Rise of the Red Harbinger (22 page)

“Like I also said before, King Edmund is huntin’ all o’ ya, but yer all protected at the House. I would imagine they also teach ya about them manifestations. But again…we’ve already been down that road.”

“Fine. But what about these bloody manifestations and black lines in the first place? Why do we even get them?”

“I don’t know much about that either, Baltaszar. I’m sorry, but look who yer askin’. I work at an inn nowhere near the House an’ I’ve never left this town. I believe it’s got a lot to do with the Orijin an’ the Harbingers an’ all. But I’ve never been properly educated on those things.”

The door opened once more, Baltaszar realizing only now that it wasn’t locked. Two new dark-haired, almond-eyed maids walked in with plates of food and folding trays on which to eat. The maids set the trays in front of Baltaszar and Anahi, then set the plates down, steam billowing from each. Both plates bore a steak, smaller than the one Baltaszar had eaten for breakfast, accompanied by a mixture of roasted onions and diced red-skinned potatoes. After setting the plates, one of the maids placed a glass of deep red wine on each tray top and left the room.

Baltaszar salivated and exhaled loudly. “You’re not being as helpful as I’d hoped. Maybe I should just go have dinner with Horatio.”

“I’m sure he would love that. Go then.”

“If I went, I’d take your dinner with me. There’s no reason Horatio should miss out on something like this. Anyway, back to the point. What about the Descendants? Any idea what that means? Who are we descending from?”

“Well, that one’s simple. Yer descendants o’ Darian! That’s why ye’ve got the House o’ Darian, fool boy!”

“But how? I mean, I have a twin brother, yet I have this line on my face that says I’m a descendant of Darian, but he doesn’t. Neither does my father. It doesn’t make any sense how I would be related to Darian, but they wouldn’t be.”

Anahi nodded and smiled. “Well, that’s ta do with the manifestations. So many people these days descend from Darian, but not all o’ them get the black line or the manifestations. Ya ask me, that’s an answer only the Orijin can give…who gets em an’ who doesn’t. If ya have the black line, yer whole family descends from Darian, or one o’ yer parents anyway. It’s just that ya were chosen as a child ta bear the Mark. Remember, my brother got the Mark an’ I didn’t. Same situation. Happy now, fool boy?”

Baltaszar smiled. They’d both forgotten to start eating. He cut into the steak and stuffed a big piece in his mouth. It was seasoned differently than the one he’d eaten for breakfast. This one was a bit spicier with hints of garlic and mustard. He washed it down with a sip of wine, which was dry but very fragrant and tasted of berries, with a touch of spice. It went extremely well with the food.

Anahi eyed him, “Ya like it, I see. I thought ya would. This is my favorite meal.”

Baltaszar was about to speak, but his mouth was full again. For the remainder of the meal, he and Anahi sat and glanced back and forth at one another, smiling from time to time. It was an innocent flirtation. Baltaszar knew he wouldn’t do anything, and he understood that Anahi respected his feelings for Yasaman enough to not make any advances.

Once they finished eating, Anahi rose from the bed.

“Are you leaving already?” Baltaszar stood in response.

She walked to him, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand. “We both know that it is best for me ta leave. Ya would be wise ta wake early. You’ll be travelin’ on the road, out in the open. The king’s soldiers are very unpredictable with how they scout, though they don’t normally come up this far. Ya should be well on yer journey by late mornin’. At least that way, ye’ll have yer wits about ya by the time they’re up an’ ready. I hope fer yer sake that Horatio is better with fightin’ than with manners. At least ya won’t be alone though.” Anahi pulled his head close and kissed him on the cheek.

“An’ do me a favor, Baltaszar. Well two favors. When ya have a chance, go back to…wherever it is yer from an’ talk to Yasaman. Figure things out one way or another. Not for my sake, but fer yers. It’ll drive ya crazy the longer ya go on without knowin’ what the situation is.” She looked him straight in the eyes.

“All right, I promise, I will. What else?”

