Divided (6 page)

Rummaging through some of the older stacks, the ones that
weren’t on immediate display, the man turned his back to her.  She listened to
him hum, as he always did when he looked through his books.  The man’s name was
Graan.  He had been a friend of Taeru’s, though most of Lower Town had been a
friend of Taeru’s in some way or another.

As she looked around, she thought back to walking the
streets at her brother’s side.  Almost everyone waved a greeting to him, and as
time passed, they had come to know her as well.  While some of them still
greeted her on this journey, most of them took her prolonged absences as a sign
that she was outgrowing her need to witness the plights of the less fortunate. 
She wished they could understand that was not the case. 

Then again, maybe they understood that she was missing her
brother—and they all felt a might too awkward to bother saying hello to her,
for fear that they would worsen her pain.  Always one to think the good in
others, she decided to go with that theory.  Just as one of the women across
the street gave her a wave, Graan resurfaced.  “Ah, here it is!” he said
cheerfully.  “Was afraid I’d lost it there for a moment.”

Aela returned the woman’s wave and then glanced back to the
bookkeeper.  The book in his hand was black leather bound, with golden letter
imprinted on its surface.  The title read
A Hero’s Peace
. That certainly
sounded like a tale that she could get absorbed in.  She hadn’t doubted it when
Graan had said he had something she would like, for he knew her tastes very
well.  “Lovely!” she said.  “Thank you, Graan.  I could use the distraction.”

She took the book in her hand and felt the cool binding of
leather.  She never grew tired of holding a new book, and this one was
particularly thick, which meant she would be entertained for a while.  She
reached into her pocket and pulled out three gold coins, which she laid on his
stall.  “There you are, Graan.  That should cover it, I think.”

The old man looked surprised at her large payment.  The book
could probably have been sold for a silver, but she didn’t have any desire to
be greedy.  Not as though she was hurting for any Cathalar coin.  “So what is
it about?” she asked.  “Have you read it?”

He grinned and she could see where two of his teeth were
missing near the back of his mouth.  That had been the result of a rather
unfortunate collision with a cart.  Graan was the pinnacle of the people who
lived in Lower Town.  He was not entirely ugly, just worn from hard labor.  His
hair was black speckled with gray and his beard was thick and untamed.  He had
begun to stand with a slouch in recent years.  His hair had begun to fall out
as well, so though it was long—it was very thin.  “I read all the books I
sell,” he chided.  “It was a fascinating tale.  It was about two warring lands
and a hero who made a deal with the gods that he could unite them.  And if he
could not do it, then they could have his life—and also destroy both lands.”

Aela blinked.  That sounded hauntingly familiar, but as
there didn’t seem to be any heroes available, she just smiled.  “Sounds
perfect.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a few of these coins back,
Mademoiselle?” he asked, turning his attention back to the gracious payment.

“Now, now, Graan, with an attitude like that—you will never
make a profit!  You are supposed to be a salesman!” she reprimanded.  The man
just smiled at her and nodded at her indisputable point.  With a quick
farewell, she waved to him and took her book. 

There was one other place she wanted to stop before she
headed back for dinner.  Veyron was lenient, but he hated for either of his
children to miss meals—or be late to them, or Magisters forbid she didn’t wash
properly. 

However, she had time to kill, so she made sure to stop at
some of the stalls were she knew the owner and exchanged small talk.  All of
them seemed more than happy to see her, though there was that strange distance
in their nature that meant they weren’t sure whether they should mention
Taeru.  No one had heard from or of him, so there was nothing to say.  She
wished people wouldn’t think about him so much, but she was just as guilty of
that.

As dinnertime drew near, she hurried to her last stop.  She
had left the market area of Lower Town and now the buildings were actual
shops.  One of them was a black building with a whetstone, a forge, and a workbench
outside of it.  Aela smiled when she thought of the man inside the building.  She
didn’t bother knocking on the door and walked in.

The man was bent over a table.  He was a large man with
short black hair and dark skin.  “Arthal?” she asked sweetly.

He leapt up at the sound of her voice and whirled.  In a few
strides, he had approached her and captured her in one of his rather famous
bear hugs.  She smiled as he released her and pushed her hood out of her face. 
“Aela, my dear!  Where have you been?”

“Oh, having court, every single sun…” she moaned.  Surely,
Arthal was aware of that.  She had been to see him much less recently.  The man
just nodded his understanding and there was a flash of sympathy before he
smiled.

For a moment, Aela just glanced around the blacksmith’s shop
with a smile on her face.  The smell of the place reminded her of Taeru, but
here—she was all right with it.  It was almost as if her brother was here with
her, swinging his sword and laughing at her pathetic attempts to spar with
him.  “I do hope your blades haven’t rusted in your absence,” he chided.

