Duty (Book 2) (5 page)

The First Mother chatted with Regent Ogbith and his wife, while the Chalaine stared off into the crowd. Chertanne busied himself with eating, carousing with the serving women, and bantering with Warlords from his own kingdom.

Also sitting near the Chalaine was a half-elven woman, and Gen immediately recognized her—Maewen Birchwood, daughter of Samian. So powerful were the desires and memories of the man who had shared so much of himself with him, that Gen had to exert all his control to keep from running up to the woman and gushing a hundred things Samian wanted to tell her. Gen wasn’t sure how he would ever be able to do justice to what the man had felt for her, but knew he would have to try sooner or later.

With effort he turned his attention elsewhere, noticing the Dark Guard placed strategically around the room, though the apprentices were nowhere to be seen. Many other officers of the castle guard were present as well, and Regent Ogbith permitted them to mingle and celebrate with the crowd. After several minutes Fenna entered and squeezed his arm.

“They don’t know you’re here yet, do they?” she whispered. Gen answered by putting his finger to his lips. Fenna's expression turned mischievous and she mounted the dais.

“Don’t you dare!” he said to no avail and watched as Fenna went and whispered in the ear of the First Mother. Mirelle squinted into the shadows and smiled at him, excusing herself from the table. Rather than come to him, Fenna and Mirelle headed out into the crowd, the Chalaine watching them as they walked away. To his dismay, he saw them find the Chamberlain by the door. Mirelle threaded her way back to the table, Regent Ogbith and her daughter questioning her as she sat. Fenna went to stand by an older man and woman whom Gen guessed were the Regent and Lady Fairedale.

After the First Mother sat down and the curiosity of the table was fully aroused, the herald slammed his staff onto the granite floor with three deafening taps, silencing the music and quieting the crowd.

“Chalaine, Ha’Ulrich, First Mother, Gentlemen and Gentlewomen, it is with the greatest pleasure that I direct your attention to the front of the room and present Gen, protector of the Chalaine, Dark Guard, Defender of the Faith, Demon's Bane, and newest Lord of the Realm. We thank Eldaloth for his recovery and exult in his return to service.”

Reluctantly, Gen stepped from the shadows and raised his arm in salute. The thunderous applause nearly bowled him over. Raucous cheers and even singing broke out. Everyone stood, even a mostly unwilling Chertanne, and clapped.

Gen kept his face smooth, glancing about to find Fenna beaming. Gen resolved to ask her what had happened over the last few weeks. Only after he gave another wave to the crowd and sunk back into the shadows did the noise die down and the celebration continue. He noticed Chertanne staring daggers at him, but the Pontiff descending the dais blocked the view. Gen inclined his head as he approached.

“It is good to see that you have at last recovered, young man. You gave us a good scare.”

“It is good to return, Holiness.”

“Yes. As you can see, it has done much to lift the spirit of the people. For that, you are an invaluable ally to the purposes of Eldaloth in these troubled times. I shall speak with you again soon. Not many live to hear Mikkik’s voice and survive unscathed. I would know more of the demon and your struggle with its poison that some provision might be prepared against them.”

“As you wish.”

“Bless you, my son.”

Gen couldn’t help wondering what it would do for the spirit of the people if they found out he was really the Ilch, should it prove to be true. He still couldn’t accept it.

He settled back to watch the Chalaine who was signaling for Fenna to come forward. Once she did, the First Mother, the Chalaine, and Fenna came to him, cornering him in the recess.

The Chalaine bowed formally to him, but Mirelle embraced him warmly
.
“It is good to see you well, Gen.”

“Thank you, First Mother.”

“So,” Mirelle continued, “what do you think of your new titles?”

“Demon's Bane, I’m afraid, is a little much. Demon's Fodder would be more accurate. Titles don’t suit me well, and plain old Gen will be fine, if you don’t mind.”

“You weren’t impressed with ‘Lord of the Realm’?” Mirelle pressed. Gen thought for a moment. That particular title had escaped his notice among all the others.

