The Mishtok's told the Archmage one of his Adepts travels with the Sinhalien. It's from there we have the latest information on the Samar twin. It causes our Archmage deep grief.
Luton was sent, by his mage master, to mate with a Churchik girl. The child of the union was to be returned to the Keep at a certain age, but this hasn't happened. As we have clear understanding of what the mage would do with the child, our relief's profound. Mother and child fled to the mountains where they were found by the Sinhalien.
The mother, named Soji, is an unexpected seer. She's untrained but has visions of Luton that may help us in our understanding of what's being done to him. We'll now have knowledge of Luton whose progress we follow with sad and intense interest. He's known to have returned to the Keep from Chika, and is recognised as having a degree of power, but how much it's difficult to assess.
He continues to cause the Archmage anxiety and distress. The Archmage has returned to Yarilo after a prolonged stay on Ambros, though he tells us his stay among us won't be long. We're concerned by his vulnerability and frailty brought by old age. He speaks little.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
With his inevitable train, Sarehl was greeted some miles south of Krynn, in a way that was unexpected. As his retinue made its way slowly but steadily through the winding dales and forests, Sarehl was considerably surprised to find, when his vanguard crested a steep rise from a deep valley, a large contingent of mounted horsemen waited clustered together.
The Strategos quietly signalled a halt. He waited curiously. One horseman nudged his horse forward and Sarehl, aware of tension in his brother, gently put out a hand to steady Daxel whose hand immediately went to his sword hilt. The rider came to a halt.
"I seek Strategos Sarehl, Lord of Ortok," he said in clear, ringing tones.
Catching Daxel's eye, Sarehl saw the flash of a provocatively challenging grin, before he kneed his horse gently, to come to a stop directly in front of the other rider.
"I'm the Strategos. I answer to Sarehl," he said quietly. The envoy bent his head respectfully and then rose in the saddle to execute a most elegant and deep bow.
"We've been sent as a welcome escort, Strategos, and to give you a guard for the rest of your journey. Kyaran welcomes you." Sarehl's bow, as he half rose in the saddle, was graceful.
"Most thoughtful of your King. I accept the gesture with pleasure."
The envoy bowed again, then handed Sarehl a sealed letter, before he backed his horse and joined the troop that sat motionless and erect. They wheeled. Sarehl waved his hand for a resumption of travel so that they could follow. He let his horse ease itself back into line and broke the seal of the letter, his eyes taking in the contents in one glance, before he looked up and across at Daxel who watched him with a quizzical expression.
"Lord of Ortok, is it, big brother?" Daxel asked in a teasing voice.
"Don't!" said Sarehl, on a shiver. "Ensore did warn me about protocol, but even Nakron's court doesn't touch the Kyaran's for formality and ceremonial. King Otto is delighted to have us join his court for as long as we wish and advises a banquet in our honour will be held this evening. He says it's his pleasure to welcome the Strategos' younger brother and hopes you'll find life entertaining in the Krynn court."
"Oh gods," moaned Daxel. "At least all the protocol will be yours, Sar. Leave me out of this!" He saw the twinkle in his brother's eye and added, "Why has Ensore done this to me?"
"It's a learning experience, lad. Think of it as such."
"I'm only eighteen cycles, Sar. I'm not used to this sort of thing."
"Never too late to learn, lad," said Sarehl unsympathetically, turning his head to Kalor who just rode up. "I thought one of you would appear!" There was a note of gratified satisfaction in Sarehl's voice at the sight of his friend.
"Well?" asked Kalor, with amusement. "Here I am. What was the stop about?" Sarehl handed the letter across, watching the Cyrenic's expression with appreciation. "Protocol again?" Kalor asked wearily. Sarehl nodded. "It'll be the death of us all. At least we have the lad here who can assist." Daxel went to protest but Kalor silenced him with, "I'm glad to see your beard truly shows signs of existence, boy. At one stage, not long ago, I thought you merely had a grubby face!"
With that Kalor turned his horse and cantered back down the line, leaving Daxel to glare at his retreating back. Sarehl laughed.
~~~
Upon their arrival in Krynn, Sarehl was swept away on a wave of protocol, surrounded by ranks of courtiers, in a way that made Daxel gnash his teeth. After a grand-looking official was introduced to him, Daxel was led from the huge courtyard and formal meeting hall to be shown his quarters. He assumed he wouldn't see his brother for some hours, so wandered restlessly about the chamber he'd been allotted, his eyes roving beyond the windows. He didn't like the confinement and felt ill at ease.
