Breaking the Gloaming (3 page)

After that story, Yates had asked Justus to raise the boy as his own son, in his noble house. Although the old priest was never too specific about it, Justus pieced together enough of the story to believe that Andor was the descendent of Aden, the great Valemidas prince who had invaded Sunan and then brokered peace with them. What Justus had seen in Andor as he grew never made him question that belief. The boy was like an oak sapling among ferns.
 

Sometimes Justus wondered whether he had let Andor rise too fast, positioning him to be prince before he had thickened in the ways of a man, a grown oak. But the throne opened rarely, and Justus supported his boy when the opportunity came. Andor was a young candidate then, but already loved by the people. With Justus’s maneuvering, the nobles nominated him and the path from there was straight to the throne.

Full of vigor and pride, Andor set out bold goals for his reign—loosening power over city-states, building roads to better connect them, reducing taxes, regulations, and the spending of nobles. It was unprecedented change, as if nothing could stop him. But Andor failed to detect the threat emerging at his side. Tryst had fallen just short in his push for the throne, and he had not given up when his peer was elected. Betrayal and upheaval followed in Tryst’s wake. Justus harbored guilt for not demanding that Andor avoid keeping such a man so close.
 

Now, as he stood from his chair and rubbed the smooth skin of his cheek, Justus was more thankful than ever that the rightful prince sat on the throne. This was not a day to dwell on past failures.
 

He finished dressing and put on a pair of leather boots. As he prepared to leave, he thought of stopping by his other son’s room to invite him to join. He decided against it. Jonas would be sleeping for hours more after yet another late night at a tavern. Though Jonas was his son by blood, Andor was the son Justus had always wanted.
 

Justus left his estate with personal guards surrounding him. The hot summer had turned into autumn, and the morning air was cool. He walked briskly to the plaza below the palace. This early in the day, only a few merchants had begun setting up their stands. The white tree stood, as always, as the sentinel of the open space. Justus climbed the stairs and began to sweat. As he entered the palace doors, the knights on either side nodded at him knowingly. He signaled for his guards to stay behind.

Andor had beckoned him to come to his private chambers, not the throne room. Justus took that as a good sign. He had been to the chambers only once before, the week after Andor had risen to the throne the first time. That had been one of their few conversations during his first reign, and it had ended poorly. There had been tension between them then. Justus realized now that he might have pushed too hard against the young prince, trying to shape his reign. Andor had spurned Justus’s advice, insisting that the prince could not bow to a noble’s wishes, even if that noble had raised him. Justus had overreacted by pulling away. Each man’s pride and power had wedged between them.

Much had changed since then. Soon after Andor had escaped the Gloaming, he had written to Justus for help. Justus had done everything in his power to rally the nobles’ support, to prepare the way for Andor’s return to the throne. Although they had worked separately and from afar, their efforts had united and succeeded in deposing Tryst.
 

And now here Andor was, Justus thought, as servants knocked on the doors of prince’s quarters. The thick wood thudded with each knock until it swung open with a mix of invitation and threat. Justus did not fear the prince, but he feared the threat he faced, and how it might divide the Valemidans, even a father and his son.
 

Justus’s concerns faded when he saw Andor. His son hurried forward to welcome him. They embraced.

“Father, if I did not know you better, I would think you are smiling.”
 

“Even an old man can learn new tricks,” Justus said. “How could I hide my joy in your return to your proper place? Your descent into the Gloaming left many doubtful that you would rise out again. Now here you are, mostly mended.” Justus reached out and touched the fresh scar on the prince’s cheek. His skin was still too light, and his hair almost white. Justus had never seen a man’s coloring change like that.

“The wounds are nothing.” Andor looked away as if to avoid the subject. He gestured towards two chairs on a balcony. “Come, let’s talk as we once did, a father to his son. I want to hear what has caused the unflappable Sir Justus Davosman to request an urgent audience with the prince.”
 