“What in the Realm, exactly, am I Lord of?”

“Oh not much,” Mirelle said coyly. “Just a little elevation in rank, a tiny plot of land. . .”

“A tiny plot!” Fenna exclaimed. “More like an entire. . .”

“Hush, Fenna! Gen’s barely out of bed and we don’t wish to overwhelm him with insignificant matters. He can find out about what being Lord of Blackshire means later. But this we want you to know,” the First Mother’s tone grew serious and she pointed her finger at his chest. “If you haven’t been able to tell, you are dear to the three of us and to many more besides, so don’t go throwing your life away at every chance you get. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“Very well. We shall talk more with you later. Fenna, be sure to bring your mother and father to meet him.”

Fenna kissed him on the cheek, and the First Mother hugged him again before they turned to go.

“Chalaine?” Gen said.

“Yes?”

“May I speak with you for a moment?”

“Certainly, Gen. In fact, if you could contrive some excuse to force me to leave, I would be in your debt.”

“How much of my life did you see?” The Chalaine was silent, turning her head away for several moments before answering.

“Perhaps we should speak of this later, Gen,” she said, voice unsteady. “I didn’t see much, but what I did see fills me with great sorrow, and right now I cannot falter.”

Gen glanced over her shoulder, finding Chertanne’s eyes boring into him, and for the first time since he awakened the reality of her betrothal hit him.

“I understand, Chalaine. When you are ready. I also wanted to thank you for coming after me, so to speak. I know the risk was great, and I will ever be indebted you. I will not forget what you have done.”

“Gen,” she replied, “I. . .”

“Your Holiness,” it was Dason, breathless and distressed. Gen stepped behind the Chalaine as she turned toward her former protector.

“Dason?” she said, concerned. “What is troubling you?”

“If I could have a private word with you, Holiness. It will not take long. I believe the library is unoccupied.”

“I, I suppose. If it is short. I cannot be gone long,” the Chalaine agreed, voice unsure.

They left together for the short walk to the library, Dason apologizing profusely.

“Can you permit me a moment alone with her, Gen?” Dason begged. “I give you my word of honor as a Tolnorian that I will let no harm come upon her.”

“No,” Gen replied firmly and flatly. “What you have to say you will say with me by her or not at all.”

Dason seemed torn for a moment, but he opened the library door and entered. No lamps were lit, and the moonlight provided the only illumination. The Chalaine sat on “Gen’s couch” as Dason came and knelt in front of her, taking her by the hand, blue eyes pained. Gen stood just behind the couch.

“Your Holiness,” he said, voice subdued. “I had to speak with you. Please, Gen, permit me to speak with her alone. If you would just move away a little space. . .”

“No.”

“Please! You are my Tolnorian brother! You know. . .”

“Enough, Dason!” Gen interrupted. “Three weeks ago, a demon attacked the Chalaine. If after that you have some hope that I will leave her side even for a moment, then it is an extraordinary one. I give you my word that I will not repeat what I hear, but I will not move.”

“Please go on,” the Chalaine encouraged. “Gen is noble and trustworthy. We must hurry.”

“Very well, though I protest, Gen, your not extending the trust to me which is due. Chalaine, I kneel before you as I did that day when I received the branding and beg you to forgive me. I failed the night I did not support Gen in defense of your honor. I did not know Chertanne’s character then. I wanted to obey the Blessed One, as I had been taught. Please, I see I was wrong.”

“Dason,” the Chalaine returned tenderly, “I understand why you acted as you did. Do not fret. I do not hold you in lower regard for those choices. You have your honor.”

“But I cannot proceed like this!” he plead. “I only wish to return to your service. Every hour I am with him, I can do nothing but think of you and the way it was before that night. Will you not speak to him and ask him to release me? He refused my request. Will you not also beg the First Mother to return me to the Protectorship? I have learned from my mistakes. It was my place to defend you from the demon, a place I lost because of my stupidity. Help me get it back.”

