~
Taischek shifted in the saddle, his bones creaking with the leather, yet his blood pumped youthfully as he thought about his hated enemy. Sacking Dursalene was going to upset the Sabuto so much that Taischek almost wished he could stay behind to witness their prolonged distress.
General Xander and Dreibrand flanked the King as the war party waited on the edge of the woods near the town. They had only to gallop across a few pastures to reach Dursalene, which appeared to still be ignorant of their presence.
The night grew old and the dawn approached, and Dreibrand watched his warding crystal, waiting for the signal. Xander fidgeted on the other side of the King.
“This had better work,” the General growled impatiently.
“It will,” Taischek soothed his surly friend. “Shan would not lead me to ruin, especially while raiding the Sabuto. I am rather looking forward to seeing what he will do.”
“If he can really do anything,” Xander complained. “Has anyone ever seen him do anything like this?”
Dreibrand’s Atrophaney heritage surfaced. He had an aversion to this negative talk before a battle and retorted, “Yes! I have seen Shan’s magic. He kept Miranda from freezing to death on the glacier from many hasas away. Shan challenges Onja, and you would doubt that he can break a wooden Sabuto fence?”
Sighing, Taischek calmed the warriors. “Settle down, young Dreibrand. No one doubts Shan. Xander just lacks patience and is quick to grumble.”
Xander snorted.
Day broke quickly once the sun passed the Rysamand but Shan had yet to signal. With the day brightening, the Temu knew they would soon be spotted so close to the settlement. Shan had to hurry.
Every bird chirp seemed like a squawk of alarm from Sabuto spies and the horses stomped, reflecting their riders’ nerves. Taischek monitored the crystal in Dreibrand’s hand and continually glanced at the foreign warrior for an explanation.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Xander hissed. “Sire, we must leave.”
Taischek’s heart sank. He really wanted to raid Dursalene, and he had really believed in Shan. He did not understand how the rys could have failed, but he could not waste his warriors on a raid that could not succeed.
“The time seems longer than it is,” Dreibrand offered. He had played a part in many great battles and victoriously stormed many eastern cities, so his nerve was slow to dissolve. He had battled on fields turned muddy with blood and the Sabuto town distressed him little.
Dreibrand’s confidence encouraged Taischek, who decided to wait longer and was soon rewarded with the desired signal. Dreibrand held the glowing orb aloft so some of the Temu could see the bright blue light and know the time had arrived. Excitement rippled through the warriors and raised weapons clattered in the morning air. Dreibrand tucked away the warding crystal, tightened his grip on Starfield’s reins, and drew his sword.
Smiling to Taischek, he said, “Shall we?”
The King bellowed a great war cry and started the charge. The Temu poured across the open fields toward Dursalene. The stockade remained intact, but Taischek’s faith in his rys friend was renewed. He now suspected that Shan only timed things so closely in order to show off.
At the hillside outpost littered with Sabuto bodies, Shan gasped as he released his spell. He had mingled his thoughts with the very matter of the wooden stockade, and he felt the power surge through his body and soul as he deployed his magic. No clouds crossed the perfect morning sky, but a thunderous crack split the air and was heard throughout the valley. The gates of Dursalene flew apart in a thousand dangerous splinters, impaling the morning crew that approached to open the town anyway. Wide sections on the other three sides of the town exploded, leaving the town exposed and stunned.
The Temu horses faltered in terror mid charge because of the explosion, and the riders struggled to master their steeds. Once the horses returned to obedience, the Temu hollered joyously at the ruined stockade and resumed their charge.
The noisy disintegration of large sections of the stockade thoroughly distracted the residents from the approaching war party. A couple Sabuto watchmen, who had not been thrown from the shaken stockade, did notice Taischek’s charging men, but their warning got lost in the confused terror. One jumped down from the catwalk and ran screaming for the town hall. No one comprehended his cries until Taischek jumped his horse over the shards of the gate, his cruel mace once again ready for business.
The Temu completely infiltrated Dursalene before the stunned residents could manage a defense. Many Sabuto had been jolted to the floor during the explosions, and they stayed there, covering their heads and thinking some awesome disaster struck them. Only the rumble of marauding riders brought the Sabuto out of their shock enough to realize a tangible foe descended on them. Warriors seized their weapons and burst into the streets to give battle to the Temu.
The explosions had shaken the bed of the captain of the Dursalene garrison, who was a notorious late sleeper, and he awoke to the shrieking of the two former maidens who shared his bed. More annoyed by the cacophony than frightened, the captain flopped out of his luxurious bedding, while bidding the girls to be quiet, and stormed to the balcony.
From the town hall he had a clear view of Dursalene’s main gate, and squinting in the morning sun, he could not believe the gate no longer existed. He did not understand the scattered chunks of wood and the nearby dead men with bloody shards blasted through their bodies. Not until the captain saw Taischek gallop into the town followed by his warriors with tightly braided hair did he comprehend that the Temu were attacking. What trickery had destroyed the gate, he could not guess, but it did not matter.
Flying from the balcony, he jumped into a pair of pants and scooped up his sword and shield. Downstairs, his men gaped out windows or hid under tables or ran around in confusion, but the appearance of their leader ended their disarray. Barking commands, the captain steeled the nerves of those unhinged by the explosions and guided his men out to confront the enemy.
With his warriors rampaging efficiently through the town, Taischek decided to pay a visit on the town hall. Accompanied by General Xander and his toughest warriors, the King charged the Sabuto rushing out of the building. Dreibrand also rode next to the King and plunged into the melee, his strong arm swinging his sword with unstoppable skill. The Sabuto defenders were at a serious disadvantage against the horsemen, but they were numerous.
A particularly gymnastic Sabuto, seeing the fearsome Temu King, launched himself from the top of the hall’s steps and pulled Taischek from his horse. The Sabuto died for the glory of seizing his tribe’s great enemy, but he did unhorse the King and Taischek found himself surrounded by Sabuto. Taischek’s wicked mace forced a bloody path through the swarming Sabuto as he tried to regroup with his men.
The sudden vulnerability of Taischek did not escape the attention of the captain, who plunged through the battle to confront the Temu leader. Taischek killed a Sabuto who lunged at him, and then saw just in time the captain’s blade slashing at his upper body. Taischek ducked behind his shield, and the impact of the sword sent unsettling vibrations through his body. Taischek shook off the blow, and the thrill of battle did not let him feel the strain. His mace arced for the Sabuto captain, who dodged the sweeping spikes. Yanking back his sword, the captain hooked his blade under one of the mace’s curved points and jerked the weapon from the King’s hand.
