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HIGH KING
CHAPTER 1
[Rough Draft and unfinished. Teaser for when I work on High King after finishing Amazing Grace.]
Renlic leaned against the stone wall, huffing and puffing and terribly out of breath. He put his hands on his knees, leaning forward. He felt the chill of the morning in his joints, which pained him greatly, especially after running up three flights of stairs. I am far too old for this, he thought to himself. A lord's head chamberlain should not be charging about a palace through all hours of the day, Renlic believed. No, this was a job for a nursemaid, not Renlic. He scowled, straightening, reached out and tested the handle of the nearest door. It was unlocked and the door opened at his push. Renlic stuck his head inside the room.
"Avarion? Master Avarion, are you in here?" Renlic gave up with niceties. "Avarion, if you do not come out this instant, I shall inform your father of this. He will not be pleased with you." No answer. Renlic grunted and shut the door and began trying the rooms of the hallway for unlocked door handles.
Vile little cretin! Ah, when I find him he will be in the trouble of his life for all this…Renlic scowled, calling out his mantra of "Avarion, Master Avarion!" and thinking of every imaginable punishment he could inflict on the eight year old without being considered unnecessarily cruel. He threw open a second door, a third door, a fourth door and none of them contained his elusive charge. Finally he slumped against the wall again, once more out of breath, only this time it was from yelling. Renlic caught, just as he breathed in, the sound of jaunty whistling.
Around the corner waltzed Hawker, a man who had reached the end of middle aged and had started to go grey in the hair and beard which matched his eyes perfectly in color. Hawker whistled as he walked, a faint hop in his step which had nothing to do with happiness, rather an old injury to his right leg that Renlic knew of secondhand. Yet still, Hawker exuded a feeling of cheerfulness. Renlic wondered absently, what in the name of the Goddesses could make a man so cheery in the morning.
"Good morning, Lord Chamberlain." Hawker said, making a small respectful bow with his head and reaching up to tug a forelock with his hand.
"Morning, Hawker." Renlic replied. Strange man, was all he could think of. He was certainly strange for his obviously rounded ears, distinctly proclaiming his less-than-sylranni heritage. "Ah, Hawker?"
"Yes, Lord Chamberlain?" Hawker turned back to face Renlic with an expression of pure innocence.
"Have you seen a—a small child?" Renlic asked.
"Many, m'Lord. Any in particular?" Hawker answered. Renlic sighed.
"Young Master Avarion, by any chance?" Renlic said with a resigned tone. Hawker less loose his short, barking laugh that trailed off into a chuckle.
"Lost him again, have you? You should really consider putting the child on a long leash perhaps." Hawker took one long look at Renlic and added hastily, "My Lord Chamberlain." Renlic thought about reprimanding the man for disrespect but simply ended up shaking his head instead. There was no point. Hawker never changed in his twenty-five years of service and he was not going to change now.
"Have you seen him?"
"No, m'Lord. Haven't seen hide nor tail of him anywhere in over a day. He may be in the kitchens. I saw him there last week." Renlic groaned. Back down all those stairs, again? He offered a silent prayer to the Goddesses and began walking toward the end of the hall. "He likes the dogs," Hawker called after him. Renlic paused for a moment then quickened his pace.
Avarion, if you put your hand anywhere near those dogs' jaws, your father will have my head! At that thought, Renlic practically flew down the stairs, sometimes skipping two at a time. My head on a platter! Oh, you wretched child! Why could you not be scholarly? Behind him, Hawker began whistling again.
*
Avarion sat, entranced by the flickering flames and patted Narsk's head. The large old hunting dog nuzzled him, searching around his pockets for more bread crumbs and scraps of ham, leftovers of Avarion's stolen, and hastily eaten, lunch. Cad poked around Avarion's feet, equally scrounging for food. Narsk's wet nose tickled against Avarion's bare arm, causing him to squeal and cry out, "Narsk! Bad dog!" He swatted the hound on the nose lightly. Narsk recoiled and then returned to his blind search for the rest of Avarion's lunch.
Around them, the clatter of pots and the clash of dishes filled the room as thoroughly as the smoke that hung near the ceiling. Servants moved to and fro, washing the dishes, scrubbing the pans, chopping vegetables, and then placing all these things in their respective places. Nearby, a servant boy turned the pig on a spit that hung over the fire, juices dripping from the meat. On the other side of the room, Horsemaster Gadin argued with Fenendar, the commander of the gatewatch, over dice debts. To Avarion, these sounds and words were magical, a glimpse into lives he never lived. He listened, drinking in the conversations hungrily and patting the heads of Narsk and Cad.
"Hold it better there, with two hands—two hands!—and don't drop it. Now, put it over by the fire…" a cook Avarion did not know instructed Dans, a scullery boy, who ignored all the instructions and ended up getting his task done with as much efficiency anyway.
"I told Larn, I said 'no, the boy needs a kind hand, not a fist' but does he listen? No! Never, so I then said—" a maid balancing a stack of dishes exuberantly told the woman washing dishes beside her. Though her stance spoke of moving forward, she never did take a step beyond where she stood, intent on finishing the newest addition to the story of her life.
"Like hellfires, man! I won that as fair as day." Gadin spat, baring his teeth.
"Gadin, you lost. Face it, admit it, and move on. The die rolled off the table, it still counts." Fenendar replied, holding his hands up, warding off Gadin's protests.
"I'm sure that it was a two, not a five!"
"Argue the point as much as you want, but keep this up and you won't play anymore." Fenendar warned. Gadin huffed, turned, and left the kitchens, shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Goddess damned dishes. So damnably heavy. Noble's and their food!" A young man heaving a towering stack of clean polished wooden dishes in his arms wandered past Avarion, swearing all the way. Avarion laughed at him, as the man looked foolish carrying so much. The sound was lost amongst the clattering and bashing and the bustling of servants.
Not far away from him, Pelinanda pulled baked rolls out of a clay oven that was set into the wall. The steaming rolls slid off the wooden board and onto the large pile of other rolls and loaves of all sizes and lengths. Avarion's mouth watered at the sight.
Over at a long table, a woman mashed berries together in a large bowl, making a thick paste. She glanced about hurriedly. Deeming that no one was watching her, she stuck her finger in the bowl and rammed a fair helping of jam in her mouth. Avarion watched her suck on her helping of jam and return to mixing the berries together, ducking her head when cookmaster Verendar walked by. Verendar clucked and pointed out, "Finer paste, Cali." He reached over her head and took a taste for himself. "And more raspberries, this is too sweet." Cali nodded silently and added more raspberries to the bowl.
At his feet, Cad stood and wandered off to flop down in front of a fire which had a large pot hanging over it. Narsk took this chance to lie down on Avarion's bare feet. Avarion squirmed, shifting into a more comfortable position with the new weight. Narsk huffed out a long sigh and watched Avarion and the kitchen with doleful eyes. Avarion reached down and pet Narsk's ears with the tips of his fingers. Narsk twitched in discomfort which sent Avarion into fits of giggles as the dog's ears swiveled about, avoiding the boy's grasping hands. He leaned back, allowing Narsk a moment's respite.
"Avarion!"
Avarion's head jerked around at the call of his name.
*
Renlic grabbed Avarion's wrist and pulled the boy to his feet, sending Narsk trotting off with a dejected look on his face. Renlic felt seething anger rise through him, beating in time with the throb of his aching knees and back.
"Avarion! You—" Renlic rethought what he was about to say, taking a deep breath. "You naughty child. What are you doing down here?"
Avarion opened his mouth but Renlic would hear none of his excuses. "Never mind that. You know your father wants you presentable! So you run off and charge about a kitchen!?" Renlic grabbed Avarion by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "You are attending your father's court and a major decision today. Do you understand? This is very important. Now, you will come with me and we'll have you cleaned up and ready in less than an hour. Yes, an hour." Now Renlic was muttering more to himself than Avarion, as he wished more and more to be sitting in a chair instead of standing. It was at that moment that Avarion chose to speak.
"I don't want to go!" He pulled back away from the unsuspecting Renlic and broke the chamberlain's grip on him. Renlic reached out and snatched the back of Avarion's collar. He spun the boy around to face him and fought the sudden urge to smack the side of Avarion's pale face. He pushed it down, bottling the desire deep inside himself.
"Master Avarion. You have no choice in this matter. You are going. That is final. Understand?"
"But—"
"No." Renlic said forcefully. "Now, come with me." He took a step and grimaced, his breath hissing out between his teeth. He shook his head and tugged Avarion along with him, dragging him from the kitchen. Avarion fought for about the first ten steps then followed on his own, scowling the whole way. They reached the stairs, at which point Renlic swore under his breath. Those damnable stairs. He had already run up and down them at least five times in the past hour and he truly did not want to face them again. But I must deliver Avarion to his chambers. Renlic groaned and tackled the stairs, walking up them slowly.
At the end of the first flight, he stopped to rest. Avarion's hand slipped from his grip and he clenched his hand in a delayed reaction. Avarion, though, did not charge off as Renlic expected him to. Rather, he stood in front of the chamberlain, waiting. Finally he asked, "Renlic? Are you alright?" in an incredibly innocent tone of voice.
"I—I'm fine. Just one moment." Renlic took a deep breath and looked at the next flight of stairs. His courage balked. "Avarion? Head up to the next floor, alright? Wait for me up there." Avarion bolted up the stairs, leaving Renlic alone in the stairwell. Renlic limped his way over to the staircase, placing his right foot on the step and levering himself up. He held tightly to the banister, holding himself steady as he climbed the next step, then the next.
Halfway up, he saw Avarion watching him. The boy was leaning toward him slightly, his face a blatant look of concern. Renlic smiled halfheartedly at him. It took some time, but eventually Renlic stood at the top. Avarion ran up the next flight of stairs. Renlic growled. Why was the entire palace so much taller than it was wide? Could not the architect have designed a flatter building with fewer levels? Renlic often asked this, especially during the colder seasons. Would it really have been that difficult?