Tired and dispirited, he flung himself on the ornate bed, to stare morosely at the opulent surroundings. He'd never lived in such luxury and imagined he never would again. He felt the richness of silk under him, gave a sigh, settled himself more comfortably and then let his gaze take in the richly and beautifully embroidered tapestries that lined the walls and covered the floor. He knew instinctively that he no more belonged in this world than did his brother, then thought how calm and self-possessed Sarehl had become and how skilled at diplomacy. He grinned at that. Stretching full out, he closed his eyes and dozed.
He fell more deeply asleep than he intended, so came to with a fright and a hand at his sword when he heard movement in the chamber. He struggled up onto his elbows, to be confronted by the sight of what he assumed was a bath, that he'd not seen in the room on his arrival, being presided over by a very pretty and young maid who tested the heat of the water with her hands. She straightened and stood quietly, watching Daxel leap from the bed with alacrity.
"Thank you," he said courteously. "You may go now." The maid stared nervously at him, but made no move.
"I'm here to bathe you, my lord," she said in a soft voice. "It's our custom for honoured guests." Daxel reddened.
"I'm not `my lord`," he assured her, "and I can bath myself." He saw signs of distress on her face and chewed his lower lip. "Is it your duty to do this?"
"Yes, my lord. I'm here to serve you."
"Gods!" muttered Daxel in frazzled tones. He sat transfixed and tried to marshal his thoughts, his gaze at the girl a mite distressed. A thought occurred to him. "How would it be if I say you bathed me -." Daxel broke off when abruptly the door opened, to admit Kalor and Kaleb who took in the situation at a glance.
"I told you, Kaleb, the boy wouldn't be able to cope on his own, now didn't I? Poor lad is quite nonplussed. We should help him."
Kalor advanced on Daxel as he spoke, Kaleb a willing second. Daxel never had a chance. He was pushed onto the bed, fighting vigorously. The serving maid modestly turned away while the two men dragged Daxel to the bath and flung him in.
"Damn you both!" Daxel spluttered outraged.
Even though they were generously splashed, the two men were well-nigh helpless with mirth, Kalor leaning on a chair for support. At that moment, Sarehl came into the room. He stopped short at the doorway, his eyebrows raised and his eyes alight when he saw Daxel struggle in the bath as he gently, but firmly, tried to push the maid away. He eyed his two friends, damp but laughing. Sarehl limped across to the bath and grinned down at Daxel.
"Relax, lad, and enjoy it. I found it highly pleasurable." Sarehl turned to his friends. "Cruel of you both," he chided them. Neither man looked at all abashed when Sarehl crossed to the dishevelled bed and sank down onto it.
"Ah, my friend," wheezed Kalor, on another gust of laughter. "It's like old times, isn't it?"
"The boy was flummoxed, Sarehl. You wouldn't have us leave him embarrassed, now would you?" asked Kaleb, lounging back in one of the chairs and wiping his eyes. "Gods, I haven't laughed so much in cycles!"
> The bath over, the maid turned gracefully and left the chamber. When Daxel went to get to his feet, he hurriedly sat again because the maid returned with clothes she deposited next to Sarehl, still lounging on the bed. The maid finally withdrew. Daxel let out his breath in relief, and rose hastily, his hands tying a cloth firmly at the waist.
"Get used to it," advised Sarehl with a grin. "She'll come to you every evening before you dress to dine."
"No!" exclaimed Daxel.
"One of the first things you learn, lad," said his brother, getting off the bed, "is that you adapt immediately to the customs of your hosts. I wouldn't cause offence, and neither, lad, will you."
"That's not fair," muttered Daxel, shaking his head.
He stared across at Kalor and Kaleb. Kalor saw the retaliatory gleam in the youth's eyes and precipitately edged towards the door when he saw Daxel advance. Daxel stood over Kaleb and tapped him on the shoulder. Kaleb edged closer to Kalor as they both got to the door and yanked it open, the two men sensibly beating a strategic retreat through it. Kalor's wicked eyes twinkled.
"Is this truly a custom here?" Daxel asked his brother.
"For honoured guests, yes," replied Sarehl. "It's every day."
