Читать книгу The Wielder Trials - Franca Ogbonnaya - Страница 9

Britea and Danai sat down at a tiny wooden table nestled beneath a grimy window, and despite their pleas that they weren’t hungry, Erina insisted on serving tea for the two wielders. She carefully poured the tea into three cups as she began to tell her tale.

“When I was a little girl, I was fascinated with books and stories and writing. I wrote so much my parents despaired at the cost of writing materials, but still they encouraged me, and for that I was very grateful. But as I got older, my hunger for knowledge only grew. As you know,” she looked pointedly at Danai, “Our Weltonian history doesn’t exist on paper but is only passed on orally.”

Britea blinked; she hadn’t known that. Mama Chloe had never mentioned that.

Danai appeared a bit uneasy as she answered. “Aye, that I know.”

Erina smiled sadly as she continued. “So, you can imagine my family’s shock when I began to put our history to paper.”

Britea saw Danai go pale. “That’s…that’s not allowed.”

Erina nodded as she sat down. “I know, but I persisted. I was warned to stop but I couldn’t. It was as if some part of me was compelled to write everything down. At first, I kept it a secret at my parents’ urging but…” she paused as if unsure of how to proceed. Both Britea and Danai kept quiet, sensing her inner turmoil. Erina took a deep breath.

“Then one day, I couldn’t keep it secret any longer, and I presented all my writings of our history to a Council of Elders meeting.” Danai’s eyes went wide. Britea could tell from her expression that Erina had done something wrong according to Weltonian ways.

“What happened?” she asked when she could stand the suspense no longer.

“Instant exile.” Britea saw Danai wince.

Erina smiled and patted their hands. “Do not despair for me. Now, drink your tea before it gets cold.” Britea and Danai glanced at each other and reached for their tea cups; Erina also took a sip from hers.

An uncomfortable silence followed until Danai cleared her throat and turned to Erina.

“Don’t,” commanded the Weltonian author with a firm smile. “Never apologize for something that happened way before you were born.”

Danai’s face flushed as Britea stared at her. “But it’s unfair what they did to you.”

Erina gave Danai an odd look. “You don’t agree with the elders?”

“Not on some things and certainly not on that.”

The Weltonian writer shook her head. “I broke the law, and I deserved to be punished. Which is why I’m here, selling and writing as many books as I can before the Sea Mother calls me home.”

Britea was a bit startled by that. “The Sea Mother? Don’t you mean the Maker and His Lords of Light and Shadow?”

Erina laughed softly. “The Sea Mother and the Maker are one and the same.”

“What?” Britea gasped in shock while Danai sighed wearily and rubbed her forehead.

“It’s best if you don’t speak of it in public,” warned Danai grimly before turning to Erina. “Why did you tell us your story of exile? We’re just two strangers passing by.”

The writer grinned and tapped her finger against her nose. “I know a secret. A prophecy. I’m not supposed to tell, but when I saw you two…well, I just had to talk to you. Oh! Let me get you my catalogue of books.” She leapt up and hurried to the back rooms.

Britea waited until she was out of earshot. “Is she insane?”

Danai hesitated before replying. “Perhaps, though I doubt she means us any harm. Her…exile may have affected her mental state.” Pity filled her eyes.

She’s all alone , thought Britea. She felt guilty for fearing the exiled writer she had always idolized from afar and remembered to smile when Erina returned with a thick book.

Both she and Danai were soon enthralled when they discovered it contained descriptions of countless books. To Britea’s relief, from then on Erina talked only about the books and said nothing more of her exile or of gods. Eventually, the two wielders picked up a total of four books between them, but when it came time for payment, Erina tried to waive the payment.

Danai put her foot down and paid for all the books.

“Okay, but next time is free for you two.” Erina insisted.

Britea looked at her gravely and walked over to her, arms wide open. Erina didn’t hesitate to give her a hug, and the writer’s eyes looked suspiciously wet after Danai hugged her too.

“Please, come again,” said Erina when she had gained enough composure to speak. Both girls promised they would as they left. The two wielders remained silent for a long moment as they strode down the lavender-paved streets.

“I don’t think she’s dangerous,” said Danai thoughtfully.

Britea nodded, relieved. “I’d like to visit her again. I’ll definitely need more books.”

