Thy Father's Shadow (Book 4.5) (14 page)

“Walk with me,” Amenon said as he ascended the stairs, and Terian moved aside for him to pass. He followed his father up the stone stairs to the top of the house to the study, where another small mountain of parchment waited on the desk. Amenon gave a look of disgust. “The vultures circle day and night, as though none of them can make a decision to dip or dive without the Sovereign’s approval to keep them safe, as if that were any sure guarantee of absolution for whatever failures they might make.” He picked up the first. “Slave reports, as though I give a damn.” He crumpled it and threw it into the fireplace and pulled the next piece of parchment off the stack. “The disappearance of fishing trawlers in the Great Sea.” He pulled two now after tossing the last, putting one in each hand and holding them up like pictures to be shown to Terian. “Army logistics reports, the whispers of the Sovereign’s spies about Pretnam Urides’s curious preference for much older women, and the six-month sales of wildroot dyes in Sovar.”

Terian cleared his throat, hesitant to speak. “I … assumed that Dagonath Shrawn would handle the non-military reports for things like commerce.”

Amenon did not look up as he tossed the parchment into the fire. It crackled and made a hissing, popping noise as the air filled with the smell of smoke. “He does. Shrawn is tasked with all the civilian oversight of Saekaj and Sovar.”

“Yet you still get reports on things like wildroot dye sales and fishing trawler disappearances?” Terian asked.
Why would he burden himself with such inconsequential matters?

Amenon paused then looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I do. I even read them occasionally, though I tend to focus on more important civilian oversight matters than some trifling reports about dye consumption.” He leaned over the desk toward Terian. “Can you imagine why?”

Terian only pondered it for a moment. “If you’re going to take Shrawn’s place at some point, you’ll have to take over his duties.”

“Correct,” Amenon said and brandished three pieces of parchment. “The Sovereign has made certain that I receive everything—or almost everything—Shrawn does, in case Dagonath were to meet an unfortunate end.” He smiled and threw these as well. “Not that he will—at least not at our hand—but it pays to be prepared in case the House of Shrawn makes an unfortunate misstep. The Shuffle goes on, after all.”

“Indeed,” Terian said quietly.
Moving to the manor house across the way?
He shook his head without saying any more.
It feels almost ridiculous, like a folly to even give voice to the thought. Winning the Shuffle, though
…

“Don’t dwell too deeply on those thoughts,” Amenon said, not looking up from the parchment stack. “Dagonath Shrawn has inhabited his manor house for nearly five hundred years, and I daresay it will take some great event to displace him from it. Still, the House of Lepos will continue to serve in the exceptional manner the Sovereign has come to expect of us.” Finally, Terian’s father came to a piece of parchment that he held differently, not pinched between his fingers but cradled in his hands. “Enemy troop movements. Spy reports about enemy strengths and dispositions. These are the things that matter, that I can deal with, that I enjoy.” He placed the parchment back on his desk with utmost care and shoved the remainder off his desk onto the floor. “The rest are a waste of my time; I spend hours combing them for only the occasional tidbit of useful information.” His eyes gleamed. “So I have a duty for you—a duty that the Sovereign compels you to undertake.”

I very much doubt that
. But Terian bowed his head slightly, deferentially. “You wish me to comb through these reports for you and keep an eye out for anything of consequence?”

“I do,” Amenon said, nodding. “I shall train you to look for the things in the reports that are seconded to me. Things that will catch the eye of the Sovereign. After that, you will take the job of reading through this …” his hand waved to encompass the paper now strewn over the floor next to his desk, “… this ceaseless drivel, looking for the kernels.”

“How will I know what are kernels and what is … drivel?” Terian circled the last word for a moment before landing on it, finding none better and knowing his father would approve of having his own words parroted back to him.

“I will teach you in the coming days,” Amenon said. He sat heavily in his chair, which squeaked under the weight of the man and his armor. “Also … I come bearing news from the Sovereign himself.”

“Oh?” Terian tried to express some enthusiasm but found he couldn’t muster it.

