of going down below, in case he gets that far again. And word would spread about his strange sleeping habits, which we want to avoid.”

“Yes,” Esta agreed.

“This entire situation could be avoided,” Beraht groused, “If we could simply get on with it. Why can’t I just Break or whatever it is?”

Matthias let out an aggravated huff. “Because my father is being stubborn. Second thoughts and all that. I never thought he would do it – but lately he has not been himself. Esta and I are speaking with him; Kalan is searching high and low for wherever he might have hidden the counter stone.”

“Counter stone?” Beraht asked.

“Just like the orb that Benji holds, except that it’s black and will help you Break. It’s the exact opposite type of energy.”

Beraht shook his head. “Am I going to wind up like Benji?”

“No!” Esta exclaimed, obviously upset. “Nothing of the sort. What you’re going to do is basically cancel everything out. The two powers clash, equal each other out, and will ‘Break’ the Crystal Chamber – and the magic. We just need the counter stone, which was made as a failsafe.”

Matthias propped his chin in one hand, staring glumly at his tea. “But my father hid it for ‘safekeeping’ and now he won’t give it up. I never expected it of him.”

“He’s just old and scared, Matti,” Esta said gently. She reached out and covered his hand with her own. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll work things out.” Then she withdrew her hand and returned to her breakfast. “So until then, I guess we shall just trust the Lord General to look after Beraht. Do you mind?”

Dieter laughed, and grinned mockingly at Beraht. “Not at all.”

“Stars refuse you!” Beraht said, then ignored them all to focus on his food.

Esta frowned but said nothing. Sol shot Beraht a reproving look, and kicked him under the table when Beraht continued to ignore him. Beraht shot him a dirty look then went back to his food.

“So why do you look so tense, Sol?”

“Because something else happened this morning,” Sol said quietly. “It is not something I’m terribly happy to discuss, as I had hoped by coming here I’d finally left it behind…but it would appear Beraht and I have been found out. An old enemy of mine is most likely heading this way to kill us.”

Esta dropped her fork. “What?”

Matthias didn’t look surprised in the least. “You should probably explain; but you are traitors – I’m surprised it’s only now becoming a problem.”

Sol nodded. “Have you ever heard of the Seven Star Brothers?”

“Secret society in Salhara. Nothing is really known about them, except that they apparently have only twenty-one members. The significance of the number always escaped me.”

Beraht answered the unspoken question. “The stronger a man’s soul, the more stars he becomes in the sky. The mightiest king that ever lived spanned seven stars in the sky – he is the Grand Seven Star in the sky. Seven is also the number of colors through which arcen progresses.”

“Twenty one for three sets of seven,” Sol continued. Seven to watch the home. Seven to watch the yard. Seven to watch the neighbors. The Seven Star Brothers is a network of spies and officials who manipulate the country from behind the scenes. Even the Queen, it’s said, bows to the dictates of the Seven Star.”

He fell silent and Beraht picked it up again. “In all of Salhara, only the Seven Star are allowed to use orange and red arcen. They hold the only full license for arcen – a star with seven points on the small of their backs. With each color granted, a piece of the star is filled in. The highest members go all the way up to red.”

Sol nodded and resumed. “The easiest way to mark a Brother is by his eyes – most are dark yellow at least, more often orange. The oldest have red eyes. Jaspar, the leader of the Brothers, has eyes which are nearly black.

“I knew it,” Iah said. “I could tell, just listening to him. He won’t live much longer, will he?”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Sol warned. “He’s addicted to arcen but that makes him as deadly as it does weak. I have yet to meet anyone else who can drink black arcen once a day and live to do it the next day – and he’s been in that condition for the past five years.”

Beraht hissed. “I knew he was bad, but…” He shook his head. “I’m not sorry I’m gone.”

“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said since you fell into my keeping,” Dieter said. “Perhaps the arcen hasn’t rotted your brains entirely.”

“Don’t get too lofty, Wolf.” Beraht set his tea cup down with a sharp snap. “It was arcen that saved both of us, and it’s arcen which helped make your sword. Don’t lecture me.”

“Arcen doesn’t give me my skill,” Dieter snarled. “If I could strip my sword of it, I would.”

Beraht sneered. “You keep telling yourself that. Don’t like being as dependant as the rest of us on outside forces?”

“I’m not,” Dieter said. “And if you don’t shut up, I will be more than happy to prove it.”

“I always forget the thrill you get out of beating me.”

Dieter let out a short bark of laughter, and his grin was a challenge. “It’s the only thing that shuts you up.”

“Enough!” Matthias snapped. “If you two want to kill each other, take it elsewhere. Not here and especially not when we’ve got more important things to deal with.” He nodded when both subsided, though their resentment still hung heavy in the air. “So I am going to assume the obvious and say you are both members of this Seven Star Brotherhood?”

“Yes,” Sol said. “It is how I was able to gather so much information, and move freely between countries.” He slid a look at Beraht. “Beraht is newer. He was a brother for only a few months; ordered to slaughter as many Scarlet as possible if he wanted to keep both his life and be given a name.”

“Be given a name?” Esta repeated.

“I will explain that custom later if you like, Lady Esta.” Sol smiled.

Beraht began to pick at his food again.

“Iah’s unit was killed by the Scream their Captain used in hopes of preventing the Breaker from being taken further away – I believe he was in your charge at that time, Dieter?”