“The second favor is silly, but fer yer own good. When ya find yerself deep in thought, please don’t keep makin’ those funny faces. I don’t mind ‘em because I find ‘em amusin’ an endearin’, but no one will take ya seriously when ya puff up yer cheeks like that and stare off inta space. Or when ya twist up yer mouth all crazy. Yer not a very scary Descendant.”

Baltaszar chuckled. “You know, I never really realized that I do that until now. Fine, I will make a conscious effort to avoid that. Is that all?”

“One more thing. Be safe. Please. I don’t get too attached ta visitors at the Elephant, but yer nice. An’ genuine. An’ I care. Please just don’t let me find out in a few days or weeks that some handsome brown-skinned Descendant was killed on his way ta the House o’ Darian, along with his silly friend Horatio, who talked too much.”

Baltaszar bit his lip and nodded solemnly at the request.

Anahi hugged him tightly. In an instant, she let go and left the room, glancing back at Baltaszar one more time before closing the door.

One piece of advice. Once you leave, keep a clear mind at all times.

Shut up. Leave me alone.

Chapter 9

Tower of the Blind

From
The Book of Orijin
,
Verse One Hundred Thirty-Five

The mind will see what the eye cannot begin to fathom.

Two islands sat
within the Eye of Orijin, the giant lake that bordered Cerysia, Galicea, Mireya, and the Never. The Tower of the Blind had been built on the southernmost island, mainly because of its proximity to all of Ashur. The island itself had five docks, located at each of the outermost points of the island. Roads led from each dock straight to the tower at the center of the island. The Tower had been a welcoming place from the time of its inception a few hundred years after Darian’s death.

Garrison hated that most people assumed Gideon, one of the Five Harbingers, had built the tower, just because of his ability with stone. It was one of those rumors that would never go away, even amongst educated people. The truth was that the tower had been built by the ancestors of Galiceans. Even modern Galiceans were master builders and craftsman, as evidenced by the wall erected at their border with Fangh-Haan. But the Tower of the Blind was a true marvel, a sight that everyone should see at least once in their lives, just like the Stones of Gideon.

The Tower was so tall that on cloudy days, one could not see the top of it. Its exterior had been created solely of grey, unpainted stone. To this day, people could only speculate how the builders were able to bring the stone to the island.

The entire structure was cylindrical and nearly three hundred feet wide. Garrison supposed it had to be so big in order to house a few hundred Blind Men and their servants. Even now, sitting in the front of the wagon on the road toward the Tower, Garrison had to crane his neck upwards in order to see the top of it, though with the sun having just set, the top was difficult to see. Rows and rows of windows lined the building. As a boy, Garrison had come to the Tower with his mother to visit her uncle, a Blind Man, and he wondered why there would be windows. In truth, for each Blind Man living in the Tower, there lived at least three servants. Servants of the Blind were treated quite well, but they required extreme patience and dedication. Surely the windows were there more for the servants than the Blind, or Augurs, as they were formally known. But even the Blind Men and Women enjoyed the natural sunlight to anything artificial.

Garrison and his Taurani companions reached the base of the Tower. The road led directly up to the high wooden doors at the entrance. The doors were twice the height of a tall man, made of a cherry-hued wood, and in them the symbol of the Blind was carved, a man’s face with closed eyes, and on the forehead, an open third eye. The face itself was expressionless, with no hair atop the head. Garrison remembered the symbol from the time he was a child. It had always raised the hair on his skin and neck when he saw it or thought of it. The symbol did not elicit fear in him, more a feeling of reverence. Garrison had the deepest respect for anyone who was born with such a severe limitation, yet lived such a scholarly and almost regal life.

Dozens of white-robed servants flocked to Garrison and the Taurani to greet them. Although he hadn’t been to the Tower in years, all the servants greeted him by name, but without the title of ‘Prince’, in various accents.
Could they have gotten word already?
The servants helped each of them from the wagon and hurried the two injured Taurani, Yorik and Kavon, away into the Tower. They then collected Garrison’s pack and the rest of the belongings and ushered Garrison and Marika inside.

Although Garrison had never personally known any of the servants, he knew much of their background and history. He supposed that was one of the benefits of being a prince. In his lifetime, Garrison had traveled through most of Ashur and in the past few years, he’d read dozens of books, especially on the history of Ashur.