“He is well pleased with our capture of Sert Engoch and with the information drawn from him. He orders the interloper’s death and told me to make special mention to you of his pleasure in the fact that you were able to get Engoch to talk so willingly and quickly.” Amenon folded his mailed fingers one over another. “He had anticipated it taking a day or more to break Engoch.”

Terian almost felt the need to laugh, but the thought of Engoch in chains drained that desire out of him. “I can only assume that living in a hole in the wall in Kortran was exceedingly bad for the man’s nerves. Else he wanted us to know what he knew. There is no other real explanation for the ease with which he broke and told us everything.”

Amenon nodded slowly, reflective. “I cannot deny my shock in seeing it happen so quickly as well. You were compelling, to be sure, but my assumption is that there were other factors at play, as though he wanted it to be known so that he could get it over with as quickly as possible.” He turned sideways in his chair, wheeling it around with a hard squeak and looking sidelong out the window behind the desk. “That could be the sort of thing to compel a man to hasty speech, the idea of months spent dwelling on a possible fate while giants stomped on the boards above your head and you ate whatever crumbs from their table you could snatch.” He turned his gaze back to the fire. “Whatever the case, he spoke the truth that the Sovereign wanted to hear, needed to hear, and he is pleased with our work.” Amenon looked back at Terian, roughly satisfied. “With
your
work. He is also pleased that House Lepos has an heir once more.”

Terian nodded once and looked away. “Yes, well, it is … good to be … home.” There was a grain of truth in there, somewhere.

“Our little operations group grows,” Amenon said, looking back at the fire. His mailed fingers tapped on the desk. “The Sovereign has decided to try something different.” Amenon looked up. “Do you recall Sareea Scyros?”

Terian felt an unpleasant pucker to his lips. “I do. She was of an age with Ameli.” His eyes fell down to the desk. “There was that time—”

“Yes,” Amenon said without emotion. “She was the first woman to go through training at the Legion of Darkness here in Saekaj.”

Terian blinked thrice. “I … I had no idea she had … the Sovereign let a woman enter training to become a dark knight?” He took a sharp breath. “I didn’t think the Sovereign allowed women into the military.”

“He hasn’t,” Amenon said, waving him off. “He made an exception because I asked it of him, and because she asked it of me. She was tested, told she had the disposition to be a holy knight, and found herself quickly put aside, relegated to low-status work of some kind or another—secretary, scullery maid, concubine. Her family is not terribly well off, by Saekaj standards, having their house by the gate. I intervened because she asked, because of—”

“Of course,” Terian said, cutting his father off.

Amenon raised an eyebrow at him, but continued, seeming to take no offense at the interruption. “She did exceptionally well. As well as you, in fact.”

Terian felt the rough desire of his muscles to propel him into a run, to lift heavy objects, to bleed physical energy out in some manner. Instead he remained standing in his father’s study, at near attention. “Good for her. Long have I seen female holy knights of other races do very fine work, surpassing in many cases their male counterparts. I quite like the thought of the Sovereign changing his backward views on this—” Terian watched his father’s countenance darken, “You know what I mean; no offense intended.” Placated, Amenon turned back to the fire. “It feels as though we’ve been misusing precious resources, resources that could have been directed toward making the Sovereignty stronger—”

“Well,” Amenon said, interrupting Terian, “you shall have your chance to evaluate her strength for yourself. She’ll be joining us, our group, going forward.”

Terian raised an eyebrow. “The Sovereign has—”

“The Sovereign,” Amenon said, raising an eyebrow and staring at the fire, “is sending her to us to evaluate her performance. She has seen no combat, like much of our army at this point, and he wants my assessment before he allows the next class of the Legion to contain more female entrants to the profession of dark knight. We will keep a careful eye on her; as well you may know, the Sovereign’s specific concern is that women combatants will be quicker to show mercy, something that our army has never considered as a virtue, unlike those weak elves and pitiful humans.”

Terian raised an eyebrow at him. “I can think of one elven female paladin who’s less likely to show mercy than any ten male dark knights I know.”

“I do not criticize the Sovereign,” Amenon said archly, giving Terian a look of favored superiority. “That said, the effectiveness of female knights in other armies cannot be denied, and I am pleased that he is considering this proposal. I do not believe that Sareea will disappoint him. Or us.”