“Yes,” Dieter said. “We were headed for the Winter Palace. But I don’t get the Screaming – wouldn’t it have killed the Breaker as well?”

“No,” Matthias said. “He can resist it, because his untapped power is stronger than that which is used to Scream. He’s too strong for it.”

Beraht glowered. “Figures.”

“Anyway,” Sol pressed on. “I met Iah when he was taken prisoner by another Seven Star Brother – one who is named Tawn deVry. My brother-in-law.” His face tightened for a moment before he forced it to relax. “We are not on friendly terms. He did not like that I took Iah from him – and by now it is obvious that he and probably the other Brothers have figured out what we did.”

Dieter laughed. “So there’s an angry Kaiser looking for me, and the most powerful force in Salhara out for your necks. How amusing.”

“Your sense of humor is as warped as the rest of you,” Beraht snapped. “And at least your Kaiser is too much of a coward to come after you.” He shifted in his seat, still feeling an ache at the small of his back.

“Cleansers,” Sol said, looking at him. “It will be impossible for Tawn to touch us if there is no arcen in our systems.” He explained quickly what had occurred that morning.

“But we can’t alarm people by stripping him of it completely,” Matthias said, drumming his fingers in thought. “Too many are already noticing with the dropped levels.” He looked at Beraht apologetically. “Not that I want to keep you drugged…”

Beraht laughed. “Highness, I’ve been keeping myself drugged, and far worse than this, for years. A few days at such low levels is barely even noticeable.”

“But remaining at even those paltry levels will possibly prove dangerous if not fatal if Tawn works up the strength to try it again,” Sol said firmly.

Matthias nodded and stood. “Then you’ll have to excuse me. It looks like our search for the counter stone must become a much higher priority.” He began muttering to himself as he limped from the room. And he was the only one not startled when Dieter stood up and followed him out.

Esta watched them go, then shook her head gently back forth, sending the soft curls of her hair bobbing. “It’s far too early in the morning for all of this. Would anyone like some more tea? Ring for more pastries.”

Obeying the silent command, the remaining three men set to managing a less serious conversation.




“Why has your father changed his mind?” Dieter asked. “I thought he was the one who started the search for the Breaker?”

“He was. But I think he is letting his fears get the best of him,” Matthias said as he limped along the hallways, nodding to but otherwise ignoring everyone he passed. “It is not a happy thing, to learn to live without magic…” He sighed. “We don’t use it here in the palace much, but the moment everyone steps out – it changes.” Matthias laughed. “That’s actually why not as many people come to the palace. Only in winter, and only until the worst of the snow is gone. Not like Kria – you remain together the entire season, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Dieter said. “Many have debated the advisability of the tradition – but generally only after they get caught playing the favorite winter sport.”

Matthias laughed. “How many did you have to kick out of your bedroom?”

“None,” Dieter said. “Everyone was too scared of either me or the Kaiser.”

“Well don’t think you’ll be so fortunate here – once you’re established as my general, there’s more than a few who will be more than happy to set aside old grudges.” Matthias grinned. “Though I don’t think you’ll have to worry about chamber maids overstepping their bounds.”

Dieter just shook his head.

“Here we are,” Matthias said, nodding to the guards as they opened the wide set of double doors for him. Dieter ignored the looks they gave him – a mix of curiosity, fear and not-quite hate. Well, that was progress. Though it would all backslide the first time he sent them to bed with too many bruises to count.

The King’s Chambers were opulent. Far more ornate than anything else he’d seen in the castle. Purple and blue and gold, still somewhat dark as his windows faced the west. It was also warm; quite a feat given how open and large the room was. Two fire places – one on the west wall, one on the east, both lit and currently being tended by servants.

Near the eastern fireplace, the King sat on a chair while more servants fluttered around him. Some helped him dress, arranging his hair and the various accoutrements of office. Others flitted to and fro with things for him to read or sign while the last man adjusted and reordered the King’s schedule.

“Good morning, father.”

Everyone stopped as they realized Prince Matthias was in the room – and more than a few muttered a quiet exclamation when they saw who was with him. Matthias motioned them from the room.

“What do you want, Matthias?”

“We’re running out of time. I need the counter stone.”

The King turned around. His eyes were palest blue, short, white hair carrying only a hint of the silvery shine it had once had. Once he had probably been strong, but age had sapped it away, leaving only a skeletal thinness. “No. I’ve told you. We’re making a mistake.”

“No, we’re not!” Matthias snapped. “Is that what you want to tell your uncle? Your brother? Your son? When you meet them in the afterlife? That killing them to give us magic was the right thing to do? Benji had a lover! He had dreams. A life. Yet he gave it all up because you promised he would be the last. That we would never have to make that sacrifice again. Now you stand there and tell me letting him die was the right thing to do?”

“You’re going to be King someday, Matthias.” The King spoke coolly, as if he had either not heard Matthias’s words or simply did not care. “I do not need to tell you that making hard decisions is part of being a leader. You’re as foolishly idealistic as I was at your age. But with age comes wisdom – and wisdom tells me it is foolish to take away our greatest strength.”

Matthias clenched his hands into tight fists. “We can build a new strength – that’s what Dieter is for.”

“Yes. I have heard a great deal about the Bloody Wolf you have invited in.” The King looked him slowly up and down. “He is certainly a beast.”

Dieter laughed.

“He’s agreed to teach us to fight in the Krian style.”