“Uh huh,” agreed Danai.

“You didn’t have to pay for my books, you know.”

“Consider it a sisterly gift,” said Danai with a smile.

Britea knew better than to argue. “So, where to next?”

“There’s a small shop at the end of the street, not too expensive, and they have some decent clothes. I also want to pick up a few gifts for my parents.”

Britea wished she could do the same, but she suspected she wouldn’t have enough money to get gifts and pay for delivery to far away Weldaros. Soon enough they reached a small shop aptly entitled, Lara’s Attire for the Frugal Wallet.

“I like the name already,” whispered Britea to a smiling Danai. The shop’s baby-blue walls and watermelon canopy made it feel cheery and welcoming.

Two crimson-clad guards noted Britea’s wielder uniform. To her surprise, they treated her with respect and regarded Danai warily. This didn’t faze the older wielder. She just greeted them cheerfully. “Morning, Boren and Kliev.”

“Morning, milady,” chorused the guards hesitantly as the two girls walked into the shop. Britea made a note to ask Danai about their odd behavior later. A bell hanging over the polished white door musically announced their presence.

“Good morning! Good morning!”

Britea was caught off guard at the overly cheery greeting of a striking, rugged young woman in a close-fitting, canary-yellow gown. Her dyed pastel-blue hair seemed to defy gravity with its wavy vertical flow that seemed determined to reach the ceiling.

“Morning, Lara,” said Danai with an easy smile. Lara squealed and ran forward to hug the young Weltonian. Britea’s eyes widened when the shopkeeper lifted Danai off the floor.

“Put me down,” said Danai with a laugh. Lara obliged.

“How’s my favorite troublemaker? Did Boren and Kliev give you any trouble this time?”

“No, no. They definitely remembered me.” Danai turned to Britea. “I brought a friend. Britea D’Tranell, meet Lara Firbright.” The shop owner focused her eagle-eyed gaze on her new target.

“Well, hello there. I don’t recall seeing you before.”

“I’m from Weldaros. I’m a late wielder, so I just enrolled at the college a few weeks ago.” Then it clicked. Britea stared again at the gravity-defying waterfall of blue hair and said, “You’re also a wielder.”

Lara shared a smile with Danai. “Oh, she’s a smart one. Yes, sweetie, that is what I am. Although I’m not as talented as our Danai here. I’m just a lowly tier-two air wielder.” She studied Britea. “Your face has a question written all over it.”

Britea blinked. “Why are you…I mean, I know it’s none of my business, but…but don’t all wielders serve in the royal court, the military, or the government?”

Lara laughed softly. “Danai hasn’t told you yet of what really awaits low-level wielders who manage to graduate?”

Britea glanced at her roommate, who shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, let me enlighten you. Surviving college as a low-ranking wielder is one thing, but making the necessary connections to further your career after you leave is another. I learned that early enough. Once I’d realized I had neither the necessary family connections to make it to court nor the wish to kiss someone’s—”

Danai coughed in warning.

Lara didn’t blink as she modified her words “…behind to nab a cozy, high-paying job in government, I started saving my monthly college allowance money. Then, when I graduated two years ago and began my Year of Discovery, I invested my money and opened this shop once I’d completed my service to the state.”

Britea had no idea what to say, so she took a moment before settling on. “You…you seem quite happy.”

Lara smiled brightly. “I really like you. So ladies, what can I do for your today? Do remember that for wielders, everything is thirty-five percent off.”

Danai gasped. “Lara, you’re robbing yourself.”

“That’s just for today, darling. Give me a little credit. It’s my shop after all.” Thus began a shopping whirlwind. Britea almost fainted at the price tags but then began to breathe easier when she saw a rack of discounted clothes. She soon found an emerald-green dress that caught her eye. The outline of a peacock was embroidered near each hem. It was so much more beautiful and softer than anything she currently owned—or had ever owned.

“Good choice,” said Lara when Britea asked if she could try it one. “Use the room at the back.” As Britea walked away, she heard Lara ask Dana about Navos, Lexia, and Shran.

It took a while for Britea to make up her mind. The fit and color made the dress perfect, but even when she took thirty-five percent off, it still cost forty-five silvers. That was more than anything that she had ever owned. She felt guilty spending that much, but she really wanted to have just one pretty dress. All her other clothes had been passed down from Carlina.

