Quintana of Charyn

my grandson Rothen was a dreamer, Gargarin. He dreamt of a Charyn for smart men and women who didn’t live like rats underground. He dreamt of his paintings adorning city walls. He dreamt of a godshouse that would become a school to educate men and women about the glory of Charyn’s past. All under the eye of a benevolent future king.’

Froi’s eyes went to the three words written in gold on the ceiling.

‘Don’t talk to me about sacrifice,’ Simeon said, his voice pained. ‘Eight scholars left this cave in search of hope and the bodies of seven have returned.’

‘Rafuel?’ Froi asked, heavy with the grief for seven men he never knew.

Simeon looked away. ‘Arjuro has travelled with one of the Priests who knew the lads, in an attempt to work out who is not accounted for. Arjuro hopes to sing them home. Perhaps a spirit has strayed behind, lost. We know for certain they did not die where they lay and that it may have been some weeks back, perhaps months.’

‘Is Arjuro powerful enough to bring home their spirits if their deaths are not recent?’ Froi asked.

‘Who knows what he can do?’ Simeon said. ‘He’s there more for our peace of mind.’

Froi couldn’t help thinking that the scholars had been forced to stay in the Lumateran valley because of him. Finnikin and Isaboe had insisted that Rafuel was not to be released until Froi returned from his mission. Rafuel’s companions had refused to leave without him.

‘Rafuel was held captive by my people because of an incident with one of our women,’ Froi said quietly. ‘Perhaps it saved his life.’

But Simeon’s attention was on Gargarin. ‘What have the Provincari sacrificed for Charyn?’ Simeon asked him bitterly. ‘Nothing. If anyone buried their heads in the ground, it was them, and now they join to take control of this kingdom. If you love your brother, Gargarin, give the godshouse a voice in the new Charyn.’

‘I came here for my brother. Nothing more.’

Gargarin turned and walked away from the chamber. Froi could see he was shaken by the news of the seven deaths despite his anger.

Lirah went to follow.

‘Talk to him,’ Simeon said.

‘I can’t control Gargarin,’ Froi said.

‘But she can,’ Simeon said, acknowledging Lirah for the first time. Lirah turned back with the disdain she showed most people.

‘You don’t know Gargarin of Abroi if you think he can be controlled by another,’ she said. ‘Any more than the Priests or the Oracle could control Arjuro.’

Lirah left, but Froi stayed. He was worried for the old man. Despite his cold nature, Simeon had softened each time he spoke about his grandson Rothen.

‘Your loss is felt,’ Froi said, ‘but the brothers have given enough for this kingdom. Leave them to their peace.’

‘Do you know how Charyn will have peace, Dafar? With one of the brothers in the palace, and the other in the godshouse. Without that sort of peace, the little King she claims to carry will not survive. That mad girl’s son will not stand a chance.’

‘That mad girl has a name,’ Froi said. ‘It’s Quintana, and soon she’ll be the mother of a king or cursebreaker. If you want honour in this kingdom, Simeon, preach to the people of Charyn that the mother of their king endured everything to break their curse.’

Simeon shook his head disbelievingly.

‘Sometimes you sound like a simpleton,’ the Priest said, his voice scathing.

‘Then so be it,’ Froi said. ‘The father of your future king is a simpleton and the mother is mad. But Charyn has a better chance with whatever Quintana and I created together, than with any other.’

In Arjuro’s cave Gargarin was surrounded by the collegiati who had once tended to Froi, their voices hushed.

‘Your face is thinner,’ one said to Gargarin, reaching out to touch it. Gargarin flinched and moved away.

One young man, Corris, showed Gargarin pages of drawings.

‘For the godshouse,’ Corris said, excited. ‘Arjuro promised that if there’s peace in Charyn he will return to the Oracle’s gods-house and bring it back to what it once was. The most powerful place of learning in this entire land.’

‘Yes, well, the Belegonians will love to hear that,’ Gargarin said. ‘They believe they’re the smartest.’

‘And the Osterians?’ Marte said.

There were snorts. ‘Their godlings know nothing compared to us Priestlings,’ one pompous lad said.

‘Who says you’re a Priestling anyway?’ Corris asked.

‘Hush. We grieve the lads,’ another said.

‘Rothen and the lads would be the first to agree,’ Corris said. ‘The Osterians are idiots.’

Marte was the only one to notice Froi. ‘Did you see the way he sewed up the Lumateran?’ she asked Gargarin. There were quick glances from the other collegiati, but Froi was unimportant to them in the scheme of things.

Corris showed Gargarin another sketch. ‘For the godshouse walls.’

Gargarin took it and studied the drawing. ‘You have a gift,’ he acknowledged.

‘But I am not gods’ touched,’ the young man said. ‘Sir, my talents lie in drawing bridges and ditches. I’ve heard of your work. Take me to the palace with you and I’ll create the greatest …’

‘And who says I’m going to the palace?’ Gargarin interrupted.

The young men and women exchanged looks.

‘Simeon says there’s no one better than Arjuro’s brother to guide the future King,’ Marte said. ‘We look forward to living in a world beyond these cave walls.’

There were sounds of agreement and for the first time, Froi saw a beauty in their hopeful, pale faces.

‘How can one draw without having seen the true shadings of the land?’ Corris argued. ‘See this,’ he added, pointing to one of his sketches. ‘I’m not good with light and colour because I’ve not had a chance to truly study it. But I want to see it. They say the colours over Paladozza will take my breath away. That the light illuminating the north inspires awe.’

Corris glanced at Lirah. ‘Can I draw you?’ he asked, his cheeks reddening. ‘Your face seems to have been sculpted by the gods.’

‘Yes, well, I should thank them for that when I see them,’ she said coolly. ‘Because such a gift has afforded me so much joy in my life.’

But somehow the passion of these scholars had softened both Gargarin and Lirah.

‘Can you draw him?’ Lirah asked, pointing at Froi.

The young man looked taken aback, then studied Froi’s face. Froi didn’t enjoy the attention. If it wasn’t his wounds being examined, it was now his face, as if they hadn’t noticed it before.

‘Your eyes have a touch of Serker,’ one of the girls said to Froi.

‘According to the chronicles of Trist, the seed of Serker has been scattered far and wide in the land,’ Marte said.

‘Even in Lumatere?’ one asked.

‘Especially in Lumatere. They were our neighbours … are our neighbours.’

Corris continued to study Froi. ‘The Lumateran has the sort of face that only a mother could love,’ he joked.

‘Draw him,’ Lirah ordered.

Gargarin was quiet that night after the collegiati left.

‘What are your thoughts?’ he finally asked Froi.

‘What are yours?’ Froi asked in return.

Froi heard a sound of irritation come from Gargarin. He wondered if it was weariness, but sensed it was something more.

‘We’re too close to Sebastabol city to walk away,’ Gargarin said. ‘I say we listen to what the Provincari have to suggest. If they combine an army to search for Quintana, then they may have a chance to return her and the babe to the palace.’

‘Will you speak for the Priests?’ Froi asked.