The Seedbearing Prince: Part I (23 page)

The first peered at them with a permanently
sour expression, a hefty, pale-hued man with thinning brown hair.
The second sported close-cropped black hair, and looked as though
he could fall asleep on his feet at any given moment. His dull gray
eyes contrasted with his bronze complexion. They stiffened at
Eriya's approach.

“No entrance to the Aviary,” the hefty guard
said roughly. “Especially Beltbound.” They both eyed Dayn
suspiciously, taking in his packs and staff. Eriya held up her
hands as if to placate them, but the guards set their jaws
stubbornly.

“Orders of Adrian herself,” the gray-eyed
guard added, not unkindly. “Sorry, Initiate.”

“I'm under direct orders from the Lord
Ascendant to guide this Shardian through the Ring,” Eriya replied
calmly. She gave each man a hard look, and spoke with new
authority. The two could not be Defenders of any rank. “He’s to be
given the highest guestright.”

“Peace bind my bones, do we look like such
great fools? We let you bring in lamb gobbets all the time,
Initiate! Would you see us flogged for―”

“The
highest
guestright,” she
repeated. A harried look shone in the second guard's gray eyes. He
appeared on the verge of relenting until his fellow interjected
smoothly.

“Force Captain Adrian must be notified.” His
lip curled in smug triumph. “If you remain here...”

“We will return another time,” Eriya said,
but she flashed her teeth at the guard. “When we do, I'll ask
Adrian herself for you to help us feed them.”

“Feed what?” Dayn asked. An otherworldly
shriek pierced the door, and Dayn almost leaped out of his boots. A
look of pure misery assailed the guards' faces.
Peace, this
Dervishi might be as crazy as the stories say!
Dayn thought.
The Ring could keep monsters from the torrent under lock and key
for all he knew.

“Look what you've done now, Blen!” The
gray-eyed man complained. Sweat appeared on his brow.

“Only this once Dervishi, alright?” The hefty
man shifted nervously, revealing a sling on his right arm, bandaged
and hidden under his overcoat. Blen was all smiles now. “Guestright
for your friend, we understand that.”

Dayn spoke quickly. “You know, I haven’t
eaten myself for the whole day now. Does guestright get me
breakfast, too?”

Eriya stopped short of the door, her
triumphant look fading as utter mortification spread over her face.
She turned promptly on her heel, leaving behind both fear-stricken
guards.

“That Preceptor! You would have wasted away
in his study forever if I were not sent for you.” She gave a
disgusted snort. “Let's get some food in you, and I'm sure you'll
want to clean up after. We’ll come here some other time.”

The gray-eyed man mouthed a silent
thank
you
to Dayn as they walked off. Gratitude show immensely in
Blen's eyes as well.

“Peace keep you both,” he called. Eriya
snorted again. She brushed her temple unconsciously, as if to push
back errant braids, though her ponytail still held her hair in
place. Dayn managed a wave to the men before he rounded a corner
and they were gone.

They soon came to a sprawling hall full of
stone tables, interspersed around columns that spilled from the
rough ceiling in places like stony teeth. Dozens of servants pushed
carts filled with enough steaming trays of food for a whole
festival. There were few people around at this hour, so a man with
a cart trundled over just as soon as they sat down.

Eriya watched in amusement as Dayn set to
shoveling steaming seasoned potatoes in his mouth, taking pauses
only to wash it down with hot tea. His insides gurgled in
contentment.

“I suppose a Shardian has never tasted a day
of hunger,” she said. Dayn’s cheeks heated in embarrassment, and he
looked forlornly at his plate. The Initiate laughed out loud. “Your
face! I only meant to tease you Shardian, be easy.”

“You’re right, though. I've never known
famine. No one I know has. Have you?”

“Thankfully not, and peace keep it so.
Shard’s Pledge fed my parents for two seasons though, when I was
too young to remember. A fire destroyed my clan's food stores. I
would be a runt without the Pledge, or worse.” Eriya nodded at the
scattered remains on Dayn's plate. “Those are likely from Shard,
too.”

“Yes, they are.” Dayn bit into the brown skin
of the potato, and let the flavor settle on his tongue. “These were
harvested seven seasons ago. The Highlands, by Northforte.” He
chewed thoughtfully, not noticing Eriya's eyes on him. Another
servant with a cart full of plates stopped to clear their table. “I
remember my father saying how the farmers threw dewberries into the
compost before that season, and what a waste it was that the Trade
Council didn't have enough sealed barrels on hand.”