The loss of his mace at that moment doomed him. Although his loyal men fought fervently and would surely win the day, their victory would be a minute too late to save his old Temu hide.
The captain brought his sword down hard, splitting Taischek’s shield, and the other Sabuto held back the frantic Temu. Taischek blocked the excited flurry of blows from the captain with the remnant of his shield and hoped for an opportunity to grapple the man with his bare hands.
With a determined howl, the Dursalene captain knocked Taischek off his feet with a mighty blow. Taischek could not recover from the fall in
time and he locked eyes with the captain, facing death with bravery. Taischek thought of his family and his people and accepted that his time with them was completed.
Lasted a lot longer than I should have, he thought.
But the Sabuto’s sword never crossed his flesh. The head of the captain flew from his shoulders and as his body tumbled, Taischek saw Dreibrand looming over him with his bloody sword. Dreibrand extended a hand over the headless corpse and helped Taischek to his feet, and the gratitude was clear on the King’s face.
“Dursalene is yours, King Taischek,” Dreibrand announced. When his horse had been stumbling on bodies, he had jumped from the saddle to save the King.
The King completed his opinion of the young man. He definitely liked his foreign mercenary and would show him favor. Taischek sensed that the Temu were lucky to have access to the easterner’s wit and skill, and he was glad that his enemies did not.
The Temu routed the defenders, and those who could not run away soon died. Taischek glowed in his possession of Dursalene. The Sabuto King would learn of this outrage by nightfall, and Taischek happily pictured the man’s livid expression. Having border villages looted annoyed the Sabuto, but the rape of Dursalene would really set the Sabuto Tribe behind.
“Come Dreibrand, let us go inform the local rysmavda that they have not collected their tribute for Jingten this year,” Taischek suggested cheerfully, dismissing his recent flirtation with mortality.
At the temple, Temu warriors were already trying to break down the barricaded entrance. A team of four battered the doors with a marble bust of the Sabuto Prime Rysmavda, who dwelled in the capital city of Chanda. The local rysmavda had retreated into the sanctuary of their temple and they hurled threats from behind the high shuttered windows.
The barred door of the temple reluctantly began to split and the marble bust crushed the beautiful designs carved into the surface. The stern face of the marble Prime Rysmavda suffered the indignity of battering his own temple. The sturdy door resisted as long as it could, but it had never been meant to resist such bold behavior from humans. The wood shattered and the warriors hurled the bust through the gaping entrance. The marble sculpture crashed on the floor, and the nose and an ear chipped off.
Taischek whacked the broken door out of his way with his spiked mace and strode into the temple with his gang of warriors. The senior rysmavda of the temple faced them in the antechamber.
“Begone blasphemer!” he cried. “Onja shall torment your soul forever for your crime.”
“Onja’s power is gone and she can’t help you,” Taischek shouted triumphantly.
The rysmavda cowered as the Temu King raised his terrible weapon and the bloody spikes ripped across his chest. Blood spurted across the shredded blue robe, and the rysmavda crumpled, screaming in pain. Another blow ended his life.
The Temu swarmed into the inner sanctum of the round temple and two rysmavda kneeled before a pedestal with a crystal orb on it. The orb was about half the size of the great orbs in Onja’s throne room, but it pulsed with the blue glow of rys magic.
Faith could not keep one of the rysmavda on his knees, and he sprang away from the pedestal as the Temu stormed toward him. The rysmavda who stayed on his knees died first, and the one who fled died second.
Pointing to Xander, Taischek told him to clear out the upper levels, and the General bounded up the wide staircase at the opposite side of the inner sanctum, followed by half the warriors.
“Kill them all!” Taischek ordered.
Dreibrand had rushed inside the temple with his sword ready, but there was nothing for him to do. The King had killed two of the three dead priests, and the intruders met no more resistance on the ground level. A few brief screams came from the upper level, but Xander and his crew were soon finished with the violence.
Dreibrand looked around the inner sanctum of the temple. White columns lined the circular wall, and between the columns, rich frescoes of brilliant color filled the spaces. Each fresco featured a portrait of Onja in various settings. Sometimes she was the aloof Queen on her throne, in others she walked in lush meadows and seemed to beckon the bloom from the plants or she brushed her blue hands across the golden tops of ripening grain. In one pose, Onja stood over a mother and new infant, which immediately disturbed Dreibrand although he realized it was supposed to be appealing. In another portrait, only the starry night surrounded Onja, but no matter what the setting, she always bore the same beautifully indifferent face.
He counted twelve portraits and in the last space stood a statue instead of a painting. Carved from the blue stone of the Rysamand, her polished form was larger than life, and the glow from the orb on the pedestal reflected on the jewels set in her eyes.
“What do you think? Are you a believer yet?” Taischek said.
Dreibrand smiled. “No, King Taischek. But the art is quite good.”
Taischek laughed, seeming to find the comment particularly funny for his own reasons.
The crashing of furniture being tipped over came from the upper level and Xander soon came downstairs to report that the temple was completely clear.
“We have already found much in their quarters. These priests were squirreling away more than their share,” Xander said wryly.
“Typical,” grunted Taischek. “But we know where they keep the good stuff.”
A warrior extracted a set of keys from the corpse of the senior rysmavda near the entrance and gave them to Taischek. The King unlocked the door under the staircase, which led down to the temple vault. Many chests of treasure were stowed below the inner sanctum, and the Temu hurried to loot the vault.
“Take as much as you can carry. We’ll have no time for wagons. We have to be riding out of here before late day,” Taischek announced while breaking the lock on a chest with his heavy mace.
Dreibrand selected two bags of gold. One had coins and the other held raw nuggets, carefully pried from the bones of the mountains. He left the broken temple and deposited the gold in his saddlebags. He watered his horse, and after affectionately scratching Starfield’s neck, he wandered to the gaping city wall to watch for Shan. Dreibrand was not worried about someone looting his unattended saddlebags because all of the warriors were brimming with gold and silver.
Dreibrand saw the last of the retreating Sabuto moving south into the woods. The gaps blasted on all sides of the town had been a sort of mercy to the citizens of Dursalene because they had provided avenues of escape. Otherwise, the raiders would no doubt still be killing people. The shrieks of terrified children faded into the countryside along with the occasional anguished cries from wounded Sabuto struggling in pain to get away.
Out of the eastern hills Shan emerged on his magnificent white horse, galloping across the pastures already trampled by the Temu charge. Dreibrand waved to him.
The rys gestured to the fleeing Sabuto when he reached Dreibrand. “They will not be gone long. The warriors will regroup and they will send for help that will not be long in coming. Taischek better not take his time,” Shan said.
“He’s not,” Dreibrand assured him.
