Artesans of Albia: 02 - King's Champion (24 page)

Pharikian’s lip curled. “That was your reasoning, was it?”

To forestall any further unpleasantness, Sullyan turned back to Anjer. “My Lord, how many men does Ky-shan have?”

“Around sixty, Major.”

“A discreet yet useful number. Are any of them Artesans?”

Anjer gestured to Vanyr, who answered sullenly. “Ky-shan and his son both have some power, but they are raw and untrained. Hardly surprising, as such ruffians set no store by discipline.”

She raised her brows but made no reply. “Are they well-armed and mounted?”

Anjer frowned. “You sound as if you’re considering taking them on, Major.”

“In the absence of any other suitable candidates, Lord General, I believe I am.”

Vanyr exchanged a smug look with Kryp, and Sullyan also caught a glimpse of Robin’s concerned expression. He wouldn’t be feeling confident about this band of ‘free traders’ and she had to admit they sounded like a handful. However, he would back her in whatever she decided.

Anjer shrugged. “They have what they came with, Major. I imagine they are armed well enough, but as to the rest, you will have to see for yourself.”

“May I have your authority to requisition what I might need, my Lord?”

Anjer twitched a hand at Gaslek, who hastily wrote on a parchment. “You will have my authority, Major.” Gaslek passed him the parchment, which he signed with a flourish. He pressed his ring to the wax Gaslek dripped on it, and then the secretary came around the table to hand the parchment over. Sullyan scanned it quickly before laying it on the table to dry.

“I thank you, my Lord. I have one more question. Where are they quartered?”

Ephan answered. “They have a compound in the northern quarter, Major. I will have someone show you the way.”

“I appreciate the offer, General, but it will not be necessary. The Captain and I will find them.”

Ephan shrugged.

Satisfied with the outcome of the meeting, Sullyan bowed. She was about to retreat to her seat next to Robin when the Hierarch motioned for her to take one of the chairs at the oval table. Humbled by the honor, she took the chair directly opposite him, deliberately placing herself in the lowest position. This wasn’t lost on either Pharikian or Anjer. She then gestured for Robin to come and stand behind her, which earned her a hard stare from Kryp. She chose to ignore it.

Anjer spared her one last glance before turning back to his commanders. “Very well, gentlemen, I propose we adopt the Major’s strategy. Ephan, Kryp, I want to see you both in my office in one hour with full details of your companies’ strengths. I want suggestions as to which units will carry out strikes on Rykan’s column with the aim of distracting and splitting his men.”

Sullyan sat in silence, observing the play of emotion across the warleaders’ faces as Anjer outlined her strategy. Now and then she crossed glances with Kryp and Vanyr which Anjer noticed. While he didn’t remark on it, the expression in his eyes was hard.

Sullyan was pleased to learn that she would be reporting to Ephan rather than Kryp. The Hierarch thanked and dismissed them, and the warleaders rose to leave. As they approached the door, Sullyan saw Anjer throw a massive arm across Kryp’s heavily padded shoulders. Kryp looked none too pleased by the intimacy. They left the room together, and she stifled a laugh when she heard Anjer say, “So remind me, Kryp, when was the last time you used your sword in the field?”

Vanyr shot her a venomous look as he left, but she affected not to notice, busying herself with folding Anjer’s authority and stowing it inside her jacket. Ephan passed behind her on his way to the door, and he was the only one who spoke.

“It seems we’ll be seeing more of each other than I thought, Major. I wish you good fortune in your new command.”

She flashed him a brief but genuine smile. “I thank you, General. Let us hope for a swift and favorable outcome to this conflict.”

“Indeed.”

The Hierarch also dismissed Gaslek, and the little secretary hurried after the others. Pharikian remained behind, alone but for his page and the guards by the door. He watched Sullyan quietly for a few moments, studying her face now that the ordeal was over. She held his regard and he shook his head.

“That was very cleverly done, Brynne. You did well to get Anjer on your side so quickly.”

She looked down at her hands, trying to conceal their trembling. She was wearier than she wanted to admit.

“He was not as prejudiced as he might have been, Majesty. You are fortunate to have such a man at the head of your forces. He is not so blinded by tradition that he cannot see or consider new ideas.”