He picked up a last bit from Eriya's plate
and popped it in his mouth before the servant took it away. She had
barely touched her food. “A farmer with a rusty spade hit this one
when it was early.”

“How do you know all of that?” Eriya stared
at him with open disbelief. The servant looked at the leavings on
his cart as though ready to challenge Dayn on their origins,
too.

The food lost its savor.
What have I been
saying? That was only my first season helping father in the
fields.
The wasted dewberry pickings were a shadow of a memory,
something he once overheard some Elders talking about. His
impression about the spade was impossible, but he knew it for
true.

“I don't know,” he said.

“Are you to become a Preceptor?” The servant
blurted out. Both Ringman’s eyes were on Dayn as he floundered for
a response.

“He is Shardian,” Eriya said, as if that
settled the matter. She shook her head in wonder, placing her cup
on the servant's cart.

The servant nodded knowingly. “Why, I should
have realized. A thousand blessings on your family, young master.”
The servant bowed deeply and departed. Dayn stared after him.

“What was that about?”

“He is Aran,” Eriya explained.

“Do they talk to everyone like that? Like I’m
some Highland Elder?”

“They do not.” Eriya sighed. “Peace surely
set me in your path, Shardian. Ara has suffered drought since
before either of us were born. The world would hold no people
without the Pledge. If you knew a tenth of the Belt what you did
about your breakfast, you would be―”

“By Tu'um's shadow, there you are!” Five
Ringmen appeared around their table, all dressed in the same
Initiate black as Eriya.

“I'm glad an Attendant tipped us that you
might be here, or we would be hours yet searching you out.” One
spoke in a reproving tone as Eriya looked at him flatly. “This is
why you were pulled from bed? Who is he?” Curious stares abounded
as they took in Dayn's clothes and staff.

“This is Dayn. Don’t look at him like that,
he's no Montollos brat here to play-fight with us. Does he look
like a Regent's son? We all know only one thing would divert the
Ring to Shard.” Considering looks passed between the Initiates.
“He’s here to...avenge his world. Don't ask anymore, because he's
not allowed to say.”

Surprised murmurs flitted throughout the
group, and the Initiates looked at Dayn with sudden approval.
Several hands were thrust toward him at once.

“Well met,” the first Initiate said
earnestly. A zealous light shone in his green eyes as he grasped
Dayn's forearm. “I am Mabrac. From Quello.” He looked of an age
with Joam, and might have been a close cousin if not for those eyes
and olive complexion. Where Joam was exceptionally tall, Mabrac was
incredibly wide, and his dark shirt bulged with hidden muscles. The
Initiates were all surprisingly young, most looked near Dayn’s
age.

Mabrac turned back to Eriya. “So, is he
coming with us?”

“He’s to stand before the Veiled Throne.”
Some of the Initiates shuddered in spite of themselves. “The Lord
Ascendant bade me not to leave his side until he’s summoned.”

Several of the Initiates groaned aloud, and
Mabrac sighed. “I told you scatterwits she didn't know.”

“What?”

“Weaponmaster Seib summoned us. We've been
looking for you all morning.”

Eriya sprang to her feet with a wail. “Blight
and fire!”

At Dayn’s confused look, Mabrac explained.
“We’re to have our martial forms tested, but no one thought Seib
would choose us so soon. Our flash force is still undefeated.”

“We’ll be the first Initiates to earn our
swords this year,” another of the group put in, a slender girl with
dusky skin and a striking smile.

“He may bend to an order from the Veiled
Throne.” Mabrac suggested, but he made a poor effort at sounding
hopeful.

“Or he might make the other flash force hold
out
their
very best fighter.”

“Or make us all spar weaponless for arriving
incomplete,” another Initiate added unhappily. “We should go now,
and prepare the best we can without her.”

“I can just come with you,” Dayn offered.
Eriya's sudden transformation astonished him, she looked close to
tears. “I know about sparring, and I don't mind watching.”

Several barely suppressed guffaws leaked from
Eriya's flash force. Mabrac looked doubtfully at his staff. Dayn
frowned. “I
do
know how to spar.”