“Disgraceful!” The King snapped.

“Certainly you are!” Matthias snapped back. “What happened to you? You’ve become nothing but a cowardly ghost; some sad imitation of my father! I don’t like you, not one bit.”

The King said nothing for several minutes, merely glared balefully at his son. When he at last spoke, he sounded weary. “I wish I could make you understand, Matthias. Yes, I once thought getting rid of everything was the right way to go. But I was young and righteous and stupid. To get rid of it would cripple us – looking back don’t you wish you had not broken that leg? It’s weakened you. Do you enjoy it?”

“I’ve learned to live with it,” Matthias said, though his face had paled slightly. “And climbing that cliff was a mistake – one I wish I’d never made. Exactly like the decision to increase the power of our magic. A mistake that shouldn’t have been made.”

“Except,” his father replied coldly. “We haven’t fallen off the cliff – we’re holding on just fine.”

Dieter startled them both when he spoke. “The higher you climb, the greater the cost when you finally fall. And what happens when you reach the top?”

“Nothing,” the King said. “From the top we’ll be the strongest.” He recoiled at Dieter’s chilling laugh.

“The strongest?” Dieter looked at him in contempt. “Hardly. Merely unable to go higher; though you’ll no doubt try to do so anyway. You would not be the first. A smart man is the one who falls and realizes to try again would be stupid.”

Matthias snorted. “A smart man wouldn’t try in the first place.”

“Some things are only learned the hard way,” Dieter said, almost offhandedly. “And this is a point that could be endlessly debated. What will it take to obtain the stone?”

The King looked at him in contempt. “I will not give it to you. Its location will go with me to the grave. I am doing this for my people; when you’re older, Matthias, you will understand.”

“I know for a fact that Essie and I would never consign a child of ours to Benji’s fate. Essie cried for days father. She never cries. And she has never forgiven us – nor herself – for doing that to him. Nor will she, not until we make sure it never happens again. Do you think it makes me happy to do this to my people? We’ll be crippled for years until we raise generations that don’t know what they’re missing.”

“And in the meantime you will get our country killed.”

Matthias bit back a curse. “Why, father? Why are you letting me down when I need you most?”

“I am not the one offending the ministers every single hour of the day. Nor do I spend more time harassing a recalcitrant woman into being my bride.”

Matthias froze. “So now you’re claiming I don’t work? Father – this isn’t like you. More than anyone you should know how hard I work. My time is spent making up for the duties you neglect! It’s easy to forget sometimes that you still run the country!” He turned away. “Mother would be ashamed to hear that you’ve given up.”

“You have no idea what your mother would think.”

Ignoring him, Matthias motioned to Dieter and led the way from the room.

Out in the hallway, Matthias released a long sigh. He slid Dieter a glance. “Do you see what I have to put up with?”

“He is old and scared. Lecturing him will gain you nothing.”

“I know,” Matthias said. “Thank you for supporting me, by the way.”

Dieter shook his head, brushing the words aside.

“So what do we do now, I wonder.” Matthias mused allowed.

“It’s not in the castle,” a voice said from behind them. Matthias rolled his eyes as he turned around. Kalan grinned back, then sobered. “I’ve been watching him. As agitated as your father is…he’s the type to check on something like that. He’d want to make sure it was safe if it were nearby. So I don’t think it’s on the premises. Or if it is, the damnable thing isn’t where even he can easily access it.”

“Where does he go during the day?” Dieter asked. Matthias led them away from the King’s Chambers and back toward the main halls of the palace.

Kalan fell into step on Matthias’s other side, and together the three men took up most of the hallway as they walked. Enthralled in their conversation, they barely noticed as others were forced to step out of their way, nor the mixed expressions on their faces as they watched the prince walk along with the Duke of Ferra and the Wolf of Kria. “Mostly he stays in his room. He’s old enough now the cold is sheer torture – his room is stifling, I can’t stand it.” He shuddered. “Give me the cold of winter any day. I’m telling you, I’m going to die in the snow and not in front of some stuffy fireplace.”

Matthias laughed. “Yes, Kalan.”

“He also goes to visit the late queen. Occasionally to meetings with the ministers – which I wish he’d stop doing because every time we’ve got them squirming your father undoes all our work. Goddess I cannot wait until we have some real measure of control!” He grimaced.

Dieter frowned in thought. “He does not sound the type to leave another to the task of hiding such a thing. So he hid it himself. Unless he leaves the castle, it is probably here.”

“A good point,” Kalan conceded. “He never leaves the palace, and there is no way he would trust a messenger with something like the counter stone.” He looked at Dieter. “You are not bad at this game.”

“On the contrary – I have no patience for games.” Dieter’s hand briefly touched his sword. “It is not a General’s job to solve such riddles. My job is merely to know who is best suited to solving it.”

Matthias’s brows went up. “You sound like you’ve someone in mind.”

“The cat,” Dieter said, confusing them both. He looked at Kalan. “You have the same crafty air about you, but it’s not as developed. If you want to find this counter stone, I highly recommend consulting with Sol.”

Kalan broke into a grin. “Of course. I should have though to ask for Spiegel’s help myself. I will go and find him now. Thank you, Lord General, for the suggestion.” As they reached a split in the hallway, he veered left while Matthias and Dieter continued straight.

“Speaking of recommendations,” Matthias said after a moment. “Your moment is fast approaching. I would imagine we are woefully unprepared for whatever you have in mind.”