His eyes warm with amusement, Sarehl lounged to a chair. Daxel looked for his clothes, raising an eyebrow at his brother when he saw Sarehl point at the bed.
"For me?" he asked surprised. "Why?"
"You can't go to a banquet in riding clothes, Dase, can you?"
"But I've nothing else, Sar!" protested Daxel, then he blushed. "I've had no use for anything else for cycles now."
"No, lad," agreed Sarehl gently, "but now there's a need. I had these clothes made for you. You're broader in the chest than I am, so I couldn't lend you anything of mine." Daxel was turning over the garments while Sarehl spoke and looked revolted.
"Sar, how can I wear this?"
"It's formal court wear, Dahkilan-fashion, Dase. You'd have died if I'd dressed you in Cartokian, Sushi or Kyaran court clothes. They're considerably more ornate and some wear robes." Daxel wrinkled his nose. "I've tried to have our formal wear made as a combination of Samar and Dahkilan, Dase. It couldn't be all Samar, because we had no court attire other than what the Paramon wore when he entertained ambassadors or royalty. I think the style that I've evolved will be a satisfactory compromise." Daxel held up the breeches and sniffed.
"You expect me to wear these, don't you?"
"It's a formal banquet the king's arranged for us, lad. You wouldn't want to cause offence, would you?"
"I'll be relieved to be back with the army," muttered Daxel.
When he got to it, Daxel baulked at the ornate long-sleeved tunic, the red of the material matching the breeches, the tunic patterned with delicate silver sworls done with very fine thread. Sarehl pushed Daxel onto the bed and lifted the tunic over the dark head, then pulled the young man to his feet and carefully arranged a shoulder cape over the tunic. He pinned it firmly at the throat with a jewelled brooch. Daxel tried to squint down at it.
"Where did you get that?" he asked curiously, trying to stop Sarehl from pushing up his head.
"Never you mind, Dase. Gifts come to a Strategos, whether he wants them or no. This is now yours." Sarehl clicked the hasp shut. "It's my gift to you." Daxel opened then shut his mouth. "Stand, Dase, and we'll put on a belt."
Daxel's eyes widened at the jewelled belt Sarehl buckled round his waist, but he was so overcome he just shrugged when he was sat again and beautifully cut boots, in soft red leather, were pulled from under the bed for him. Speechlessly, he pulled them on. Sarehl surveyed his brother.
"Well then, Dase, stand and let me look at you." Daxel got to his feet. He stood, suddenly shy, while Sarehl looked him over with a smile.
"You look very elegant, Dase, and strongly remind me of Da. Mam would be so proud of you. So would Da." Daxel bit his lip. Hastily he took the hand held out to him then stopped, startled, opened his hand and stared at his palm. "Put it on, lad."
Sarehl lifted the youth's nerveless hand and pushed a very heavy ring onto Daxel's middle finger. Daxel held his hand to the light from the window and tilted his finger so the stone glowed rich red.
"Thank you," he gasped. "Eli has a ring like this, but this is beautiful."
Sarehl laughed and picking up a cloak, held that out to his brother who took it without a word and placed it on the chair beside him. Daxel glanced at his brother.
"What are you wearing then, Sar?"
"I came to see you before I dressed. My clothes are in the same style as yours so don't feel out of place. You're not as ostentatiously clad as most will be, Dase, but you look as we'd wish to be seen."
~~~
The king was gracious in welcoming the Strategos' younger brother when the youth reached him in the receiving line that evening. His Majesty had a light voice for one so stocky and barrel-chested.
"You are under the Dahkilan Chamah's protection, we believe. Is that not so, young man?" Daxel didn't know where to look and blushed with embarrassment under the benevolent kingly eye, but he formally bowed with grace and agreed he was indeed under Ensore's protection. "Though we've not met the Chamah, we hope to do so soon. Doubtless you'll return to him at some stage?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"It's good to have his protégé among us. That's most satisfactory."
Daxel rolled an eye at his brother who had difficulty suppressing a grin. The king beamed at Daxel, told him he was free to use the city and casually waved him on. Daxel caught up with Sarehl a short time later.
"Sar!" he said explosively. "I'm not under Ensore's protection."
"But, Dase," said Sarehl, surprised. "I placed you under his authority the day I agreed to let you go with him."