“Seib would have my hide,” Eriya said.

“The Lord Ascendant would flail whatever was
left,” Mabrac put in. “A contest may take all day, and there's no
way to know when he'll be summoned.”

“If Adrian were to find out...” Eriya trailed
off, touching her temple wistfully.

“Then just tell me where to find my
quarters,” Dayn insisted. His last two hours were a jumble of
nameless hallways in his head. He made his voice sound confident,
although he would likely fare better in a redbranch thicket. “I'll
wait there for the summons, or until you’re done with your
contest.”

Eriya lifted her head to gaze at him. “You’re
sure?”

“I'll find my way.”

Something in Eriya's expression changed,
quiet as a leaf falling from a tree, or a flutterbird finding rest
on a branch. Though Dayn might never see her again, he knew he had
at least one friend upon the Ring.

“It’s not far from here,” she said. “Listen
to me keenly. Take the hall over there with the Kemarahan grass
above it, you see? Then turn to...”

Eriya proceeded to issue a flurry of
directions that made Dayn’s head spin. His memory served him well
at first, until two more Initiates broke in with what they believed
were certainly better routes. That started an argument between
Eriya and Mabrac, which grew loud enough to provoke a bark from a
nearby Defender to quiet down.

More Ringmen were trickling into the hall for
breakfast. They looked at the gathering curiously, eyes immediately
latching onto Dayn. Their stares made him feel like one of the
pinned butterflies on Lurec's table. Eriya gave Dayn a searching
look. “It's too much. I should ask an attendant to take him.” Dayn
blinked.
These servants are called attendants on the Ring?
He found the coincidence odd, but supposed an Attendant on Shard
was still a servant in the end.

“So Lord Adazia finds out you left your
escort?” Mabrac asked. “You'll never be a rider then.”

“I'll be alright,” Dayn said reassuringly.
“You better get moving.”
I’ve no idea which way to go. I’m
surprised they don’t see it on my face.

The Initiates immediately peeled away,
remarking on how good Dayn was to help her. Eriya trailed
hesitantly in their wake, uncertainty and relief warring on her
face.

“Did I hear you use his name?” The only other
girl among the Initiates cooed playfully. Her grin melted at
Eriya's glower.

“He spoke the same to me first! I...I was
only being respectful. He knows nothing of Dervishi ways, and―”

“He's handsome,” the first tittered.
“Although he could stand a good scrubbing. Would you do your duty
if that was part of guestright, Initiate? For the Ring?” Eriya gave
her a dangerous look as the Initiates all disappeared down a
hallway.

Mabrac alone still lingered. “Whoever decided
to put girls from Ista Cham and Dervish in the same flash force
must be proud of the fine joke they’ve played on the rest of us.
Peace keep you, until we meet again.” He grimaced, then hurried
after them.

The dining hall returned to silence. A
handful of Defenders spoke together in quiet tones, and individual
Preceptors sipped tea as they stared at little metal tablets,
reading perhaps. A pang rose in Dayn's chest as loneliness settled
upon him. For the first time since boarding the Ring, nothing arose
to distract him from his own troubles. He gathered his belongings
and set to finding his room.

There was no point in wallowing over what he
could not change. The Lord Ascendant would ask his questions, thank
Dayn for delivering the Seed, and send him home.
Then I’ll set
to restoring my family name. I may not be an Attendant, but I’ll
work harder than whoever Misthaven chooses in my place.

“Excuse me, which way to the Crystal Walk?”
Dayn called to one of the Ring servants. He believed Eriya's
directions were best, but wanted to confirm them. The attendant
looked at him curiously.

“Lost your escort have you? That’s not good,
not good. Let me see to assigning you another.”

“No, I haven't lost her,” Dayn said hastily.
He did not want Eriya in any trouble on his account. “I'm to meet
her after the Preceptor Lurec speaks with me.”

Several heads in the dining hall bobbed up in
sudden interest, and Dayn winced.
Poor lies from poor liars find
the hottest coals in the fire.
The old saying came unbidden to
his mind. “Only the Preceptor has not shown.”

“Not surprising,” the attendant murmured as
he pointed. “You see the plants? Follow it to the first left turn,
then right up the ramp. Another right will bring you to the Crystal
Walk. You should really take an escort, it’s not wise to go
without—”