“Are you happy with it?” asked Lara. Danai had already picked out a leather cap and two brightly colored scarves.

“Yes, I really like it.” Lara nodded, took the dress, and examined it closely.

“So, with thirty-five percent off, that would make it twenty-nine silvers and twenty-five cente.” Britea winced at the price, but Lara wasn’t done. “Oh, imagine that. This fashion is so last week, I believe that makes the cost twenty-five silvers.”

Britea blinked. “But…but it’s twenty-nine silvers and twenty-five cente?”

Lara’s smile widened. “And now it’s twenty silvers.”

Britea shook her head in shock. Why was Lara driving the price down?

“Just pay the twenty silvers, sister,” said Danai with a weary groan. Britea shut her mouth and did as she was told.

“Thank you kindly,” said Lara as she gently wrapped the dress and put it in a velvet bag. “So, you’re off to the docks after this?”

“Yes,” replied Danai. “I wish we could spend more time gossiping, though, because boy do I have tales for you.”

Lara giggled. “Don’t worry, I’ll make the time to come down to the college to see my old—and new—troublemakers,” she nodded her head at Britea.

“Thank you so much for the dress. I am so very grateful.”

“Save your money, sister, work and study hard, and listen to Danai here. She’s a survivor and a fighter.”

“And Lara loves to exaggerate,” countered Danai.

Lara wielded a yellow feather at the Weltonian. “Get outta here. Give your mother a hug and a kiss from me, and come back any time, my sisters.”

#

Britea was full of curiosity when they left the shop. “I have questions.”

“Fire away,” said Danai easily.

“First, what happened with Boren and Kliev?”

“When Lara opened her shop for the first time, I was one of her first customers. Unfortunately, the guards correctly identified me as Weltonian from my attire but incorrectly treated me like a criminal.”

“They did what?” gasped Britea.

“I tried to explain I was a friend of Lara’s and a student at the college, but they laughed and tried to detain me. Suddenly, they found themselves surrounded by six-foot flames. Lara ran out, saved their hides, and fired them on the spot. I intervened on their behalf, and she gave them back their jobs after I asked her to forgive them. Since then, they’ve behaved, well…differently whenever I show up.”

Britea tried to imagine the terror the men must have felt. “I can imagine. And you and Lara? What was all that about lower-tier wielders?”

Danai sighed sadly. “She’s right. Lower tiers, from one to three, tend to have a harder time graduating. Plus, finding a well-paying job is harder to obtain for lower tiers and those from poor families. Tier four and higher have a chance to further their education in the Army or Naval Wielding Divisions, but it’s a tough competition.”

Britea felt disquiet at her words. “You two seem quite close.”

Danai smiled at the change of subject. “She was my roommate before you, and she stopped me from running away when the bullying got to me.”

Britea stared at her.

“I was where you are now. She saved my sanity, and she too was bullied by Lady Selina Arkei. They were in the same class. When Selina and her group realized Lara was protecting me, they went after her and left me alone. Yet, somehow, she always seemed to keep her head up, using her eccentricity to cope with the constant bullying.”

A thought struck Britea that made her stop in her tracks.

“What is it?” asked Danai.

“Lara graduated two years ago and has completed her Year of Discovery. She even owns a business, but Selina is still on her own Year of Discovery.”

Danai smiled evilly. “Selina failed a couple essential general education exams, and she was forced to repeat a few semesters.”

“Oh,” was all Britea could say.

“Yes, though of noble lineage, the Arkei sisters have rocks for brains.”

“I definitely agree,” Britea said with a laugh. Danai joined in, and they nearly doubled over.

#

The main road and paths gradually became charcoal grey again as they left Fashionista Lane and headed for the docks. The smell of rotten fish slowly surrounded them.

“I can’t believe I missed all this when I disembarked,” said Britea.

“It depends on when you arrived. You got here just as the weekend was ending, so there were far fewer fishing boats about. It’s definitely the worst time for shopping though. There are way too many people then.”

Britea wrinkled her nose as the stench of rotten fish got stronger.

Danai laughed at her expression. “You’ll get used to it after a while.”