“Let us go make sure,” Shan suggested knowingly.
“Shan, do you think the Sabuto saw you?” Dreibrand asked.
“Yes, and I wanted them to,” Shan replied. “The news of my power and defiance of Onja will quickly travel beyond the Sabuto domain. People everywhere will soon have to decide between Onja and me.”
Dreibrand nodded thoughtfully. This could get to be a big war.
They found Taischek still in the temple, alone except for a few warriors straggling in and out. Standing near the dead priest who had stayed on his knees, the King stared at the crystal orb and the blue glow looked sick on his face.
“You should not look at that thing so long,” Shan admonished as soon as he saw him.
“It’s true, Shan. She really can’t strike us down anymore. If she could, she would kill me right now. I have defiled and pillaged her temple of her tribute,
and nothing has happened,” Taischek said.
“Well, you do not have to stand here waiting for her to try,” Shan complained. “Are you ready to go?”
“Let my men catch their wind,” Taischek soothed. He turned away from the orb and happily smacked Shan on the shoulder. “What are you worried about? They won’t come back so quick after what you just did. You almost scared me off.”
“I suppose you best get used to it,” Shan said, scanning the bloody bodies.
Taischek knew the consequences would be serious, but he stuck to his fanatical good humor. “The Prime Rysmavda in Dengar Nor will certainly be waiting for me with open arms.”
“Yet another reason you should hurry home,” Shan added.
24 ~ The Bounty ~
Heavy thoughts weighted the steps of Taf Ila as he made his way slowly to the throne room. Being Captain of the Jingten Guard was usually an effortless assignment. He had responsibilities, of course, but except in the autumn when the humans brought their tribute, there was rarely anything of consequence to do—until this summer.
When the Tatatook had abruptly appeared bearing the human girl, Taf Ila had actually been sent east to collect the other humans. Never before had Onja allowed humans to approach Jingten from the east, and, at the time, Taf Ila had worried that her unprecedented mercy signaled changing times.
Changing times?
The concept caused Taf Ila difficulty. Even by a rys’s reckoning things never changed in Jingten, but the arrival of the easterners had quickly altered the timeless quality of daily life in Jingten. The festering stalemate between Onja and Shan had finally collapsed, resulting in Shan’s expulsion from the bosom of the Rysamand. And the humans had been badly treated, except for the children. Although Taf Ila had not personally harmed Miranda, he still felt linked to her murder.
Taf Ila winced, upset that he had actually let such thoughts form. He should not consider Onja’s commands with criticism or guilt. The woman had defied the Queen’s will and suffered the consequences. That was all.
Nearing the throne room, Taf Ila concentrated on his duty. He did not know why Onja had summoned him. The door wardens let him enter and the rich magical light of the throne room bathed him. No guards attended Onja, who waited on her dais. She always addressed her captain from her throne. The centuries could never diminish her love of lording over others. Respectfully Taf Ila bowed to her, holding his gaze down until she spoke.
“You lack punctuality today,” Onja observed.
To Taf Ila, this was a scathing criticism, but he mustered an apology. “Forgive me, my Queen. I have many concerns these days. You have made a busy rys of me.”
“I shall make a busier rys of you,” she responded.
He noticed a stack of parchment scrolls on a table near the dais.
“What do you will of me?” Taf Ila inquired humbly.
Onja wore a dark blue high-collared gown heavily embroidered with gold, and her haughty gaze held her loyal captain. When he looked upon his Queen, Taf Ila felt renewed reverence as the depth of her powers went beyond his senses. He believed a more regal sight than Queen Onja could not exist.
“I am expecting more visitors from the east,” Onja announced.
Surprise lifted Taf Ila’s features.
Onja continued, “You will ride out to meet them and escort them to Jingten. It is a large force of five hundred soldiers, so take an appropriate number of rys with you. Your intention is not to make battle. Just display our strength and intimidate them mildly, if they need it. I have every confidence that you will perform this task well, Captain.”
It took Taf Ila a moment to absorb the information. More people in the east? An army! He needed more details.
Collecting his thoughts, he asked, “My Queen, have you put them under a spell?”
“Their leader is Kwan and I have contacted him. He is compelled to come to me. He will accept your invitation to escort him to Jingten,” Onja explained.
Taf Ila relaxed now that he knew his Queen had the foreign leader under her influence. His errand would be somewhat difficult, but with a little care, he could manage it.
“My Queen, please forgive me, but I must ask. Why do you want to see these humans from the east? You have never wanted them before,” Taf Ila said.
Onja indulged her captain’s curiosity. “There are great realms in the east now. An empire of humans, if you can imagine such a thing. The eastern world has an impressive civilization, by human standards of course. Therefore, I would speak with this Kwan. Our contact will begin the expansion of my dominion to the far east. It is time the rest of Rystavalla accepted me as their Goddess.”
A rare and mysterious smile graced the Queen’s face as she considered the servitude of the east and pictured more proud humans submitting to her out of fear. Claiming a new land would make her feel young again. She had no particular purpose in mind for her future subjects, beyond enjoying them bowing to her supremacy.
Her plan stunned Taf Ila, who had never thought much about the east.
When he said nothing, Onja continued, “But this will take time. My first step is to meet this eastern general and perhaps find a use for his army. They approach the Rysamand as we speak, but you need not leave on your mission until morning. I have another task for you today.”
As if this was not enough? he thought with exasperation, then instantly regretted it.
Directing his attention to the table full of scrolls, Onja said, “You must arrange for these dispatches to be sent before you leave tomorrow.”
Taf Ila regarded the pile. He had handled dispatches countless times, but he had never seen so many. Some bore the blue seal for the rysmavda, others had the gold seal for delivery to kings, and one had the black seal.
“There must be two for every kingdom,” Taf Ila said.
“Note the special one for the Kezanada,” Onja instructed.
Taf Ila looked at the black seal and nodded.
Onja continued, “In the drawer is a copy I had made for you to read. You need to know about this situation. Read it now.”
Her voice trembled with anger on the last word, and Taf Ila now sensed that his Queen was upset. He obeyed instantly and removed the parchment from the drawer. The flowing script of the official Jingten scribe stated the Queen’s decree in the common human language. Taf Ila considered the scribe’s beautiful hand better suited to the rys language, but few humans could read that.
Onja expected that her captain would want to speak freely once he had read the scroll. With a lock of white hair sliding over her shoulder, she leaned forward like a curious cobra.
“Any questions, Captain?”
Taf Ila’s black eyes fell to the marble floor as he considered discarding his concerns, but the issue was too important. He glanced at the parchment again, hoping the words would change.