He trudged up the stairs, focusing entirely on his feet. Soon, he heard Avarion's high voice encouraging him, "Only six more steps, Renlic!" They continued this way, up three more flights with Avarion running ahead and Renlic following behind at a slower pace listening to Avarion cheering him on. Renlic repeated in his head, when I am done with this, I will lie down. I will sleep and I will never look at a stair again!
They reached the final stair that Renlic practically dragged himself up. Both rested, Avarion watching Renlic, unspeaking.
"Ah, now to your chambers. And I can say I safely delivered you, yes?" Renlic straightened. Instead of a verbal reply, Avarion wrapped his arms around Renlic's waist, hugging him. Renlic, somewhat surprised, smiled and mussed Avarion's dark hair. "Come, Avarion. To your rooms." Avarion ran ahead once more, leaving Renlic behind. Renlic sighed. Though the boy caused him pain, usually unintentionally, he would not give this up. At least, not for long.
*
Avarion was scrubbed, washed, and perfumed with awful smelling soaps by Desanadi, his nanny, a woman who Avarion thought reminded him greatly of a large, oversized hen with her incessant clicking of her tongue. She clucked as she dressed him in a finely made grey pair of pants and a loose matching shirt. Avarion scowled darkly as he was attired in the colors of his family house: black, grey, and deep blue. Desanadi muttered as she pulled his doublet over his head which, in his opinion, was a hideous example of clothing.
Solid black with a great deal of embroidery adorning it, the tight doublet was cinched in the front by small silver clasps. Sewn into it was the sigil of Evidelan, the familiar crescent moon turned on its side framing the bottom of a circle with a central star with six small ovals above it. The star symbolized his own house while the six ovals represented the other six major houses of his people. With a finger, he traced over the symbols feeling the individual threads that made up the whole design. Absently, he wondered what the moon meant, as he had done often before when staring at endless books on heraldry.
Short boots were pushed on his feet and laced up for him. Avarion watched Desanadi as she tied the top bow, clicking her tongue against her teeth the whole way. His nanny pulled a short cape over his shoulders, only to comment that "It'll get ruined anyway," and take it off him, folding it with care and putting it back in his clothing trunk.
She ran a bone pick through his hair, using her fingers to unknot his unruly black strands. Avarion studied the pick, memorizing the well-worn carvings in it.
"Desi?" Avarion asked after staring at the pick for awhile, even after she had put it down and started brushing his hair back from his face.
"What is it, Avarion?" Avarion always thought she sounded angry, though she insisted she was not.
"What is that?" He pointed at the pick.
"It's for combing your hair, you know that." She gave him a long, scrutinizing stare and shifted his part more towards the center of his head.
"No. What is that, on it?" He pointed once more at the pick, but looked directly at the little carving. Desanadi picked up the little thing.
"A whale." She said. Avarion gave her a look of total puzzlement. He had never before seen a 'whale' and had no idea what one might be. Desanadi sighed, a long drawn out affair.
"A whale is like a…a giant fish. A giant fish that lives in the ocean. It swims." Avarion thought about this, then thought about the pick.
"Why is it on there?" he asked after a moment. Desanadi's eyes narrowed. Avarion began to dread the quite likely explosion that was on its way.
"Avarion…" she said, her tone a warning in and of itself. Avarion took the hint, relieved that she did not yell, and asked no more questions about the pick. Instead, he dreamed up images of the carved whale swimming through the ocean. Finally, Desanadi deemed his hair worthy of her efforts and went about putting the finishing touches on his appearance, including a small silver pin on his collar and tiny clasps on the cuffs of his shirt. Midway through this, a knock sounded at his door.
"Is he ready for presentation, lan Desanadi?" Renlic asked, his voice muffled by the door. Avarion had never heard anyone call his nanny 'lan' before. Master Geridledan had explained to him a few weeks earlier the meanings of titles and 'lan' he knew meant 'madam' in old Lesteli. Avarion was very confused but kept silent.
"Almost, Lord Chamberlain. You may come, he's decent." At this, Renlic entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He was decked out in the large, multi-layered robes of the Lord Chamberlain. The material looked terribly heavy and was dyed in the same tones of black, grey, and blue as Avarion's clothing, although there was a greater predominance of grey rather than black. His sleeves, expansive and wide, were trimmed with dark blue and the overlaying surcoat bore the sign of the House Evidelan embroidered in black thread. Avarion was surprised. He had only ever seen Renlic wear his ceremonial robes once many years ago.
Avarion's eyes were inevitably drawn to the little blue box in Renlic's hands. It looked like a present.
"Renlic, what is that? Is that a present?" Avarion squirmed out of Desanadi's grip, sprinting over to Renlic. Desenadi clucked and muttered. The only words Avarion heard were, "Children, never sit still…"
Renlic knelt down to look Avarion in the eye.
"It is not exactly a present, but it is something I have waited a long time to give you." He held the box out to Avarion, who took it in a flash. The boy studied the box, looking for the clasp, turning it in his hands. It was wood dyed deep blue with silver imbedded in the corners and what Avarion assumed was the top of the box. Unable to find how to open it, he shook the box violently trying to hear what was inside.
"Ah! No! No, don't shake it, Avarion!" Renlic grabbed Avarion's hands stopping him from exploring the box any further. Avarion pouted. "It does not have a lid like a normal box, Avarion. Here, grab it by the sides and put your thumbs on the top of the box." Renlic moved Avarion's small hands into the rights position, thumbs pressed firmly on two silver discs on the lid. "Now, squeeze the box and use your thumbs to open it." Avarion tried, pulling with all his might. Nothing happened and he tried to shake it again in annoyance.
"No, Avarion. Use your thumbs." Renlic placed his own fingers over Avarion's and pressed down on them. Suddenly, the box grew warm in Avarion's hands and he almost dropped it but became fascinated as a thin line formed in the middle of the lid. The lid divided into two halves, swinging open like a pair of doors on miniature hinges. Avarion watched, transfixed as the magic little box opened before his eyes. Inside the box a small silver medallion rested, the symbol of Avarion's house inscribed on it.
"How did it do that?" Avarion asked, breathless. Renlic did his best to try to explain.
"When you pushed on the sides of the lid, it opened because of these—" he pointed out the tiny hinges on the inside of the box, "—here. Now, you try it." Renlic closed the box, ignoring Avarion's protests, and placed the box in the boy's hands again. Avarion repeated the process and opened the box with ease.
"Look, Renlic! See! See, I opened it." Avarion presented Renlic with the opened box.
"Very good, Avarion." Renlic laughed. He reached inside the box, pulling out the little silver amulet. "Now, this is very important. This seal bears the sign of your house, showing you, Avarion, as being a lordling of House Evidelan and heir to these lands. From now on, whenever you attend any kind of important meeting with your father, you must always wear this around your neck."
Renlic draped the seal over Avarion's head, letting the small linked chain settle on the boy's shoulders. Avarion fingered the amulet, feeling out every crevice and bump that adorned its surface. He looked up at Renlic, who stood and reached to muss Avarion's hair. He stopped at a very loud and disapproving cluck from Desanadi. Instead, he clapped Avarion on the shoulder. Renlic made a quick circuit around Avarion, looking at him from every direction.
"Excellent, lan Desanadi. Again, you prove your talents in making a boy appear a man." Avarion swelled with pride. Renlic had called him a man!
Desanadi gave a strained smile. "I do the best I can with what I am given." She crossed her arms over her chest and bowed deeply. Avarion saw Renlic nod to her out of the corner of his eye. Before he had a chance to ask anything, Renlic led him out of his rooms with a strong hand on his back.
"Come, Avarion. Your father waits and he is not a patient man. It would look very bad if you were to show up late for council." Avarion followed beside Renlic, questions in his head fighting for attention. He stared absently at the tapestries lining the stone walls and then at the wood floors beneath his feet, gleaming with fresh polish.
"Renlic?" he eventually asked after a few moments.
"Yes, Avarion."
"Why did you call Desanadi 'lan'?"
Renlic seemed thrown off by the question, "Why did I call Desanadi—?"
"Master Geridledan says that 'lan' means 'lady' but Desanadi is not a lady, she's my nanny. And ladies wear big dresses. Desanadi…" he floundered for a moment looking for the right word and settled on, "…doesn't." Renlic gave him an odd look and answered.
"Desanadi is not exactly simply your nanny. A long time ago, Desanadi's family was very important and—"
"Why is she not now?" Avarion cut in.
"Avarion, wait for me to finish a sentence. Do not interrupt. Patience is something all lords must learn to show. Desanadi's family was important and they…fell into hard times. They lost much of their wealth and eventually lost their lands. Your great-great-grandfather offered her family the choice to become part of the Evidelan House as servants. They accepted and ever since then have been close retainers and servants of your family. Desanadi's true title should include 'Lady'. She is a descendent of Ranideran, who was head of his family at the time."
Avarion opened his mouth to ask more, why did they lose their money, why did great-great-grandfather ask them to be family, why doesn't she say she is who she is, why is all of it a secret? None of these questions were asked though, as Renlic continued.
"That, and it is polite to refer to a woman as a 'lady'. Respect and kindness can do a great deal for you when you are a ruler. Show respect to those you count as inferior and they will often repay you three times over." Renlic gave him an enigmatic smile that Avarion did not understand and lead the boy down the stairs.
*
Avarion was seated beside his father in a smaller but exquisitely carved throne. He found it terribly uncomfortable. No cushions! He thought to himself in disgust. How could any self-respecting extravagant chair not have cushions? He traced some of the carvings in the arm of the throne with a finger. Fish that morphed into wolves and nameless beasts that turned into men seemed to be the scene for this particular section. He tried to sort out the angular knots that weaved around and in the fish and wolves.