“Uh uh,” disagreed her younger roommate. Britea found herself searching for the Windrider even though she knew it must have departed over a week ago. She hoped her dah didn’t get seasick this time. She forced her mind to return to the present. Ships of varying sizes and purposes were docked in the harbor, some offloading passengers and cargo, some departing. This was nothing like Port Xanthos, the closet seaport to her village. Xanthos was downright comatose in comparison to Port Trident.

“There he is,” said Danai softly, pride evident in her voice. Britea looked straight ahead, expecting to see a man. Instead, she saw the most colorful ship she’d ever seen. Its bright iris-colored sails were rolled up, but the ship’s hull was of burnished, gleaming, rich-brown cedar. Even the murky waters of the harbor could not dull its brilliance.

“Welcome to the Wandering Star. It belongs to my mother, Sonei Riverun.”

Britea stared at the Weltonian ship in mute amazement as they approached the gangway.

Danai hailed the Weltonians carrying cargo onto the ship. The crew stopped and shouted back greetings. They were clearly happy to see her.

At first, Britea was unsure how to behave until Danai yelled, “She’s one of us, brothers and sisters!” And just like that, they welcomed her as a Weltonian. Their kind smiles and greetings almost brought tears to her eyes.

“Whose voice is it that I hear?” The owner of the voice was a tall stately looking woman, with almond skin and thick walnut-colored curls held back by a cerulean hair band. Her matching silk blouse, close-fitting indigo leather pants, and battered thigh-high boots gave her a daunting air. Britea took one look at her face and knew immediately who she was.

Danai’s eyes brightened as she ran up the gangway and flung her arms around her mother, who eagerly returned her only child’s hug. Britea stood to one side as she watched them reunite, oddly not feeling awkward.

The two finally separated. “You look a bit thin, daughter,” said Sonei with a small frown.

Danai shook her head with a laugh. “I’m fine, mah. By the way, Lara sends her love.”

“Why didn’t you bring her with you?” asked Sonei.

Her daughter sighed. “She has to mind her shop. Anywho, I’d like you to meet Britea D’Tranell of Weldaros. She’s also one of us.”

“Indeed. I heard you announce it to every ship in the harbor,” said Sonei dryly. She walked over the Britea and held out a hand. “A pleasure to meet you, daughter of my sister.”

Britea was a bit startled by the greeting and timidly held out a hand. “I...um…it’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Sonei laughed and drew her into a gentle embrace.

“Enough with the formality. We are all sisters in the eyes of the Mother. Come inside, my girls.”

Once seated, Sonei didn’t waste time questioning Danai and Britea while also trying to tempt them to stuff themselves with a parade of aromatic dishes.

“So, Britea, you’re Danai’s roommate. That’s fabulous. I hope your studies are going well?” Before she could answer, the captain turned her attention to her daughter. “Danai, how’s your martial arts? I hope you’ve been practicing? Are the Arkei girls still pestering you? You really should consider setting their pretty petticoats on fire.”

“Mah!” exclaimed Danai in exasperation. Britea’s eyes were as round as dinner plates.

Sonei laughed. “I jest. But seriously, do something about them or I might.”

Now Danai looked worried. “It’s fine mah. I can handle it.”

Sonei shrugged.

“I brought you and dah a few gifts,” said Danai, changing the subject. Sonei hugged her daughter again after she’d seen the presents.

“Your father will love this.”

“Oh, mah, could you please help Britea deliver her letters?” The two Weltonians looked at Britea, who blinked at them before remembering she had two letters in her pockets.

“Please, if it isn’t too much trouble. How much will it cost?”

Sonei waved away her question. “No payment is necessary. Two letters for Weldaros, yes?”

“Umm…one is. The second one is for…” She took a deep breath. “…is for Kahl.”

Sonei and Danai went still at the name.

“He…he’s a water wielder and a—”

“Dyhaeri,” completed Sonei. She stared at her daughter questioningly. Danai shrugged, so Sonei asked the questions for them both. “Child, how is it you’re writing a letter to a Dyhaeri?”

Britea wondered what she was allowed to tell as she looked at the worried eyes of the older Weltonian woman before making her decision.