"That's not what the King meant," objected Daxel disconsolately.
"No, lad, it's not," agreed Sarehl. "I told him you were placed under Ensore's care while I moved northwards. As do many rulers with their attendant courts, the King has chosen to put his own interpretation on that so he can sort out your status. It's not like home, Dase."
"No," mumbled Daxel forlornly.
"All these countries, and Ensore tells me Dahkilah is possibly worse, are very status-conscious, Dase."
"I have no status, Sar, you know that. I'm from Ortok and stateless and homeless." Sarehl touched his shoulder gently.
"So am I, lad, but can't you play the game if it leads to an end that may be what we want?"
"Strengthening the army so we have a better chance against Lodestok. Is that what you mean?"
"That's exactly what I mean, little brother."
"These games aren't honest, are they?"
"Not if you don't know the rules, Dase. This is politics for you, lad."
"What's the difference between politics and the state-craft that Ongwin talks about?"
Ah!" sighed Sarehl, his arm about Daxel's shoulder. "Now that, Dase, is a tricky one." Daxel's introduction to Kyaran protocol had just begun.
~~~
Five days later, Sarehl was startled to be summoned to Sasqua's chamber. The boy who brought the message stared up at the very tall man.
"The healer said it was urgent, Strategos."
"I'll go at once."
He knocked gently on the chamber door, then paused when he heard Kaleb's curt voice bid him wait. Looking serious and anxious, the healer met him just outside the room.
"Sarehl, she's come to term very early which is something I hoped she wouldn't. My suspicions were confirmed several hours ago. She's well under way." Sarehl felt rather helpless. He stood irresolute.
"Can I do anything?" he asked. Kaleb's suddenly amiable expression should have warned Sarehl but he didn't notice.
"Yes, you can, my friend." Sarehl glanced down at the healer.
"Tell me then." Kaleb's eyes brightened.
"You can hold her hand for her, Sarehl. She's been calling for you. You're the closest thing to Bethel she has and she needs you."
/> "Oh gods," mumbled Sarehl. He could've sworn there was a twinkle lurking in the back of those clear Yazd eyes. He gave a resigned sigh.
"You've done it before, haven't you?"
"With Alicia? Oh, aye, twice." Sarehl rubbed a hand ruefully across his beard.
"You do seem to calm her, Sarehl, where she's never felt fully at ease with any of us, other than Kasan. I think she sees so much of Bethel's gentleness in you that she can relate to. It soothes her agitation. You're very reassuring, you know."
When Sasqua heard them she turned her head, her blue eyes swimming with tears. Sarehl didn't hesitate. He went hurriedly to the bed and sank on the edge of it, her hand held in his.
"Poor little Sasqua," he said gently. "You'll come through this, little one. Believe me, Kaleb will do all he can and you must trust him."
"You do, do you not?" Sasqua's grip on his hand hurt.
"Yes," he answered, without hesitation.
"It is going to hurt me more than it does now, is it not?" Sarehl saw fear deep in the flooded eyes and his free hand went instinctively to her face.
"Not if Kaleb can help it," he said reassuringly. "How would it be if I sit up behind you and you rest back on me? Would that be more comfortable?" When she nodded, Kaleb came next to them to help lift her. She gave a sharp intake of breath. Kaleb glanced down at Sarehl.
"Settle back, my friend, so Sasqua can lie comfortably in your arms. He'll hold you, child. Is that easier?" The blond head nodded again. Kaleb turned and busied himself with a cup and powder that he mixed with wine and then handed to Sarehl. "Get her to drink it slowly, Sarehl, more in sips if you can," he said in an undertone. "I can't put her to sleep for fear of harming the child - it'll have a struggle without that."
~~~
The next hours were something of a nightmare for all three of them in the chamber. Sasqua may've been drugged with pain-killer, but she suffered terribly from the damage inflicted by Lodestok. Sarehl held her grimly, his teeth clenched as Sasqua fought against the odds to give birth. When she implored Kaleb to help her when the pain became unbearable, the healer looked as grim as Sarehl had seen him as he quietly mixed more powder with wine that he passed impassively to Sarehl, his instructions terse.
He never knew how, but Sarehl managed to calm Sasqua and she obeyed him implicitly when he urged her to drink. After each drink, she briefly relaxed before another wave of pain made her sob as she struggled to push the child to come.