Boredom was Avarion's watchword. The urge to move was overpowering but every time he so much as twitched, Renlic's hand was on his shoulder, holding him still. He felt like a wine skin with far too much liquid in it and no cork, wine spilling and slopping all over the place. He squirmed, receiving a tight squeeze to his shoulder by Renlic.
Avarion's eyes wandered around him. On his right were three empty chairs and on his left there were two more, not including the one his father sat in. Around him were a number of people around, mostly ambassadors that had been pointed out to him earlier and servants that Avarion knew on sight. Here and there were distant cousins of House Evidelan and relatives many times removed. Avarion felt terribly alone. There were no children here, only adults. There was nothing to do except stare at people. He was looking forward to meeting Carnferis, a lordling of House Mander. He had never met another lordling that he could remember.
Avarion turned to look at his father, who sat on his left. Rionlis looked terrifying to Avarion dressed in his noble garb. The grey pants and grey loose shirt that Avarion wore matched his father's, but that was where the similarities ended. Rionlis wore a dark grey doublet over which was an embroidered black surcoat bearing his coat of arms: the Evidelan house symbol held up by a pair of monstrous beasts that looked a cross between a wolf and a dragon and framed by the wings of a hawk that stood atop the whole sign. All of this was done with threads of silver and blue matching the house colors. He wore a rich deep blue cloak which draped over his right shoulder and over the edge of the throne, spilling out on the floor. Avarion reached a hand out, trailing his fingers across the cloth. It was not as soft as it looked.
Rionlis glanced down at Avarion and shrugged slightly, shifting the cloak out of Avarion's reach. Avarion wilted under the icy gaze of his father. The dark tones of his clothing and the black of his hair made Rionlis' pale white skin and pale blue eyes strikingly bright. Rionlis gave him a strained smile and then returned to staring intently at the massive double doors across the hall from the chairs. Avarion pulled his hand back and rested it instead on the arm of his throne. He imagined the wolves eating the fish and then the fish eating the wolves, as the carvings could go either way.
The large double doors creaked as they were opened slightly to allow Darenlis inside. Avarion's heart soared and he waved excitedly to his Uncle Dar. Darenlis waved back and gestured pointedly for Avarion to sit back down in the throne. He crossed the hall, hopped over the three small steps and swung behind Rionlis' chair. He bent over, speaking to Avarion's father, his voice pitched very low.
"Rion, Vered and Esla have arrived. Feris says he'll be here shortly." Rionlis nodded. As Darenlis leaned back, Rionlis caught his arm bringing him back down again. He said something that Avarion could not hear. Darenlis looked momentarily confused then nodded in understanding. He said something to Rionlis. The only word Avarion understood was, "Fair."
"Lord Veredlarkis of House Bromilthen humbly requests welcome sanctuary from Lord Rionlis of House Evidelan." Avarion jumped as the high clear voice of his father's Crier lanced through the silence of the mildly crowded hall. Darenlis pulled away and took his position of standing next to and behind the huge throne.
Rionlis settled back and gave a slight wave of his hand. "I welcome Lord Veredlarkis to my home."
At that, the great double doors swung outward, gliding over well-oiled grooves in the ground. Avarion had watched them prepare for this earlier that day, pouring a whole barrel of oil out and rubbing the ruts slick. On the other side, a man and a woman and a whole line of people stood in the entrance way.
" Announcing Lord Veredlarkis and Lady Eslateni of House Bromilthen, Eye of the Bromilthens and Holder of Brodelen." The Crier spouted a number of other titles, but Avarion had stopped listening. Instead, he stared at Lord Veredlarkis and Lady Eslateni, who walked slowly down the length of the hall.
Veredlarkis, tall and thin, was a sight for Avarion. The man was near golden-skinned with bright copper hair and reminded Avarion very much of the bronze statue that stood on top of the fountain in the courtyard. He wore loose brown pants, a cream colored shirt, and a deep burgundy red surcoat. Embroidered on his chest was his coat of arms and house symbol, a circle with an X in the center superimposed by a double-edged sword in shades of gold and black. The circle was held up by a pair of eagle-like creatures. The individual threads caught the light and sparkled. But what caught Avarion's attention the most, and kept it there, was Veredlarkis' cloak, which looked to be made of molten gold. Every step he took, the cloak shone and gleamed like the polished cuffs on Avarion's wrist.
Lady Eslateni, in Avarion's opinion, was the strangest looking woman he had ever seen. She was beautiful, that much he was sure of. She had long brown hair, pale green eyes and the same golden hued skin of her husband. She wore a shimmering dress of the same deep burgundy material as Veredlarkis, but threads of gold had been woven into it and it shimmered almost as much as the golden cloak. What caused Avarion to stare at her was Eslateni's belly, which bulged outward in a very awkward and strange way that had her bending slightly backwards to balance herself. She did not move very quickly, more of a hobbled waddle, and Veredlarkis held her arm for the entire way to the dais.
This whole scene, to Avarion, was quite funny to watch, especially with his father's Crier still announcing names in a squeaky high voice. He smiled, trying to hold in his laughter knowing that, if he made a sound Renlic would yell at him. Eslateni looked up, her eyes settling directly on him. She returned his blatant amusement with a wide toothed smile. Avarion then thought her truly beautiful. She was the prettiest lady he had ever seen and she had smiled at him! He felt a warm buzzing feeling in his chest and the desire to stand up and run over to her was overpowering. He leaned forward to stand, but Renlic's hand pulled him back, gently but very firmly.
Eslateni leaned over and whispered something in Veredlarkis' ear and laughed. Veredlarkis glanced up at Avarion and answered, to low for Avarion to hear. They both smiled. Veredlarkis mounted the dais and held out his hands for his wife who took hold of his left arm and pulled herself up onto the step.
"Oh, I never thought of that," Avarion heard Renlic say as Renlic rushed past him to lend a hand to both Veredlarkis and Eslateni. Together, Veredlarkis and Renlic heaved the protesting Eslateni up on the dais. Darenlis pushed forward one of the two chairs beside Rionlis and Veredlarkis eased his wife into it. Eslateni thanked both Renlic and Darenlis, who returned to their respective places quickly. Veredlarkis sat down and leaned over to speak with Rionlis.
"A fair day out there, Rionlis. Good riding weather if I've ever seen any." Avarion liked Veredlarkis. He was very friendly in Avarion's eyes.
"That is good to hear. Had we known your wife was so far along in the pregnancy, we would have put this off for a few months." Rionlis waved his hands slightly as he talked.
"It's alright. Esla fought me to be here and I had no say in the matter. Besides, the trip was easy and slow. It gave a welcome break." He leaned back in the chair and glanced about the hall. "Where is Feris? He usually is here before me."
"He was slightly delayed and will be here shortly." Darenlis replied before Rionlis could. "There was some kind of…obstruction along the way. He sent a messenger who got here a few moments before you did." Avarion noticed that all three of them had not yet referred to each other as 'lord' as Master Geridledan had told him was customary. He turned, opening his mouth to ask Renlic about it and had gotten as far as "Ren—" when Renlic's hand was on his shoulder again, silencing him. Avarion sat back, pouting.
"So long as he gets here before supper. I heard he was bringing his boy along?" Veredlarkis rested his elbow on the edge of the throne and pushed a large chunk of copper hair behind his slightly pointed ear.
"He is. I must say, I am looking forward to it. It's been years since I saw Carn. I heard he's grown into a bear." Rion laughed. "It's hard to imagine such a small boy getting so large."
"Well, your boy has grown too." Veredlarkis gestured at Avarion, who stared at him, wide-eyed. "I haven't seen him since—by all ancestors—since he was an infant! Ever since he was cradled in Nalistra's…" he broke off as Rionlis bowed his head. "Oh, goddesses. Rion, I'm sorry. I completely…I'm not even sure why I said—"
"Vered. Stop. Just stop." Rionlis stared at the finely carved floor refusing to make eye contact with either of his guests. Avarion reached out and patted his father's arm. Rionlis reached up and wrapped his hand around Avarion's. The uncomfortable silence which followed was broken by the voice of the Crier.
"Announcing Lord Feriskedan and Lady Medatierl of House Aradurnked, Defender of the Borders and the Bear of the North, holder of Ardenhold. Announcing their son, Carnferis, Captain of the Borderwatch and heir to the lordship of Ardenhold." The grating high voice continued to announce titles and names but Avarion had stopped listening once again. Titles were dull and names of people who he was never going to see were even duller. More importantly, Carnferis had finally arrived and Avarion burned with excitement. Another lordling at last!
Lord Feriskedan and Lady Medateirl entered first. Feris was old in Avarion's opinion, with a solid grey mane of hair and a fine short beard that dusted his chin. He had dark eyes and fair skin and a very somber expression that leaned toward a frown. His clothing was the same loose pants and shirt as Rionlis and Veredlarkis, except Feris wore dark grey and his surcoat was deep green. The sign of House Aradurnked was embroidered into the coat: a circle with a dark tree shaped mark in the center over which were two crossed arrows in a rich shade of bronze. The sign was held up by antlered bears with a stag's head resting on top of the circle.
Unlike Rionlis and Veredlarkis, who both wore brightly colored cloth cloaks, Feris wore a cape of thick fur of some great animal. Avarion wanted to sink his hands into it to find out if it was as soft as it looked. The boy's attention wandered to Feris' boots which were black leather, large, heavy, and covered in buckles. Instantly, Avarion wanted a pair that looked like them. They were intimidating and made an attractive 'clunk' sound on every step that resounded off the walls like a drumbeat.
Feris was also the only lord who had brought a weapon into the hall. It was a massive blade, two handed and easily five feet long. He carried it strapped to his back and walked as if it weighed nothing. Running along Feris' jaw and stretching up to his ear was a hideous crescent shaped scar. He looked every bit a warrior to Avarion.
