Cethe (42 page)

Severyn’s spine.

“I hope you don’t live to regret this, Your Highness,” muttered the duke.

Severn smiled and hoped he was right.

Stefn waited in the carriage, fidgeting as the minutes crept by. He kept close watch on the Sanctuary, but there was no change

in the activity or demeanor of the guards posted there. Had Severyn succeeded in stopping the wedding?

Final y, he started to doze. The rocking of the carriage woke him. He had barely the time to move over on the seat before the

prince jumped in, fol owed by Michael and the duke. Michael and Severyn were laughing. The duke seemed less amused, but he,

too, seemed infected by the air of triumph and relief. With a jolt, the carriage started forward, heading out of the Cathedral and back

toward the palace.

“Stefn!” Michael clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I hear it was you who warned Severyn. Thank you!”

Stefn smiled shyly.

“Why did you not take the opportunity to flee?” asked the Duke.

“He claims he’s with us now,” the prince said. “But maybe he just likes being Mick’s whore.”

Stung, Stefn turned his head. “Maybe I care about the people of Tanyrin,” he replied tightly.

“Leave off, Sev. I’m glad he did what he did, whatever his reasons.” Michael’s smile warmed Stefn to his toes.

“This reprieve is only temporary.” The duke ignored Stefn’s response, addressing the other two. “I hope you don’t regret this,

both of you. Open defiance is hardly the way to keep the Council’s attention off us.”

Stefn privately agreed, but didn’t dare say anything. Instead, he stared blindly out the window at the lake.

“Respectful y, Uncle Damon, I can’t agree,” replied the prince. “As long as the h’nara stay low and try to keep out of sight, the

Church can say what they wil about you. I think it’s time Tanyrin saw the h’nara as they truly are and what better way than to see

one frequently in the company of royalty?”

“You have a high opinion of your credibility, young prince,” observed the duke drily.

“Perhaps,” replied Severyn cheerful y. “We shal see.”

“And if the Church decides to use that friendship as an excuse to move against you?”

“Let them try,” retorted Severyn.

The duke sighed.

They reached the palace soon thereafter. As the four of them stepped down from the carriage, Michael paused, waiting for

Stefn to catch up to him. “You had no difficulty on the journey from Shia?”

“No, my lord. I came with some of Auron’s men. They saw to my needs and protection.” He could not help adding, “And would

doubtless have prevented me from fleeing, should I have chosen to do so.”

“I believe you,” Michael said, smiling. “Wil you stay in Lothmont awhile, too?”

Stefn, his heart lifting, started to reply, but Severyn interrupted, “He returns to Shia at once.”

“Surely he can spend a few days seeing the sights? Lothmont may not have the number of libraries Withwil ow does, but

those it possesses enjoy a lofty reputation.”

“They do, my lord. Especial y the Royal Library. I should very much like to see it.”

“We haven’t the time to be playing nursemaid,” retorted Severyn. “If you are truly committed to our cause, my lord, your time

wil be better spent in Shia preparing the two Chronicles for distribution. Surely that is a sufficiently scholarly pursuit?”

“Agreed,” said the duke, frowning at his grandson. “Bad enough that Severyn has decided to elevate you to a place of

prominence, Michael. Pushing the people’s tolerance by flaunting a sin-catcher is testing providence, methinks.”

Stefn’s heart sank. “I would stay out sight, my lords. I . . . I have no wish to go about social y.”

The prince’s scowl deepened. “I want you to return to Shia,” he said flatly. “And I wil hear no more about it.”

“Your Highness.” Stefn bowed, struggling to hide his disappointment.

“Besides,” continued the prince, “if you tarry too long here, you may not be able to return. I’ve heard the snows in the north

can close off the roads for weeks at a time.”

“The snows don’t get bad until the middle of Tamkel, my lord.”

“These days, who is to say?” replied the prince.

“Then I’l accompany him back to Shia,” Michael announced. A glint appeared in his eye and he met Severyn’s annoyed stare

squarely. “I’d like a chance to see how the printing progresses. Once I’ve seen him safely settled, I’l return.”