Dieter nodded. “You lack weapons, I doubt you have the appropriate sword smiths, and your country has no foundation in such combat at all.”

“No…” Matthias said. “We have always used magic. Is there any hope of our surviving without it? Sometimes I wonder…” He started to rub away the ache in his head, but stopped.

“I am going to be universally hated,” Dieter said. “But they will learn. It would be easier if they had some sort of foundation…or I had more help.” He shrugged. “But largely it depends on your people. They will only learn if they want to.”

“Hmm…” Matthias fell silent as he thought. “I will see what can be done to help you. It will not be much – I am all too aware how unfit for Krian-style combat we are. But a leg does not heal easily. Compose a list of what you need, or write me a report. Bring it directly to me when you’re finished.”

Dieter nodded. Matthias clapped him on the shoulder, then turned toward the Hall of Ministers. “I’ll see you at lunch, Dieter.”

“Yes, Prince.” Dieter turned back down the hallway to return to his room, mentally outlining his report.





Chapter Twenty

Iah hummed along as he listened to his sister and poor Beraht dance. It did not take eyesight to realize how discomfited he was – it probably did not help that Essie was his self-appointed dance teacher. He wished he could see, though he knew exactly how it would look. The ballroom was a beautiful room. Long, rectangular, the floor was made of a light wood and polished to a high shine. Ten glass chandeliers ran the length of the room, and windows ran along the top edge. This time of day, they would hit the chandeliers and send shreds of rainbow all over. Esta loved to dance in the empty ballroom even more than she liked dancing at a party.

He sat on the raised platform where the King and Queen would normally sit. Far on the opposite end was a place for the musicians. Today Esta had kidnapped only one pianist. Iah didn’t doubt by the end of the week she would commandeer the whole troupe. Teaching Beraht to dance had, it seemed, become her latest mission.

Which made him wonder if Matti had noticed Esta’s infatuation with the Breaker. Probably. The better question was when would Essie notice it was pointless?

The sound of someone tripping and the music stopping made Iah grin. “Come, Beraht. This is the easiest dance in the lot. You’re going to be in trouble something fierce at the Winter’s End Ball if you can’t master at least the simple dances.”

Beraht muttered something indistinguishable. “I don’t see why I’m going to this stupid ball, or any ball at all. Soldiers don’t do balls.”

“I tried that line for years,” Iah said. “No one ever listened to me. In fact, Esta usually made me dance more for daring to say such a thing.”

Esta sniffed. “By the Goddess, why are men such babies about dancing? Children are easier to deal with, I swear it.”

Iah laughed hard enough to nearly fall out of his chair. “I’ll remind you of that when you’re tracking down a tiny Matthias and find him up a tree.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Esta snapped. “Now—“ Iah heard her snap her fingers at the pianist and resume her instruction as she forced Beraht to dance.

Someone sat down next to him, and Iah reached out a hand with a smile. “Sol.”

“Iah,” Sol leaned in to kiss his cheek, and Iah turned his head to steal a proper kiss. “Where have you been? Trying to find trouble to get into?”

Sol laughed. “On the contrary – I was merely listening to a discussion on the weather.”

“Looking grim?”

“They didn’t seem to think so.”

Iah smiled. “Who was it?”

“I’m not certain. A few noblewomen.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see. There are many saying that we’re in for one more nasty spell before winter finally begins to loosen its hold.” Iah held Sol’s in a light grip. “Personally I hope the snow does not melt for a long time.”

Sol squeezed his hand. “There’s no reason anyone has to go back to war, Iah. I doubt the Illussor will be missed. Kria and Salhara have always been more than happy to kill just each other.”

“Something tells me you can’t simply declare you’re finished fighting,” Iah said. “And just because we drop out of the problems surrounding the Regenbogen doesn’t mean the trouble with pirates will stop. That will get worse. Much worse.”

The music stopped, interrupting Sol’s reply, and Iah grinned as he heard Beraht stomp over and drop down beside him on the dais. “Giving up already, Beraht? Come now, you’re far more stubborn than that.” He laughed. “You’ll get into fights with the Wolf but a simple dance defeats you?”

“Fighting that bastard is far easier than learning all these mincing, turning steps. How is this fun?”

Esta stamped her foot, and Iah bet her hands had gone to her hips. “Quitter! It’s no wonder Salhara never seems to win any battles!”

“Hey!” Beraht stormed to his feet. “There’s a world of difference between fighting for your life and flitting about trying not to trod on someone’s stupid slippers. And we’ve won plenty of battles!”

“Calm down,” Esta said with a laugh. “I was only teasing. You’re plenty coordinated when you’re not thinking about it – just pretend you’re fighting.” She laughed again. “Honestly, I don’t understand men and dancing. My father used to love to dance. And he said the coordination and grace of movement he learned from dancing helped him on the battlefield.”

Iah and Beraht laughed. Beside him he could tell Sol had turned thoughtful. “There is something to what you say, Esta. Though I still think soldiers are better served practicing movement and coordination in circumstances a bit more strenuous than the ballroom.”

“You don’t think this is strenuous?” Beraht asked irritably. “That’s just because you’re good at it. You dance with her and I’ll keep Iah company. I think we’ll all be happier that way.”

Sol laughed but stood good naturedly, and Iah listened with a smile as he and Esta began to work on the Salharan dances he had begun teaching her.