Lady Medateirl was also older, with grey streaked dark hair and deep wrinkles around her mouth and bright hazel eyes. She was a great deal shorter than Feris and much heavier but wore her draping monstrosity of a dress with grace and elegance. She reminded Avarion of Desenadi. He stared at her, trying to figure exactly what it was about her that was so familiar.
Behind them, a young man with brown hair and a face that looked much like Feris', but with the light hazel eyes of Lady Medateirl, stalked. He looked sulky and unhappy. His clothing matched Feris' except for his surcoat, which was a lighter shade of green with a smaller Aradurnked symbol on it. He bore a sword belted to his waist and heavy looking studded bracers on his wrists. Around his neck hung a bronze chain and small amulet exactly like Avarion's all but for color. It suddenly occurred to him that this man was Carnferis, the supposed 'boy' of Feriskedan. Avarion's heart sank. He had been looking forward so much to a boy his age and his rank he could play with.
Carnferis looked far more like his father than his mother and was tall, even taller than Feris, which was frightening as the lord was not a very short man. He walked with his shoulders hunched forward, giving him a predatory and angry appearance that frightened Avarion more than a little.
All three walked casually up the dais, Feris and Carnferis both bowed to Rionlis when they reached the top, and sat down on the three chairs on Avarion's right. Feris sat next to him, with Meteirl beside her husband and their son beside her. Avarion wrinkled his nose. Feris smelled like a tannery and armory put together.
Feris turned to Rionlis, speaking over Avarion's head. "Rion, it's good to see you. What has it been? A year? Two?" Avarion had expected a deep, scratchy voice like Durmon, the apprentice armsmaster. Instead, Feris had a strong, clear tenor and did not speak very loudly. Avarion was sure if he were sitting on his father's left, he would never have heard him.
"Try five, Feris. Last I saw you there was still brown in your hair."
Feris laughed, high and loud. Veredlarkis, who had been talking to Darenlis, turned to both of them saying, "What is it?"
"Rionlis was only correcting me. Apparently, I cannot count." Feris answered with a smirk. He spoke a bit louder for Veredlarkis to hear him. Veredlarkis looked puzzled for a moment then shook his head. He went back to his conversation with Darenlis, leaving Rionlis and Feris to their own.
"How was the trip down?" Rionlis asked. Avarion noted that he looked genuinely interested in Feris journey, rather than the half-hearted look he usually gave when he was only partially listening.
"Fair. We had near-perfect weather for much of it. There was a brief shower a day ago. I forget how warm the rain is here. I felt more like I was bathing rather than being caught in a downpour." He laughed again, a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and short bark. Rionlis smiled in reply. "Less than a day ago, we ran into a fallen tree. A behemoth of an oak, I tell you. The thing had landed right on the road and was easily twenty horses long. It was on that hill, the one with the steep drop on the left," he gestured, drawing a picture of the hill in the air with his hands. "There was no way around it. We had to backtrack half a day's ride and detour down the hill into the ravine. It added a few hours, but we did get a wonderful bit of scenery on the way." Rionlis nodded.
"It is beautiful down there, but floods something awful in the early spring. By midsummer, the air is as thick as mud with little biting bugs." Avarion winced at these words, remembering keenly that short, short trip through that same area a little over a year ago. He scratched his arms expecting to feel the awful itching of the little bugs' bites at any moment.
"Then I'll be sure to avoid it. Besides, your summers here are too warm for me. I sweat just thinking about it." Feris wiped his brow, though Avarion could see not a drop of sweat anywhere on him.
"I'll have to have that tree cut down. Twenty horses, you say? Any idea what felled it?" Rionlis was running the knuckle of his forefinger across the side of his jaw.
"Lightning, it looked like. The whole bottom of the trunk was burnt through."
"We have had a number of storms here recently." Rionlis sighed. "Ah, well. It was bound to happen eventually. It will make good firewood, I suppose." He pulled his hand away from his face giving his fingers a little flick as if pushing something. "How goes the building of the Pass Walls?"
"Slow. You would think in eight years we would have more done. We only the eastern wall finished and we're just starting on the northern one."
"Only starting? Surely more must have been done? The eastern wall was finished three years ago!"
"Aye, and the snows came in early that year. We lost nearly half of the work already done and a third of our building supplies to the storms. Don't even speak of the laborers who died of frost. There are a great many unmarked graves under the north wall." Feris' eyes got a faraway look in them as he stared over Rionlis' shoulder.
"Have there been any raids?" Rionlis asked.
"No, not many. A few, but so small a contingent took them out without much difficulty. Though there have been sightings of a rogue ruikan running about on the tundra."
Rionlis eyes shot upward, his eyes wide. "A beast-man this far south? I don't think I have ever heard of such a thing."
"It happens but very rarely. I have only ever heard of it once or twice in both mine and my father's time."
"Was it killed?"
"No. It's a clever one, I'll give it that. Skirted right past three patrols and a hunting party with only a glimpse of its furry back. It's a huge monster, probably a male. It will make a fine pelt if we ever catch the thing!" Feris laughed again reaching over Avarion's head to cuff Rionlis on the shoulder. Avarion sunk down in his chair, trying to make himself small. He did not want Feris' strong arm to hit him in the head any time soon and Feris seemed a man who waved his arms around a lot.
"If you ever successfully skin it, you will have to visit to show me."
"Better yet, you come visit me. We could use some entertainment back home and a feast will do the job. Perhaps a hunt. Yes, come visit and I'll throw a feast and a hunt in your name." Feris' arm went flying over Avarion's head again as he brought it up to illustrate his point.
"What is this about hunts?" Veredlarkis asked, leaning on the arm of his chair.
"Ah, Vered! Join Rion when he comes up north. It will be a right celebration and—is your wife with child?" Feris asked craning to see around Rion. When he moved, Avarion could see Carnferis and Medateirl speaking to one another quietly, though Carnferis looked rather upset about it and argued. He spoke with the same vigorous arm motions as his father.
"Yes, Lord Veredlarkis' wife is with child," Eslateni answered for her husband.
"Congratulations," Feris said, smiling widely. "I had heard up at Domrith's estate that you were expecting. Do you know whether the child is a boy or girl yet?"
"Not with any certainty," Veredlarkis replied.
"A boy," Eslateni answered. "The midwife tells me that he is a boy but Vered does not believe her."
"It is not that I don't believe her, Esla. Things like this, you can't simply guess at."
"What harm is there in knowing the child's gender?" Though her words were aggressive, she did not sound angry. In fact, neither did Veredlarkis, Avarion noticed. He could not help but wonder why.
"I do not want to pick a name before the child is born."
"Ah! Is that what this is about," Feris exclaimed.
"What names have you both chosen?" Rionlis asked Veredlarkis and Eslateni.
"Danis or Diani if a girl," Eslateni answered.
"Ceron if a boy," Veredlarkis finished.
"Ceron? After your grandfather?" Rionlis asked Vered. Avarion could not see his face, but his father sounded surprised.
"We thought it best to honor him, in the end." Vered smiled a little, though he looked sad to Avarion. " And Ceron is a strong name." Avarion turned to look up at Renlic meaning to ask why was Ceron a strong name. It did not sound very strong. Renlic bent down to hear Avarion whisper his question.
"Ceron in the old tongue means 'rock' or 'stone'. It's a warrior's name." Renlic whispered in Avarion's ear.
*
One of Avarion's earliest memories was his mother's funeral. He had been very young at the time and could barely understand the concept of death. Prolonged absence, he understood, but not the idea that someone would leave and never come back. He remembered clearly watching three priests and a priestess seal the stone slab that covered his mother's bones. He also remembered the look on his father's face. He never forgot that. Silent tears had streaked Rionlis' cheeks and his jaw was clenched tightly shut. His hands shook and so he had kept them clasped against his waist. The man that Avarion thought so strong looked so terribly empty. To a six year old boy, this was terrifying, more terrifying than the slam of stone on stone as the coffin was sealed. Avarion, on that day, had shed no tears.
It was not until much later, almost three days after the funeral, when Avarion had asked his father, "When is madi coming back?" He had never forgotten his father's reaction to that simple question.
"Never speak of her. Avarion? Do you understand me? Never speak of her again." His father had then broken down in tears and was lead out of Avarion's chambers by Renlic's strong hand. Those words had frightened Avarion enough that he never asked Rionlis again of where his mother had gone. He had instead asked Renlic, who explained to him the best he could of death. After that strained conversation, Avarion had been crying.
"I know, I know. It is difficult. But remember, you still have your father. You still have me. We will not leave you for a very, very long time." Renlic had cradled Avarion to him and let the boy cry, as he had often done for almost a year after Lady Nalistra's death.
Avarion had realized, a few years later, that the day his mother died had also been the day when the man he called 'father' had died as well. The laugh that came so easily to his lips when Avarion was very young had all but disappeared, replaced instead by a strained smile. Avarion rarely saw Rionlis. When he had asked Renlic about this, Renlic simply answered, "Your father is a lord, Avarion. He has duties to attend to. This land is not exactly small. One day, you will be lord and will do the same tasks as your father." Avarion, in a huff, vowed he would not become a lord who could not pay an ounce of attention to his own son. Renlic had laughed at that and led the boy off to his writing lessons, Avarion's most despised teaching.
Avarion's most hated tasks were listed, by his own hand, on a small parchment sheet that he had tacked to Renlic's door one morning. Writing, reading, mapmaking, and lessons on etiquette were at the top.
CHAPTER 1
[Rough Draft and unfinished. Teaser for when I work on High King after finishing Amazing Grace.]
Renlic leaned against the stone wall, huffing and puffing and terribly out of breath. He put his hands on his knees, leaning forward. He felt the chill of the morning in his joints, which pained him greatly, especially after running up three flights of stairs. I am far too old for this, he thought to himself. A lord's head chamberlain should not be charging about a palace through all hours of the day, Renlic believed. No, this was a job for a nursemaid, not Renlic. He scowled, straightening, reached out and tested the handle of the nearest door. It was unlocked and the door opened at his push. Renlic stuck his head inside the room.