“My dah and I met him on our way to Raven’s Fall. I’m a late wielder, so he trained me. Then we ran into Namiran raiders.” Sonei’s face went pale. “It’s because of him that the crew of the Windrider and my dah and I are still alive. I just want him to know that…that I thank him for all he did and I’m all right.”

But is he all right as well? thought Britea with no small amount of dread. She still saw how his even his own people regarded him.

With anger. And suspicion.

She hastily wiped away a tear.

“You’re worried about him,” Sonei observed.

Britea’s head jerked up to see Danai and her mother looking concerned. “Yes, that too.”

Sonei gazed at the two letters in her hand for a long moment. Britea suddenly feared she had said something wrong.

“I’ll make sure these letters get to their owners. Do not fret, daughter of my sister.”

“Uh…thank you.” Britea dried her eyes. “May I ask why you address me like that?”

Sonei and Danai shared a sad smile. “Weltonians, though being of one people, are of different factions, and our biggest fear is that of exile. Many believe those who are exiled are never to be spoken of again and should be forgotten, but a few of us believe the opposite.”

Sonei took Britea’s right hand. “Your ancestors may have moved to land generations ago, but to me, they will always be family. That I will not hide.”

Britea looked at Danai who nodded proudly. Now she understood why her roommate had been furious about how Erina Seaworth had been treated. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” A mischievous light entered Sonei’s eyes. “Now, tell me if my dear Danai has managed to meet an agreeable young man at that college.”

Danai groaned. “Mah, please!”

#

All too soon, it was time to leave. But not before Sonei gave them bags full of food to take back to the college. It was so much Danai had to refuse a large portion of it.

“Mah! We’ll be late for the coach. Besides, we do have food at the college.”

“Not as good as this I bet,” countered Sonei.

Danai planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Thanks again. We’ll be fine.” Britea thought she looked ready to cry.

There was a suspicious wet sheen in Sonei’s eyes too. “I’ll see you two again soon.” The older Weltonian woman looked at Britea and said, “And your letters will get to their final destinations.”

“I am truly grateful,” said Britea.

“Off with you now. Be careful on your way back, my dears,” gently warned Sonei as both girls left.

As they walked, Britea tried to adjust the heavy bag of treats. “Your mother is really nice, and her ship is stunning.”

Danai smiled at her. She was carrying two heavy bags. “Thank you. I think so too.”

They soon reached the central square, and Britea was relieved to see the college coach had arrived. Just a few more steps and she could set down this heavy—

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Britea came to a sudden stop when a familiar person stepped out and blocked her path.

Her heart rate sped up as she stared at the face of Lieutenant Harto Flay. Even in casual clothes, he was no less intimidating.

“What business do you have in the market today, Novice D’Tranell?” demanded the Malaquey Naval Intelligence officer.

“We’re shopping. What business is it of yours, and who in the Deep are you anyway?” Danai countered as she came to stand in front of and to the side of Britea. A startled expression briefly flashed across Harto’s face before he replaced it with a stern countenance.

“This is wielder business and a matter of national security. I would advise you not to get involved.”

If he thought that would scare Danai off, he was in for a surprise. The fire wielder dropped her bags, folded her arms, and pinned Harto with a steady stare.

“Fifth-year wielding student, tier five. I am fully aware of the Creed, and you are clearly out of order. Once again, I’ll ask. Who are you?”

“Lieutenant Harto Flay, Malaquey Naval Intelligence.” Britea replied before he did. Harto glared at her as she continued speaking. “He was one of the three who questioned me about what happened on the Heldiar Sea. He’s also a wielder like us.”

Danai’s eyes hardened. “Which college?”

Harto went pale with fury and his gaze bore into Britea. “You discussed this with an outsider!?”

Danai’s eyes blazed with suppressed fury. “Am I an outsider because I’m Weltonian or for another reason?” Her tone indicated that he should choose his answer carefully. “You still haven’t told me which college you studied at. Did they teach you to harass other wielders just for kicks and giggles?”

“I ask the questions here, not you,” replied Harto coldly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Danai’s smile was pure ice. “I’ll eventually find out anyway.”

Harto backed down from the confrontation with Danai but turned his attention back to his initial target.

“Why did you tell her?”