Forcing his voice not to falter, he said, “My Queen, this bounty you offer the humans for Shan’s head troubles me.”
Onja’s upper lip twitched with displeasure as she sat back against her solid and reassuring throne.
“Why does this trouble you?” she asked.
Onja obviously wanted him to talk to her about the dispatches, and he raised his gaze cautiously and answered, “By rewarding the humans for his death, it could be interpreted that you caused his death…thereby breaking Dacian’s Last Law.”
Onja kept her face neutral but she scowled inside. Dacian had really inconvenienced her with his last decree and she wished that she had shut him away only one day sooner.
“Does the Captain of the Guard presume to tell his Queen the law?” Onja snarled.
“No, no,” he answered quickly. “But my Queen, is it really necessary to arrange his murder? Is not banishment from Jingten enough?”
“He would kill me!” she hissed defensively. “Do you know what he has done just this morning?”
Taf Ila shook his head, but her accusation surprised him. It was true that Shan desired to be King, but no one to
ok him seriously anymore. Shan was known for his generous heart and non-violent disposition, and Taf Ila did not want to believe his Queen’s claim.
“This morning Shan led a Temu war party on the Sabuto town of Dursalene. He used his magic against the Sabuto, and the Temu looted my temple! The flames have consumed it already!” Onja shouted in rage. “The noble Shan would throw away your precious rys law, and you accuse me of his crimes.”
Taf Ila gaped at her news. He could not imagine that the humans would be so bold, even with Shan’s encouragement.
He apologized, “I am sorry, my Queen. I was ignorant of the looting of a temple. But I meant only to inform you that this bounty would upset many citizens. Could you talk to Shan and make him see reason? I cannot imagine that he really wants to make war on you. No one wants to see a rys die. For over two thousand years we have lived in peace and unity, and it has been good. We must not lapse into the darkness that consumed our cousins in Nufal.”
Revealing her fury, Onja stormed down the dais and Taf Ila felt energy crackle around his body. He was a brave rys, but he wavered at the approach of his wrathful Queen, raising his hands and falling back a step. The parchment fluttered in his grasp as a puny barrier to her anger.
With blue light flaring in her obsidian eyes, Onja screamed, “Speak not to me of history. I was there. My magic ended the killing, and my magic will guard the rys forever.” She bent over the cringing Taf Ila and added, “Shan would bring back the dark days you and the others fear. He is no longer a citizen of Jingten and does not deserve the protection of our law. His lust for my throne is unjustified, and his greed will get many rys killed if I do not stop him. So, do not whine to me, Captain, about Shan’s rights, because he does not have any! Tell that to the citizens of Jingten when they complain about the bounty I offer the humans.”
Receding into a bitter calm, Onja said, “He knew his place among us, but he would not stay in it. Shan is a dangerous renegade, and I will deal with him. And if I choose to use my human servants, that is my concern. Your concern is this Kwan in the east and those dispatches.”
The blue light withdrew from Onja’s eyes. Turning from her captain, she decided not to punish him. She had wanted to hear his opinion. Taf Ila was a capable and loyal rys and she should not have treated him so badly.
“You have your assignment. Leave Shan to me. The interests of Jingten are ever close to my heart. Dismissed,” she said.
With rattled nerves Taf Ila saluted somewhat ridiculously with the parchment then bowed to his Queen. He had always accepted Onja as the supreme rys, but today she had truly terrified him. For a moment he had thought she would strike him dead and the experience left him visibly shaken. Scooping up the scrolls, he left the throne room. He was so disturbed that he dumped the dispatches at his office and walked straight home to his fine stone house. A couple hours of meditation in the comforting surroundings of the house that had been his home for almost seven hundred years would soothe him.
Unbuttoning his suede jacket, Taf Ila strode through the entry hall and did not notice his daughter rush to meet him.
“Father! You are home early,” she cried happily.
Her voice startled him and he jumped back with uncharacteristic nervousness, but the sight of his daughter pleased him. He immediately reached out and hugged her close.
“Quylan.” He said her name as if it was a spell that would calm him. Stroking her glossy black hair, he gave her another squeeze.
“Something is wrong,” Quylan stated.
“I was upset, but I am better now,” Taf Ila said.
She looked at her father quizzically.
“I came home to have some tea,” he said tiredly.
“I am glad to have your company, Father,” Quylan said and tugged at his hand.
His lovely daughter renewed him and he followed Quylan, whose steps skipped lightly down the hall to the kitchen. Although Taf Ila and her mother had separated, their union had been blessed. He also had an older son, but his daughter was his joy. The largest heap of treasure in the Keep could not rival her in his heart.
Dropping heavily into a kitchen chair, he watched Quylan pour the tea. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, filling the room with pure warmth. A blue aura flared briefly around Quylan when the sun hit her just right. Although still a rysling, she had begun to show potential as a magic user—a lot of potential. Taf Ila was suddenly glad that she would have this strength to help her through life.
Quylan sipped her tea while her father did not touch his cup. Patiently she waited for him to explain his obvious distress, but he only stared moodily at the kitchen table.
Finally she asked, “Father, what has happened?”
Sighing, he took a drink of tea and looked at her warmly. “Nothing to concern you, my treasure. You are still free of the problems of your elders and should enjoy the remainder of your ryslinghood,” he replied.
Quylan ignored his paternal evasion and whispered, “Is there bad news about Shan?”
His expression turned instantly hard and Taf Ila demanded, “Why do you ask about him?”
He had never used such a harsh tone with her, and Quylan looked away with guilt. Softly she confessed, “I tried to find him the other day. I saw him with human warriors, but I could not see much else. It is hard to see beyond the Rysamand.”
“Why would you do such a thing?” Taf Ila asked with horror.
Quylan defended herself in a bolder tone and looked straight at her father now. “No one has ever been banished from Jingten before. I wanted to see what he was doing. I was worried.”
“Do not worry yourself about him,” Taf Ila ordered.
“There has been bad news about him,” Quylan surmised again, hoping to coax the news from her father.
Taf Ila buried his face in his hands and regretted yelling at his sweet daughter. He had to gain control of his emotions. Many rys depended on him, most especially Quylan. Sitting up, he tried to rub the tension out of his temple. He did not want to share the terrible news with Quylan, but she would hear about it anyway.
In a soft voice, he said, “Shan has led an attack on a temple and it has been looted and burned. Queen Onja has issued a bounty to the humans for his head.”
“What?” Quylan cried. “She cannot.”
“The Queen can do this because it is necessary. Shan cannot defile temples. The Queen will not excuse his behavior. I have already discussed this with her, and asked her not to call for his death,” Taf Ila explained quickly, reaching out to Quylan.