“I will speak to Chertanne,” the Chalaine said. “But argument with my mother will prove fruitless. I will try to convince her to let you back into service with the Dark Guard should Chertanne release you. It is the best I can offer.”

Dason groaned and stood. “I have brought shame on my family and upon myself,” he said, chidingly. “I thank you for your consideration, Holiness, and I await your answer. Should you ever need anything of me, do not hesitate to ask. You are ever in my heart, and I will not fail you again.”

Dason bowed and left, door closing quietly behind.

“I have to get back,” the Chalaine said, voice troubled and hollow. She stood to go, wringing her hands. Gen took her by the arm and stopped her before she could get to the door.

“You cannot go back in there in this state,” he whispered. “Take a few moments to collect yourself. Chertanne will question you when you return. He watched us intently as we left. If you can, you must appear as if nothing of consequence happened. If he gets a hint that you are upset, he may try to use Dason to manipulate you.”

The Chalaine nodded, pacing about the room for several minutes before motioning for Gen to open the door for her.

Gen took up his position in the alcove near the table as they entered the celebration. Chertanne watched them enter, staring at the Chalaine until she sat. As Gen expected, he bombarded her with questions. Mirelle appeared anxious to talk with her as well. Dason was nowhere to be seen. Gen cursed him for laying his burden on the Chalaine on such a difficult night for her. While he couldn’t hear the answers she gave to Chertanne, he was proud that she seemed relaxed and calm.

Fenna approaching with her parents forced him to clear his mind. He had to put aside his concern for the Chalaine for a moment to seek his own happiness even as hers faded.

It was late. Chertanne dismissed Dason from his post as a trave
l-
stained and cold Kaimas entered the room. Kaimas, gaunt and bald, removed his cloak, setting it by the fire to dry. Chertanne secretly feared the Magician but tried to assume an air of confidence and command despite the clenching of his stomach. Most outside of Aughmere didn’t know what Kaimas did for Chertanne’s father, but Chertanne knew the man’s power and what deeds he had done to ensure that Torbrand Khairn’s rule went unchallenged. He wore a white robe underneath a long open coat of deep red, embroidered with golden thread.

Chertanne eyed him, trying to discern what he was thinking. “Well, you returned more quickly than I thought you would, Kaimas. I trust you didn’t overexert yourself on this matter.”

Kaimas, who was warming his hands over the fire, shot Chertanne a displeased look. Wrinkles lined the sharp features of his thin, tall face, deepened by the exhaustion of his journey. Beady and intelligent hazel eyes met Chertanne’s, and Chertanne signaled for him to sit across from the table from him. Kaimas strode over and pulled back the chair in front of the desk and sat down heavily.

“Exerting much effort on this matter simply wasn’t possible. The tree was bare, so to speak, as is my stomach.”

“I'll see to your comfort after I have your report,” Chertanne said impatiently. He had just started his own meal but pushed it aside. “You learned nothing, then?”

“Nothing of much value, I’m afraid. Your father saw to that. He completely obliterated the young man’s village and those nearby in the first months of the war. In fact, I could find nothing useful about him until I talked with the Shadan and Captain Omar.”

“You talked to my father?”

“Yes, and you should be thankful I did or my mission would have been entirely wasted. He was quite excited to hear Gen was alive. As most suspected, your father trained him. The stories about his killing Cormith and defying you arrived soon after I did.”

“How did he take Cormith’s death?” Chertanne asked, blood starting to boil.

“His reaction surprised me. He was ecstatic. I got the feeling from talking with him that he considered Gen his ‘master work.’ In fact, the biggest news I have is that Torbrand has changed his mind and will accompany you to Elde Luri Mora come spring. Not out of any love for you, of course, but because he wishes to see Gen again. If you’re lucky, he might kill Gen himself. I fear he has become rather bored with being undefeatable.”

“If you could arrange for them to kill each other, so much the better,” Chertanne growled. “To think my father was the one who trained him! I should have known only he could create such a monster.”

