A Bond of Three (33 page)

Tanish gazed fondly at his adviser. “Thank you, Malin.” He became still. “Sorran and Feyar, are they…?” He could not bring himself to speak of them for fear of breaking down. After three days of searching, his nerves were raw, and it would have taken little to crack his resolve.

“They are both well,” Malin reassured him. He patted Tanish’s arm. “Come, let us look together.” He peered at the caskets. “Each casket bears an engraving. Do these give an indication as to their contents?”

“Yes.” Tanish rolled up the parchments he had been studying and placed them in a large stone chest. He slid the heavy lid back into position. “Some of the engravings relate to a year, others to a particular issue, such as agriculture or politics.” He gazed around at the stone receptacles with a sigh. “Perhaps if I had an idea of what I seek, my task would be easier.”

Malin examined the caskets, bending low to peer at them. The lamplight flickered on the stone walls, creating shapes that danced. He took a lamp from its holder and went around the chamber, looking into every crevice, examining every container. When he got to the farthest corner, he leaned over the large casket that stood there to peer into the blackness where the lamplight could not reach. He grunted and put a hand to his back, his face twisted in pain.

Tanish went to him. “Malin, you should not be doing this.” As always, he was conscious of the adviser’s advanced years.

Malin ignored him. “I ask myself why this chest does not stand in the corner, and the answer seems to be that there is something behind it.”

Tanish’s interest was piqued. “Let us see.” He grabbed hold of the stone container and strained, the muscles in his neck and stomach taut as he pulled it toward him, shifting it from its position. Pain raced through him and he let go, panting.

Malin laid a hand on his arm. “You will injure yourself needlessly.”

Tanish took a deep breath. “Perhaps I have moved it enough.” He grabbed the lamp and peered over it. “There is a shelf set into the wall, Malin. It holds a small casket.” He set the lamp on top of the large chest, heaved himself up on top of it, and reached with both hands to ease the smaller one from its resting place, angling it to free it from the wall. Dust clung to it, and the lid seemed to be sealed to the base with dirt.

Malin stared at it. “That is very old, Tanish.”

Tanish wiped the sides of the casket with his hands, freeing the dirt and dust. He heard Malin’s sharp intake of breath even as his fingers found the engraving.

It was a circle of three hands.

The hair on his arms stood up on end. “Malin,” he whispered. He climbed down off the large stone chest, the smaller one held steady in his hands, and then went over to the table and set it down reverentially.

Malin came to stand beside him. “Can you open it?” Tanish heard the tremor in his voice.

The lid was tight. Tanish thought quickly. He mounted the staircase, strode through the audience chamber, and pushed open the heavy door. “Your sword,” he demanded of the guard on duty outside. The soldier handed him his sword instantly. Tanish thanked him and descended once more into the
Sanrual
. He pushed the sword’s blade at the seal, loosening the dirt and grime that sealed it.

Both he and Malin caught their breath when the seal gave way and he was able to lift the lid and place it to one side. Gingerly, Tanish removed the roll of parchments from inside and unfurled them.

Malin moved the lamp closer, and they leaned over to look at the fading lettering. “Oh, by the Maker….” Malin’s voice was filled with wonder. “When was this written? Does it give any indication?”

Tanish shook his head, unable to tear his gaze away from the precious document. “I cannot understand all of it,” he confessed. He glanced at the parchments below the top layer and scowled. “And there are some missing.” He pointed to the tiny numerals at the top of each parchment. “See? The sequence is broken.”

“But at last we have something that may give us some answers,” Malin declared, his eyes gleaming in the lamplight.

Excitement coursed through Tanish. “Yes.” He sat down and began to read.

“I shall return with food,” Malin said. “You need some sustenance.”

“Yes,” Tanish replied absently. He was already lost in the document’s revelations, barely aware of Malin’s movement in the chamber. When a gentle hand touched his shoulder, Tanish gave a start. “I thought you had gone to fetch food, Malin.”

Malin chuckled. “That was two hours ago, Your Majesty. I have come and gone since then, but you were deaf to my presence.”

