Lakrhil Al Hestian stood expressionless for some time before replying with the smallest of bows.
“Very well,” she said. “In addition to these wretches, our patrols find the country to be depressingly rich in outlaws, scum preying on those fleeing the Volarians. Rapists and murderers will be executed of course, but the remainder I’ll send to you.” She moved to his side, speaking softly. “You have your sons to thank for your life. And know well, I will not prove as kind as my father should you betray this Realm once more.”
? ? ?
She returned to the palace in the evening having spent the day amongst the newly arrived refugees, finding the usual mix of beggared nobles and dispossessed commoners each with their own epic of woe and survival. As in Warnsclave, however, there were precious few children and those mostly orphans. She had them gathered and conveyed to the palace rooms set aside for Brother Innis’s charges where she spent the rest of the evening.
It was amazing to see how quickly the children’s spirits returned as they raced around her, loud with laughter and play, though there were a few who sat apart from the others, eyes haunted by lingering horrors. She spent most time with the silent ones, speaking in soft tones and trying to draw them out, usually with only marginal success though one little boy climbed into her lap and fell into an immediate sleep the moment she opened her arms to him. She stayed and sat with him as night fell and the others went to their beds, waking somewhere past midnight at Murel’s gentle nudge.
“Lady Davoka begs your attendance in the courtyard, Highness.”
Lyrna gently laid the boy in one of the many empty beds. “Where is Orena?” she asked as they made their way through the corridors.
“She craves pardon, Highness. The sight of the children always upsets her so I took her duty.”
Gentle hearts are often well hidden, Lyrna thought.
In the courtyard she found Davoka embracing a slight figure beside a stout, bare-backed pony flanked by two Eorhil warriors looking on with obvious suspicion. “Lerhnah!” Davoka called to her. “My other sister comes with the Mahlessa’s word.”
Kiral displayed none of the confusion left by the Mahlessa’s healing beneath the Mountain, smiling shyly as Lyrna approached. Her scar had healed well but still made a grim sight, a deep line from chin to brow provoking unpleasant memories of the night Lyrna had given it to her. “Servant of the Mountain,” Lyrna greeted her in Lonak.
“Queen.” Kiral surprised her with a warm embrace. “And sister, also.”
“What word from the Mahlessa?”
“She sends no word, Queen, save two gifts.” She held up a small glass vial containing a dark viscous liquid. “She believes you will have use of this, and has provided me the knowledge of crafting more.”
Lyrna hesitated before taking the vial, recalling the screams of the thing that had possessed this girl as a single drop touched her flesh. “How is it to be used?” she asked.
“She said it is a key to unseen chains and you would know best how to use it.”
Lyrna handed the vial to Murel with stern instructions to keep it safe and on no account open it. “And the other gift?” she asked Kiral.
“Only myself.” She cast a questing gaze around the courtyard. “I seek one who lost his song, so that he might hear mine.”
CHAPTER TWO
Vaelin
The conclave was held in the House of the Sixth Order, the only intact building remaining to the Faith in the vicinity of Varinshold. The place had been abandoned in the aftermath of Frentis’s visit, the courtyard, halls and corridors shouting their silence at Vaelin as he toured them, awash in memory as his eyes lit on the landmarks of his childhood. The corner of the yard where they used to play toss-board, the chipped cornice near the Aspect’s chamber where Barkus had made an over-enthusiastic swipe with his sword. He spent a few moments staring at the steep stairwell in the north tower, his eyes picking out the copious dark stains on the stone where an unfortunate brother or Volarian had met his end, but made no move to ascend to the room above. Some memories are best left to wither.
He had only agreed to come thanks to Aspect Elera’s insistent note and purposely delayed his arrival, having no wish to be drawn into discussion or decision regarding the Faith’s many challenges. However, as the brothers on the door permitted him entry to the dining hall, he found them still engaged in fervent argument. There were perhaps twenty people in attendance, all that remained of the senior servants of the Faith. A quick survey revealed more blue cloaks than others, though the Seventh, represented by Caenis and a handful of his more mature subordinates, wore no formal robes. Aspect Dendrish was accompanied only by Master Benril, apparently the sole surviving members of the Third Order in the city. The Aspect was holding forth in typically loud voice, the words “mad enterprise,” fading from his lips as Vaelin entered.