"Avarion? Master Avarion, are you in here?" Renlic gave up with niceties. "Avarion, if you do not come out this instant, I shall inform your father of this. He will not be pleased with you." No answer. Renlic grunted and shut the door and began trying the rooms of the hallway for unlocked door handles.
Vile little cretin! Ah, when I find him he will be in the trouble of his life for all this…Renlic scowled, calling out his mantra of "Avarion, Master Avarion!" and thinking of every imaginable punishment he could inflict on the eight year old without being considered unnecessarily cruel. He threw open a second door, a third door, a fourth door and none of them contained his elusive charge. Finally he slumped against the wall again, once more out of breath, only this time it was from yelling. Renlic caught, just as he breathed in, the sound of jaunty whistling.
Around the corner waltzed Hawker, a man who had reached the end of middle aged and had started to go grey in the hair and beard which matched his eyes perfectly in color. Hawker whistled as he walked, a faint hop in his step which had nothing to do with happiness, rather an old injury to his right leg that Renlic knew of secondhand. Yet still, Hawker exuded a feeling of cheerfulness. Renlic wondered absently, what in the name of the Goddesses could make a man so cheery in the morning.
"Good morning, Lord Chamberlain." Hawker said, making a small respectful bow with his head and reaching up to tug a forelock with his hand.
"Morning, Hawker." Renlic replied. Strange man, was all he could think of. He was certainly strange for his obviously rounded ears, distinctly proclaiming his less-than-sylranni heritage. "Ah, Hawker?"
"Yes, Lord Chamberlain?" Hawker turned back to face Renlic with an expression of pure innocence.
"Have you seen a—a small child?" Renlic asked.
"Many, m'Lord. Any in particular?" Hawker answered. Renlic sighed.
"Young Master Avarion, by any chance?" Renlic said with a resigned tone. Hawker less loose his short, barking laugh that trailed off into a chuckle.
"Lost him again, have you? You should really consider putting the child on a long leash perhaps." Hawker took one long look at Renlic and added hastily, "My Lord Chamberlain." Renlic thought about reprimanding the man for disrespect but simply ended up shaking his head instead. There was no point. Hawker never changed in his twenty-five years of service and he was not going to change now.
"Have you seen him?"
"No, m'Lord. Haven't seen hide nor tail of him anywhere in over a day. He may be in the kitchens. I saw him there last week." Renlic groaned. Back down all those stairs, again? He offered a silent prayer to the Goddesses and began walking toward the end of the hall. "He likes the dogs," Hawker called after him. Renlic paused for a moment then quickened his pace.
Avarion, if you put your hand anywhere near those dogs' jaws, your father will have my head! At that thought, Renlic practically flew down the stairs, sometimes skipping two at a time. My head on a platter! Oh, you wretched child! Why could you not be scholarly? Behind him, Hawker began whistling again.
*
Avarion sat, entranced by the flickering flames and patted Narsk's head. The large old hunting dog nuzzled him, searching around his pockets for more bread crumbs and scraps of ham, leftovers of Avarion's stolen, and hastily eaten, lunch. Cad poked around Avarion's feet, equally scrounging for food. Narsk's wet nose tickled against Avarion's bare arm, causing him to squeal and cry out, "Narsk! Bad dog!" He swatted the hound on the nose lightly. Narsk recoiled and then returned to his blind search for the rest of Avarion's lunch.
Around them, the clatter of pots and the clash of dishes filled the room as thoroughly as the smoke that hung near the ceiling. Servants moved to and fro, washing the dishes, scrubbing the pans, chopping vegetables, and then placing all these things in their respective places. Nearby, a servant boy turned the pig on a spit that hung over the fire, juices dripping from the meat. On the other side of the room, Horsemaster Gadin argued with Fenendar, the commander of the gatewatch, over dice debts. To Avarion, these sounds and words were magical, a glimpse into lives he never lived. He listened, drinking in the conversations hungrily and patting the heads of Narsk and Cad.
"Hold it better there, with two hands—two hands!—and don't drop it. Now, put it over by the fire…" a cook Avarion did not know instructed Dans, a scullery boy, who ignored all the instructions and ended up getting his task done with as much efficiency anyway.
"I told Larn, I said 'no, the boy needs a kind hand, not a fist' but does he listen? No! Never, so I then said—" a maid balancing a stack of dishes exuberantly told the woman washing dishes beside her. Though her stance spoke of moving forward, she never did take a step beyond where she stood, intent on finishing the newest addition to the story of her life.
"Like hellfires, man! I won that as fair as day." Gadin spat, baring his teeth.
"Gadin, you lost. Face it, admit it, and move on. The die rolled off the table, it still counts." Fenendar replied, holding his hands up, warding off Gadin's protests.
"I'm sure that it was a two, not a five!"
"Argue the point as much as you want, but keep this up and you won't play anymore." Fenendar warned. Gadin huffed, turned, and left the kitchens, shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Goddess damned dishes. So damnably heavy. Noble's and their food!" A young man heaving a towering stack of clean polished wooden dishes in his arms wandered past Avarion, swearing all the way. Avarion laughed at him, as the man looked foolish carrying so much. The sound was lost amongst the clattering and bashing and the bustling of servants.
Not far away from him, Pelinanda pulled baked rolls out of a clay oven that was set into the wall. The steaming rolls slid off the wooden board and onto the large pile of other rolls and loaves of all sizes and lengths. Avarion's mouth watered at the sight.
Over at a long table, a woman mashed berries together in a large bowl, making a thick paste. She glanced about hurriedly. Deeming that no one was watching her, she stuck her finger in the bowl and rammed a fair helping of jam in her mouth. Avarion watched her suck on her helping of jam and return to mixing the berries together, ducking her head when cookmaster Verendar walked by. Verendar clucked and pointed out, "Finer paste, Cali." He reached over her head and took a taste for himself. "And more raspberries, this is too sweet." Cali nodded silently and added more raspberries to the bowl.
At his feet, Cad stood and wandered off to flop down in front of a fire which had a large pot hanging over it. Narsk took this chance to lie down on Avarion's bare feet. Avarion squirmed, shifting into a more comfortable position with the new weight. Narsk huffed out a long sigh and watched Avarion and the kitchen with doleful eyes. Avarion reached down and pet Narsk's ears with the tips of his fingers. Narsk twitched in discomfort which sent Avarion into fits of giggles as the dog's ears swiveled about, avoiding the boy's grasping hands. He leaned back, allowing Narsk a moment's respite.
"Avarion!"
Avarion's head jerked around at the call of his name.
*
Renlic grabbed Avarion's wrist and pulled the boy to his feet, sending Narsk trotting off with a dejected look on his face. Renlic felt seething anger rise through him, beating in time with the throb of his aching knees and back.
"Avarion! You—" Renlic rethought what he was about to say, taking a deep breath. "You naughty child. What are you doing down here?"
Avarion opened his mouth but Renlic would hear none of his excuses. "Never mind that. You know your father wants you presentable! So you run off and charge about a kitchen!?" Renlic grabbed Avarion by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "You are attending your father's court and a major decision today. Do you understand? This is very important. Now, you will come with me and we'll have you cleaned up and ready in less than an hour. Yes, an hour." Now Renlic was muttering more to himself than Avarion, as he wished more and more to be sitting in a chair instead of standing. It was at that moment that Avarion chose to speak.
"I don't want to go!" He pulled back away from the unsuspecting Renlic and broke the chamberlain's grip on him. Renlic reached out and snatched the back of Avarion's collar. He spun the boy around to face him and fought the sudden urge to smack the side of Avarion's pale face. He pushed it down, bottling the desire deep inside himself.
"Master Avarion. You have no choice in this matter. You are going. That is final. Understand?"
"But—"
"No." Renlic said forcefully. "Now, come with me." He took a step and grimaced, his breath hissing out between his teeth. He shook his head and tugged Avarion along with him, dragging him from the kitchen. Avarion fought for about the first ten steps then followed on his own, scowling the whole way. They reached the stairs, at which point Renlic swore under his breath. Those damnable stairs. He had already run up and down them at least five times in the past hour and he truly did not want to face them again. But I must deliver Avarion to his chambers. Renlic groaned and tackled the stairs, walking up them slowly.
At the end of the first flight, he stopped to rest. Avarion's hand slipped from his grip and he clenched his hand in a delayed reaction. Avarion, though, did not charge off as Renlic expected him to. Rather, he stood in front of the chamberlain, waiting. Finally he asked, "Renlic? Are you alright?" in an incredibly innocent tone of voice.
"I—I'm fine. Just one moment." Renlic took a deep breath and looked at the next flight of stairs. His courage balked. "Avarion? Head up to the next floor, alright? Wait for me up there." Avarion bolted up the stairs, leaving Renlic alone in the stairwell. Renlic limped his way over to the staircase, placing his right foot on the step and levering himself up. He held tightly to the banister, holding himself steady as he climbed the next step, then the next.
Halfway up, he saw Avarion watching him. The boy was leaning toward him slightly, his face a blatant look of concern. Renlic smiled halfheartedly at him. It took some time, but eventually Renlic stood at the top. Avarion ran up the next flight of stairs. Renlic growled. Why was the entire palace so much taller than it was wide? Could not the architect have designed a flatter building with fewer levels? Renlic often asked this, especially during the colder seasons. Would it really have been that difficult?
He trudged up the stairs, focusing entirely on his feet. Soon, he heard Avarion's high voice encouraging him, "Only six more steps, Renlic!" They continued this way, up three more flights with Avarion running ahead and Renlic following behind at a slower pace listening to Avarion cheering him on. Renlic repeated in his head, when I am done with this, I will lie down. I will sleep and I will never look at a stair again!