Tanish stared at him in disbelief. “I have spent that long in reading?”

Malin nodded. “What have you learned?” He poured out a glass of water and handed it to Tanish.

He drank it greedily and then sat back with a sigh. “This is like a puzzle, with some of the pieces missing.” His stomach growled, and Tanish’s cheeks grew hot.

Malin pushed a plate of fruit, yogurt, and honey toward him with a chuckle. “Eat. Listen to your body. May I read it?” Tanish nodded and began to eat, succumbing to the hunger he had only just noticed. Malin scanned the parchments in silence, his eyes widening with each new layer. “Oh, Tanish. Yes, there are gaps in the history, but it reveals so much.” He studied the document and let out a gasp. “The
Seruani
….” He stared at Tanish, openmouthed. “This changes everything. The people must be told.”

Tanish swallowed his mouthful and grinned. “And I shall tell them.” His heart danced with joy, his mind already racing as it formed the proclamation he would give.

“But will they listen?”

Tanish became still. “They have to listen.”

He could not bear to think of the alternative.

T
HE
ROYAL
audience chamber was buzzing with noise, and outside the palace, audible through the open doors that led out onto the balcony, the crowds gathered, the streets alive with chatter.

“Why is the king to speak?” Sorran’s mother asked, looking around at the people who poured into the chamber, all talking animatedly.

Sorran shook his head. “You know as much as I.”

“I cannot help but think that this bodes ill for the alliance.” His father frowned. “There has been not one word of it since you….” He fell silent.

Sorran could hear the words in his head.
Since you walked out of your wedding.
He pushed aside the silent rebuke, closed his eyes, and focused on their bond. For the last day, he had been conscious of a barrage of strong emotions emanating from Tanish, but what made his heart race was the feeling of hope that surged into him.

He has found something.

He glanced at the trellis behind which their lover stood. Sorran concentrated, focusing on Feyar, reaching out to him. He sensed Feyar’s excitement.

He feels it too.

“Pray silence for His Majesty, King Tanish of Teruna.”

The chamber fell silent at the announcement, and all rose to their feet. Sorran struggled to breathe evenly as Tanish walked swiftly through the assembled throng to ascend the dais and seat himself upon the throne. Sorran took in Tanish’s pallor, his drawn face. For one brief moment, their eyes met. Tanish smiled at him, and yet again that feeling of hope pulsed through Sorran.

Praise the Maker.
He
has
found something.

These last few days without Tanish had been torture. Sorran had wanted to go to Tanish’s chamber, and had once got as far as the door but had been unable to go any farther. Instead, he had retreated back into his chamber and curled up on the bed, clutching a pillow to him.

He wanted his lovers. Both of them.

Sorran focused on Tanish, sensing the mixture of excitement and trepidation welling up inside him.

When the assembled guests were seated, Tanish cleared his throat. “What I say to you now is of such great importance that I have sent out messengers into every part of Teruna, so that all my subjects will hear my words.”

A ripple of noise ran through the room, and then all fell silent.

“Any king who wishes to rule with wisdom should be prepared to learn from the mistakes of the past. For the past has much to teach us—if we are ready to listen and accept its lessons. So I will speak of Teruna’s past.” He stared at the people before him.

“Long ago, Teruna was a truly blessed land, for there dwelt in it people with amazing gifts. They could foretell the future, heal, read the thoughts of others, and possessed many other skills. They were revered by all, and had a name—
Seruani
.”

The air suddenly became electric. The hairs stood upright on the back of Sorran’s neck.

“The
Seruani
brought peace and prosperity to Teruna. And when the king took two
Seruani
to be his consorts, all the land rejoiced, for the bond of three was a truly powerful combination.”

Sorran’s skin tingled, and his hands glowed hot. Beneath his robe, the emblem burned.

Tanish gestured to a scribe, who stepped forward, a rolled parchment in his hand. “Look upon the symbol of ancient Teruna, a symbol that became lost in the mists of time.”

The scribe unfurled the parchment and held it up for all to see.