“No, no. They have quarreled before. Shan always comes back,” Quylan insisted.
Taf Ila set a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Not this time, Quylan. Shan has gone mad. He is banished and does not have the protection of law.”
“Father, a rys cannot say that a rys must die. Just because Onja asks the humans to do it does not get around our sacred law,” Quylan protested.
“And I told her so,” Taf Ila soothed. “But Queen Onja made it very clear that other rys should not get between her and Shan.”
“But you taught me yourself that Dacian’s Last Law was more important than any other law. You cannot stand by while that law is ignored,” Quylan argued.
“I must, and you must, Daughter,” Taf Ila said firmly. “Rys have another law and that is a challenge for the throne is between the monarch and the challenger. Only in that way can the strongest truly prevail and lead us. Onja and Shan will never relent in this battle, and this can only end with one of their deaths. Leave the guilty to the guilty.”
“Oh, it is so horrible,” Quylan whimpered with tears now clinging to her lashes.
Her father hated to see her upset and wished Shan had never caused this evil conflict that marred the beauteous peace of Jingten. Taf Ila vowed to do his best to protect Quylan from the coming turmoil that he felt building like a bad blizzard.
He said, “Now forget Shan. I doubt the humans could kill the likes of him. I have more important news
that concerns us more directly. An army of humans is in the Wilderness, and I must leave tomorrow to meet them.”
“An army in the Wilderness!” Quylan cried with dismay.
Still coping with the shock himself, Taf Ila continued, “I know it is hard to imagine, but Queen Onja wants to speak with these people from the east.”
“An army. But Father, it will be so dangerous,” Quylan worried.
“Onja has everything under control. They are only humans, and I need only to escort them to Jingten. But I do not want you to go anywhere near these humans. And stay away from the Keep. I insist that you obey me in this,” Taf Ila decided.
Quylan nodded absently, trying to imagine an army approaching Jingten from any direction, let alone the east. The overwhelming news frightened her young mind. Suddenly the world had stopped following the rules she had been raised to believe it would always follow.
After finishing his tea, Taf Ila attempted to console his daughter. “Quylan, you are not of age yet and need not let the troubles of your elders bother you. As a rysling you have the privilege of ignoring these ugly days. Go to your friends’ parties in the forest and sing and dance. Let your soul soak up the glory of the Rysamand and enjoy the sweetness of youth. You will be old most of your life.”
“Yes, I will try,” Quylan sighed, actually wishing she could turn her mind from the disturbing events.
Trying to end on a lighter note, Taf Ila added, “But do not make promises to any young males. You are too young for that.”
Quylan indulged her father’s attempt to treat her like a rysling, and she giggled shyly. “Father, you talk like you were never eighty nine.”
“Well I certainly was once, and that is why I said that. A female should not have a mate until she is at least one hundred and fifty,” he said.
“At least!” she agreed jokingly, glad that his dark mood had improved.
Taf Ila rose and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Thank you for the tea and the talk, Daughter. I shall meditate upstairs for a while, then I will be gone for a couple days.”
“Be careful Father,” she said sincerely.
“You would be surprised how well I manage,” he said.
After Taf Ila went upstairs, Quylan wandered into the backyard and sat on a bench next to the lakeshore. Some swans drifted silently over the water. Outwardly Jingten seemed as beautiful and tranquil as ever, but Quylan could only think of the troubled future. Humans were in the Wilderness, and Onja and Shan would throw away the law to battle with each other. And she had never seen her father so disturbed.
He was frightened, she admitted. What did Onja say to him?
She raised her eyes from the lake and stared westward into the mountains—the direction Shan had taken in his exile. She wanted to look for him again, but her heart ached with illogical young love and she could not focus.
Over the years, Quylan had accompanied her father to the Keep many times, and she had shyly watched Shan whenever she dared. Twice she had noticed Shan observing her and dreamed that he was interested. Two years ago Shan had come to Taf Ila’s office when she had happened to be there, and Shan had smiled to her before her father shooed her out. She had wanted to say something to Shan, but the aura of his great power had kept her silent.
But it was his power that attracted her and now that Shan was banished, her dream of knowing him could never happen.
Quylan wiped a lonely tear from her cheek and scolded herself for breaking her own heart. Any male rys would gladly accept her devotion, and she wanted only the outcast.
I should take Father’s advice, she concluded miserably.
25 ~ The Kezanada ~
Miranda awoke with the restlessness of returning health. In the two weeks since the Temu war party had left Fata Nor, she had slept excessively. Shan and Dreibrand had been right. She had needed the rest.
Miranda reflected that she had never slept so much in her life. There had always been toil and servitude to get her up early and keep her up late. And her children had always needed her attention.
Many times during her convalescence nightmares of Barlow had tossed her sleep. Even on the other side of the Wilderness, she feared him. As often as she dreamed of him, she dreamed of her children, but they reminded her of Barlow and started the nightmare again. Secretly she wished she could leave the children behind with Barlow and forget all the wretchedness he had inflicted upon her.
But these thoughts made her guilty. Elendra and Esseldan needed their mother and she would not forsake them. The freedom she now enjoyed would be ruined if she abandoned her duty to them.
Lying in bed and staring at the wood paneled walls of her room, she contemplated who she was. Free of her children and living in the household of a queen, Miranda did not really know herself.
She shrugged out of her bedding and propped herself up. Looking out the window, she saw that she had slept late and the day was cloudy. She usually stayed in her room late, enjoying the solitude. Queen Vua and the members of her household were extremely kind to her, but Miranda was not sure how to act around them. Her skills with the language were still limited, and only a small number of women knew the common language that Shan had taught her.
Miranda decided she would take her horse for a ride. Her body had recuperated enough to crave some physical activity, and Miranda wanted to get away from the town and have the freedom of the open countryside.
At first, Queen Vua disputed her idea, especially when Miranda said she wanted to be alone.
“Ladies do not ride alone,” Vua admonished softly.
“But my horse needs exercise,” Miranda said.
“I am sure your horse has not been neglected,” Vua said. “And your arm is still in a cast. You should not go riding.”
“But I rode here worse than I am now, Queen Vua,” Miranda pointed out. “And I feel much better. Getting out would be good for me.”
Vua sighed, thinking perhaps her guest had been in too much, especially in the summer. “Very well, Miranda. But my daughter Sephina and her sister Lana will go with you, as well as two warriors.”
Miranda did not really want so much company, but she accepted the decision of Vua and thanked her hostess.