The servants of the Blind were, on the surface, very humble, friendly, and good-natured. They were genuinely good people; Garrison knew they had to be if they were willing to dedicate their lives in the service of the Blind. However, beneath the surface, the servants were some of the most lethal fighters on the continent. Garrison had never seen any of them fight, but he had read dozens of stories in which a servant had to protect a Blind Man. Once a man or woman accepted the white robe of a Blind servant, they were sent to Fangh-Haan to be trained to fight. Fangh-Haan was the home of the Anonymi.

According to legends, the Anonymi predated the Drowning of the World. They were a clan of warriors who had existed even before the time of Darian and the others of the Five. From generation to generation, the Anonymi passed their knowledge and wisdom of fighting only to accepted members of the clan.

Once the Tower of the Blind had been built, every nation signed a treaty agreeing that the Tower was immune to all wars and battles. No violence could be conducted on its grounds, as the punishment for such offenses was death. Even the throne supported these laws, though Garrison wondered whether his father would make exceptions if they suited his tastes.

As an extra measure to ensure that none were tempted to break these laws, the king at the time, Roald, forged an agreement with the Anonymi that they would train all servants of the Blind, with the condition that the servants would not pass this teaching onto others. The punishment for this offense was death, as well as an end to the Anonymi training the servants. It was argued by many that the Anonymi were just as dangerous, if not more so, as the Taurani.

Garrison and Marika were led to the main hall, where the servants gestured for them to be seated on a white cushioned bench. More servants came with trays of colorful juices and small plates of pastries balanced atop their heads. Garrison had remembered this detail from his last visit so many years ago. All of the servants of the Blind wore loose, flowing white robes with scores of pockets of all sizes. However, many also wore wide, deep square hats that they used for carrying trays, books, clothing, and all sorts of things. As a child, Garrison had asked an elder servant why she wore such a strange hat, and she had replied, “Dear boy, you try leading around a Blind Man while also carrying his lunch and his books as well!”

The servants did not wait for Garrison and Marika to accept or deny food and drink. They left the trays with them and ran off to tend to other responsibilities. After the flourish, only one servant remained at the bench. “What happened to our things?” Garrison asked. “Have they put them away?”

The servant, a slender boy not much older than Garrison, held his index finger before his lips, and whispered. “We have secured your belongings in your quarters. It is likely that you plan to stay for at least a day. Though may I advise that you wait until your companions’ health has been restored for you to depart? I would conjecture that it will be at least two or three days until your companions are capable of leaving.”

The young servant’s accent was Cerysian. Servants of the Blind hailed from every part of Ashur. Most were relatives of the Augurs, the official title of the Blind, but not always. Garrison imagined it would be interesting to spend a few days in the Tower to hear all of the accents. He lowered his voice to a whisper as well. “Your hospitality is appreciated, but we shall leave in the morning. We are being followed and the longer we wait, the more dangerous it becomes for us.” Garrison picked a pastry from the tray.

“It is not my place to argue. If that is what you must do, then it is so. We shall provide you with any needs and supplies necessary for the road ahead.”

Garrison finished chewing the pastry, it had been filled with peaches, not his favorite but quite enjoyable considering he hadn’t eaten since morning. “Thank you. Why is it that we must whisper? And what is your name?”

“We whisper to maintain the silence of the Tower. Because they cannot see, the Augurs function better when relying on their ears. However, speaking tends to disturb their concentration. Concerning my name, it is forbidden that I tell you.”

“Forbidden? Why? And if you are not allowed to speak, then does no one speak at a normal volume in the Tower?”

“As you know, we are trained by the Anonymi. One of the conditions for the Anonymi to agree to train us was that we must adopt their customs and rules. And one of those customs was that we discard our names.”

“Is that not difficult with the Blind? How do they know who you are?”

“Oh, the Augurs have their ways. They are quite keen when it comes to minute details. They tend to give us their own names as well, usually based on how they identify us. When each of us completed our training, the Anonymi leaders gave us a new name. But those given names are only used among Anonymi. To answer your other question, speaking is allowed in designated areas. There are numerous common rooms throughout the Tower where conversation is allowed, as well as in the Augur’s quarters. It is simply a courtesy to them that we cater to their preferences in the public areas of the Tower. After all, this was built for them, not us.”