She laughed.  If she did nothing else, Aela made very sure
to keep up her sword arm.  The ordeal of learning to wield a weapon had been so
complex that she did not intend to give up that skill without a fight.  Veyron still
was unaware of her abilities with any such weapon.  He was firmly opposed to
any woman having to wield a weapon—let alone his daughter!  “I have been
training daily, Arthal, rest assured.”

“You look well, at any rate,” he said.  To Arthal, Aela was
no princess, and that meant that she was nothing more than a friend—and he
could resume his work.  In Lower Town, losing any moment of work cost time, and
time cost money.  Arthal hammered out the sword with a smile. 

She stepped forward to get a glimpse of the long sword that
he was beating out.  The metal was still burning and rigid.  “As do you,” she
said.  Arthal was middle aged, with his black hair and large muscular frame. 
Taeru had always said he was a very good man—and Arthal had been more of a father
to Taeru than Veyron had been able to.  Though it wasn’t from Veyron’s lack of
trying, there just seemed to be no connection between the two of them.  Taeru
had done his best to please his father, and he had done so, but there was a
continued disconnect.  “How is business this season?” she asked after a moment.

“Well enough,” he said.  “Without the imports from Telandus,
or with them getting even rarer with the coming war—more and more people have
wanted to buy my wares.  I’m hoping that they’ll realize that mine were better
from the start.  Bloody Tellanders wouldn’t know a sword if it stabbed them
through the chest—not a real one anyway.” 

Aela smiled.  Arthal had always had a problem with
Telandus’s blacksmiths creating swords that the villagers preferred.  While he
favored large, heavier swords that required two hands to use, the people of
Telandus tended to make short swords, fit for quick wielding.  Oh, how angry
Arthal had been when Taeru had started wielding those.  Arthal had still agreed
to show him some techniques though. 

For once, even the memory in Arthal’s presence hurt.  She
missed Taeru more than she could ever understand, and despite that she didn’t
think about it as frequently—she was sure that her pain remained steadfast, and
would never leave her.  Why had Taeru left her?  Why had he felt so compelled
to leave that he had abandoned everything?  And why had he not just taken Aela
with him?

“How is Ryo?”  Arthal asked.  He most likely assumed that
Aela was thinking of Taeru, and was doing his best not to address the subject
directly.  After all, there was not a damn thing that Arthal could say to ease
Aela’s pain or make this any better.  It had been five years, and she wasn’t
better. 

She thought about the question for a moment.  Ryo was well
enough.  He was working to keep his father calm as Lavus tended to use every
moment to bring the man closer to rage that would kindle the final straw of the
war.  Ryo’s influence reminded Veyron that this was precisely what Lavus
wanted, and anything Lavus wanted, Veyron didn’t.

“He is well enough.  Just doing his best to keep father
calm.  Lavus seems to want a war more than any man should ever want a war,”
Aela said warily.  “The sooner he is out of the picture, the better off all of Elyst
will be.”

Arthal just nodded his agreement and frowned.  “Pathetic
that a man like him is allowed to rule,” he growled.  “Better yet, he had
spawn!” he spat.

Aela just let out a soft breath.  Once again, she was
reminded that not all of the problems in Elyst had to do with Lavus.  Surely,
it was easy to blame him for them, but the unrest between Telandus and Cathalar
had been building for generations.  Surely, Lavus’s sons would handle the
situation no differently than he was.  “Yes, he did,” she said weakly.

“Are you alright, my dear?  You seem very distant.  More
distant than usual,” Arthal finally stopped what he was doing.  This told Aela
that she ought to leave before she kept him from too much of his work.

Instead of addressing the question directly, Aela just
smiled.  “Don’t be lazy on my account, Arthal.  You need to finish all the
swords you can.  You already said they were in high demand this year.  Imagine
how angry the customers would be if you let them down!” she coaxed.  He frowned
at her, but glanced back to his unfinished weapon.

“Aela, you are avoiding my question,” he said.  As if she
hadn’t been aware of this obvious fact. 

But she had nothing to say.  Sure, she was distant, but
talking about it would only make things worse.  She would feel awkward for
bringing Arthal into her problems.  However, she seemed to be doing as much
just being there.  “I’m alright,” she finally answered warily.  “Just
thinking.  I bought a book from Graan so I won’t do as much of that.”

Arthal glanced down at the book in her hands and then
smiled.  “Better not let your father see that, girl.”

“I never do,” she answered. 

