The Eighth Warden Bk. 05 Ch. 15-16

"It's all right, I guess."

"You know, Ellerie's a lot like Pavan in some ways," Leena said. "She's a good person too. Will you give her a chance?"

He hesitated. "Can I still have a dog?"

Leena laughed. "We'll check around the village to see if there are any puppies. If not, we can look in Four Roads, or even back in Sanvara City. We're not stuck here all the time, you know. We can go anywhere we want."

#

Ariadne found Georg leaning against the newly rebuilt paddock fence, watching the less experienced armsmen practice infantry formations.

"What do you think?" she asked, joining him. Ral was standing in front of the soldiers, barking off orders as he led them through the maneuvers.

"He doesn't know what he's bloody doing," Georg said, keeping his voice pitched low. "He was on the ballista crews, wasn't he? And too old even for that. Why do you have him acting as armsmaster?"

"Corec and Boktar don't have time for it, and Nedley's still away."

"Nedley? Why not Cenric or one of the mercenaries?"

"Cenric went home," Ariadne said. "And have you ever tried to get a mercenary to teach formation fighting? Enzo and Graeme are working with the men on their swordplay, but Corec didn't want them handling anything else. Ral will do what he's told, at least."

Georg snorted. "What about you?"

"You know as well as I do that I'm not qualified to teach. The dragon was only the second real fight I've ever faced, and I forgot to cast half my spells." Somehow that was easier to admit to Georg than to her friends. "Besides, the Mage Knights don't fight in formation either."

"You need to get yourselves a real armsmaster."

"I don't know where we'd find someone qualified for that. Kevik already turned it down."

"Kevik?" Georg said, his voice strangled. "Corec asked Kevik to be armsmaster?"

Ariadne shrugged. "Of course. He's well trained, the men respect him, and he's younger than Ral. Young enough that he could stay in the position for a good long while. But he's going to work with Corec on some other things instead."

"But Kevik?"

"Can you think of anyone better? It's a shame he said no. Corec thinks we'll have to look for someone in Matagor."

"I... I... bloody hell!" Georg stomped out of the paddock and into the practice yard. "All right, you damned fools!" he yelled. "First rank, pull your spears back and lock those shields together! Spears are for when you have nothing more important to do! Second rank and the archers are the offense. You're there to protect them, so do that!" He went down the line, correcting the men's stances.

Ariadne smiled and slipped away, nodding to Kevik, who was watching from a distance. He was the one who'd suggested the roundabout approach, figuring Georg wouldn't accept an offer it it came from Corec.

She returned to the keep, but before she could make it to her rooms, Bobo cornered her on the stairwell. He shoved a messy stack of papers at her.

"Take a look at this," he said with a grin.

She recognized the stack, but on the first page, the old title had been scratched out, and a new one written in its place--The Ancient People of the World, by The Last Chosar.

"Well?" Bobo asked.

"You took your names off," Ariadne said. "This is the second book, right?"

"Yes," he said. "It's a neat little solution to our problem of not having any real sources for our information about your people. Ellerie and I will publish the book on Tir Yadar under our own names, but no one has to know we wrote this one too. Or we can use your name if you've changed your mind."

"No, I don't think so, but aren't you worried someone will realize they're written by the same people? They both focus on Tir Yadar."

Bobo shrugged. "If we publish both at the same time, some historians will figure it out, but since we're not presenting it as a scholarly work, they'll think it's our speculation about what might have happened, or perhaps that it's a retelling of a local legend."

Ariadne frowned. "I don't want it to be just a legend. People should know what really happened."

"Ahh, but here's the thing--hardly anyone will ever read our book about Tir Yadar. There simply isn't that much interest in ancient history. A legend, though... if a legend is repeated enough times, it will eventually become accepted as the truth. And since it doesn't contradict too much of what we already knew about the Chosar, even historians may come to believe it in time."

"How will anyone ever find out about it if nobody reads books on history?"

"I've been thinking about that," Bobo said. "To start with, I rewrote some parts to make it easier to understand. It's more of a story now rather than a history book. But if you really want to spread the word more widely, you'll have to pay for extra copies to be printed and shipped around. And it couldn't hurt to ask Katrin to write a few songs for you. Songs will travel faster than any book. You shouldn't expect a miracle here--hardly anyone has ever heard of the Chosar, and a year from now, or two years from now, that will still be true. But I think this is the best way to accomplish what you want."