They reached the final stair that Renlic practically dragged himself up. Both rested, Avarion watching Renlic, unspeaking.
"Ah, now to your chambers. And I can say I safely delivered you, yes?" Renlic straightened. Instead of a verbal reply, Avarion wrapped his arms around Renlic's waist, hugging him. Renlic, somewhat surprised, smiled and mussed Avarion's dark hair. "Come, Avarion. To your rooms." Avarion ran ahead once more, leaving Renlic behind. Renlic sighed. Though the boy caused him pain, usually unintentionally, he would not give this up. At least, not for long.
*
Avarion was scrubbed, washed, and perfumed with awful smelling soaps by Desanadi, his nanny, a woman who Avarion thought reminded him greatly of a large, oversized hen with her incessant clicking of her tongue. She clucked as she dressed him in a finely made grey pair of pants and a loose matching shirt. Avarion scowled darkly as he was attired in the colors of his family house: black, grey, and deep blue. Desanadi muttered as she pulled his doublet over his head which, in his opinion, was a hideous example of clothing.
Solid black with a great deal of embroidery adorning it, the tight doublet was cinched in the front by small silver clasps. Sewn into it was the sigil of Evidelan, the familiar crescent moon turned on its side framing the bottom of a circle with a central star with six small ovals above it. The star symbolized his own house while the six ovals represented the other six major houses of his people. With a finger, he traced over the symbols feeling the individual threads that made up the whole design. Absently, he wondered what the moon meant, as he had done often before when staring at endless books on heraldry.
Short boots were pushed on his feet and laced up for him. Avarion watched Desanadi as she tied the top bow, clicking her tongue against her teeth the whole way. His nanny pulled a short cape over his shoulders, only to comment that "It'll get ruined anyway," and take it off him, folding it with care and putting it back in his clothing trunk.
She ran a bone pick through his hair, using her fingers to unknot his unruly black strands. Avarion studied the pick, memorizing the well-worn carvings in it.
"Desi?" Avarion asked after staring at the pick for awhile, even after she had put it down and started brushing his hair back from his face.
"What is it, Avarion?" Avarion always thought she sounded angry, though she insisted she was not.
"What is that?" He pointed at the pick.
"It's for combing your hair, you know that." She gave him a long, scrutinizing stare and shifted his part more towards the center of his head.
"No. What is that, on it?" He pointed once more at the pick, but looked directly at the little carving. Desanadi picked up the little thing.
"A whale." She said. Avarion gave her a look of total puzzlement. He had never before seen a 'whale' and had no idea what one might be. Desanadi sighed, a long drawn out affair.
"A whale is like a…a giant fish. A giant fish that lives in the ocean. It swims." Avarion thought about this, then thought about the pick.
"Why is it on there?" he asked after a moment. Desanadi's eyes narrowed. Avarion began to dread the quite likely explosion that was on its way.
"Avarion…" she said, her tone a warning in and of itself. Avarion took the hint, relieved that she did not yell, and asked no more questions about the pick. Instead, he dreamed up images of the carved whale swimming through the ocean. Finally, Desanadi deemed his hair worthy of her efforts and went about putting the finishing touches on his appearance, including a small silver pin on his collar and tiny clasps on the cuffs of his shirt. Midway through this, a knock sounded at his door.
"Is he ready for presentation, lan Desanadi?" Renlic asked, his voice muffled by the door. Avarion had never heard anyone call his nanny 'lan' before. Master Geridledan had explained to him a few weeks earlier the meanings of titles and 'lan' he knew meant 'madam' in old Lesteli. Avarion was very confused but kept silent.
"Almost, Lord Chamberlain. You may come, he's decent." At this, Renlic entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He was decked out in the large, multi-layered robes of the Lord Chamberlain. The material looked terribly heavy and was dyed in the same tones of black, grey, and blue as Avarion's clothing, although there was a greater predominance of grey rather than black. His sleeves, expansive and wide, were trimmed with dark blue and the overlaying surcoat bore the sign of the House Evidelan embroidered in black thread. Avarion was surprised. He had only ever seen Renlic wear his ceremonial robes once many years ago.
Avarion's eyes were inevitably drawn to the little blue box in Renlic's hands. It looked like a present.
"Renlic, what is that? Is that a present?" Avarion squirmed out of Desanadi's grip, sprinting over to Renlic. Desenadi clucked and muttered. The only words Avarion heard were, "Children, never sit still…"
Renlic knelt down to look Avarion in the eye.
"It is not exactly a present, but it is something I have waited a long time to give you." He held the box out to Avarion, who took it in a flash. The boy studied the box, looking for the clasp, turning it in his hands. It was wood dyed deep blue with silver imbedded in the corners and what Avarion assumed was the top of the box. Unable to find how to open it, he shook the box violently trying to hear what was inside.
"Ah! No! No, don't shake it, Avarion!" Renlic grabbed Avarion's hands stopping him from exploring the box any further. Avarion pouted. "It does not have a lid like a normal box, Avarion. Here, grab it by the sides and put your thumbs on the top of the box." Renlic moved Avarion's small hands into the rights position, thumbs pressed firmly on two silver discs on the lid. "Now, squeeze the box and use your thumbs to open it." Avarion tried, pulling with all his might. Nothing happened and he tried to shake it again in annoyance.
"No, Avarion. Use your thumbs." Renlic placed his own fingers over Avarion's and pressed down on them. Suddenly, the box grew warm in Avarion's hands and he almost dropped it but became fascinated as a thin line formed in the middle of the lid. The lid divided into two halves, swinging open like a pair of doors on miniature hinges. Avarion watched, transfixed as the magic little box opened before his eyes. Inside the box a small silver medallion rested, the symbol of Avarion's house inscribed on it.
"How did it do that?" Avarion asked, breathless. Renlic did his best to try to explain.
"When you pushed on the sides of the lid, it opened because of these—" he pointed out the tiny hinges on the inside of the box, "—here. Now, you try it." Renlic closed the box, ignoring Avarion's protests, and placed the box in the boy's hands again. Avarion repeated the process and opened the box with ease.
"Look, Renlic! See! See, I opened it." Avarion presented Renlic with the opened box.
"Very good, Avarion." Renlic laughed. He reached inside the box, pulling out the little silver amulet. "Now, this is very important. This seal bears the sign of your house, showing you, Avarion, as being a lordling of House Evidelan and heir to these lands. From now on, whenever you attend any kind of important meeting with your father, you must always wear this around your neck."
Renlic draped the seal over Avarion's head, letting the small linked chain settle on the boy's shoulders. Avarion fingered the amulet, feeling out every crevice and bump that adorned its surface. He looked up at Renlic, who stood and reached to muss Avarion's hair. He stopped at a very loud and disapproving cluck from Desanadi. Instead, he clapped Avarion on the shoulder. Renlic made a quick circuit around Avarion, looking at him from every direction.
"Excellent, lan Desanadi. Again, you prove your talents in making a boy appear a man." Avarion swelled with pride. Renlic had called him a man!
Desanadi gave a strained smile. "I do the best I can with what I am given." She crossed her arms over her chest and bowed deeply. Avarion saw Renlic nod to her out of the corner of his eye. Before he had a chance to ask anything, Renlic led him out of his rooms with a strong hand on his back.
"Come, Avarion. Your father waits and he is not a patient man. It would look very bad if you were to show up late for council." Avarion followed beside Renlic, questions in his head fighting for attention. He stared absently at the tapestries lining the stone walls and then at the wood floors beneath his feet, gleaming with fresh polish.
"Renlic?" he eventually asked after a few moments.
"Yes, Avarion."
"Why did you call Desanadi 'lan'?"
Renlic seemed thrown off by the question, "Why did I call Desanadi—?"
"Master Geridledan says that 'lan' means 'lady' but Desanadi is not a lady, she's my nanny. And ladies wear big dresses. Desanadi…" he floundered for a moment looking for the right word and settled on, "…doesn't." Renlic gave him an odd look and answered.
"Desanadi is not exactly simply your nanny. A long time ago, Desanadi's family was very important and—"
"Why is she not now?" Avarion cut in.
"Avarion, wait for me to finish a sentence. Do not interrupt. Patience is something all lords must learn to show. Desanadi's family was important and they…fell into hard times. They lost much of their wealth and eventually lost their lands. Your great-great-grandfather offered her family the choice to become part of the Evidelan House as servants. They accepted and ever since then have been close retainers and servants of your family. Desanadi's true title should include 'Lady'. She is a descendent of Ranideran, who was head of his family at the time."
Avarion opened his mouth to ask more, why did they lose their money, why did great-great-grandfather ask them to be family, why doesn't she say she is who she is, why is all of it a secret? None of these questions were asked though, as Renlic continued.
"That, and it is polite to refer to a woman as a 'lady'. Respect and kindness can do a great deal for you when you are a ruler. Show respect to those you count as inferior and they will often repay you three times over." Renlic gave him an enigmatic smile that Avarion did not understand and lead the boy down the stairs.
*
Avarion was seated beside his father in a smaller but exquisitely carved throne. He found it terribly uncomfortable. No cushions! He thought to himself in disgust. How could any self-respecting extravagant chair not have cushions? He traced some of the carvings in the arm of the throne with a finger. Fish that morphed into wolves and nameless beasts that turned into men seemed to be the scene for this particular section. He tried to sort out the angular knots that weaved around and in the fish and wolves.
Boredom was Avarion's watchword. The urge to move was overpowering but every time he so much as twitched, Renlic's hand was on his shoulder, holding him still. He felt like a wine skin with far too much liquid in it and no cork, wine spilling and slopping all over the place. He squirmed, receiving a tight squeeze to his shoulder by Renlic.