“You ought to come by for some sparring.  Now that is a real
way to get your mind off things.  You know when…”  Arthal stopped himself
immediately.  Arthal couldn’t help talking about Taeru any more than Aela
could.

Aela just smiled warmly at him.  “I know.  But Taeru just
used every excuse he could think of to swing a sword around.  I prefer to
read.  Did you ever see my brother try to read a book?  He shifted and twitched
about like some sort of infant.  It really was quite comical.”  Aela remembered
trying to get him to read the book he’d worked so hard to get for her.  Taeru
had been quite miserable.

Arthal smiled, but there was sadness in it.  Aela wished she
could escape it—the sadness.  If only Taeru hadn’t left, then everything would
have been fine.  The war would never have mattered to her if her brother were
still here.  Nothing would have.  “Yes,” Arthal finally agreed, “I suppose
Taeru was a little less inclined to read.”

Unable to say too many words for fear of losing her
composure, Aela just nodded and offered a tight smile.  “No, he didn’t,” she
said.  The words were hollow, and felt as though they should never have
occurred.

“Perhaps in his solitude he picked up reading,” Arthal
offered.  “When you see him again, you ought to ask if he understands your
hobby any better.  I’ve heard age can help with that sort of thing in young
boys.”  She smiled at the idea of seeing Taeru again, but both of them knew the
likelihood of it was naught. 

She just nodded though.  No sense bringing that sort of line
of thought into the conversation.  They both knew Arthal only spoke to try to
cheer Aela up, and they both knew that Aela could not be cheered up.  “Aye, I
might just do that.  I ought to be heading back though, Arthal.  Father will
have a fit if I am late for dinner—and you know how he is about the wash.”

“Indeed.  Off with you, then.  Take care of yourself, Aela. 
And come back and see me soon, don’t go driving yourself mad in that castle.”

“Out of dark of the moon, there was a hero.  A man who
promised to renew peace throughout the lands, begging for the land’s
perseverance.”

-A Hero’s Peace, v.i

The celebrations throughout sun up had been nothing short of
annoying.  Calis was exhausted by the time the sun was beginning to dwindle and
darkness was offering the residents of Telandus a little reprieve from the
ceaseless heat.  Calis hadn’t realized how spoiled he had gotten in the
constantly tempered weather of Dokak.  Along the coast, he was certain that no
sun had brought anything worse than a heavy rain.

Heat like this had been nonexistent, and Telandus felt even
more stifling than usual.  Not to say that Dokak was any more of a happy time
for Calis.  He had been bored, and if Lee hadn’t been there, he may well have
stabbed a dagger through his chest.  Now that they were back in Telandus,
however, he wasn’t ruling out the possibility of doing so.  He did not want to
attend any sort of ball. 

He had managed to avoid Lady Avyon all through this sun’s
festivities, and not without great effort and assistance from Lee.  Of course,
at the ball, he would be forced to interact with her—and most certainly dance
with her.  She would giggle at things that were not funny, and her smile would
make him feel as though he had to smile.  He stared at himself in the mirror. 
His coat felt too big, and in the heat, it felt even bulkier.  Every effort to
comb his hair was in vain, as it still stood in a tousled mess.  His long blue
coat fell over his shoulders, laced with gold and white.  His black boots hurt
his feet, and the white pants were even getting to him.

All he wanted was for this ball to be over, or better yet,
for this ball to never happen.  “You look cheerful,” Lee spoke from behind
him.  When he looked into the mirror, he could see his advisor leaning against
the wall at the back of the room.

Lee was dressed for the occasion as well, with a red coat
similar to Calis’s and black pants.  They looked as pompous as they possibly
could, and Calis hated it.  Lee looked uncomfortable, but he had contented
himself with taking amusement in how much Calis did not want to attend this
ball.  Some friend.  “I cannot understand the need to wear these jackets in
such weather.  What possible practicality is there in this?” Calis growled.

Lee laughed.  “What practicality is there in any of noble
workings?  I have yet to find one, and I have been looking for quite some
time.”

The idea was a fair one.  Every noble seemed so caught up in
appearances and earning favor so that they could be even more concerned with
appearances that no one ever paused to think about the logic in what they were
doing.  Lee, on the other hand, clung to logic like a sort of failsafe. 
Whereas some people may have let emotions lead them entirely, Lee relied on
logic to do that for him.  That was why he and Calis agreed on disagreeing with
the nobles. 

Calis put his gloves on, to complete the obnoxious outfit. 
“I bet, were there ever a celebration in Dark District, it would be much more
practical—and might even be enjoyable,” he said flatly.  Though, he doubted
people of Dark District ever had time for a ball.  He rarely went there during
the shifts of the moon, though, so he wouldn’t know. 