"Ellerie thinks so too?"

"Ahh, well, I'd say rather that she didn't argue too much. She'll accept your decision."

"I don't know about calling myself the last Chosar," Ariadne said. "I'm not." It didn't seem right to use that title for herself now that she knew the truth.

Bobo's eyes went wide. "What?"

"I think some of the wardens' bondmates are still around." She'd never told anyone that Thedan and Ephrenia had been missing from the stasis room.

"That would be..." Bobo trailed off. "They could answer so many questions! We should try to find them!"

"What do you think I've been doing?" Ariadne said. She'd gradually come to see Bobo as a friend, but his curiosity was still overbearing at times.

"Ahh, yes, I see," he said. He seemed to recognize she wasn't going to answer any questions on the topic. "As to your point, The Last Chosar is just a metaphor. It doesn't have to be literally true."

Ariadne nodded. "Let me think about it," she said.

"While you're doing that, you should also consider how you want the story to end. A legend needs to have an ending, and right now, we don't know enough about what happened after you went to sleep."

Ariadne knew what had happened, but she hadn't yet decided what to do with the information. She needed to talk to Sarette and Boktar first, but Sarette was still away.

"End the story with our victory over the demons," she said. "At least for now."

#

Ellerie stretched her back in the courtyard, letting her eyes adjust to the midday sun. She'd spent the morning ensconced in her office, figuring out how much it would cost to hire wizards to help with shaping magic. Her plan to turn the deal into a business had been delayed simply because she didn't have enough time to do the work herself. The shaping she'd done so far had been to help her friends and their efforts in the region.

She'd have to speak with her business partners about the idea of bringing in outsiders, but before she could find Boktar, she ran into Mr. Fenton. He was standing near the partly collapsed lookout tower, staring up at the work being done. In place of the missing upper half of the tower, his men had built two wooden platforms, one above the other. Both were only accessible by ladder.

Fenton noticed Ellerie and nodded her way. "It's not much to look at, but it'll be done by the end of the day," he said.

"It's good enough for now," she told him.

"I could send a few of the lads around to look for the quarry. It can't be too far from here. No one's going to haul this much rock a long distance."

"Maybe another time," Ellerie said. "We don't have enough people to go cutting and hauling stone right now. This tower is just for keeping watch. The platforms will be fine as long as we're not facing catapults." Corec didn't seem to consider rebuilding the tower a priority, and there was no shortage of other work to do.

Fenton raised an eyebrow. "You expecting to face catapults way out here?"

"Probably not, but we don't know how the neighbors will feel about someone living here again," Ellerie said. "Now that the walls and tower are done, I think Boktar wants you to work on rebuilding the upper floors of the barracks and the gatehouse. We've got more armsmen on their way and we need somewhere to put them."

"Mr. Bobo asked us to do some work out in the village. Administrative buildings that burned down, he said."

Ellerie pursed her lips but tried not to let her annoyance show. "I'll talk to Bobo about that, but Boktar will know which tasks should be done first." When the group had been smaller, they'd grown careless about the chain of command--mostly because neither she nor Corec liked talking about it, so the two of them had split up the duties between themselves without ever discussing it. Now that other people were involved, though, they would have to be more careful about sticking to their roles.

As Marshal, Boktar was in charge of the workers outside the household staff. If Bobo wanted the old trade administration buildings rebuilt, he'd have to go through the right people. Corec had final say about which order the projects should be done, and Boktar would enforce Corec's decisions. Ellerie wasn't sure where she herself fit in. Corec acted as if he expected she would take over in his absence, but the two of them had never formally discussed her role.

Fenton nodded. "As you say. I suppose I should go find Mr. Boktar, then."

Ellerie was about to follow after him when she saw a familiar figure leading a horse through the gatehouse and into the courtyard. Her mother's spy was wearing human clothing and had dyed his hair black again, but there was no mistaking his face. He stopped when he saw her.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Her Exalted Majesty received the letter you sent," Melithar said. "Eventually. There was some discussion about whether it was real or not. After all, why would a daughter of the royal family be playing mercenary in the free lands? But Vilisa recognized your handwriting and passed it along."