The Princesses Sephina and Lana were excited to go, and they were genuinely pleased to see Miranda feeling stronger. Despite the clouds, no rain fell, and the women raced each other across the fields and pastures before galloping into the woods. The two warriors stayed close and joined in the fun. They were young warriors who had not been included in the King’s war party, and they shared playful glances with the princesses that would not have normally been allowed. The princesses and warriors joked with each other, enjoying the informal outing, and the warriors were pleased with their duty.
Miranda rode ahead of them, enjoying the wind in her hair, which felt as good as two weeks bed rest. Reaching the top of a hill, she halted her chocolate brown mare and patted Freedom’s sweaty shoulder. The mare snorted, feeling good from the run.
“You needed to get out too,” Miranda commented.
Ahead of her was the nearby bulk of the Rysamand, rising to its supreme heights over the Temu domain. The gray clouds passed swiftly overhead, rushing into the mountainous barrier, bringing the rumor of winter. Pain clenched Miranda between her heart and her stomach as she looked upon the peaks. She had never seen winter in the mountains, but the Temu had explained to her that the pass would be impossibly clogged with snow in two months. The winter would cut her off from Elendra and Esseldan with the same effectiveness as Onja’s magic.
Miranda fought back the tears that constricted her throat. She had spent enough time laying in bed and crying, and she did not want her grief anymore. Staring hopelessly at the Rysamand, she tried to think of a way she could get back to Jingten and reclaim her children, but she had no more chance of success than the day Onja took them.
Bitterly, Miranda looked down at her right arm. The bone was thankfully mending, but the cast remin
ded her that she had almost died in the icy reaches of the Rysamand. She needed Shan if she was going to return to Jingten just as she had needed him to save her life. Returning her green-eyed gaze to the mountains, Miranda wished desperately that Shan was with her and that they could go to Jingten right now. She worried that winter would come before the rys went to claim the throne.
When will Shan get back? Dreibrand said they would only be gone for a couple weeks, Miranda fretted. Her thoughts then turned to Dreibrand and she hoped he had not been hurt.
Princess Sephina cantered up and disturbed Miranda’s horrible thoughts.
“Mother told me not to let you slip away by yourself,” Sephina said. As one of Vua’s daughters, she knew the common language.
Miranda smiled and hoped a tear did not sneak out of an eye. Sephina, who was close to her age, was a pleasant woman, and Miranda decided she was grateful for the company after all.
“I thought you wanted to be alone,” Miranda teased, letting her eyes stray back in the woods where the princesses had paused to dally with the warriors.
Sephina looked a little embarrassed. Modestly she said, “I would not make trouble like that.”
Farther down the hillside, the younger Lana squealed with laughter as the two warriors chased her up the slope.
“Your laughter could be heard in Jingten,” Sephina scolded when her sister arrived. One warrior noted that the Princess Sephina’s mood had changed, but the other man kept his attention on Princess Lana.
After another giggle, Lana turned to her sister, unimpressed with Sephina’s sudden self-righteousness. “You’re not my mother,” she sneered.
“I could tell your mother,” Sephina warned.
“I could tell yours!” Lana snapped, annoyed by her sister’s attitude.
Sephina widened her eyes at the threat but left things at a draw.
“My Ladies, the next hill shows a great view of the town and the roads, if you would like to go,” suggested one of the warriors. He knew having any more fun with the princesses would only bring hopeless trouble to him and his comrade, and he decided to take the opportunity to talk with the foreign woman.
“Lady Miranda, do you find the Temu domain beautiful?” he inquired while leading the way.
Miranda said that she did and added that it was good to get out.
“Everyone is happy that you are feeling better. When will your arm be healed?” he asked conversationally.
“The medicine woman said in a week, but I need time to get my strength back,” Miranda answered.
“I heard Lord Shan helped you with his magic when you were hurt. What does rys magic feel like?” the warrior wondered eagerly.
Princess Sephina gasped at the question because she had been the one to tell the warrior details about Miranda, but she was just as curious to hear the answer. Miranda did not mind the question. She was starting to get used to the fact that everybody talked about her.
“It feels good. Shan is very kind,” Miranda replied.
They continued to make small talk while riding leisurely to the top of the next hill. Miranda answered questions about the Wilderness and her homeland, and her companions were fascinated by all she said.
“To travel so far is amazing,” concluded one warrior.
“I did not really set out to,” Miranda noted thoughtfully.
The view from the hill was commanding. To the left sat Fata Nor, and to the right stretched two roads cutting through wooded uplands that met at the base of the hill. A warrior explained that one road went to Jingten, which Miranda had already traveled, and the other road went north to other tribal domains.
“Riders are on that road right now,” the warrior observed, pointing to a line of dust. “They will come into view in a moment.”
“Will they see us?” Miranda asked, suddenly nervous.
“If they look up,” the warrior said.
“I do not want them to see us,” Miranda said, yielding to her innate need to be cautious.
The Temu warrior had not thought to hide and he did not know why Miranda was so paranoid, but he decided it might be a good idea.
“My Ladies, there is no need for strangers to know you are out riding,” he said.
The princesses accepted his decision, but Lana said, “I still want to see.”
“We’ll be able to see,” he assured her pleasantly.
They moved into cover and dismounted. Concealed by the shade of trees, they waited for the riders to come into view.
“Could it be King Taischek’s war party returning?” Miranda asked hopefully.
“No. It is too small and from the wrong direction,” answered the warrior.
“Look!” hissed the other warrior.
About twenty riders emerged from the woodland and they were clearly not Temu warriors. Even from a distance, black horsetails could be seen streaming from the top of metal helmets, and visors covered all of the riders’ faces.
“Kezanada,” a warrior said, and both princesses gasped.
“They are heading for Fata Nor,” cried the other warrior.
The warriors exchanged panicked looks.
“What are they?” Miranda asked, watching the darkly clad warriors get closer.
“We have to leave,” a warrior announced, already urging the princesses toward the horses.
“Please, you must hurry,” the other warrior told Miranda while pulling her away from her observation.
“Are they enemies?” Miranda said.
“They are Kezanada,” the warrior replied as if that answered everything.
Miranda could not ignore the clear fear displayed by her companions, and she suddenly wished she had the sword she had lost in Jingten.
“We can get to Fata Nor just ahead of them. Follow me,” said one warrior.
It was a hard cross-country ride back to the town, with the earlier frolicking forgotten. Urging her horse to greater speed, Miranda felt her muscles begin to ache after growing soft from weeks in bed.
Queen Vua was in the town center meeting with villagers when she noticed the riding party returning across the fields. The droning testimony from a local grievance faded from her ears as she saw how fast the riders approached. She scowled at the princesses riding so recklessly.
And Miranda with that broken arm! she thought, but her mental scolding ended when she realized something had to be wrong. The Temu warrior in front waved urgently to the people.