“Danai is my friend,” Britea declared through gritted teeth, the rational part of her thinking she should explain further. After all, Warden Asteros had appointed Danai as her mentor and roommate, and he had even advised Britea to confide in her. But right now, she was too angry to be reasonable.

Danai kept glaring daggers at Harto while he tried to ignore her.

“You divulged state secrets.”

Britea spoke without thinking. “That’s hilarious coming from you given that right now, you’re interrogating us right in the middle of a busy market. Now who’s leaking state secrets?”

Harto seemed to remember where he was and looked around him, as if checking for observers.

Danai smirked. “She got you there.” Her smile widened when she saw some people approaching behind the intelligence officer. “Well, as entertaining as this is, it looks like we have to leave you, Lieutenant Flay.”

“No, you’re not going anywhere—”

“Is there a problem, ladies?” asked a gravelly voice behind Harto. He turned to face three crimson-clad merchant guards flanking the short, stout man who had asked the question.

“We’re perfectly all right, Trevor. This kind man was just reflecting on the weather. Weren’t you?” asked Danai sweetly, at odds with the warning light in her eyes.

After a long moment, Harto reluctantly nodded. “And now that I have my answer, I will not delay you any longer.”

“Why, thank you!” said Danai with an uncharacteristic girlish giggle. The three guards remained until Harto walked away, then they nodded at the girls and the coach driver before returning to their posts. Britea breathed a sigh of relief as Trevor helped the two students with their bags.

“Thanks, Trevor,” said the two wielders at the same time.

“No worries. When that young man deliberately blocked your path, I suspected something was wrong. And Danai taking on that fight stance of her had me running for the merchant guards.”

“I thought they only guarded the shops,” said Britea in an effort to change the topic.

“They also patrol the streets. If there’s violence or mayhem, shops can get damaged, people stay at home out of fear, and merchants lose money if order isn’t maintained in the market,” explained Danai.

“I see.”

With their bags packed away, Trevor went to untie the horses. Britea made to enter the coach first, but something made her glance over her shoulder. She was startled to see Harto standing several feet away from them. He was staring at Danai with an odd expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” asked Danai. Britea glanced at her roommate. “Harto.”

Danai whipped around, but the officer had disappeared.

“He was there, watching you.”

“That lieutenant is trouble,” said Danai in a worried tone.

“We have got to go ladies!” announced Trevor from his seat atop of the coach.

“We’re ready!” said Danai as she climbed into the coach.

#

Harto tried to control his thoughts as he rode home. He clicked his tongue, and the stallion between his thighs galloped faster. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened.

His sole mission today had been to check on a special ceremonial dagger he had commissioned as a birthday gift for his uncle. After checking the progress of the work, he had been preparing to go home…until he caught sight of a certain novice wielder.

Britea D’Tranell. He had been stunned to see her in the market. He was surprised Warden Asteros had allowed her out. First, she was a late wielder, and how sure were the instructors she was in full control of her abilities? Second, she was at the center of a major diplomatic incident concerning the Namiran government. And now she had gone and discussed it with a Weltonian!

Danai was the name of the Weltonian lass. He had to admit she was attractive, and the way her body filled out that outfit…he shook his head briefly. He needed to concentrate on the matter at hand.

Weltonian wielders didn’t study at the colleges. Centuries ago, the Namiran and Malaquey governments had given up on forcing them to enroll. Thus, the adjustments to the Creed.

But there was one at Syla College and she had been there for four years! And he was just finding this out?

There was a mystery there, but he wasn’t sure if it was connected to the diplomatic mess Britea D’Tranell had created. If there was a connection, he was going to find it.

Harto pushed his heels into the sides of his horse, and the loyal steed ran yet faster. The lieutenant enjoyed riding and would have been a racer if not for his abilities.

Moments later, the tree-lined road to the Flay estate came into view. He slowed so the hidden sentries could get a good look at him. Before he even reached the stable, the grooms were out and waiting. The head groom, an elderly gentleman, stepped forward.

“My lord, welcome home.” Harto tried not to sigh at the title. He dismounted.

“Evening, Claren.” He waved away the groom’s outstretched hand. “I’ll brush Thunder Ice down.”

The head groom smiled dryly. “Of course, sir.”