“Hmm. Not like Kryp, eh, Brynne? He couldn’t see a new idea if it sat on his nose and bit him!” They exchanged smiles. “But he will bear watching, child, as will his protégé, Vanyr. The man hates you, although why he should, I don’t know.”

She sighed. “I am unnatural in his eyes, Majesty. He sees me as a threat. I outrank him in both military and Artesan skills, and he will never have encountered a woman in such a powerful position before. He is eager to prove that his weapons skills are superior to mine, as they may well be. He looks like a dangerous man.”

“You are right, Brynne, he has a notorious and well-deserved reputation. So let me warn you. Don’t get trapped into fighting him. Not only is dueling forbidden within my forces, but in wartime it is punishable by death. I can make no exceptions.”

“I will remember that, Majesty. Let me assure you, I have no intention whatsoever of dueling with Commander Vanyr.” She cast a sly glance at Robin, who colored at her tacit reference to his fight with Parren.

The Hierarch watched the exchange, but said nothing. Suddenly he laughed, causing Sullyan to start.

“Oh, Brynne, you are a dose of spring water, and no mistake! It might have been your father standing there today, playing my generals as he played his harp. It was a joy to watch.”

He sobered. “Ah, but you look weary. Go and rest before commencing your duties. I’ll send Deshan to you. He tells me he has found something that should strengthen you.”

He turned to go, and then paused by the door. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I am hosting a small dinner party tonight, to give us all some relief from this uncertain situation. I would take it as a personal favor if you and your Captain would attend.”

She inclined her head. “We would be honored, Majesty. I thank you for your kindness.”

Then he surprised her again. “Count Marik will be joining your command in the field. Bring him to dinner too.”

T
aran made his way back to his shared quarters, reflecting that this would be a memorable day for Cal if what he was planning went well. He had been working on it ever since their return to the Manor, but Cal had no idea. He smiled. Even Rienne seemed a bit more cheerful this morning, and considering how uncharacteristically listless and preoccupied she had been lately, it was a relief. Being forced to leave Sullyan had hurt Rienne deeply even though Taran and Cal had done everything they could to comfort her. Until today, her sorrow hadn’t lifted.

Following Sullyan’s request, Rienne had taken charge of the Major’s harp and guitar. Entering her abandoned quarters to fetch them had affected the healer profoundly. Taran could see how the memories of the happy evening the two women had spent there brought tears to Rienne’s eyes, and Cal had told him that she passed the rest of that day in their sleeping room, just staring at the guitar in her lap. Rienne hadn’t touched either instrument since.

Bull hadn’t been much help. He was even more melancholy than Rienne. He sat either in his rooms or in Sullyan’s silent office with a half-empty glass of firewater by his elbow and a bleary look in his eye. Worried that he was drinking too heavily, Taran had spent some time alone with him. Finally, the big man seemed to have thrown off the worst of his misery.

Since returning from Andaryon, Taran and Cal had spent much of their time working on their Artesan skills. Now that he had gained Mastery over Water, Taran’s next task was to learn how to influence Fire. He would also have to initiate and control Powersinks, whatever rank the other participants held. Cal was working toward Apprentice-elite, which meant strengthening his communication skills and learning how to identify unknown Artesans just by the pattern of their psyche. Taran had been training him hard and was pleased with Cal’s progress.

That particular morning Taran had risen early, telling Cal he was going to talk to Bull. The Apprentice would be alone in their suite, as Rienne had resumed her duties in the infirmary. Cal didn’t mind, as it was the only activity that could prod her out of her sadness, if only for a while. He told Taran he would spend the morning playing his longwhistle or practicing his Artesan skills. Now, as Taran approached, he could hear the strains of a folk tune coming from the suite. He smiled and pushed open the door, feeling genuine pleasure in the day. Cal looked up from his whistle, his brows rising in query.

“Come on,” said Taran, “I told Rienne and Bull we’d meet them in the commons for a bite.” He turned without waiting for a reply, leaving Cal to pocket his whistle and follow.

There was a lively hum of conversation in the commons. Since the cessation of Andaryan hostilities, the Manor had become quite crowded. The various companies stationed there took turns at guard duty, exercises, and patrolling the countryside, but there were always two or three units resting. The commons always filled up at mealtimes and was a noisy, friendly place.