It was, he thought, not unlike the old days. Of course he’d been able to see, and had often messed up his own steps laughing when Kalan and Matthias danced together, making up the steps as they went. Even back then, Esta had been far more terrifying than the dance instructor. He seemed to remember most of the knocks upside his head coming from her.

“So are you enjoying yourself at all here, Salharan?” Iah asked.

Beraht did not immediately reply; Iah could here him shifting and settling on the wooden dais. “Yes,” he said finally. “I wouldn’t have thought so. It’s probably obvious that I didn’t have the…upbringing the rest of you did.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Iah said with a smile. “If you look uncouth or uncultured, it matters little to me. You speak Illussor like everyone else in the city, minus the Salharan accent. And…I suspect you’ll have a title before too long. It would be Matthias’s style and he’s got three of them to hand out.”

“What are you talking about?”

Iah grinned. “Nothing of importance. So are you going to wind up stuck in Dieter’s bed again tonight?” He felt Beraht stiffen.

“Not if I can help it,” Beraht muttered, adding a few curses. “The bastard.”

“I wonder when you two will finally get around to killing each other. I thought once we got here, the hostilities would ease. But they seem only to be getting worse.”

Beraht shifted on the dais, obviously restless. “He doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he doesn’t have an entire country to terrorize. But I’m sure that will change once he has to start teaching everyone how to fight. I still think the Prince was insane to contrive such a scheme.”

Iah shrugged. “It seems a good idea to me. Better to have the Wolf on our side than to fight him without magic. We’d be massacred.” He paused, head bobbing as he thought. “Though I don’t know that he would.”

“Would what?”

“Massacre us.”

Beraht snorted. “A good General takes advantage of a situation. What else would he do? Let you live? Why in the stars would you even be out there fighting without being able to actually do so?”

“I didn’t say we would. It was just an observation, really.”

“A poor one,” Beraht said, and Iah could feel his clothes rustle. Recalled the bruises on his throat that Beraht had been complaining of the other day – loudly, to Dieter. Sometimes it seemed Beraht went out of his way to incur Dieter’s anger. “He has no qualms beating me, and my ability to fight back is rather nonexistent. I don’t think he’d hesitate to crush a weak army.”

Iah laughed. “You seem to do all right.”

Beraht didn’t reply.

From the dance floor, Esta burst into laughter. Iah felt a pang. “What’s she laughing about?”

“Hmm? Oh – she keeps messing up the last step. It’s this weird twist one way while the feet go the other. Some of the soldiers I was with used to dance when they were drunk. It was hysterical.” Beraht laughed. “I’d forgotten about that until now. Captain used to scream himself hoarse, and we just kept laughing…until the arcen burn anyway. He was always good at that.”

“Arcen burn?”

“Sort of like the way Sol and I woke up screaming. Really good mages know how to do it on a smaller scale – they ‘set off’ the arcen in our systems. Nasty piece of work, that spell. Luckily not practical at all. Burns the user’s arcen off pretty fast.”

Iah started bobbing his head again. “Is that why the spells you guys use are seldom in and of themselves fatal?”

“Yeah,” Beraht said. “Too costly. Arcen powerful enough to use in war is hard to grow. Used wisely a yellow dose of arcen can last a couple of weeks, but most of us need it every few days when we’re in the field – and that’s just basic and medium spells. We used stronger ones? We’d be dosing every day, and no one can afford that. Not even the Seven Star – not with our most powerful needing red every few days.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Yes,” Beraht said. “But I’ll live.”

“Why?” He felt Beraht shrug. “I wasn’t trying to pry.”

“You’re not. I’m not used to talking to someone that isn’t threatening my life or beating me to a pulp. People don’t talk to nameless except to tell them to get lost. The army is about the only place that will take a person that doesn’t exist.”

“Doesn’t exist?”

“Exactly.”

“I find that hard to comprehend,” Iah said. “If you’re here, you exist. A name doesn’t decide that.”

“Doesn’t it?” Beraht asked. “Try spending twenty-eight years of your life without a name, then tell me the lack of one doesn’t matter.”

Iah reached out, hand landing on what seemed to be Beraht’s knee. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to offend. It’s simply hard to understand, though you are giving me some idea. Sol did not explain it quite so.”

“Perhaps because General Sol deVry has always had a name, if occasionally too many of them. Had we both returned to Salhara at winter’s end, our tasks completed, he would have been among those who did not acknowledge me outside of giving orders.”

“Sol wouldn’t do that,” Iah protested. “Not when he knows what it’s like to be shamed.”

Beraht laughed bitterly. “Yes, he would have. If only to preserve his own role as a General and cousin to the Queen. Someone of such importance does not demean himself by speaking to people who don’t exist. It would have tarnished the role he was playing.” Beraht stood up. “I am feeling hungry. Excuse me.”

Iah heard him stomp away – then stumble to a halt, apologizing to…Kalan, Iah realized as he finally heard the new voice clearly. Then Beraht was gone. “Kalan, come to dance?”

“I’ve told you before I don’t agree with torture,” Kalan said. “Anyway I paid my dues thrice over growing up.” Iah listened as his boots clicked on the hardwood floor, grinning at the pianist’s frustrated sigh. And Esta’s, who from the sound of it had finally gotten the hang of the Salharan dance. Before she was interrupted.

“What do you want, Kalan?” Iah knew her hands were back on her hips.