Severyn shook his head. “Auron’s men wil see Eldering safely back as they saw him safely here. You worry too much, Mick.”

Throwing an arm around Michael’s shoulders, the prince drew his friend with him, up the stairs and through the doors held

wide open for them. The duke had gone ahead and now stood a short distance away, waiting for them. Stefn stared at their backs,

then fol owed more slowly, realization stealing through him in a cold trickle. It had not been his imagination after al . It wasn’t just

brotherly affection between the prince and duke’s grandson. Severyn Lothlain, Crown Prince of Tanyrin, was in love with Michael

Arranz.

The Twelve High Orders are as follows: The Order of the Dragon, The Shield of Loth, The Sword of Loth, The Brotherhood

of Men, the Warriors of God, the Eagle and the Sword, Loth’s Servants, Fire of Faith, Hand of Justice, Soldiers of Loth, The

Storm Riders, The Lance of Righteousness. It is the mandate of the High Orders to preserve the integrity of high lothria, to guard

the spells and to pass them down to each succeeding generation of Loth’s Blessed.

from:
The Chronicles of Tanyrin: Volume II
,

Year of Loth’s Dominion 1349

Stefn, Marin and the guards returned to Shia under grey skies and bitter, icy winds. They were just in time. As elsewhere in

Tanyrin, winter did indeed come early. Auron, anxious to return to his family’s estates in the south, barely escaped before blizzards

swept down from the Lothwal s. Snow piled into towering drifts, changing the landscape into a featureless expanse of ever-shifting

white. Soon, only a single, narrow track snaked, canyon-like, through the snow-fields to the vil ages, Shia Castle’s lifeline to the rest

of the world.

In days past, peasants had cleared the road under the baleful eyes and whips of his father’s soldiers. Now a cheerful yeoman

and his five sons did it, and were paid a respectable sum to do so by Marin, who acted as Shia’s steward as wel as Stefn’s personal

valet.

For the first time in Stefn’s memory, the entire parish looked to survive the harsh winter in relative comfort. Thanks to

Lothlain’s largesse, vil age wal s and roofs stood fast against the raw winds. There were adequate food stores and cattle feed, even

a handsome, new-fangled, iron plow brought up from Tantagrel to handle the snowy roads.

Inside the castle, a smal army of servants kept the lanes and courtyards clear. Fires burned in every room Stefn was known

to fancy. Each evening after dinner, Marin apprised Stefn of the day’s household business and received any instructions Stefn might

have for him. It was a practice upon which he insisted, even though Stefn knew the deference was only a courtesy.

From Michael, he had only a note. It was brief and to-the-point: the Prince’s Objection had been taken up by the Advisori and

was in legal purgatory. There was no mention of when, if ever, either of them intended to return to Shia. However, thanks to the

periodicals ordered earlier by Auron and the prince, Stefn was able to fol ow some of Michael’s adventures in Tantagrel.

Lord Arranz, it seemed, was making Tantagrel and the Capitol his favorite hunting grounds. The Royal Gazette’s gossip

columns buzzed with stories of his friendship with the prince, of his superb fashion-sense, his courtly manners and, of course, his

“devilish” good looks. He favored no single particular lady, but seemed to like them al , always seen with a different Light of Society

on his arm. Stefn sniffed after reading this and asked the fireplace what self-respecting lady would give serious consideration to the

intentions of any h’nar, no matter how noble.

The regular news was less amusing. There was a debate in the Advisori over whether to support the Celestial Council’s latest

attempt to make the registration of h’nara a matter of universal law. The author of the article seemed unenthusiastic, giving ample

space to the expense involved with keeping such records, the time spent in hunting down al the h’nara, and so on. A member of the

Advisori indignantly accused the Church, anonymously of course, of attempting to usurp more of the king’s authority in the West.

“
H’nara are the king’s subjects, not the Council’s! If their registration is truly warranted, let His Majesty or our Council be

the ones to manage it!”

Winter rol ed on and post deliveries became more erratic as the snow deepened. Sheltered in Shia’s new warmth and luxury,

however, loneliness was the worst of the hardships Stefn was forced to endure. He kept it at bay by working religiously on printing

the Chronicles and reading the many new books in the library. He tried not to think about Michael Arranz.