A Temu laden with firewood scrambled out of the way as the riders rushed into town. The leading warrior jumped from the saddle and his feet hit the ground before his horse even stopped.
Breathing hard, he said, “My Queen, Kezanada are coming on the north road. They will be here any time.” He looked over his shoulder, expecting them.
A serious expression consumed Vua’s face. “How many?” she cried urgently.
“Ah, twenty, not many,” he answered.
This figure made Vua relax slightly, but it was enough to make other people cry out with alarm. An old veteran warrior who had been attending the Queen during the public meeting stepped forward. His name was Hetano and he had only one arm.
“My Queen, I can handle this. But you and the princesses must get inside,” Hetano said.
She nodded and ordered the princesses and Miranda to go immediately to the guesthouse.
Hetano told the two warriors who had been riding with the women to gather the other warriors. A crowd of concerned people had quickly thickened around Hetano.
“Get off the streets. There are only twenty of them and that is not enough to attack. The warriors will handle it,” Hetano announced.
He escorted the Queen to the guesthouse. When Vua hurried inside, her youngest daughter rushed into her arms and Vua petted her reassuringly. Outside a dog barked, and a few people cried with alarm from the surrounding fields, sending a ripple of apprehension through the women in the house. Servants ran around locking doors and windows, but Vua calmly took her seat and sent a serv
ant to watch from a shuttered window.
Warriors were assembling outside and Hetano gave fast orders and pointed to various locations around the town. Three warriors stayed with him in front of the guesthouse.
Miranda heard the noise of riders, and they sounded like they were heading straight to the guesthouse.
Peeking carefully through the shutters, the servant girl reported, “Kezanada, my Queen.”
Vua nodded gravely, but no one dared breathe a word. The jingling of armed warriors dismounting could now be heard directly outside. Miranda crept near the servant girl so she could also look out.
Hetano faced a tall thickset man who acted like he was the leader of the riders. With his hands placed disdainfully on his hips, he looked down at Hetano. The stranger did not raise his visor and only shadows could be seen through the slits in the metal. By the amount of sweat-streaked dirt on his bare muscular arms, the man appeared to have traveled many fast hasas that day.
His voice had a metallic ring as he spoke through the visor. “My men would take water from the wells of Fata Nor.”
Hetano gestured generously with his one arm toward the nearest well and said, “You are welcome to the water if that is the extent of the Kezanada’s business here.”
The Kezanada leader laughed. “I came here for more than water. Where is Taischek?”
“King Taischek is away on Taischek’s business,” replied Hetano.
From the looks of the present Temu warriors, the Kezanada leader figured Hetano spoke truly, surmising that Taischek was probably off on some raid with his prime warriors. But the Kezanada was a bully and chose to be argumentative for the pleasure of it.
“I know the royal household is here, so don’t tell me he’s not here,” he rumbled.
Hetano showed no signs of intimidation but expanded his answer slightly, “King Taischek is away at war.”
“Ah, but surely his Queen is here?” said the Kezanada with a lewd tone. He turned his hidden face toward the guesthouse.
The young warriors behind Hetano bristled at the Kezanada’s mention of their beloved Queen, but Hetano maintained his composure.
“Let me speak with the Queen,” the Kezanada demanded, knowing the inappropriate request would provoke the Temu.
Stepping forward, Hetano boldly suggested, “If you wish to do battle with us, then just start it.”
The Kezanada leader looked around. He knew Temu warriors had to be concealed all over the town, and no doubt, bows were drawn. Taischek would not leave his family undefended, and the Kezanada force was not large enough to guarantee the submission of Fata Nor, and no one was paying him to attack a Temu town—at least not yet.
“You Temu have such attitudes,” the Kezanada commented.
He signaled to the other Kezanada men to go to the well. Leading their horses, they swaggered down the street, seemingly unconcerned with the glare of the watchful Temu warriors.
The Kezanada leader and Hetano did not move. “Where is the rys, Shan?” the Kezanada suddenly demanded, getting to the true nature of his business.
Hetano made no reply. He could be difficult too.
“Don’t play dumb with me you old cripple?” barked the leader. “I know Shan was asking for Taischek and bound for Fata Nor two weeks ago. Is he still here?”
“The Temu do not discuss their friends with people who do not give their names,” Hetano spat.
The leader paused. Kezanada, especially a ranking member, tended to be very private about their identities with outsiders. He also realized Hetano meant what he said. The Temu were notoriously loyal once they chose a friend, but the leader decided to press Hetano a little further. If he could make the Temu reveal any information, it could be helpful.
“You are hiding Shan,” he accused.
“A rys would not hide from you,” scoffed Hetano.
If Hetano could have seen the sinister glare behind the visor, he may not have remained so calm and confident.
Taking a new approach, the leader asked, “Is Shan with Taischek?”
For the smallest instant the truth flickered across Hetano’s face as the Kezanada leader had expected it would.
Although Hetano realized this, he still lied, “I do not know where Shan is. I know only he is not in Fata Nor.”
The Kezanada leader asked no more questions. He knew the old warrior would not reveal Taischek’s whereabouts, unless of course he took the trouble to torture him, but he did not want to use such time consuming methods. If he could find Shan before the rys learned of the bounty, he would have a greater chance of succeeding in his mission.
“Tell Taischek he best part company with his rys friend,” warned the leader.
“King Taischek cares little about the opinion of a Kezanada,” Hetano said proudly.
“I doubt that,” scoffed the Kezanada. “Just thank your ancestors that I don’t want to waste time attacking your pitiful town.”
“Water yourselves and be gone,” Hetano said.
“Talk like that to a Kezanada and you will lose your tongue like your arm.”
Startled, Hetano whirled to see who had spoken. His attention had been so focused on the Kezanada leader, he had not noticed the approach of Rysmavda Nebeck.
“Shan has shown the emptiness of your threats,” Hetano retorted. He had never respected Nebeck, and now all of his faith was in his King and Shan.
“And Shan will bring death to those who serve him. When you learn of the crimes the renegade rys has tricked King Taischek into committing, you will wish you had not protected Shan,” Nebeck said.
“Enough of this prattle,” snapped the Kezanada leader. “You have obviously come to talk to me Nebeck, so do not waste my time.” He barged past Hetano and started walking down the street with the rysmavda. Nebeck scowled at the Kezanada’s rude behavior but he followed without complaint.
Once they were out of earshot, one of the young Temu warriors whispered to Hetano, “You cannot let him insult us like that. Hetano, let us fight them.”
“It is best to let them leave. A quarrel with the Kezanada is best avoided, and we will have war soon enough,” Hetano explained.
