A Dagger of the Mind (The Imperial Metals) (9 page)

Book
2

Pasts Haunted

Chapter
12: Points of Light

The Baron was all too happy to lend his boat to Landos’ quest. He had previously sent his servant, Krugg, on many assignments by boat, and the silent, bald man was an excellent sailor. He caught all the right winds, and got Duncan, Sir Noble, and Nuria up to the border of the Turinheld on the morning of their fourth day at sea. He wished them well, then turned back to return to Anuen.

It was another day and night of marching before the trio arrived at the border of the Turin territory. The Peace Festival was meant to sooth some of the bitter feelings between the two peoples. But these three citizens of Rone were not under the impression that anybody would be happy to see them.

Duncan
considered his team. He had decided not to bring a sword. He had some minor training with the
sword
,
but he wasn’t a great fighter, and since their only real hope was that the Turin believed they were there peacefully, he thought it was better to go unarmed.

Of course, Sir Noble didn’t agree to that. He was in his mail and helm, his shield on his back, his sword by his side. He was a legendary knight in the Rone Kingdom, and the Turin might think twice about attacking him. Other than Vye, he was the only one who had defeated a Turin-Sen warrior.
If
Duncan couldn’t have Vye with him, this was the next best
thing
.

Then there was Nuria. Duncan didn’t like having her here. She was smart and capable. But she was thirteen. Immature. Unworldly. If they had to fight, she would be invaluable as a magician. But if they had to run, her legs would be too short. Also, Duncan suspected she had a crush on him, which wouldn’t be good under normal circumstances, and was even worse in a foreign land.

Duncan pressed the group ahead to the City of Sayil. It was easy to think of the Turin as a rural people. And they had been, once upon a time, when their small population was spread across the continent. But that had been centuries ago. And since then, they had built cities embedded in the trees. They incorporated the forest, rather than plowing it over.

And there were also sentries. In a way, Duncan was counting on it. They walked down the paved path to the entrance of the city. But before they were in longbow range, three Turin guards emerged from the treeline.

“Stop there!” one of them shouted. He spoke in the language of the Rone, showing he had already identified the visitors.

“We mean no harm, and seek an audience with the benevolent Regent of the Turinheld,” Duncan spit out in his most eloquent Turin.

“Duncan, is that you?” the sentry asked in Rone, stepping forward.

“Orlean?” Duncan recognized the man. The two of them had been translators during the early peace negotiations. It made sense to Duncan that the sentries would be those who could speak Rone, and Orlean had been one of the best.

“What are you doing all the way up here?”

“It’s a very long story,” Duncan said, “And we really must speak to the Regent. It’s urgent.”

“She’s coming down to your capital in less than a week,” Orlean sounded suspicious, “Actually, four days once the sun rises.”

“This can’t wait four days,” Duncan answered, “Or even until the sun rises.”

“You want me to wake up the Regent?” Orlean now sounded dismissive.

“You can blame me,” Duncan offered.

“I will,” Orlean answered. “Who are the others?”

“This is Nuria and Sir Noble,” Duncan waved to the team.

“Sir Noble?” Orlean definitely knew the name. “You brought Sir Noble to meet the Regent?”

“Even better, I brought him to meet the Turin-Guarde.”

“OK, well, fine. OK. Yeah. No problem. Alright, listen, he has to lose the sword, at least.”

Duncan nodded to Noble. Noble drew his weapon and handed it to the nearest Sentry.

“Anything else?” Duncan asked.

“Yeah,” Orlean said, “Look, I think you’re a good guy. And I’m hoping this isn’t a really clumsy trick. But I just have to warn you, if you try anything stupid, you will all die horrible deaths.”

“Shall we proceed?” Duncan answered, his calmness and confidence reassuring Orlean.

Orlean gave quick orders in the Turin language to the other sentries, before leading Duncan and company further along the path to Sayil, the capital of the Turinheld.