It was an ongoing game between the two. Claren had been serving the Flay family for years before Harto was even born; he had taught the young Flay heir how to ride and groom his own horse. Yet, every time Harto returned from riding, the head groom still tried to care for Thunder Ice.

“Your mother and uncle are home, my lord. They arrived a few minutes ago.”

He cast a wary look at Claren. “Any special guests and their offspring?”

“Not at the moment, sir.” Replied the head groom dryly.

Harto brightened at that news. “I’ll be quick.” Besides, he really needed to talk to his uncle about this Weltonian, Danai.

#

Once he was sure Thunder Ice was brushed down well, he changed the drinking water and ensured the horse had fresh hay and food. Harto patted the stallion’s rump on his way out.

He walked up to the impressive red brick mansion, hiding his unease as he nodded at the male servant who bowed as he passed. Harto didn’t know why it made him uncomfortable. Perhaps that explained why he found Danai’s disrespect refreshing.

The grand foyer was empty apart from one of the maids who stood with a tray containing a pitcher of ice-cold water and a clean glass.

“Welcome home, Lord Flay.”

“Thank you, Mara.”

She blushed as he said her name. Harto had made it a point to learn everyone’s name, face, and background in his mother’s household so as to better identify any spies.

He took a sip of the refreshing drink. “Where are Lady Flay and my uncle?”

“In the lower parlor, my lord. I believe they are waiting for dinner.”

“Please let them know I’ll be joining them shortly.” He placed his empty glass on the tray and turned away as she bowed her head. He ran up the stairs to wash and change.

A few minutes later, he felt renewed from sluicing off the dust of Carlelli Market. As he dressed, he studied himself in the mirror. He was tall and well-built, with a thick mane of blond hair. Many members of the fairer gender had assured him he was a fine-looking gentleman. But he took most of their comments with a grain of salt. He knew they were only after his family’s vast wealth, and he suspected their pursuit would be worse if they really knew who he was. A feeling of melancholy filled him.

“Not now. I have work to do,” he said harshly to himself. He didn’t have time to feel sorry for his situation. Many others were worse off. He pushed his thoughts away and left his chambers.

#

“Ah, there’s my beloved son,” said his mother brightly as he strode into the lower parlor. She already had a glass of wine in one hand. He smiled and kissed her on the cheeks. He was a bit disappointed to see his uncle wasn’t in the parlor.

“Where’s Uncle Peras?”

“He wanted to wash up, and where is my ‘How was your day, mother?’”

Harto grinned at her. “How was your day, mother?”

“As usual, though I did run into Lady Arkei. She’s arranging a little homecoming party for her oldest daughter, Selina, and we’re invited.”

Harto tried to hide his grimace. “That sounds lovely.” He knew ‘a little coming home party’ was going to be an outrageously expensive get together of gargantuan proportions.

“When is this little party?”

Lady Shalina De’tre Flay narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to get out of this one, Harto. I’ve already promised you’ll be there.”

Harto sighed. “Mother, you know I hate those gatherings.”

“You’re one of the most eligible bachelors in Malaquey.”

“No, I’m not.”

“By now, you should be betrothed to a girl of good standing and noble blood. Now, if only Princess Crystal was several years older…” a speculative look crossed her face. “Hmm, maybe if we wait another seven years, then she’d be ready to marry you.”

Harto closed his eyes in despair. “Please, not this again.”

“I only want what’s best for you—”

A loud sigh interrupted her. “Shalina, please, for the sake of the boy’s sanity, can we stop throwing eligible brides at him?”

Harto couldn’t help but grin at his mother’s brother, Lieutenant Commander Peras Nell. He had been a father figure to Harto after Lord Flay had passed away many years ago while in service to Malaquey Naval Intelligence.

“Welcome back, Uncle Peras.” The two men hugged while Shalina took a sip from her wine glass.

“How was your trip?”

Peras sighed. “Boring and not very productive.”

“Gentlemen,” interrupted Shalina. “Can we talk shop later? I’m starving as we stand.” She led the way to the smaller dining hall for family.

There was no time for conversation as the servants brought out the lavish spread. The starter was a small bowl of spicy tomato soup, and the main was fried sea bass with delicious crispy skin on a bed of fluffy white rice surrounded by a tangy mushroom sauce that went perfectly with the sea bass.

