Sworn To Transfer

“You’ve been busy doing the emperor’s work, Sebastian,” she said quietly. “I know this. But I also know about the rumored attempts on your life. I’ve been busy with functions of my own, but I never stopped worrying about you. And wondering why...why we aren’t still friends.”

Squeezing her hands with slight pressure, he licked his lips. “We still are. But I don’t know whom to trust. The Imperial Guard, my father...hell, even the nobles are acting oddly.”

She gave him a wry grin. “Aren’t they always?”

“More oddly than usual.” With a pause he continued on with a tenseness in his voice.

“The dragon was right, Ciardis. There have been deaths,” he said.

“Where?” she questioned, alarmed.

“Murders, we think. In the Ameles Forest.” He amended, “So far they’ve been scattered occurences. Infrequent attacks, really. But they’re adding up. If it’s not taken care of we could have a revolt from the local populace. And what’s more the envoy that the residents of the Ameles Forest trust most is dead.”

“You don’t mean...”

He nodded.

He was referring to the dead Princess Heir, Marissa Algardis. Prince Sebastian’s aunt, who had been trying to have him removed from the inheritance rights of the Algardis throne by draining his mage core since he was five. When that tactic was thwarted by Ciardis last spring she had tried to kill Ciardis in retribution while vowing to do the same to Sebastian. Sebastian and Ciardis, together with his loyal guard, had managed to kill her instead. But only at the expense of quite a few lives, including that of Damias Lancer, Ciardis’s tutorials instructor and a man she had considered a friend.

Ciardis swore enough to make a sailor proud. “I knew that bitch would come back to haunt us.”

He laughed wryly. “In more ways than one.”

“But surely there’s not someone out there deliberately attacking the kith?”

“My father thinks there is,” Sebastian said slowly.

The kith were the magical races of creatures who were the original inhabitants of the Algardis Empire. Over the centuries they had grown to cohabit with humans peacefully. But the Ameles Forest held a special significance for many of the kith. As a consequence, a large portion including the mythical griffins and the cardiara called it home. If they were being attacked and murdered, it was a concern for all of the Ameles Forest kith and the surrounding communities.

“Something must be done,” she said.

He nodded. “And something will. My father has ordered me to travel with an official presence to the forest in the coming weeks. Lord Meres Kinsight will be going ahead in the next week with others as an advance party.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“But the forest deaths are just one concern among many,” he said bitterly.

“And the other concerns are?”

“Well, my uncle the Duke of Cinnis wants me dead, and the Western Isles are demanding a new treaty enforced by the Lord of the Windswept Isles.”

“The first I can see as a problem. But the second?”

“The treaty between the Western Isles and the Algardis Empire has always been negotiated by the heir to the throne directly with the representive of the Western isles. The fact that they’ve asked for the Lord of the Windswept Isles as an intermediary is an insult.”

“Hmm, yeah, that could be a problem. What has the emperor said?”

“My father stands by my side. He assures me that I will be present for the negotiations.”

Ciardis took that in stride. But she knew that having a presence in the room wasn’t the same thing as being a negotiator at the table.

But first things first. “So tell me more about this duke.”

They spoke long into the afternoon about his uncle, Duke of Cinnis. A distant relative of Prince Sebastian’s, he seemed out for his nephew’s blood. Before Prince Sebastian had to leave, they agreed to meet at a local tavern later in the week, as traveling to the Aether Realm was magically taxing. The bracelet she wore on her ankle had limitations and, as far as Prince Sebatian could tell, could only be used once a week before it went inactive.

When Ciardis returned to the Companions’ Archive, she decided she needed to do some snooping of her own. This Duke of Cinnis was trouble. Regardless of the fact that he was Sebastian’s family, he was clearly not feeling familial enough to avoid trying to kill him. Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she slipped on a cloak and strode out into the rainy mist. Slipping through the outer gates which barred entrance to the Companions’ Guild in the mid-afternoon wasn’t hard.

The flurries of snow had given way to a light, icy rain that made the guards less likely to venture outside of their gatehouse to interrogate individuals who were seeking to leave the Companions’ Guild. They’d reserve their treks in the bitterly cold rain for those who wanted to obtain entrance to the castle grounds.

This worked in Ciardis’s favor as she headed for the nearest available conveyance that would take her to the Imperial Courts. She had some friends she needed to talk to. As she descended from the carrier she’d taken, she made sure to walk to one of the palace side gates instead of the main one. She didn’t want to attract attention. She just wanted to get inside.

She flashed a sunny grin at the guard on duty, whom she knew from weapons training, she said, “Hello, Morris. Cold afternoon, isn’t it?”

“Aye, it is. Bloody cold weather.”

She nodded, “I’m here to see Varis Turnfeather.” No sign of recognition crossed his face.

“Lord Varis?” she clarified.

“Have an invitation?”

“No,” she said slowly, trying to think of a way to get entrance, “but it’s just a quick visit.”

“Lass, you know I can’t let you on palace grounds without a palace invitation. Not with all the deaths and whatnot within the past three months.”

“Oh, I know,” she said quickly. “But perhaps you could summon him for me?”

“That I could do.” He turned aside quickly and put two fingers in his mouth, whistling sharply. The earsplitting screech was directed at the gate barracks just around the corner. Ciardis couldn’t see it from her vantage point, but she certainly heard the crash of metal upon metal that rang out.

Morris cursed and shook his head in disgust. “Boy was probably napping on the job. Was supposed to be hammering nails.”

That last bit was said loudly enough for the spindly boy rushing around the corner to hear. His red hair stuck up every which way as he hurried over, and a red flush spread from his neck to the tips of his ears.

“Sorry, Morris,” he said hurriedly. “I just knocked some pails over. Nothing big.”

The glare Morris leveled at the bony boy said it was a problem if he said it was problem. The boy hunched his shoulders like a whipped dog and ducked his head.

“You’ll be cleaning that up,” Morris advised. The boy immediately turned to rush back to the barracks and pick up the scattered nails.

“Not now, numbskull.”

“Right.”

Morris sighed in irritation. “Go and get Lord Varis. Tell him Mistress Weathervane is waiting at the gate.”

As the name emerged from Morris’s lips, the boy turned toward Ciardis in awe.

“The Weathervane?” he said.

“Get GOING!”

Ciardis giggled into her hand as she watched the boy scramble away.

Within minutes, Varis Turnfeather was escorted to the gate. Smiling as he wiped his hands on a handkerchief, he said to Ciardis, “Well, what an unexpected pleasure it is to see you today, Mistress Weathervane.”

Ciardis looped a companionable hand into the crook of his elbow as they proceeded to walk across the main street in front of the Imperial palace.