Lee laughed.  “Funny you mention that,” he said.  “One of my
sources, who was rather excited to see that I was back, told me that Dark
District is having some sort of a ball.  Did you know that you were popular
down there?  I never would have guessed.”  The teasing in his voice was almost
endearing, but Calis moved his hand up to smack Lee in the back of the head.

Still though, the idea of a festival in Dark District was
piquing his curiosity in ways that he hadn’t expected.  What did they wear? 
What did they do?  Did they dance the same silly steps that the nobles did?  Surely
not!  He chewed on his lip and considered disappearing.  No, this ball was for
him, and he would be missed more than usual.  He didn’t want to earn his
father’s wrath too quickly after he’d returned.

“Your sources in Dark District wouldn’t know anything about
our mysterious Phantom Blade, would they?” Calis asked, remembering the boy
from the sun before.  He hadn’t stopped wondering.  But he had found himself
occupied by other events—none of them pleasant. 

Lee seemed amused, as though he had been waiting for this
question all sun.  “Plenty.  Though, he genuinely has done a good job of
concealing his identity.  No one knows who he is, but they all love him.  He
apparently manages to outwit almost anyone, and he’s rather handy with a
sword.”

Calis was a little surprised.  He blinked a few times.  He
knew some of Dark District citizens were able to wield a sword, but none should
have been able to combat noblemen.  Then again, the boy had made a fool of
Tareth with his sword, so he guessed the revelation shouldn’t be a surprise. 
“What an interesting person.  And here I thought most of the people in Dark
District were as selfish as nobles,” Calis mused.

The two of them exchanged a glance, probably both wondering
separate things.  Calis doubted Lee was as curious about the person, and more
curious about the reasons for this person’s interference.  There was no doubt
that if this Phantom Blade was caught, he would be hanged quicker than anyone
before him.  Especially concerning Tareth. 

“Impressive how quickly he was able to get up after being
thrown into the wall.  He hit pretty hard from what I can gather,” Lee mused.

So, that meant Calis’s conclusion was true.  Lee was
thinking of something entirely different, though he raised a good point.  “I’m
sure he’s used to being roughed up,” Calis answered.  “It doesn’t matter.  I’m
going to find out who he is.”

"His face and hair were concealed," Lee said,
"but the color of his skin was readily apparent.  Then again, the
olive color isn't exactly unique amongst Dark District. I'd have wondered if he
was possibly a noble only pretending to be from Dark District." Calis
could think of no nobles that would do anything like that. He couldn't even
think of many nobles who weren't self-centered assholes. The opposite seemed
impossible.

Calis ticked off the nobles that might fit the description, but
he came up empty.  There was not a single person in the Shining District that
would risk themselves for others.  No, the person had to be from Dark District. 
But the fact that no one in Dark District knew them was beyond odd.  Dark
Districters tended to be the most observant people in Telandus.  “I’m sure
we’ll figure it out,” Calis assured.  “Now, let’s go be miserable for an
evening, shall we?”

Lee let out a noise akin to a groan, and they headed out of
the changing room and down the hallway.  The castle had a ballroom, and Calis’s
mother had spent quite a bit of time altering it so that it was festive, rather
than horrifying.  “I notice Lady Avyon was rather put out that you didn’t
respond when she called out to you earlier,” Lee said.  He was never one to get
involved with gossip, but he found Calis’s resistance to marriage a fun topic. 

“She is always rather put out,” Calis answered flatly.  He
was not in the mood to entertain Lee’s jokes.

They headed down the stairwell and towards the ballroom.  The
entrance of it sat at the back of the grand hall.  People were spilling into
the grand hall, laughing about things that probably were not funny.  Even
though Calis didn’t know what the people were talking about—he knew they
weren’t legitimate.  

The colors of the frilly dresses were bright, unfitting
within the halls of the Tsrali castle.  Calis was sure Lavus was dressed in his
ceremonial all black, just as he always was.  He usually encouraged Calis to
wear the same, but with all the talk of him getting betrothed, Lavus had waived
that particular necessity.  Not that his blue coat was any more comfortable
than a black one, though it was a tad bit cooler. 

The grand hall had a few extra lights spread throughout it,
making the carpet look a little less colored.  The lanterns were inlaid with
mirrors so that the light was projected in stylish fashions across the large
room.  Lastly, long wooden tables had been added all with white cloths over
them, where people would be dining.  There was no food on them now, so no one
was near them—but later there would be.  People almost seemed at ease on this
moon. 