"I sent that letter months ago," Ellerie said. "We were still in Four Roads then. How did you know where to find me?"

The spy shrugged. "I made it as far as Hightower before I heard the dragon was already dead, but the rumors said the group that killed it was staying here. I took a chance. Besides, I've been here before--I used to come this way when I was heading to Tyrsall. You should know, even compared to the Matagor days, you've got lousy security. No one stopped me at the gate. You don't have a gate."

"We're going to replace the gates, but these folks aren't used to soldiers and we're trying not to scare them by posting guards all around. Why are we talking about that? Did Mother send a reply to my letter?"

"She sent me," Melithar said. "I'm supposed to tell you that she will consider your request, but only if you present your arguments in person."

"What?"

The spy allowed a look of sorrow to cross his face. "She wants you to come home, Exalted. She wants to see you one last time."

"Last time? Then she's..."

"She's dying," Melithar said. "She's held on longer than the healers thought she would, but it won't be long now. Even with fast horses, I don't know if we'll make it back in time."

Ellerie nodded, steeling herself for the coming confrontation. "I can be there tomorrow."

###

Chapter Sixteen

Shana attacked in a blur of motion, fists and feet striking faster than the eye could follow.

Treya dodged the first few attempts, then blocked a kick, attempting to guide Shana's leg up and away to knock her off balance. It didn't stop the other woman for long, though--she spun around in a circle, using the momentum to carry her back to her original stance.

Treya took advantage of the moment of distraction to launch her own attack, aiming for the radial nerve in her teacher's right arm in the hope it would slow her down. Shana leaned back, allowing Treya's strike to pass by, then grabbed Treya's arm and trapped it close to her body. Treya held still, ceding the bout.

Shana let go. "Not bad, though it could be better," she said. "You're still focusing too much on trying to find where I am rather than knowing where I will be. But I've got a solution for that." She pulled a long strip of cloth from her pocket and handed it over. "Tie this over your eyes."

"A blindfold?" Treya asked.

Her teacher gave her an evil grin. "Trust me."

Treya tied the cloth around her head, blocking her vision.

"Now," Shana said, "try to figure out where I'll be attacking you from next." She poked Treya's ribcage. "One point for me." Her voice moved while she spoke. "You can't see me, but you should know what your opponents are doing at all times, whether you can see them or not." She patted Treya on the head from behind. Treya spun around but Shana had already moved out of reach.

"Not quite," her teacher said from the left. Treya got an arm out just in time, stopping Shana from flicking her ear.

"One point for you, but I think you just got lucky," Shana said. "Now try to find me when I'm not talking." There was a faint brush of a foot against the ground, then a tap on Treya's shoulder. A rustle of clothing, then another tap.

A flock of birds settled on the ramparts above, cawing noisily to each other and hiding any sound Shana might have been making. Someone, likely Katrin's brother, dumped a basin of water out the back door of the tavern. He went back inside, letting the door slam shut behind him. A pair of armsmen had left the barracks and now stood gossiping in their makeshift practice yard. The sound of trotting horses suggested Harri was exercising the animals in their paddock.

Treya locked away each of the sounds as she heard them. She ignored the warmth of the sun cresting over the fortress walls, and let the summer breeze fade from her awareness. She felt herself slip into her meditation trance, something she'd never attempted while standing up. The faint, oncoming pang of hunger--gone. The sensation of her clothes and hair brushing against her skin--gone. The slight twinge that was always present in her left thigh--gone.

There. Just at the edge of her awareness. Treya lifted her arm almost lazily, deflecting the strike.

She spun, already knowing where the next attack would come from. She blocked it, and then the next.

Concentrate and defend. Concentrate and defend. Each attack was different, but there was almost a pattern to it. Not a pattern formed of planning or design or repetition, but one that Treya and Shana were crafting together as they fought.

And then, "Miss Treya! Miss Treya!"

Treya lost her trance and took off the blindfold. A young girl was running her way.