Garrison nodded his head and looked around. It became very clear to him that the Tower catered to the Blind. The main hall in which they sat was an enormous circle, as were all of the pillars. Garrison imagined the dangers to the Blind being around sharp corners. Furthermore, there were no tapestries or paintings or any designs on the walls. The whole place had a very sterile feel to it. “The hospitality has been impeccable, my friend. But why have we not met any Blind Men or Women yet? Surely some would be willing to greet us?”

The servant nodded. “Yes, I understand your confusion, Master Garrison. You and your companions arrived at the onset of evening, which is when most of the Augurs are sitting down to supper. They are very routine oriented and strongly dislike straying from their timetables, I hope you understand. That being said, some of the servants went to notify one or two Augurs of your arrival, as some do not like to eat until later. However, it is a custom that, when graced with visitors, the Augurs relish the opportunity to greet their guests with a personal prophecy, positive in nature if possible. I imagine that any delay is because the Augurs are searching for a prophecy to share.”

Garrison bit into another pastry; this one was filled with raspberries and much tastier than the previous. As many as Garrison had eaten, Marika sat quietly next to him and had already cleared half of the tray. “I have noticed that I have yet to be addressed by the title of ‘Prince’; would I be correct to assume that part of your agreement with the Anonymi is that you shed any fealty to nations and leaders?”

“That is an accurate assumption. I hope you do not take any offense to the matter. Before my training nearly five years ago, I held a great deal of reverence for you, as well as for your brother and the Lion Cub. I grew up in Maradon, so we only heard stories of the three of you.”

The Lion Cub. Wendell would laugh if he knew people still called him that
. Because of Wendell’s distinct blonde hair, he’d been given that nickname as a little boy. Garrison smirked and stifled a laugh. “Thank you. You should be aware, however, that I am no longer the Prince of Ashur, as of this morning.” The servant’s eyes widened and Garrison continued, “My father has charged me as a criminal and traitor because I wish to be formally trained by the House of Darian. His soldiers are now hunting me down.” Garrison noticed the servant stifle a grimace at the mention of the king.

The servant still stood before Garrison, erect, with his hands clasped behind his back. “That is…unfortunate. You have come to the right place for asylum. Now I understand your desire to leave in the morning. A lengthy stay here would not only bring your pursuers closer, but would also allow their numbers to increase. Do they know you are here?”

Garrison slumped against the back of the bench. “They would be foolish to think any differently. We were chased to the Eye and my horse was killed. Although we killed the soldiers who pursued us, anyone who followed them will notice that the boats are gone. We set the rest of the boats on fire.”

“Yes. You did not leave much room for other possibilities. Have you a plan for the rest of your journey?”

“I barely had time to plan the beginning of my journey. From here, my only two options would be through Galicea or through Mireya. Galicea is overrun with soldiers and by morning, news will have reached that I am a criminal. I have no doubts that there is a price on my head. The only question is whether my father wants to kill me himself.”

“I do pray that the Augurs have foreseen your safe arrival to the House, Garrison. Why even consider Galicea when Mireya will provide a faster route to the House of Darian? Not to mention, Mireyans are notoriously protective of Descendants. The town of Gangjeon sits southwest at the banks of the Eye.”

Garrison could only smile regretfully at the suggestion. Marika sat quietly next to him, likely regretting the decision to help him. “The problem is, my friend, I am an enemy to both sides of that conflict. Until recent years, I led the king’s soldiers to hunt down and kill Descendants. I have not been to Mireya in over two years, but I fear the Mireyans will be just as eager to kill me as my father’s soldiers.”

The servant cast his eyes to the floor at Garrison’s admission. “I see. Perhaps it may still be better to take your chances with the Mireyans.”

Marika interrupted, “No. From here, we go directly to the House. The more we prolong this journey, the more we risk being caught. Servant, is there anything that will give cover between here and the House? Mountains, forest, caves?”