Sorran gasped. There was his emblem, drawn large. Around him, the people began to mutter until Tanish held up his hand for silence.

“But then tragedy befell Teruna. Their king seemed to change. He began to write new laws that oppressed the people. No one was allowed to speak freely. Personal freedom was curtailed. Violence in the city intensified.” Tanish paused and surveyed his subjects. “Throughout history there have been men whose hearts were black, and the
Seruani
were no different, for one arose among them who sought to dominate the land. It was Teruna’s misfortune that he happened to be one of the king’s consorts. And when it became clear that he had ensnared the king’s mind, the people rose up, stormed the palace, seized the
Seruan
, and executed him.”

A member of one of the Great Houses sprang to his feet, his face red. “
This
is why the
Seruani
cannot be trusted!” He looked around at the people sitting near him. “Why do you think they are treated with such disgust?”

“You will sit down and be silent.” Tanish’s voice was icy.

The man paled and gulped. He sank back onto his chair.

Tanish rose slowly to his feet and descended the steps in front of the throne. His eyes were cold, and Sorran recoiled at the fury that pulsed through him. He had not thought Tanish capable of such anger.

Tanish stared at the speaker. “So if one man is evil, then all men are evil?” The man gaped at him, mouth opening and closing. “That is what you would have us believe, is it not, when you tar all the
Seruani
with the same brush? In this, you are as ignorant as those ancient Terunans. There remain only fragments of what happened after this, but what is clear is that the people of Teruna decided that all
Seruani
were not to be trusted, and they forced their decision upon the monarchy. There were edicts written that prevented them from using their powers, all because the people assumed—wrongly—that such powers could only harm them. And because the king had been in a bond of three with two
Seruani
, the people also assumed—again, wrongly—that it had been this combination that had somehow been the cause of it all. The symbol of Teruna was consigned to history.”

Tanish bowed his head, and Sorran could feel the pain flowing through him. Around him, no one spoke, and all eyes were focused on Tanish. Beside him his father sat, his back rigid.

Tanish raised his head to gaze at his people. “Which brings us to the present. No one knew how the
Seruani
came to be treated with such distrust. If they were forbidden to use their gifts, perhaps, with time, these gifts died out and all that was left to them was their skills in lovemaking, a gift that was harmless. As time passed, people forgot that the
Seruani
had possessed powers at all. When the original
Seruani
were no more, we chose young people at random to be taken from those who loved them, to train them. We made them pariahs.” His eyes sparkled, and Sorran realized Tanish was close to tears. “What is clear to me is that Teruna lost a treasure.” His voice hardened. “The ancient inhabitants of this land robbed us of a people who brought peace and light to Teruna. Instead, they gave us a people to be reviled, dismissed, distrusted, and avoided.”

Tanish gave a hand signal to the royal guards who stood around the edges of the chamber, and as one they made their way to the front to stand before the throne. Tanish lifted his chin and stared at the packed chamber.

“Today I give back to the
Seruani
what was stolen from them—their status. From this day forward, all
Seruani
are no longer the lowest of the low. They are to be revered as in ancient times. They are no longer to be separated from their families and loved ones. And I pray that in time their gifts will return, that once more they may become Teruna’s treasure. All Terunans are to obey this command. As your king I shall lead by example. Behind that trellis stand the palace
Seruani
, hidden from view.” He took a deep breath. “But no longer.”

He signaled to the guards, who moved swiftly to the trellis and began to pull it apart. The sound of wood splintering filled the air as the offending barrier was reduced to pieces. The palace
Seruani
stood behind it, each wearing an identical expression of shock. Feyar stared across the chamber at Sorran, his face alight.

“You are free to return to your families and loved ones,” Tanish told them. “Go in peace, and may the Maker bless you.”

Sorran bit back a sob of joy when Deron dashed forward and swung a young woman into his arms. She was weeping, clutching him to her, his tears falling into her long hair. “Oh, my sister.” He held her tightly and turned to face Tanish. “Blessings on you this day, Your Majesty.” He bowed low, his sister bowing with him, and Tanish acknowledged them with a brief nod.