It was the first time Duncan had been inside the capital. Years of negotiations had taken place along the border, or sometimes at neutral, third-party locations. Duncan and Orlean had exchanged many stories, describing each other’s lands, but this was the first time he got to experience the splendor of the Turinheld.

The city lived over a valley that dipped between two small, tree-lined mountains. Walking bridges and pathways had been carved into the branches and limbs, connecting the upper level of the city. And below, small huts and houses banked against the limbs of the mighty birches and oaks. Even at night, there was enough of a population that the pathways were busy. Lanterns dotted the upper and lower levels, giving Duncan the impression that they were floating through a flock of lightning bugs.

“Isn’t it dangerous to have so many lanterns?” Nuria asked.

“The way they’re balanced,” Orlean answered, “If they tip in any direction, the lid closes right away. The flame is snuffed out before it hits the ground.”

“That’s pretty smart,” Nuria said. “We should have those in our Castle.”

The company continued in silence for a while. Every Turin they passed gave them a look. They didn’t even pretend not to. Here were three people from the hated Kingdom of Rone, walking through their city. Sure, they were technically at peace, and everyone knew the Peace Festival was coming very soon, but chances were, each of them knew at least one person who had died in the war. If Orlean hadn’t been leading the way, no doubt there would have been trouble.

Finally, they arrived at the far mountain, at the Regent’s Stronghold. This was the only structure that went beyond pure utility. It was carved into the side of the mountain, three stories tall.
Each level had been shaven down to create a plateau. But as far as Duncan could see, there was no way to reach the second or third level except by entering the first.

“We’re entering the Regent’s Stronghold,” Orlean warned. “I know you guys aren’t idiots, but I can’t stress this enough: Don’t make any sudden moves.”

He led them up to the only entrance on the first level. Duncan could see the shadows looking down from the plateau of the second level. Archers with bows at the ready. Even the treeline behind them seemed to be alive with movement.

Two Guards emerged from the door and spoke in hushed tones with Orlean. Duncan couldn’t hear most of it, until one of the guards asked, incredulously, “You want me to wake up the Regent?”

But a shrug and apology from Orlean apparently got the job done. He led the group inside.

The inside was, like the outside, an attempt to go beyond efficacy. Hand-crafted murals and artifacts adorned the walls and pedestals. The hollow went deep into t
he mountain, supported by uneven lines of stone pillars, each with a lantern embedded in the stone. Duncan could see that each pillar had a small chimney leading up, thus keeping the chamber from accumulating smoke.

And while the two guards at the door stayed at the door, they weren’t alone. Dozens of armed soldiers surrounded them on all sides, each peeking out from behind one of the pillars. Some had bows, some had swords. But it didn’t matter. There was no way to know for certain how many were there. Duncan pitied the fools who might try to breach this room.

Orlean led them to one of several spiral stairways in the back of the cavern. He held his hands out in front of him, palms up.

“Everyone, like this,” he warned. The Rone visitors all did the same as they ascended the stairs. And Duncan could see why. Spear points gleamed from gaps in the wall. Several guards were tucked into the stairwell, ready to impale any unwelcome guests.

Finally they emerged into the open again, now on the plateau of the second level of the Stronghold. Even though they were only about twenty feet higher, Duncan could see over the entire city from where he was. The sea of lanterns shaped the City of Sayil, a rough circle. Duncan could even see a nearby village, also defined by its points of light.

“OK, you can all put your hands down now,” Orlean said. Duncan hadn’t even noticed that he was still holding them up. He was so nervous about making a false move, it never occurred to him to lower them. And he was still well aware of the danger they were in. The archers who had been keeping an eye on them were now turned in on the courtyard, hands on their swords. And another batch of archers on the third-level plateau looked down at them, arrows nocked and ready.