“I am afraid it is not good tidings.” Justus walked to one of the chairs on the balcony but stayed on his feet. He looked over the ocean to the east. “I have learned that another threat looms.”

“Threats will always loom for Valemidas and its prince.” Andor leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head.
 

“You said something like that once before,” Justus said, “when I warned you about keeping Tryst so close.”
 

A shadow crossed Andor’s face. He leaned forward and held Justus in a steady gaze. “Tell me more about this threat on the horizon. Is it about the Gloaming?”

“No,” Justus replied, “not the Gloaming. You must deal with the place eventually, but there are more pressing concerns.” Justus needed to keep Andor’s attention away from the Gloaming to fulfill his end of the agreement. He could see the memories weighing on Andor. His son had not been the same since his return.

“I cannot wait long,” Andor said. “I have already ordered the minister of prisons to figure out how to get the men out, and then what to do with a few hundred starving criminals and a deposed prince, especially when our dungeons lack room for them. In the meantime, the minister will be sending more food down there. More food, but no more men.” Andor sighed. “None of that’s enough, though. I need to learn more about the Gloaming. Most do not even know of its existence. It seems the dungeon keepers grew bold over the years without a prince’s oversight. But tell me about this new threat.”

 
“You know the story of the white tree?” The old noble began carefully. It was not the time to reveal too much about how personally this could touch Andor.

“Of course.” Andor said. “The tutors in your noble house made me memorize it. The story begins, ‘Many years ago, under the legendary reign of Prince Aden, the great knights and soldiers of Valemidas sailed across the sea to conquer the fertile land of the Sunans.’ Although the tutors never said as much, it was clear we did not win that war. Prince Aden paid for his failure with a costly peace—many men dead, and his son was traded for the seed of a tree. If you plan to tell me that the tree is now dying, that much is plain to any eye.”

 
“Do you believe the things of this world are connected?” Justus asked.

“Yes,” Andor said. “You mean to tell me that the tree’s decay is tied to something else?”

“The facts will come, Andor, but I fear it may then be too late. Remember the example of Tryst. I warned you of my feelings about the corroding connection of you and Tryst before he betrayed you. I had no evidence of his plotting. He seemed loyal and devoted to you, with more zeal than any others, but I sensed something was amiss. So did Father Yates. We were right.”
 

Justus sat in the chair beside Andor, leaning close as he continued. “You know I am a man of reason. Yet reason has limits. Sometimes your gut, your soul, leads you to a deeper truth about the connections in this world.”

“You sound like Father Yates,” Andor said. “Not long ago, I would have dismissed such talk, but the Gloaming changed me. You have my ear. What danger do you sense?”

“What does the white tree stand for?” Justus asked.

“For peace, I suppose. You fear that its decay is a sign of danger to our peace?”

“More specifically,” Justus answered, “a sign—”

Three hard knocks on the door cut him short. It swung open without waiting on an answer, and Sebastian walked in.
 

“My prince, Sir Davosman,” the man bowed low, “apologies for the intrusion. I come with urgent news.” The chief of spies wore his usual black, but the cloth seemed damp, as if just washed. His eyes were red and he had not shaved, which was unusual for him.

Andor rose from his chair and stood before Sebastian, with Justus at his side. “What is it, Sebastian?”

“I have just learned that the Sunans are planning to invade. Their forces set sail soon. We should expect them to arrive before winter.” The man spoke with the passion of a servant reporting on the prince’s breakfast menu.
 

Justus prayed, as he had many times in recent days, that he truly had the upper hand in his pact with Sebastian and Ravien. There were too many unknowns about their plots. Sebastian was not a man to take lightly, nor to trust completely.

“Coming for the gold Valemidas owes them?” The prince responded. “It was only a matter of time, with the debt, the dying tree, and other signs. For this news, Sebastian, I must ask something I usually would not. What is your source?”