As he and Cal entered, Taran could see Bull sitting at his favorite table. The big man was talking to Sullyan’s company sergeant, Dexter. Taran and Cal had become acquainted with Dexter during their time fighting the invasion, but over the past few days they had gotten to know him much better. Dexter had quick wits and a cheerful disposition, and was thoroughly enjoying his spell as temporary commander of Sullyan’s company. With luck and hard work, he knew it could be his passage to promotion.

The two men had their heads close together, and from what Taran could see Bull was sober. As he and Cal approached, Bull looked up and smiled. Taran nodded with relief. The big man’s eyes were clear of the effects of drink. He took the chair Bull pushed toward him, and Dexter shoved one at Cal.

“Tad!” called Bull, over the din of conversation. The young lad sprinted over from the kitchens and took their order. Taran and Cal settled into their chairs, Cal appraising the big man openly.

“You seem more cheerful today, Bull.”

Bull grimaced. “I suppose I’ve not been the best company lately.”

Dexter snorted and leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “That’s a fact! You’ve been a morose, old lush, mate.”

Bull lunged forward and swatted his arm. “That’s enough of your cheek, my lad. I may be retired, but I could still teach you a thing or two.”

Dexter grinned and rubbed his arm.

The commons door opened again and Rienne entered, accompanied by Chief Healer Hanan. The two women had grown close through working together, and Taran was glad Rienne had someone of her own gender to talk to. They parted at the door and Rienne came over. She looked tired and careworn, her grey eyes clouded, her long hair dull. She rarely smiled these days, which wasn’t like her, and Taran was pleased to see her face lighten when Bull got to his feet and kissed her cheek.

“You look better, Bull.”

He ducked his head. “Yes, I know I’ve been hitting the bottle a little too hard recently.”

She smiled. “You’re not the only one.”

Tad and two other boys arrived, deftly balancing plates of food, and Rienne spared the youngster a grin. They had all grown fond of the eager lad who never missed an opportunity to ask for news. Everyone knew he meant news of Robin, and Cal had remarked early on that the young lad had a terminal case of hero worship.

Now Tad hung back when the other lads returned to the kitchen, hopeful eyes fixed on Bull. The big man took a forkful of meat and chewed appreciatively. He looked round at the others, catching their attention.

“I’ve had some news.”

They all stopped mid-chew and Rienne dropped her eating knife. “It’s alright,” he added hastily, “it’s not bad news.”

Rienne retrieved her knife with a hand that shook, and Bull continued. “I finally sobered up enough to receive a message from Robin this morning.”

Rienne stared at him, her heart in her eyes. “How is she?”

“She’s fine ... well, as fine as she can be. Listen, I’m going to tell you all an incredible tale. You might find it hard to believe. I know I did. Robin assures me it’s true, though, and it might just give us some hope.”

Eyes wide, Rienne urged Bull to continue. While they ate, he related everything Robin had told him about the journey to Caer Vellet, their reception at the Citadel, and Sullyan’s subsequent collapse. When he reached this part, Rienne’s face went pale. “I thought you said it wasn’t bad news!”

He patted her hand. “Wait till you hear the rest.” He went on to tell them what the Hierarch had revealed about Sullyan’s parents.

Taran was stunned. “That’s incredible. She can really claim kinship with the Hierarch?”

“It seems so, although it’s more of a blood bond than true kinship.”

Rienne’s face relaxed as she took in Bull’s words. “Brynne,” she murmured, trying the sound of it. “It’s an unusual name. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before. I have to say it suits her.”

Bull grinned. “Knowing Sully, she won’t know what to do with it. She’s lived with just one name for so long it’ll take some getting used to.”

She nodded. “What did you mean about giving us some hope?”

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “According to Robin, the Hierarch says that it’s possible for Rykan to remove the poison from Sullyan’s body, undo the damage it’s done. His power put it there, so his power can remove it.”

Rienne gasped and Bull held up his hand. “He has to do it of his own free will, though. He can’t be coerced.”

She slumped, her optimism dashed. “What kind of hope is that, Bull? There’s no way he’ll do it.”