Then, from the center entrance, four humongous guards emerged, forming a barrier around the opening. A herald emerged, announcing, in Turin, “And now, Regent of the Turinheld, Rajani, The Queen of May.” Orlean translated for the benefit of Duncan’s companions.

And then emerged the new Regent of the Turin people. Rajani was a tall, beautiful woman, wearing a flowing silver and laurel green gown. Her skin was mocha-colored, her dark brown eyes reflected the night sky, and her raven black hair cascaded down to her shoulders, glistening with a thin silver line of the moon’s light.

Rajani represented the newer, younger movement amongst the Turin, to find peace and harmony where before there was hatred and war. Rajani had been the unanimous choice to lead them. She was generous and benevolent, but also a proud citizen of the Turinheld. She was pureblood. As Turin as they could get. And because she started her reign on the first day of May, six months earlier than the usual elections, she was called by many, “The Queen of May.” The Turin didn’t have royalty, per se, but this was a term of affection.

Unfortunately for the visiting Rone, they didn’t get to experience her winning smile or her renowned charm. Because she had just been woken up two hours before dawn. She scanned over the diplomatic party. She recognized Duncan.

“Master Duncan, it is agreeable to see you again,” she began. Then she yawned. “Though you’ve come at a very odd hour.”

Orlean whispered a translation for the other Rone, but Duncan plowed ahead in the Turin language, as Rajani didn’t speak his language, “Regent, we apologize for coming at such an hour, and unannounced. Believe me, if the situation could have been avoided, it would have been.”

“Since I am coming to the Peace Festival in only a few days, I imagine the situation must be urgent for you to break protocol.”

“We have been attacked by two very powerful magic-users.”

“I hope you are not here to accuse the Turin-Guarde.”

“On the contrary, we are certain they were not Turin. We are, to be frank, outclassed. And in the dark. We were hoping we could consult with your most learned mages, to see if they can give us any insight.”

Rajani glanced at the group of foreigners once more.

“I notice,” she said, “that Countess Vye isn’t with you.”

“She’s not,” Duncan admitted, “She was the focus of the attack, and died from the assault.”

Orlean finished the translation, and only then realized what he had heard. Rajani sat upon the stone floor, waving for Duncan and the others to do the same. She took a moment, considering her response.

“You take quite a risk,” she said, “admitting that the Countess is dead. You must know that her presence in your Kingdom is an enormous...deterrent to foreign attacks.”

“And I hope, Regent, that you recognize the trust I place with you by such a confession. I am putting my faith in the Peace we have worked so hard to negotiate.”

“I will honor that Peace, as I have always planned to do. But I cannot guarantee that the more conservative element in the Turinheld won’t take glee in this news. And suddenly the Kingdom of Rone doesn’t seem so impenetrable.”

“In that case, I trust not only the Peace we have worked for, but your leadership over your people. To be sure such thoughts don’t gain traction.”

“I will not announce the Countess’ death until after the Peace Festival,” the Regent agreed. “And I will do what I can to justify your faith. In the meantime, I will send you to speak to the leader of the Turin-Guarde.”

“Thank you,” Duncan answered.

“Don’t thank me yet,” the Regent warned. “I’m practiced in diplomacy. The Turin-Guarde might still hold a grudge.”

Chapter
13: Loss

Emily Brimford waited alone in the Council Room. Landos had called an emergency meeting, and she was first to arrive. She sat in her usual seat, one to the left of the Magistrate.
As
the representative for the largest territory in the
Kingdom
, she was allowed to sit closest to the head of the table.

Emily Brimford was born Emily Rone, the third daughter of King Vincent Rone. Then she married Lord Timothy Brimford, and her name changed to Emily Brimford. Then, King Vincent died, along with his two sons and oldest daughter.
So
, they made Emily the Queen, and renamed her Emily Rone. Then,
because of a clerical correction to the lineage of the Royal Family
, King Vincent turned out to just be a guy named Vincent.