Terian gave a mild shrug. “I haven’t seen her since she was a girl, so I suppose I wouldn’t be able to judge the way you have.”

“Oh, but you will,” Amenon said, and turned his chair about with a screech. “You and the others will offer your assessment as well. She will be the most watched part of our team as we continue our operations over the next few months.”

Terian gave a nod of concession. “As you will it, it shall be done.” He knew that the gesture was wary.

Amenon watched him, as though trying to detect any bit of sarcasm. “Very good. Go on. Morning will be here to greet us with all its woes, and you have much reading to do tomorrow, after our meeting in the morn.” He waved Terian away with his hand. “Enjoy your sleep. From now on you’ll be awakened in the middle of the night to deal with missives and reports, so you might as well take advantage of your last night of rest.” With that, he turned from Terian and looked to the parchment below the edge of the desk, stooping to retrieve it.

Terian walked out of the study, the slow, thumping cadence of his boots against the floor lulling him into a natural rhythm. “Sareea Scyros,” he muttered to himself, remembering a knock-kneed girl in a muddied dress, skinny around the neck and arms, which were all of her that was exposed by Saekaj standards of modesty.
I haven’t seen her since
… There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and he shook his head as he walked back down the stairs toward his room, the lamps filling the room with the sweet fumes of the oil.

He did not find sleep easily, tossing and turning in the night as he recalled the circumstances of their last meeting, the faint light of the lamps from under the door continuing to menace him as he sweated into his sheets, feeling sick all the way until morning woke him out of a sleep he didn’t even know he’d entered.

Chapter 17

Sareea Scyros was not skinny any longer, nor was she a little girl in a dress. She wore the armor of a dark knight, flat plate that hid whatever womanly attributes she might be carrying underneath it. She had spikes shorter and more utilitarian than Terian’s mounted on her shoulders, gauntlets and boots. Every angle still had a sharp edge, though, her helm looking particularly vulture-like where she carried it under her arm. The woman herself was all hard edges as well. Red eyes surveyed the study and the men it held, and while her face was hardly contemptuous, there was no warmth on it at all. She was severe at least, Terian concluded, and not quite the angular girl he had met in earlier days.

“I welcome you to our group on the direct order of the Sovereign,” Amenon said, standing before his desk, the rest of the team assembled around with an air of vague discomfort. It took Terian only a minute to pin it down, his mind stuck in the lethargy of sleep deprivation. He was also sweating, in spite of the cool cave air.
They have never worked with a woman before, save for the occasional healer or wizard.
Even women rangers are terribly uncommon in Saekaj, and women are barred from being warriors here
. He shook his head to try and clear it from the fatigue.
I forgot how strange that was to me when starting with Sanctuary all those years ago; Niamh, Cora and Raifa cleared me of that prejudice quickly enough
.

“I am honored to do the Sovereign’s bidding,” Sareea said in clipped, efficient tones. There was a little bit of longing there, especially around the words “Sovereign” and “bidding.” Terian kept tired eyes upon her, resisting the urge to close or rub them. He felt a cool droplet trickle down his spine from the back of his neck and another make its way down his forehead from his hair.

Dahveed Thalless stood next to him, his fingers steepled beneath the overlarge sleeves of his healer’s robes. “Are you quite all right?” His voice was placid, but the barest hint of amusement overlaid his words.

“Fine,” Terian grunted tersely. He kept his reply low.

“Don’t mind Terian,” Xem said leaning across Dahveed to speak so that he didn’t interrupt the crosstalk between Amenon and Sareea, “I believe he’s now suffering the consequences of his evening of dire responsibility and seriousness.”

“Ah,” Dahveed said with wry amusement, “most of us suffer when we are irresponsible and overindulge. Our dear friend, always doing things backwards, now suffers when he acts responsibly and doesn’t indulge at all.”

Amenon turned his head slightly to look at them and all of them fell silent, quieting instantly, though for Dahveed it came with a smile that was not short on irony. Once his look had its desired effect, Terian’s father turned back to Sareea. “I feel certain that you will bring honor upon your house and your Sovereign by your service.”