Kalan, he could tell, was grinning. His friend had always had a death wish. “Apologies, my Queen. I’ve come to steal away your dance instructor.” He yowled a second later; a screech Iah knew all too well – Esta was pulling his hair. Hard.

“What do you want with Sol, Duke?” Esta asked in too-sweet tones.

“Merely a bit of his time, Duchess.” Kalan hissed in pain and moved closer to Iah when she let go. “Which reminds me – are you going to give the title back to your brother, now that he’s home for good?”

“Yes,” Esta replied.

“No,” Iah said at the same time.

Kalan laughed. “Excellent. Then we can hand the title back when Matti hands out all the rest. Sol – a word with you in the hall? You’ve come highly recommended for a particular task, and I should have thought of it myself.”

“Certainly,” Sol said in his calm way. Iah heard him approach, and tilted his face up for the kiss Sol gave him, allowing himself to be tugged up. “Would you like to be taken back to your room first?”

Iah nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

“Let me take him,” Esta said, the faintest bit of hesitation in her voice.
Iah smiled, and he knew Sol did as well.

“I promise I won’t let him trip on the stairs again,” Esta said more firmly.

“Oh, Essie. You can’t still be upset by that? It takes getting used to. Now come on, help me back to my room. I’ve got the layout memorized, but people are still the very devil.” He didn’t voice that when he tried to do it alone, the whispers that chased him were the worst part. No one needed to know that he was being mocked. Some were even scared of him; he heard it in the way they greeted him. Stiff, uncertain, occasionally derisive. It was nothing he hadn’t expected. And he had Sol, along with his sister and friends. He’d be fine. “We’ll just make a penalty – cause me to trip and you have to be nice to someone.”

“I’m always nice,” Esta protested. “You just don’t like that I’m always right.”

Kalan started coughing. “Pardon me – better yet, pardon us. I will see you later, Esta. Iah. Make sure if you trip that I’m the first one on that list.” He and Sol fled.

Esta took his arm. “All right,” she said. “Tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”

“One would think,” Iah said with a grin. “That being blind, I would be more nervous than you. Leading me around has got to be easier than getting Matthias to do as he’s told.”

“That’s certainly true,” Esta muttered. “All right – ten paces to the door?”

Iah grinned. It was actually twelve, but she’d get the hang of it. “Then we turn right, yes? Did you know that damned staircase has a hundred and seven steps?”





“So what did you need?” Sol asked, shaking his head as Esta began to lead her brother to his room. He followed as Kalan led the way to what turned out to be a small office.

“It’s nothing we can’t mention to the others – I just didn’t feel like making Essie worry when she was having such a good time.” He leaned against edge of a large, dark desk. It was covered in neat stacks of paper and cumbersome ledgers. One whole wall was given over to books ranging in quality from thin paper and heavy stock covers to rich leather and thick, cloth-like paper. “Remember our conversation this morning? About the counter stone?”

“Yes,” Sol said, nodding. “You still have not been able to obtain it.”

Kalan nodded, folding his arms across his chest. It was easy to see the office was his, and not one he’d simply picked because it was empty. It had his same quiet flare, splashes of color that somehow managed to fit together. Mostly red, but a rainbow of accents in pillows on the small couch, the books, and the colorful rug on the floor. And even in all the color, his jewel-green coat stood out. “I wondered if you’d like to help find it.”

“I don’t know that I would be of much use,” Sol said slowly. “But I’m certainly happy to try. What precisely is the problem?”

“Excellent. The problem is that we can’t figure out where it’s been hidden.”

Sol frowned in thought. “You can’t…sense it?”

“No,” Kalan said. “The stones are little more than dead weight until someone like Beraht activates it. And don’t ask me to explain – that’s more Matthias’s field. He’s been studying what little information remains nearly all his life.”

“And its most likely general location?”

“The palace, though that is not completely certain. We doubt he’s hidden it elsewhere, but we’re not discounting the possibility entirely.”

Sol nodded. “What places have you already tried?”

“Only the cemetery. I doubt it’s in his bedroom, or somewhere else a great many of people go. But he doesn’t go anywhere else.”

“Nowhere at all?”

Kalan shrugged. “To visit his wife’s grave. All the royal family is buried in a private cemetery at the far end of the castle property. No one else is allowed in there.”

“An easy hiding spot,” Sol said.

“That’s what I thought, but I combed the area and had no luck.” He made a face. “Cost me a jacket and my favorite pair of pants. Trust me, it’s not there.”

Sol smiled. “If it’s no insult to you, I will check once more. You will also have to tell me what else he does, where he goes…everything you can think of. To figure out where someone might hide something, you must be able to think as he does. My sister and I used to love playing hide and seek when we were children – but we got too good at knowing where the other hid. So…I need to speak with everyone who knows him well.”

“Matti and Esta can be interrogated at dinner. I’m probably not the best. I know he’s quick to anger, quick to get over it – or at least he used to be. Lately he’s nothing but a grouchy old man who lets his son do all the work and then reprimands him for it. I think age is getting the better of him.” Kalan shrugged “And I guess you can’t really blame a man who lost his uncle, his brother and his son to the magic that keeps his country functioning.”

“One would think, then, that he’d want to be rid of the magic.”

Kalan gave a half smile. “Like I said – age is getting the better of him. I’m sure Matti will crack him eventually, but time is a luxury that we do not have. Not that we often do.”