It was a good thing, he told himself repeatedly, a good thing they were apart and the peculiar madness of the Bond would

have no chance to enslave him further. Yet often he found himself hesitating at his bedroom door, remembering when the two of

them had shared his bed. He missed the strangely exciting, almost-friendship that had sprung up between them.

Winter final y broke its hold on the north in traditional style. One day, the north winds abruptly reversed. Winds swept up from

the lowlands and the blizzards were soon interspersed with waves of icy rain. After six weeks without a visit, the post arrived with a

letter from Timkins on several domestic matters, a dozen or more outdated newspapers, and daunting heap of bil s. There was

nothing from Michael or the prince. More disappointed than he cared to admit, Stefn returned to the Chronicles, now completely

printed, and continued packing them into large, heavy trunks. Soon they would go south to Withwil ow. He wished he was going with

them.

One morning, after an especial y noisy thunderstorm, he came downstairs, heavy-eyed and yawning from his restless night, to

find Lord Forrest making himself at home in the breakfast room. Covered with mud from the road, hair stil damp, and dark circles

under his eyes, Forry lifted a cup of t’cha. “Good morning, my lord. My apologies for arriving unannounced and at such an

inconvenient hour.”

“Not at al .” Stefn was secretly delighted to see a familiar face. “But you look done in. Surely you haven’t ridden al night?”

“I’ve brought a hundred of my men, the first of the additional troops Severyn wants deployed here. Given the state of affairs

between the Council and the Advisori these days, it was decided discretion was preferable to convenience.”

Stefn poured himself some t’cha and took a piece of toast. His heart beat a little faster with excitement and apprehension.

“How soon before the others fol ow?”

“Erich is next, I think; he should be here within a month. What about the Chronicles? I hear you were left in charge of that

particular project.”

“They’re ready,” replied Stefn, taking a seat across from the weary marquis. “There’s been little else to do these past weeks.

You’l be taking them to Withwil ow then?”

“I wil . Once I’m satisfied my men are settling into their new barracks, I’l be on my way. We’ve valuable supplies waiting at the

port, too, so the sooner I leave, the better.”

“I’d like to come.” The wistful comment escaped before Stefn could think better of it.

Forry smiled rueful y. “I wouldn’t mind the company,” he replied, “but Sev was pretty clear.”

Stefn swal owed his disappointment. “He doesn’t trust me. I understand. Stil , it’s ironic, my lord. My father is dead, yet I’m stil

imprisoned in this place.” He shrugged. “At least the food is better now.”

“I’m sorry about it,” Forry said soberly. “I think you’re trustworthy, Eldering, and so do the others, but the prince doesn’t seem

to agree. Personal y, I think it’s Lord Damon’s suspicions that keep him from trusting you. His Grace was always more like a father to

the prince; Severyn trusts his advice implicitly.”

The Duke of Blackmarsh hated the Elderings, hated them with a cold, unshakeable intensity for the death of his wife. Even so,

Prince Severyn had his own reasons to dislike Stefn. Stefn managed a smile. “My apologies, my lord. I shouldn’t complain. It’s not

as if there’s been anywhere to go with snow six feet deep al around. Ah, here’s Hansen!”

Stefn remained at the breakfast table after Forry had been borne away to his room. The first rays of morning light fel through

the tal windows, glinting off china and silverware. It was going to be a beautiful day, the perfect day for riding like the wind across

the bare, but muddy fields.

Clattering down the stairs, he met Marin at the bottom. The steward smiled and bowed. “Ah, there you are, my lord. If you wil

excuse me, I wondered if you had forgotten our morning meeting.”

Keeping an eye on me, were you?

“I’m not up to it this morning, Marin.” Stefn made no effort to hide his il -humor. “I can’t imagine there’s anything that real y

requires my approval. Go ahead and do what you wil . I’m going for a ride.”

“At least take some guards,” Marin cal ed after him anxiously. “There have been reports of outlaws seen on the plains!”