Avarion's eyes wandered around him. On his right were three empty chairs and on his left there were two more, not including the one his father sat in. Around him were a number of people around, mostly ambassadors that had been pointed out to him earlier and servants that Avarion knew on sight. Here and there were distant cousins of House Evidelan and relatives many times removed. Avarion felt terribly alone. There were no children here, only adults. There was nothing to do except stare at people. He was looking forward to meeting Carnferis, a lordling of House Mander. He had never met another lordling that he could remember.
Avarion turned to look at his father, who sat on his left. Rionlis looked terrifying to Avarion dressed in his noble garb. The grey pants and grey loose shirt that Avarion wore matched his father's, but that was where the similarities ended. Rionlis wore a dark grey doublet over which was an embroidered black surcoat bearing his coat of arms: the Evidelan house symbol held up by a pair of monstrous beasts that looked a cross between a wolf and a dragon and framed by the wings of a hawk that stood atop the whole sign. All of this was done with threads of silver and blue matching the house colors. He wore a rich deep blue cloak which draped over his right shoulder and over the edge of the throne, spilling out on the floor. Avarion reached a hand out, trailing his fingers across the cloth. It was not as soft as it looked.
Rionlis glanced down at Avarion and shrugged slightly, shifting the cloak out of Avarion's reach. Avarion wilted under the icy gaze of his father. The dark tones of his clothing and the black of his hair made Rionlis' pale white skin and pale blue eyes strikingly bright. Rionlis gave him a strained smile and then returned to staring intently at the massive double doors across the hall from the chairs. Avarion pulled his hand back and rested it instead on the arm of his throne. He imagined the wolves eating the fish and then the fish eating the wolves, as the carvings could go either way.
The large double doors creaked as they were opened slightly to allow Darenlis inside. Avarion's heart soared and he waved excitedly to his Uncle Dar. Darenlis waved back and gestured pointedly for Avarion to sit back down in the throne. He crossed the hall, hopped over the three small steps and swung behind Rionlis' chair. He bent over, speaking to Avarion's father, his voice pitched very low.
"Rion, Vered and Esla have arrived. Feris says he'll be here shortly." Rionlis nodded. As Darenlis leaned back, Rionlis caught his arm bringing him back down again. He said something that Avarion could not hear. Darenlis looked momentarily confused then nodded in understanding. He said something to Rionlis. The only word Avarion understood was, "Fair."
"Lord Veredlarkis of House Bromilthen humbly requests welcome sanctuary from Lord Rionlis of House Evidelan." Avarion jumped as the high clear voice of his father's Crier lanced through the silence of the mildly crowded hall. Darenlis pulled away and took his position of standing next to and behind the huge throne.
Rionlis settled back and gave a slight wave of his hand. "I welcome Lord Veredlarkis to my home."
At that, the great double doors swung outward, gliding over well-oiled grooves in the ground. Avarion had watched them prepare for this earlier that day, pouring a whole barrel of oil out and rubbing the ruts slick. On the other side, a man and a woman and a whole line of people stood in the entrance way.
" Announcing Lord Veredlarkis and Lady Eslateni of House Bromilthen, Eye of the Bromilthens and Holder of Brodelen." The Crier spouted a number of other titles, but Avarion had stopped listening. Instead, he stared at Lord Veredlarkis and Lady Eslateni, who walked slowly down the length of the hall.
Veredlarkis, tall and thin, was a sight for Avarion. The man was near golden-skinned with bright copper hair and reminded Avarion very much of the bronze statue that stood on top of the fountain in the courtyard. He wore loose brown pants, a cream colored shirt, and a deep burgundy red surcoat. Embroidered on his chest was his coat of arms and house symbol, a circle with an X in the center superimposed by a double-edged sword in shades of gold and black. The circle was held up by a pair of eagle-like creatures. The individual threads caught the light and sparkled. But what caught Avarion's attention the most, and kept it there, was Veredlarkis' cloak, which looked to be made of molten gold. Every step he took, the cloak shone and gleamed like the polished cuffs on Avarion's wrist.
Lady Eslateni, in Avarion's opinion, was the strangest looking woman he had ever seen. She was beautiful, that much he was sure of. She had long brown hair, pale green eyes and the same golden hued skin of her husband. She wore a shimmering dress of the same deep burgundy material as Veredlarkis, but threads of gold had been woven into it and it shimmered almost as much as the golden cloak. What caused Avarion to stare at her was Eslateni's belly, which bulged outward in a very awkward and strange way that had her bending slightly backwards to balance herself. She did not move very quickly, more of a hobbled waddle, and Veredlarkis held her arm for the entire way to the dais.
This whole scene, to Avarion, was quite funny to watch, especially with his father's Crier still announcing names in a squeaky high voice. He smiled, trying to hold in his laughter knowing that, if he made a sound Renlic would yell at him. Eslateni looked up, her eyes settling directly on him. She returned his blatant amusement with a wide toothed smile. Avarion then thought her truly beautiful. She was the prettiest lady he had ever seen and she had smiled at him! He felt a warm buzzing feeling in his chest and the desire to stand up and run over to her was overpowering. He leaned forward to stand, but Renlic's hand pulled him back, gently but very firmly.
Eslateni leaned over and whispered something in Veredlarkis' ear and laughed. Veredlarkis glanced up at Avarion and answered, to low for Avarion to hear. They both smiled. Veredlarkis mounted the dais and held out his hands for his wife who took hold of his left arm and pulled herself up onto the step.
"Oh, I never thought of that," Avarion heard Renlic say as Renlic rushed past him to lend a hand to both Veredlarkis and Eslateni. Together, Veredlarkis and Renlic heaved the protesting Eslateni up on the dais. Darenlis pushed forward one of the two chairs beside Rionlis and Veredlarkis eased his wife into it. Eslateni thanked both Renlic and Darenlis, who returned to their respective places quickly. Veredlarkis sat down and leaned over to speak with Rionlis.
"A fair day out there, Rionlis. Good riding weather if I've ever seen any." Avarion liked Veredlarkis. He was very friendly in Avarion's eyes.
"That is good to hear. Had we known your wife was so far along in the pregnancy, we would have put this off for a few months." Rionlis waved his hands slightly as he talked.
"It's alright. Esla fought me to be here and I had no say in the matter. Besides, the trip was easy and slow. It gave a welcome break." He leaned back in the chair and glanced about the hall. "Where is Feris? He usually is here before me."
"He was slightly delayed and will be here shortly." Darenlis replied before Rionlis could. "There was some kind of…obstruction along the way. He sent a messenger who got here a few moments before you did." Avarion noticed that all three of them had not yet referred to each other as 'lord' as Master Geridledan had told him was customary. He turned, opening his mouth to ask Renlic about it and had gotten as far as "Ren—" when Renlic's hand was on his shoulder again, silencing him. Avarion sat back, pouting.
"So long as he gets here before supper. I heard he was bringing his boy along?" Veredlarkis rested his elbow on the edge of the throne and pushed a large chunk of copper hair behind his slightly pointed ear.
"He is. I must say, I am looking forward to it. It's been years since I saw Carn. I heard he's grown into a bear." Rion laughed. "It's hard to imagine such a small boy getting so large."
"Well, your boy has grown too." Veredlarkis gestured at Avarion, who stared at him, wide-eyed. "I haven't seen him since—by all ancestors—since he was an infant! Ever since he was cradled in Nalistra's…" he broke off as Rionlis bowed his head. "Oh, goddesses. Rion, I'm sorry. I completely…I'm not even sure why I said—"
"Vered. Stop. Just stop." Rionlis stared at the finely carved floor refusing to make eye contact with either of his guests. Avarion reached out and patted his father's arm. Rionlis reached up and wrapped his hand around Avarion's. The uncomfortable silence which followed was broken by the voice of the Crier.
"Announcing Lord Feriskedan and Lady Medatierl of House Aradurnked, Defender of the Borders and the Bear of the North, holder of Ardenhold. Announcing their son, Carnferis, Captain of the Borderwatch and heir to the lordship of Ardenhold." The grating high voice continued to announce titles and names but Avarion had stopped listening once again. Titles were dull and names of people who he was never going to see were even duller. More importantly, Carnferis had finally arrived and Avarion burned with excitement. Another lordling at last!
Lord Feriskedan and Lady Medateirl entered first. Feris was old in Avarion's opinion, with a solid grey mane of hair and a fine short beard that dusted his chin. He had dark eyes and fair skin and a very somber expression that leaned toward a frown. His clothing was the same loose pants and shirt as Rionlis and Veredlarkis, except Feris wore dark grey and his surcoat was deep green. The sign of House Aradurnked was embroidered into the coat: a circle with a dark tree shaped mark in the center over which were two crossed arrows in a rich shade of bronze. The sign was held up by antlered bears with a stag's head resting on top of the circle.
Unlike Rionlis and Veredlarkis, who both wore brightly colored cloth cloaks, Feris wore a cape of thick fur of some great animal. Avarion wanted to sink his hands into it to find out if it was as soft as it looked. The boy's attention wandered to Feris' boots which were black leather, large, heavy, and covered in buckles. Instantly, Avarion wanted a pair that looked like them. They were intimidating and made an attractive 'clunk' sound on every step that resounded off the walls like a drumbeat.
Feris was also the only lord who had brought a weapon into the hall. It was a massive blade, two handed and easily five feet long. He carried it strapped to his back and walked as if it weighed nothing. Running along Feris' jaw and stretching up to his ear was a hideous crescent shaped scar. He looked every bit a warrior to Avarion.
Lady Medateirl was also older, with grey streaked dark hair and deep wrinkles around her mouth and bright hazel eyes. She was a great deal shorter than Feris and much heavier but wore her draping monstrosity of a dress with grace and elegance. She reminded Avarion of Desenadi. He stared at her, trying to figure exactly what it was about her that was so familiar.