“Gen’s training was unique, according to Omar. Those scars he wears were all given to him to train him. Few consider the boy a monster, though. He’s practically become a saint among all but your most loyal of subjects. If you wish to curry favor with the populace, you would do well to appear to feel the same.”

“Is that all the mighty Kaimas can come up with?” Chertanne disparaged, frustration clenching his fist. “I sent you to find more about him so we could manipulate him, shame him!”

“That would be stupid. The way you’ve behaved toward him and indeed, all of Rhugothian society, is disadvantageous to you. I’m determined to winter here and correct your missteps. It will be difficult. You seem to have forgotten everything you’ve ever learned about this nation. Trying to bed the Chalaine before your wedding was the pinnacle of idiocy. Turning the Rhugothian challenge of honor into an Aughmerian challenge of possession was just as misguided.”

“How was I supposed to know? Who has ever beaten Cormith?”

“I’m not here to discuss your mistakes; I’m here to fix them. You will do as I say or find yourself in dire trouble.”

Chertanne folded his arms. “Just what is it that I am supposed to do?”

“My goodness, where to begin? First, you want to kill or shame Gen, but since you have failed to hide your dislike of him even in the least degree, if anything untoward were to happen to him, you risk the blame being leveled at you.”

“So am I to smile and say, ‘How do you do?
’
when I see him? Should I give him some reward for his deeds to show my ‘gratitude?’”

Kaimas nodded. “I would suggest doing just that. In fact, while I was with your father, I came up with a possibility that would be an excellent token of appreciation.”

“No! How can I bear it? Do you know what songs they’re singing in the taverns? What the kids chant in the streets?

Gen defied the demon trance.

Chertanne turned pale and wet his pants.

Gen fought and bled and nearly died.

Chertanne fell on the floor and cried.

Chertanne can play and hold his beer

But cannot stomach demon fear.

The Chalaine’s Chertanne’s, as is his right,

But who stays with her every night?

Chertanne is grand when times are fun,

But come a fight, then Gen’s the one.

“Sounds accurate to me,” Kaimas commented derisively. Chertanne’s cheeks flushed red as he trembled with anger.

“You remember who you’re talking to, Kaimas!” Chertanne spat. “I may not have my power yet, but you’ll end up dead if I say so!”

Kaimas stood, meeting Chertanne’s gaze and intensity, and said a series of quick words Chertanne didn’t recognize. Chertanne slumped back in his chair, body unable to move. He could feel Kaimas force himself into his mind.

“And you, Chertanne, need to learn that the party is over!” Kaimas’s mouth did not move, voice pounding in Chertanne’s brain. “You send me off on some waste of a mission simply because you’re angry that you couldn’t have your piece of the Chalaine before your wedding day! You talk and philander and stumble around as if the world existed just to tolerate you! I taught you better than that! The world is political, Chertanne, and perception matters.

“When you come into your power and the armies of all nations are at your back, Gen will matter nothing! But if you don’t want to be on the battlefield facing down the hordes of an evil God all by yourself, then we have a lot of work to do. Some people will need to die, yes. But Gen should not be one of them.”

Kaimas released his hold and Chertanne sucked air.

“Are you one of his admirers, too, Kaimas?” Chertanne seethed, taking stock of himself.

“His skill is certainly admirable, but that’s not the point, Chertanne.” Kaimas returned to his seat. “Whether you like it or not, he has kept the people’s spirits high. That works to your advantage. A dispirited populous would be much more difficult to rally when the time comes, especially if the Ilch starts his work in earnest and things get miserable. As it is, everyone is anxious to march off to war for the Chalaine. If you’re smart, you’ll leave Gen be. All he does is protect the Chalaine. There are others here that are much more dangerous to you than him. Those we must discover and deal with. But first we must improve your position among Rhugothians, the aristocracy in particular.”

“I hardly talk to them at all, and I think I’ve been polite,” Chertanne reported half-heartedly.