Or maybe that was just the air of obliviousness.  Calis had
never learned to tell the difference.  Lee and he ducked between a few nobles
too involved in a conversation to acknowledge them and headed into the
ballroom.  Calis had decided that perhaps if he just saw his mother and
father—and a few others—he could disappear without being overly missed.

These sorts of events never held any sort of speeches or the
like, so that meant that he would only need to make an appearance.  And he had
not ruled out the possibility of getting down to Dark District to find out how
they held balls. 

The ballroom was the brightest room in the castle.  The
walls were interwoven patterns of golden and red, and the roof towered up to
the level of the grand hall.  If there had been a lot of people in the grand
hall, there were tons in here.  The laughter filled the air as a soft familiar
melody played.  No one had started to dance—there was a time and a place for
that, but the dance floor was riddled with people socializing.

Women wore their hair in the strangest fashions.  They were
all bunched on top of their heads—towering towards the ceiling and braided with
flowers and diamonds and fabrics that Calis couldn’t identify.  Calis had never
been envious of noblewomen—for the things they did with their hair seemed
positively painful.  Very few girls wore their hair down, and the ones that did
had it so intricately braided and interwoven with materials that it still
couldn’t have been comfortable. 

Then, their dresses looked even more uncomfortable than the
coats and robes that the men had to wear.  The dresses clung desperately to a
woman’s upper body and then flowed out towards the bottom, making movement more
difficult than usual.  Calis couldn’t imagine dancing in one of those dresses. 
He’d had a hard enough time learning how to dance
around
those dresses
with his partner.

Still, though, he’d never have known that the girls were uncomfortable. 
All of them looked a measure more excited about the event than the men, who
despite doing their best to look pleasant, all seemed a little unhappy about
the event.  Men were never welcome in Lavus’s castle, and they all knew that.

The rest of the ballroom was a golden and white floor where
people would be dancing and a few round tables that could be used for eating a
few Hors d’oeuvre.  There would be no meals eaten in this room, but there would
be disgusting snacks in abundance.  At the back of the ballroom, there was a
winding staircase that led up to a balcony.  The balcony banister was also
golden, and a few of the more important people sat upon it, exchanging words. 
That was where Calis saw his father and mother.  Tareth didn’t seem to be
present, but Tareth was most certainly flirting with some girl already.

Honestly, Tareth would probably have been better suited to
the life of a ruler.  He enjoyed the way of the noble far more than Calis, and
he knew how to act like a noble should act—in accordance with their father. 
Calis hated being a prince—almost as much as he hated the coat he was wearing. 
Yet, Tareth had never been able to step forward and handle simple
responsibilities given to him by their father, so Calis had ended up the favorite.

Now, Tareth was so certain that his vie for the kingdom was
fruitless, he spent all of his suns harassing Dark District and playing with
servant girls.  Speaking of servant girls, one appeared behind Calis in a timid
manner.  When he turned to look at her, regarding her cotton red dress and
brown hair, she smiled.  “May I get you anything, your highness?” she asked
with all the formality she could muster.

Calis looked at her for a long moment.  Her short brown hair
seemed much more natural, and far more comfortable than the other girls’ in the
room.  She was a new servant, Calis recounted, as he had not seen her before. 
With a quick smile and shake of his head, he dismissed her.  “I’m alright,
thank you, miss,” he said.

As always, his correspondence startled her and she flushed a
little at being called miss by the prince.  She would probably run back to the
kitchen prattling to her friends all about it. 
Good for her,
Calis
thought,
Tareth and my father treat our servants with such disdain that they
deserve any moment of happiness they can find.

Unsure what to do, the girl cast a quick glance at Lee, who
nodded to her, and then she bobbed a curtsy before she was hurrying back into
the crowds of people.  “You know that vigilante we met last sun,” Lee started
as Calis watched the girl go, “apparently came into the castle and stole one of
Tareth’s own servant girls right out from under him.”  The smugness in his
voice was not hard to catch.

Calis was caught off guard by his own laughter.  He could
only imagine how furious Tareth must have been at that turn of events.  In
fact, Calis was very surprised that Lavus had not gotten involved.  But no,
Tareth would probably have done everything in his power to hide that particular
misfortune.  Maybe he had successfully kept Lavus from finding out.  All the
better for this Phantom Blade, then.  Since Lavus’s involvement would have put
his life in much graver danger.  Had he not realized that before he’d taken
such a heavy risk coming to the Tsrali castle?  Calis felt a swell of
admiration at this person that he did not know.  That was some measure of
bravery.

“Tareth must have been beside himself,” Calis said
thoughtfully.  Though, his mind was desperately trying to figure out how this
phantom of a boy could have gotten into the castle without drawing too much
attention.  There was a moat around it, by the Light.  How had he managed it?