Inside the guesthouse, the servant girl related what had happened in a hasty whisper to Queen Vua. Miranda stayed at the window and strained to see the Kezanada again, but they had moved out of sight. Although she had not understood all the words exchanged, she had gathered that the Kezanada wanted Shan. Deeply concerned, Miranda went and kneeled before Vua.
Worry creased the Queen’s face as she thought about her husband and the storm he was bringing upon his tribe, but she relinquished her attention to Miranda.
“What are the Kezanada?” Miranda asked.
Vua tried to formulate a description for something everyone simply understood. “They are a brotherhood of professional soldiers or maybe criminals is a better term. Anyone can hire their services. A tribe or rich family can hire them to perform services like kidnapping, extortion, assassination, spying, or to fight in a war. They are very secretive and very powerful. They work for Jingten as well,” Vua explained.
“And their whole tribe does this?” Miranda said.
Vua replied, “They are not a tribe. Their castle is in Do Jempur north of the Temu Domain, but they are not a people like the Temu. A member of the Kezanada can come from any tribe. A man can join if he is willing and can meet their requirements. Sometimes the Kezanada invite a warrior to join them, if he has a talent they want or need.”
“Queen Vua, they want Shan. That means someone has hired them to find Shan, right?” Miranda said.
Vua nodded. “There is always some profit behind their actions, but I do not know much more than I have told you.”
“You said they work for Jingten. Queen Onja must have sent them,” Miranda determined.
“You are probably right,” Vua said.
“Shan must be warned!” Miranda cried.
Vua agreed. “He will be. Tonight I will send messengers. The Kezanada will w
atch us for this move, so I will send them in all directions. I have reasonable knowledge of where the King can be reached, and he will receive this important news.”
“Let me go with them,” Miranda proposed.
Adamantly Vua shook her head, determined not to indulge Miranda with the request.
“Why do you ask such a thing?” Vua demanded.
“I cannot sit here while those men hunt Shan. He saved me from death and I must warn him. Please, Queen Vua, let me go,” Miranda pleaded.
“No,” Vua said sternly. “The Kezanada are very dangerous, and you would only jeopardize yourself and the Temu warrior with you. The messengers have a better chance of success if they travel alone.”
Miranda knew she had to accept Vua’s decision, but she murmured hopelessly, “But I must do something to help Shan. He is the only one who can get my children back. Without his magic, I know I cannot beat Onja.”
Her face fell into her hands as sadness and frustration momentarily overwhelmed her.
Vua truly felt sympathy for the foreign woman. In her life, Vua had given birth ten times and seen five of her children die. Two sons lost at war, one in a riding accident, a grown daughter in childbirth, and a baby girl to childhood disease, but she could not quite grasp the horror of having her children stolen.
How this girl must suffer, she thought and then said, “Shan will not be harmed. Shan is with Taischek, and Taischek is with warriors. They will be safe.”
Lifting her head, Miranda thanked the Queen for being patient with her. Dismally Miranda realized she probably could not contribute much to Shan’s defense anyway. Shan had a Temu army and his magic to protect him. Mostly Miranda wanted something to do. She was tired of waiting among the women. Seeing them with their children caused her a jealous pain, and she would rather be with Shan plotting his return to Jingten.
26 ~ Luxury and Strategy ~
Miranda had to languish in Fata Nor for nine more days after the disturbing incident with the Kezanada before General Xander returned with most of the Temu war party.
People rushed out to greet the returning column of warriors. Miranda easily spotted Dreibrand among the Temu and her heart thudded with joy to see him alive and unhurt. His bangs had gotten long over the summer and now a couple small braids held them on each side of his face, put there recently by a Temu comrade. His beard had started again as well.
Seeing Miranda, he steered Starfield away from the ranks. Miranda rushed into his anxious arms as soon as he jumped from his horse. They simply hugged each other for a moment to affirm their physical reality.
“You look better,” he said happily.
“I am much better,” Miranda agreed then kissed him.
When their lips parted, Miranda grinned but Dreibrand stared at her thoughtfully. He remembered the woman he had seen killed at the first Sabuto village.
“What is it?” Miranda wondered.
His face brightened and he dismissed the memory. He could be happy now.
“I was worried about you, but that is over,” he replied. “I have something to show you.”
Dreibrand opened a saddlebag and removed the sack with gold coins in it. Miranda gasped lightly when he let her peek at the contents, but her awe quickly turned to caution and she glanced around nervously.
Dreibrand chuckled approvingly, but he dispelled her worries. “All the warriors have the same. This is my proper share. No one will take it. We raided a rysmavda temple in Dursalene and it was full of treasure.”
Recalling that the rysmavda were an omnipresent part of the western world, he looked over his shoulder to the temple. Nebeck and his junior rysmavda had not joined the people of Fata Nor in greeting the returning war party.
“Where is Shan?” Miranda asked.
“He and Taischek went with a few warriors to the capital city of Dengar Nor. Xander came here to escort the Queen’s household back to the capital. So of course I came here,” Dreibrand explained.
“Did King Taischek get the message about the Kezanada?” Miranda inquired urgently.
“Yes. One of Vua’s messengers reached us a few days ago before we split from the King,” Dreibrand said. “Miranda, are these Kezanada really as terrible as everyone makes them out to be?”
“Yes, they are frightening,” Miranda said, recalling the tension when the Kezanada had entered Fata Nor.
Dreibrand shrugged. His judgement of these infamous mercenaries would have to wait until he saw them for himself.
“Dreibrand, do you think Shan is all right?” Miranda whispered.
This question amused Dreibrand. He had come to have an even greater appreciation of Shan’s powers over the last couple weeks.
“Yes, I am sure Shan is fine,” he assured her. “He went on with Taischek instead of backtracking to Fata Nor with me so he would spend less time on the road and avoid the Kezanada.”
Gesturing with his eyes to the temple, Dreibrand inquired about Rysmavda Nebeck. Dreibrand had learned that Onja could communicate with her priests via the large orbs in the temples, and he very well expected the rysmavda in Fata Nor to know what had happened in Dursalene.
“The rysmavda have kept to themselves in the temple. That Nebeck talked to the Kezanada though. I saw it myself. I do not know what was said, but I am sure he told them everything he could,” Miranda said.
“Yes, but Nebeck will not matter much longer. Taischek is going to close the temples in the Temu Domain,” Dreibrand said very quietly.
“Really?” Miranda whispered.
“It is only a matter of days, but we will not get to see Nebeck lose his job. We are going to Dengar Nor,” Dreibrand said.
“I am told that is a fine city,” Miranda said with excitement.