A tense look passed between the men. Good, Justus thought, some distrust persists, as it should. Maybe Sebastian had remained loyal to Andor during all of Tryst’s reign, but it was doubtful. A turncloak could turn again.
 

“My duties do not permit me to reveal all my sources,” Sebastian said, choosing his words with apparent caution. “For you, my prince, I will say this. I had more time with Ramzi just before his death. He knew many things, and his connections to the Sunans ran deep.”

“What did Ramzi say to you? The exact words,” Andor demanded.

“Much of what he said was worthless. When I pressed about his Sunan ties, he confessed to regular, secret communications with someone in that land. He told me, in bitter words:
the disciplined zeal of the Sunans will be the end of this sinful city and its lands. With Tryst, we could have forged an alliance. With Andor, they will smell weakness and Valemidas will be conquered before he reigns another year
.”

“You said they would come before winter, Sebastian. That’s a few months.” The prince’s voice grew firmer. “How do you know?”
 

“I received a report from merchants who had passed through Sunan,” Sebastian answered flatly. It sounded like a lie.

“You received a report from merchants. That is all you have for me?” The prince turned away from the spy, to look out over the sea again. Sebastian stood in silence.
 

Justus sensed that Andor was struggling to contain his distrust and his frustration. The prince owed much to Sebastian, and he needed his information. That made the prince vulnerable to a man who had been born among the same people who now threatened war. Justus was trying to find words to break the quiet when the door of Andor’s bedchambers opened.
 

Lorien walked in. Her hair was pulled back, revealing the sharp lines of her chin and neck and shoulders. She looked every bit the princess, poised and prepared. Her entrance was like a drop of fragrant oil into a mud puddle.
 

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said warmly as she walked to Andor’s side. “Sebastian, your reports are much appreciated as always. What was the name of your merchant source, and are any of them still in Valemidas?” Justus figured she had been listening to the whole conversation.
   

“My lady,” Sebastian replied, “the merchants did not give me their names, and they have since left our city.”

“How many merchants were there?” Lorien asked in an innocent tone.

“There were a few of them. These men always travel in small groups.”

“How many did you speak to?” Her eyes locked with Sebastian’s.

“I spoke to them all. One of them provided most of the information.”

“When did you speak to them?”

“It was three days ago, while the prince was away.” Sebastian looked to Andor, who was still and listening while his wife pressed further.

“What time of day?” Lorien asked.

“Early in the morning.”

“When did they leave?”

“Later that day.”

“Did you try to stop them, delay them until Andor could speak with them?”

“No.” Sebastian hesitated. “My duty to the prince is to gather information and provide it to him. I serve him, I protect him.” His voice was growing defensive.
 

“You waited three days before telling us?”

“I waited until today because this is the first day the prince has held meetings. He needed rest to recover from all that happened in the Gloaming.” Sebastian glanced to Andor, then back to Lorien. “What is the point of your questions? I have proved my loyalty. Andor would not have the throne without my betrayal of Tryst.”

“Oh, Sebastian!” Lorien responded with affection. “Your actions leave no doubt about your loyalty. Forgive my curiosity. I simply want to understand more, to know our threat so that we can respond to it in due course. We owe the Sunans a great debt, and we must do everything in our power to pay it.”

She turned to Andor. “Can we reconvene with these fine men later today? You may remember that you have another engagement now.”

The prince nodded. “This is dire news. We will meet again today, and many times in the days to come. Valemidas will stand against the Sunans, if it comes to war. I will do all in my power to avoid that.”

“Some wars cannot be avoided,” Justus said.
 

“All wars can be avoided.” Andor spoke as if there could be no further discussion. “Both of you, come to the throne room at midday. We will confer with others on the warnings you bring.”

Justus and Sebastian bowed and departed. They spoke not a word as they went their separate ways, but their agreement bound them. Justus was glad for it, because he knew Andor could not ignore this threat. It was coming, and he would make sure the prince was ready to fight it.

Chapter 5

A LEVELING WIND

“The only way to deal