Behind them, a young man with brown hair and a face that looked much like Feris', but with the light hazel eyes of Lady Medateirl, stalked. He looked sulky and unhappy. His clothing matched Feris' except for his surcoat, which was a lighter shade of green with a smaller Aradurnked symbol on it. He bore a sword belted to his waist and heavy looking studded bracers on his wrists. Around his neck hung a bronze chain and small amulet exactly like Avarion's all but for color. It suddenly occurred to him that this man was Carnferis, the supposed 'boy' of Feriskedan. Avarion's heart sank. He had been looking forward so much to a boy his age and his rank he could play with.
Carnferis looked far more like his father than his mother and was tall, even taller than Feris, which was frightening as the lord was not a very short man. He walked with his shoulders hunched forward, giving him a predatory and angry appearance that frightened Avarion more than a little.
All three walked casually up the dais, Feris and Carnferis both bowed to Rionlis when they reached the top, and sat down on the three chairs on Avarion's right. Feris sat next to him, with Meteirl beside her husband and their son beside her. Avarion wrinkled his nose. Feris smelled like a tannery and armory put together.
Feris turned to Rionlis, speaking over Avarion's head. "Rion, it's good to see you. What has it been? A year? Two?" Avarion had expected a deep, scratchy voice like Durmon, the apprentice armsmaster. Instead, Feris had a strong, clear tenor and did not speak very loudly. Avarion was sure if he were sitting on his father's left, he would never have heard him.
"Try five, Feris. Last I saw you there was still brown in your hair."
Feris laughed, high and loud. Veredlarkis, who had been talking to Darenlis, turned to both of them saying, "What is it?"
"Rionlis was only correcting me. Apparently, I cannot count." Feris answered with a smirk. He spoke a bit louder for Veredlarkis to hear him. Veredlarkis looked puzzled for a moment then shook his head. He went back to his conversation with Darenlis, leaving Rionlis and Feris to their own.
"How was the trip down?" Rionlis asked. Avarion noted that he looked genuinely interested in Feris journey, rather than the half-hearted look he usually gave when he was only partially listening.
"Fair. We had near-perfect weather for much of it. There was a brief shower a day ago. I forget how warm the rain is here. I felt more like I was bathing rather than being caught in a downpour." He laughed again, a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and short bark. Rionlis smiled in reply. "Less than a day ago, we ran into a fallen tree. A behemoth of an oak, I tell you. The thing had landed right on the road and was easily twenty horses long. It was on that hill, the one with the steep drop on the left," he gestured, drawing a picture of the hill in the air with his hands. "There was no way around it. We had to backtrack half a day's ride and detour down the hill into the ravine. It added a few hours, but we did get a wonderful bit of scenery on the way." Rionlis nodded.
"It is beautiful down there, but floods something awful in the early spring. By midsummer, the air is as thick as mud with little biting bugs." Avarion winced at these words, remembering keenly that short, short trip through that same area a little over a year ago. He scratched his arms expecting to feel the awful itching of the little bugs' bites at any moment.
"Then I'll be sure to avoid it. Besides, your summers here are too warm for me. I sweat just thinking about it." Feris wiped his brow, though Avarion could see not a drop of sweat anywhere on him.
"I'll have to have that tree cut down. Twenty horses, you say? Any idea what felled it?" Rionlis was running the knuckle of his forefinger across the side of his jaw.
"Lightning, it looked like. The whole bottom of the trunk was burnt through."
"We have had a number of storms here recently." Rionlis sighed. "Ah, well. It was bound to happen eventually. It will make good firewood, I suppose." He pulled his hand away from his face giving his fingers a little flick as if pushing something. "How goes the building of the Pass Walls?"
"Slow. You would think in eight years we would have more done. We only the eastern wall finished and we're just starting on the northern one."
"Only starting? Surely more must have been done? The eastern wall was finished three years ago!"
"Aye, and the snows came in early that year. We lost nearly half of the work already done and a third of our building supplies to the storms. Don't even speak of the laborers who died of frost. There are a great many unmarked graves under the north wall." Feris' eyes got a faraway look in them as he stared over Rionlis' shoulder.
"Have there been any raids?" Rionlis asked.
"No, not many. A few, but so small a contingent took them out without much difficulty. Though there have been sightings of a rogue ruikan running about on the tundra."
Rionlis eyes shot upward, his eyes wide. "A beast-man this far south? I don't think I have ever heard of such a thing."
"It happens but very rarely. I have only ever heard of it once or twice in both mine and my father's time."
"Was it killed?"
"No. It's a clever one, I'll give it that. Skirted right past three patrols and a hunting party with only a glimpse of its furry back. It's a huge monster, probably a male. It will make a fine pelt if we ever catch the thing!" Feris laughed again reaching over Avarion's head to cuff Rionlis on the shoulder. Avarion sunk down in his chair, trying to make himself small. He did not want Feris' strong arm to hit him in the head any time soon and Feris seemed a man who waved his arms around a lot.
"If you ever successfully skin it, you will have to visit to show me."
"Better yet, you come visit me. We could use some entertainment back home and a feast will do the job. Perhaps a hunt. Yes, come visit and I'll throw a feast and a hunt in your name." Feris' arm went flying over Avarion's head again as he brought it up to illustrate his point.
"What is this about hunts?" Veredlarkis asked, leaning on the arm of his chair.
"Ah, Vered! Join Rion when he comes up north. It will be a right celebration and—is your wife with child?" Feris asked craning to see around Rion. When he moved, Avarion could see Carnferis and Medateirl speaking to one another quietly, though Carnferis looked rather upset about it and argued. He spoke with the same vigorous arm motions as his father.
"Yes, Lord Veredlarkis' wife is with child," Eslateni answered for her husband.
"Congratulations," Feris said, smiling widely. "I had heard up at Domrith's estate that you were expecting. Do you know whether the child is a boy or girl yet?"
"Not with any certainty," Veredlarkis replied.
"A boy," Eslateni answered. "The midwife tells me that he is a boy but Vered does not believe her."
"It is not that I don't believe her, Esla. Things like this, you can't simply guess at."
"What harm is there in knowing the child's gender?" Though her words were aggressive, she did not sound angry. In fact, neither did Veredlarkis, Avarion noticed. He could not help but wonder why.
"I do not want to pick a name before the child is born."
"Ah! Is that what this is about," Feris exclaimed.
"What names have you both chosen?" Rionlis asked Veredlarkis and Eslateni.
"Danis or Diani if a girl," Eslateni answered.
"Ceron if a boy," Veredlarkis finished.
"Ceron? After your grandfather?" Rionlis asked Vered. Avarion could not see his face, but his father sounded surprised.
"We thought it best to honor him, in the end." Vered smiled a little, though he looked sad to Avarion. " And Ceron is a strong name." Avarion turned to look up at Renlic meaning to ask why was Ceron a strong name. It did not sound very strong. Renlic bent down to hear Avarion whisper his question.
"Ceron in the old tongue means 'rock' or 'stone'. It's a warrior's name." Renlic whispered in Avarion's ear.
*
One of Avarion's earliest memories was his mother's funeral. He had been very young at the time and could barely understand the concept of death. Prolonged absence, he understood, but not the idea that someone would leave and never come back. He remembered clearly watching three priests and a priestess seal the stone slab that covered his mother's bones. He also remembered the look on his father's face. He never forgot that. Silent tears had streaked Rionlis' cheeks and his jaw was clenched tightly shut. His hands shook and so he had kept them clasped against his waist. The man that Avarion thought so strong looked so terribly empty. To a six year old boy, this was terrifying, more terrifying than the slam of stone on stone as the coffin was sealed. Avarion, on that day, had shed no tears.
It was not until much later, almost three days after the funeral, when Avarion had asked his father, "When is madi coming back?" He had never forgotten his father's reaction to that simple question.
"Never speak of her. Avarion? Do you understand me? Never speak of her again." His father had then broken down in tears and was lead out of Avarion's chambers by Renlic's strong hand. Those words had frightened Avarion enough that he never asked Rionlis again of where his mother had gone. He had instead asked Renlic, who explained to him the best he could of death. After that strained conversation, Avarion had been crying.
"I know, I know. It is difficult. But remember, you still have your father. You still have me. We will not leave you for a very, very long time." Renlic had cradled Avarion to him and let the boy cry, as he had often done for almost a year after Lady Nalistra's death.
Avarion had realized, a few years later, that the day his mother died had also been the day when the man he called 'father' had died as well. The laugh that came so easily to his lips when Avarion was very young had all but disappeared, replaced instead by a strained smile. Avarion rarely saw Rionlis. When he had asked Renlic about this, Renlic simply answered, "Your father is a lord, Avarion. He has duties to attend to. This land is not exactly small. One day, you will be lord and will do the same tasks as your father." Avarion, in a huff, vowed he would not become a lord who could not pay an ounce of attention to his own son. Renlic had laughed at that and led the boy off to his writing lessons, Avarion's most despised teaching.
Avarion's most hated tasks were listed, by his own hand, on a small parchment sheet that he had tacked to Renlic's door one morning. Writing, reading, mapmaking, and lessons on etiquette were at the top.
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Just a bit of a teaser for High King. I wrote this...about a year ago now, I think. It's just a rough draft, so is quite terrible, and quite a bit of the background story has changed since then. It was never finished, so that end is not really the end, just where I stopped typing.
Text is unedited, so no italics or bold. I'm lazy.
Definitely hit the paragraph key up on the right. It will make it a thousand times easier to read.
Text is unedited, so no italics or bold. I'm lazy.
Definitely hit the paragraph key up on the right. It will make it a thousand times easier to read.
© 2010 - 2024 Mytherea
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it took me a couple of days to actually read through it all so I had time to really read it 
but I did so. And it's interesting certainly and a good teaser! I find myself zoning out at the politics same as Avarion as I'm not much of one for that sort of thing though the different attire and symbols of house crests were cool definitely
but I did so. And it's interesting certainly and a good teaser! I find myself zoning out at the politics same as Avarion as I'm not much of one for that sort of thing though the different attire and symbols of house crests were cool definitely