“Are you really that daft?” Kaimas retorted. “You offended the First Mother of Rhugoth! She is an extremely persuasive and devious woman. If she doesn’t like you, then let me assure you that not a single one of the Regency will. From what I’ve gathered from my sources, she doesn’t talk with you, she doesn’t dine with you, she doesn’t dance with you. Not even once, since your initial blunder. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Chertanne answered sheepishly.

“I’m not sure we can repair that relationship, but we will try. We must think of some pretense for undoing your selection of Dason as your bodyguard. We can’t have someone that loyal to the Chalaine close to you.”

“That will be easy,” Chertanne said. “The Chalaine asked me to release him a couple of weeks ago.”

“Good. Your concubines will all be dismissed from your possession and sent home tomorrow. You will tell the people that you did it because the Chalaine's glory undid your desire for any other woman, or some other such nonsense. There will be no more wanton carousing and public drunkenness.”

“But it’s winter and there is nothing else to. . .”

“No objections, Chertanne. If you don’t do as I say, I’ll leave you on your own and let the Rhugothians do what they will to you when you’ve offended them beyond their ability to tolerate it! You’ve taken your position as Ha’Ulrich for granted. If you hadn’t done so poorly in the presence of the demon, you may have had the privilege of continuing as you are, but not now. There is so much to do, but I do not have the patience or desire to review it with you tonight. Get a good night’s rest. We start tomorrow. Early. Now, I need to go greet my brother, though my presence will bring him little pleasure, I’m sure.”

Eldwena had long since fallen asleep, snoring loudly as she always had from her adjoining room. The lamp was trimmed low, and its light suffused the curtains around the Chalaine’s bed with a soft yellow glow. Her own veil was off, blonde curls fanned about her head upon the elegantly embroidered pillows and her hands laid one atop the other upon her stomach. She fancied that this would be the position the Puremen would arrange her in were she to die, though even in death, she suspected they would make her wear the veil.

Sleep would not come, a crowded, noisy mind unsettling her and repelling every attempt at relaxation. She thought that once she had endured the betrothal she would find some sense of peace at having fulfilled one part of her duty and having the winter to try to forget about the marriage and to enjoy the company of her friends and Protectors. Instead, she felt worse. A strange blend of emotion squirmed inside her stomach, coalescing into a draining anxiety and depression.

For one, she felt guilty for the way she thought about Fenna. In the weeks since Gen had reawakened, Gen and Fenna had spent every one of what few free moments they could manage together, their friendship deepening. Gen’s maturity helped the woman in Fenna emerge, and Fenna brought a light into Gen’s eye and taught him tenderness.

Unbeknown to them, the Chalaine sometimes used the Walls to watch them when they strolled through the castle together, read books in the library, or just sat talking in the commons. Gen had even taken to teaching Fenna how to play the lute. While the Chalaine couldn’t hear what they were saying, their mutual pleasure was evident.

The Chalaine knew she should quit invading their privacy. She knew she should confess to Fenna and Gen and apologize. Unfortunately, while she couldn’t say why, she found watching them irresistible, even though every time she did it the dark canker of jealousy ate away at her. Fenna was living the Chalaine’s dream. Gen wasn’t the Blessed One or the Savior of the World. He wasn’t destined to rule kingdoms or lead armies. He was simply a good young man, and that was all the Chalaine really wanted, and it was something she would not have in Chertanne.

Every time Fenna smiled at Gen and wrapped her arm in his, every time he sat beside her, gently showing her the proper fingering of the instrument, every song they sang together, every joke he told that had Fenna covering her mouth in shock and laughter stung her until she wanted desperately to turn away. Only she never did.

She realized that Fenna was now no stranger to jealousy. Gen’s notoriety and reputation had spread, not the least of all into the hearts and minds of young women inside and outside the castle. In front of the Walls, the Chalaine found that she was little better than the scullery maid who shot longing looks at Gen whenever he came to get his meal in the kitchen.