"Miss Treya! I hurt my leg!" The girl pulled up her skirt to show a skinned knee with a tiny drop of blood running down her calf.

Treya gave her a stern look. "What were you up to this time, Maya?"

"We were racing from the bridge to the hill and I fell. Can you fix it? It hurts real bad."

Perhaps another healer would refuse, preferring to save their strength in case they encountered a serious injury, but Treya had never liked saying no when someone wanted her help. The injury wouldn't require much power. She laid her hand on Maya's head, and a moment later, it was done.

"Go wash off the blood now," she told the girl.

"Thank you!" Maya said, then raced back the way she'd come.

Shana stared after her for a moment, then sighed. "I think I'm beginning to understand the problem," she said. "I fear it's my fault. I've led you down the wrong path."

"But I always wanted to be a mystic."

"No, that's not what I meant." Shana paused, thinking. "The last time we met in Tyrsall, we spoke about finding your purpose and learning to separate it from distractions. The problem is that you live a life full of distractions, full of chaos. You're a healer, you're a mystic, you serve as one of Corec Tarwen's advisors. As a priestess, your role is to minister to the people, and as a mystic, your role is to protect them. As a... not-quite concubine, your role is to provide Corec with guidance. That's a lot of responsibility."

"I don't think what I'm doing is similar to a concubine," Treya said. "If anything, Ellerie and Bobo are handling a lot of the tasks I trained for."

"You're comparing yourself to what Nallee and Renny do for their patrons. A ruler--and that's what Corec is--has different needs than a blacksmith or the owner of a trading company. Corec has more advisors because he has more responsibilities. That changes your role, but it doesn't make it less important. A whisper in his ear in private can be more effective than a discussion with a dozen trusted counselors. Of course, those whispers work better coming from an actual concubine."

Treya ignored that last part. "What should I do?" she asked.

"The mystic teachers among the Three Orders try to emulate my way of doing things," Shana said with a self-conscious grimace. "Perhaps, for you, there's another way. What's the real goal of our training?"

"To learn who we are."

Shana nodded. "The last time we spoke, I suggested the distractions are related your purpose, but that's the wrong way to think about it. They're not distractions at all, or even part of your purpose. They're simply part of you. Yet they're also causing uncertainty. Are you a healer, or a mystic, or both? Are you a concubine or an advisor? Right now, you're trying to straddle the line between them without choosing. You can be any combination of those things that you choose, but what you can't do is leave the choice unmade. How can you learn who you are on the inside if you can't even decide who you are on the outside?"

"So, I just need to choose?" Treya asked. "That's it?" It didn't seem like it would make much difference.

Shana laughed. "Of course not. Two more suggestions. First, do the bloody exercises. I shouldn't have to keep telling you."

Treya felt herself blushing in embarrassment. "And the second?"

"Embrace the chaos."

#

Ellerie and her sister walked in silence, with only the sound of their footsteps echoing through the corridor.

"Are you going to speak to me?" Ellerie finally asked. They'd exchanged awkward pleasantries when she'd arrived, but it wasn't the reunion she'd hoped for.

"What do you want me to say?" Vilisa replied. "You've been gone for five years. You left me alone to deal with her. To deal with everything."

They'd reached the Heart Wall, so Ellerie held her tongue. The sentinels stood aside to allow them entrance into the inner palace, their eyes widening when they recognized her. Ellerie's tunic and leggings made a sharp contrast to her sister's robes of state.

Once they were past, she said, "You could have come with me."

"We couldn't both leave! Someone had to stay with Mother and handle things when she got worse. Who would that have been if we were both gone? Avaro di'Taris? Do you really want to see him end up on the throne? Our family has held Terevas for fifteen hundred years, and you were willing to throw it all away."

"You know why I left," Ellerie said quietly.

"We've all had to make sacrifices, Elle. Everyone except you. So, no, I couldn't go. Someone had to stay behind and clean up your mess. Besides, what would I have done in Matagor? You were the one who wanted to go chasing after old stories."

Ellerie couldn't refute her sister's arguments. It was true--she had abandoned her responsibilities, leaving her mother and sister to deal with the consequences. Did it matter that she'd never wanted those responsibilities in the first place?