“Where is the King now?”

“Probably in a meeting with the ministers. Some private lunch thing where they all bitch about Matthias and the King assures them that yes, his son is young and foolish and no, he won’t let the boy do anything stupid.”

“…The Prince strikes me as someone who is most definitely not stupid. I would think men shrewd enough to run a country would notice that.”

Kalan sniffed. “We work hard to make sure they don’t realize, thank you very much. Do you know the last time twelve ministers were dismissed simultaneously was at the end of the war that put Matthias’s family on the throne? Every last one was removed from office; seven were executed and the other five banished. One tried to sneak back into the country ten years later and was killed within days. That was…not long before the war with the neighbors began. I guess no one likes to be too idle.” He gave another shrug. “Anyway – it’s going to cause a massive upheaval. I don’t doubt one or two will turn to violence. So the fewer that know it’s coming, the better. And speaking as the future Minister of Finances – it’ll be cheaper as well.”

“Why finances?” Sol asked.

“Because,” Kalan answered with a grin. “No one ever pays attention to the poor fool who got saddled with such an unhappy job. Far too easy to steal funds if you know what you’re doing, and highly unpopular because the Finances department is the one most likely to complain about every new scheme.”

Sol smiled back. “So you’re in a fine position to continue communications with Spiegel and others of his sort.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Laughing, Sol turned back to the original topic. “So walk me through the areas the King frequents. Tell me what he does. If you’re not busy.”

“Nothing that can’t wait or be foisted onto lackeys,” Kalan said. “Come, I’ll take you to the cemetery first. You can have a turn destroying your pants.”

Outside, the sky was sunny but clouds loomed not too far off – by dinner the weather would be gray and damp. The wind held a bite, a promise of snow. Kalan let out a happy sigh. “I love winter. Salharans spend most of the year warm, don’t they? I don’t know how you do it.”

Sol laughed. “I never understood why Kria and Illussor were so fond of being buried alive every winter. But the snow begins to appeal, after a while. Though that might simply be the madness talking, I don’t know.”

“Could be,” Kalan agreed, chuckling. “Here’s the path to the cemetery,” he pointed. “It winds round all the way to the perimeter. Many don’t like it being so close…but it was established early on and later moving it all became too difficult a task. They’re all buried above ground…the building is actually rather pretty…”

Rounding the few buildings where various craftsmen lived, Sol immediately spotted the gray and white building. It wasn’t terribly large, but plenty big enough to house several generations of royalty. “The gravestones indicate special personages considered important enough to be buried with royalty…I shouldn’t doubt you’ll all wind up here, to be morbid a moment.”

“I sincerely doubt traitors, no matter how loyal to the country for whom they betrayed their own, are fit to be buried with kings.” Sol smiled ruefully. “We’re much more the sort of thing everyone likes to forget about after a time.”

Kalan snorted. “I want to see you tell that to Matthias. Trust me when I say that for all he was reluctant to cooperate with “enemies” he has taken to all of you. Perhaps because you’ve already done more than anyone else has.” A grin. “Except me, but my main role is to stay with him, which limits me to the palace.”

“I am humbled by the prince’s trust.”

This time Kalan’s grin was slow, sly. “Well, even if we didn’t trust the others – it’s pretty obvious you’re not going anywhere unless Iah decides to pack up and leave.”

“…Iah was…unexpected…” Sol looked away, embarrassed, and stared at a well as they passed it. A young girl stared back, then shuffled away with her heavy bucket of water. “If I am causing some offense…”

“No!” Kalan said hastily. “I’m sorry, I was just teasing. Iah used to be a bit of a flirt growing up, then he mellowed out and after he joined the army he just…sort of gave up. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for him now…” He shook his head, pale hair catching the sunlight that was even now beginning to succumb to cloud cover. “I’m glad he has you. I don’t think even friends would be enough right now.”

Sol glanced at him. “I think you underestimate him.”

“I doubt it,” Kalan said. “Iah’s strong – no choice when you’re related to Esta. But he has his mother’s sense of duty and his father’s stubborn headedness. Which means he’s good at suffering in silence.” He glanced at Sol. “I’ve caught snatches of more than a few comments about his blindness. Hopefully he hasn’t caught wind of them.”

Sol shook his head. “He has not mentioned it. But that may explain why his nightmares are coming back.”

“I would suffer a great deal more than nightmares in his situation,” Kalan said with a grimace. “As I said before – I cannot even begin to imagine. Unfortunate that the least deserving of us is the one who suffered. I’m sure it all makes sense to the Goddess.” He grinned playfully. “What is it Beraht’s always screaming? Stars take it! – that’s it. Perhaps those stars know something we don’t.”

“Yes,” Sol said with an answering smile. “Stars see things that those of us on the ground never notice.”

“Irksome stars,” Kalan replied. They reached a high, iron gate; the bars so close together that a grown man or woman would not be able to slip a hand through. From his coat Kalan pulled a ring of keys and selected a larger key made from iron. The lock turned easily, but the gates squealed loudly as he pushed them open. “Welcome to the royal cemetery,” Kalan said. “This isn’t going to be a very exciting tour, I’m afraid.”

“I would imagine not,” Sol replied, smiling. But it was distracted, as he began to take in and examine the small cemetery.

Perhaps three dozen or so gravestones, the marks on them meaningless to him but the wording spelling out names, dates and a brief poem to the deceased. “In Salhara, bodies are burned so that they might reach the sky and become stars.”