So, Emily abdicated the throne, having no real claim to it anymore. And even though Timothy had died in the War, she returned to Duke Brimford, and begged her Father-In-Law to adopt her back into the family. So she once again became Emily Brimford.

She had been sixteen when the Argosian War went down, but before it was called the Argosian War, it was just thought of as a series of assassinations. The vicious Turin had descended upon the Rone with magically enhanced killers, the Turin-Sen, and had destroyed Emily’s life. Her father, mother, sister, and two brothers all killed at their hands. Her entire family, gone. Her childhood wiped away.

She missed her sister, Helena, most of all. She had nobody to share those memories with anymore. She had to carry all the little secrets, the small victories, the frustrations, the gossip. She had a whole vocabulary of in-jokes that nobody in the world would get.

Even after the War, her life never quite returned to normal. She became involved with her tutor, Master Jareld from the Towers of Seneca. Maybe the affair began as a cathartic release from the War, but it soon became something much deeper.

But even that had been ripped away from her. Only two months after becoming intimate with Jareld, he had been killed by bandits. Emily found it strange that she felt the same sense of loss for Jareld as she did for Helena, but she did.

And she couldn’t explain it, but even now, staring out the window in the Council Room, she thought of Jareld. Just for a moment. And a single tear fell down her cheek. She brushed her eyes, startled to find a man looking at her from across the chamber.

“Ahem,” a man cleared his throat at the doorway, “My apologies, My Lady.”

“No, it’s alright,” she said, clearing her own throat, “Come in.”

“I did not mean to disturb you,” the man said with a strange accent, “I was looking for zee Magistrate.”

“He should be here any moment now,” Emily said.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, bowing, “I am zee Baron Dubon von Wrims, from Franconne.”

“Lady Emily Brimford,” she said.

“Are you alright, My Lady?” he asked. “Shall I send for some tea?”

“I’m fine, Baron,” she said smiling, “But thank you.”

The Baron sat cornerwise from her and leaned over the table, to speak in a whisper, “Were you zinking of somebody dear to you?”

“Yes. But he died a long time ago.”

“I, too, know what it is like to lose somebody. When zee War happened, everyzing was taken from me. My accomplishments seemed to be for nothing, as I no longer had my family and friends to share zem with.”

“My family was lost as well.”

“Of course, of course,” the Baron said, slapping his forehead, “Zee King. Zee Queen. Your siblings. You are Emily Brimford, you say, but you were once Emily Rone.”

“There was someone else. There was a man I loved. I only had a short time with him, but I miss him almost as much.”

“I, too, lost zee one I love. Zee War did terrible zings to us all.”

“And so it seems it might again,” Landos called out, bursting into the room. Right on his tail was James Avonshire, Emily’s chief political rival. The Avonshires and the Brimfords, the two most powerful families in the Kingdom, had always bickered and skirmished. Emily and James were cordial with one another, but whenever one pressed an advantage, the other fought back.

The rest of the Council filtered in by ones and twos, until every seat was filled. Landos was about to call the meeting to order when he saw the Baron was still there.

“Baron,” Landos said, “I don’t think you’re on the Council.”

“Zis is correct,” the Baron responded, “But I wanted to deliver to you a message. My man Krugg sent a note by pigeon. He delivered Duncan and his friends to zee Turinheld yesterday morning. He will return to Anuen in two days time.”

“Good,” Landos agreed. “Why don’t you join us today. We’re going to have plenty of work to go around. James, have we found a way to increase security for the Festival.”

“I’ve done all I can, based on Sir Noble’s suggestions. But, Magistrate, I’m starting to think this is all a bad idea. We should cancel the festivities. There’s no way to prepare for every contingency. In light of the attack on Countess Vye...”

“The Turin aren’t responsible for that attack,” Emily countered, “And they could be our allies in this fight.”

“Do you really expect the Turin to become our allies?” James challenged.

“No,” Emily admitted, “But we don’t have a lot of options, do we?”