“The meal was lovely as usual, Valhar. Please extend our compliments to the cooks,” said Shalina.

Next was the dessert: a Namiran dessert of coffee cake with a generous dollop of rich whipped cream. The servants withdrew from the dining hall after serving it. They had been there long enough to know when their presence wasn’t needed—or wanted. By the time Harto finished his portion, he felt as stuffed as a roasted fowl and as heavy as a log.

“I need to stop eating like this,” he groaned.

Peras smiled. “Why didn’t you pass your dessert to me? I had such horrible food while I was away.”

“Sorry, uncle, but that dessert was to die for.”

“So, what was the purpose of your trip this time?” asked Shalina. Her eyes were serious; Harto knew this was a side of her she never showed the outside world.

Peras’s smile slid off his face. “Two of our people didn’t report in.”

Harto and his mother went still.

“It’s possible they’re dead.”

Shalina leaned back from the table looking exhausted and haunted.

Harto felt like throwing up. “There’s no way we can verify if…if she has them?”

“If she does, or did, I hope they’re dead by now,” replied Peras gravely. He pushed his empty dessert dish away.

“So, what happens now?” asked Shalina.

“Harto and I will discuss it with the minister of intelligence, but I believe they’re reluctant to risk sending any more agents to Namira. Too many have been caught, and none have made it back alive.” Peras rubbed his face wearily. Harto noticed the grey hairs that were increasing in number in his uncle’s once night-black hair.

“I saw Novice Britea D’Tranell in the market today. She wasn’t alone.”

“Who was with her?” asked Shalina.

“What were they doing?” asked Peras at the same time.

“Apparently, they’d been shopping. Britea was with a Weltonian girl by the name of Danai Riverun, and get this: Danai has been in training at Syla College for the past four years, and she’s a tier-five wielder.”

Both Shalina and Peras shared a puzzled look. “You’re sure she’s Weltonian?” asked Shalina.

“Absolutely. She confirmed it. Uncle, you didn’t know about this?”

Peras wore a disturbed expression. “No…no, I didn’t. That doesn’t make sense. The last Weltonian students I know of were those who created the college eight hundred years ago. Why would one join now after all this time?”

“Why didn’t Headmaster Clayre report this to Malaquey intelligence?” asked Harto.

Shalina snorted as she poured a generous amount of wine into her glass. “And why should he? It’s not as if he’s hiding her now, is it? One Weltonian joins the college for the first time in eight hundred years. So what? Besides, it’s wielder business, and we know how well they handle their affairs. Just recall what they did to my Namira.” She took a big gulp of wine. Peras and Harto shared a worried look. This was her fourth glass this evening.

“Mother…” began Harto tentatively.

She held up a hand, stopping him. “I know.”

He fell silent. She reluctantly let go of the glass of wine and stood up. The men stood as well. “Stay and talk my boys; I will be going to bed. It’s been a long day.”

Harto kissed her on the cheeks, as did her brother. They waited until she had left the room before taking up the conversation again.

“I wonder if we made a mistake telling her about the missions,” said Peras.

Harto shook his head. “We didn’t. Namira is her home. She may not be an agent in the field, but she’s a fighter, just like us.” He clenched his fists in frustration.

“Why won’t Malaquey do more against that witch queen? Why won’t they help us?!”

Peras gave his nephew a stern look. “King Wilhem gave thousands of us shelter when he didn’t have to in addition to protecting us and letting us become part of the Naval Intelligence Agency. Many of his lords argued against it, but he convinced them.”

“I know but—”

“But nothing!” snarled Peras, frightening Harto. “It’s because of King Wilhem that your mother and you can live in this fine house with specially trained Namiran servants and guards, and yet you’re ungrateful?!”

Harto looked down, full of shame. “I’m sorry, uncle.”

Peras sighed and then clamped a reassuring hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I apologize for my outburst, my lord.”

Harto shot his uncle a stunned look. “Please…please don’t call me that.”

Peras smiled sadly at him. “Someday, you will reclaim what’s rightfully yours. But in the meantime, you need to be patient.” The older man stood wearily.

“We both need to sleep. We have an early start tomorrow.”

“Yes, uncle.” Yet after Peras left, Harto sat alone for a long time, thinking of a homeland he had never seen.