“We burn them too, though mostly because the ground is too hard to bury the ones that die in winter. These markers are just…reminders.”

Sol nodded. The wind snatched at his hair, his long dark blue coat. Beside him Kalan cursed as the wind sent his hair flying in all directions, the ribbon holding it blowing away faster than Kalan could move to catch it.

“Let’s go inside,” Kalan said. “Before I lose my clothes.” He stopped in front of the door to the mausoleum and withdrew a small, ornate key made of silver. This time the door opened soundlessly, and the smell of dust and decay. The inside was as ornate as the outside had been – whorls and loops, all manner of whimsical, grotesque figures no doubt meant to keep several things out…and perhaps a few in.

“I’m going to hazard that the royal family is never burned?”

“They’re too special,” Kalan said. “It’s expensive to put them here, though I will admit most of the money goes toward the fuss of storing them.”

Sol shook his head, lips twitching. “You’re not the minister quite yet.”

“Yet,” Kalan said, and winked. “Everyone knows I’m angling, and that the prince favors me. It’s only a matter of time.”

“I thought a good leader didn’t play favorites,” Sol said, but his tone was teasing.

Kalan let out a snort strong enough to stir up the dust on the column he stood beside. “In politics you have enemies and favorites.”

“Yes,” Sol said. “I know all about politics and playing sides. I’ve been involved in Salharan and Krian politics, one way or the other, for years. Where have you looked?”

Kalan grinned. “You should consider a position; Matti doesn’t have all the new ministers figured out. He’d love to have someone else on board that set everyone else on edge. Keeps them on their toes. You name it I’ve looked in, under, above, through or all around it. If that damnable stone is in here, I wasn’t clever enough to find it. Which will annoy me because those breeches really were my favorite pair.”

“We all must make sacrifices,” Sol said, and abruptly knelt on the ground. “So no one else accompanies him here?”

“Matti does occasionally, but not every time, no. Only the King has time to come down here every single day for half an hour or more. So you’ll have to ask Matti what he does, if that’s what you’re hoping to hear. And what he does with Matti…”

“Is of course not likely to be what he does when he’s alone. His entire family is buried here?”

“Yes,” Kalan said, pointing to each one and ticking off the kings, queens and various other royals sealed up in the walls. Over each section was an ornate gold nameplate, the royal seal, a brief dedication and a relief of the deceased’s face. “Even Benji already has a place. Most everyone believes he died of illness. That was not a happy time, let me tell you. It was after he ‘died’ that we all became a bit too serious…it’s only in recent years that we’ve begun to lighten up again. I think mostly because it was just getting too cumbersome.”

Sol nodded. “No one can be miserable forever. No one is meant to be.”

“Indeed. Anyway – all of the family is buried here…at least those that are dead…but he only really comes to see his wife. They were close; I think it was Matti’s mother who first put the idea of marrying Esta into his head. Matti protested quite loudly until the day he and Esta got into a huge fight – this at the age of sixteen – and she pushed him into the pond. In winter. After he was saved from freezing to death and Esta was done feeling guilty, he proposed. She kicked him and stormed off.” Kalan grinned. “As you can see, they’re still working it out.”

“I see,” Sol said with a smile of his own. He examined the place where the late Queen was buried. “I don’t think the stone is going to be in here anywhere. Too obvious, and too hard to hide something like that.”

Kalan rolled his eyes. “Of that I wouldn’t be too sure – when you really start looking there are far too many nooks and crannies.”

“All the same…” Sol stood up, brow furrowed in thought. “I do not know the King, or how he thinks. But if I were a king eager to hide something which could cripple my kingdom…” He turned and headed out of the mausoleum, walking briskly from the graveyard along the stone path that wended its way back to the castle proper. Kalan bolted after him, falling into step and keeping pace until he almost continued on when Sol abruptly stopped.

In front of the well he’d glanced at before. “There is a phrase of which the Seven Star is particularly fond…mostly because we completely disregard it.” Sol glanced at Kalan. “The best way to keep a secret is to kill everyone that knows it.”

“Morbid but true. Rather than those of us that knew, you think he ‘killed’ the stone by throwing it in the well? How did you ever come to that conclusion?”

“A hunch,” Sol said. “There’s no guarantee I’m right. But if he goes to see his wife that often, I have no doubt he does as much for guidance as anything else. He must miss having her to talk to…and the well would be an easy way to dispose of the problem. Not destroying it, which would be going too far…but close enough. If it really is there, no one can get it out.”

Kalan grinned. “Don’t be too sure of that,” he said. “Matti and I could do it. He knows what the stone looks like, and I can help him since calling it up from the well won’t be easy within the confines of the castle – especially not knowing how deep this well is.” He clapped Sol on the shoulder. “Well, done! No wonder you were so highly recommended.”

“By who?” Sol asked.

“Dieter – and I can see why he calls you a cat. You’re as sly as one, and you move the same way.” Kalan shook his head. “And that voice – it’s a wonder you don’t purr, my friend. You should become a minister. I bet you could convince the lot of them to jump off a cliff if you wanted.”

Sol rolled his eyes. “Absurd. I am a spy – hopefully a retired one. I want no part of ministry work.”

“I’ll tell Matti to start convincing you,” Kalan said with a wink. “Now let’s go see if Esta managed to kill her brother with the stairs yet.”