When Birlerion returned to the room, the King had flopped back against his pillows and was watching the Arifel. “Lost thoughts, travel far, late for supper,” the King said, eyes wide with wonder.
The Arifel walked up the bed and squatted on his chest. “Meep,” he said, staring solemnly into the King’s eyes.
“Chase dreams, fall over, break the glass,” the King replied.
The Arifel spread out his wings and chittered sternly.
The King’s face brightened. “Paper trails, ears open, yes sir!” He glared at Jerrol. “Already late, be gone!”
Ari rose into the air as the King turned back to heave into his bowl. When the King raised his head again, the room was empty.
Chapter 38
Old Vespers
When Commander Nikols and the King’s Rangers arrived, the palace was in the King’s control. The King’s staff had been reinstated, and the King, albeit a little queasily to begin with, gripped his kingdom with an iron fist and began sorting out the mess.
Per the King’s orders, Jerrol kept out of sight, constrained to the infirmary to begin with, and then working with the Sentinals and scholars while he waited for the King to relocate to Old Vespers. He worked deep in the Chapterhouse archives, surreptitiously searching for mention of the Oath Keeper and the responsibilities of the Guardians of the Land.
He was soothed by the presence of Scholar Taelia, as she organised the protocols for the search. The Sentinals deferred to her instinctively, and she seemed to have an understanding with Birlerion already. They discussed a variety of topics, often debating quite aggressively.
Her demands kept them hard at work, her insights garnering their respect much faster than Jerrol expected. He relaxed into their old routine of banter and teasing without noticing. The Sentinals watched their interactions with more knowing eyes.
Jerrol made sure no one outside of the Scholars knew where he was, and those who did assumed he was another scholar hidden amongst the influx of new faces. The Sentinals, especially Serillion and Tagerill, explored the Chapterhouse in horror. Serillion had reached the point where he was openly wringing his hands, appalled at all the lost knowledge. Tagerill tended to sit up in the bell tower and mourn the loss of the Vespers he knew and loved. Birlerion, when not arguing with Taelia, was usually a shadow behind his shoulder. A reassuring presence, and one he was getting used to.
Torsion followed the Sentinals around, trying to squeeze every piece of information out of them, awed by the living history before him. Birlerion watched him with suspicion, warning the other Sentinals to be careful what they told him. Tagerill and Serillion listened to Birlerion’s doubts and shrugged them off; just because Torsion reminded him of an ancient foe didn’t make him one, and besides the Captain trusted him. The Sentinals were more interested in learning about the new Vespiri and asked Torsion as many questions in return.
It was some weeks later when Jerrol sighed with frustration; they were getting nowhere. There was nothing noteworthy in the archives. He wondered what was buried beneath their feet and wished the scholars would hurry up. He found their rigid procedures stifling. He needed action.
Seated in the Chapterhouse library, he was idly flipping through an early book on the Lady’s administration when Torsion found him. “Here you are, I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”
“Why?” Jerrol asked, raising an eyebrow.
“That Sentinal of yours, Birlerion. He is being difficult. He won’t answer any of my questions, yet he was the one here in Vespers. He knew the Lady and Guerlaire.”
“They all knew the Lady and Guerlaire.”
“I know, but every time I ask about something, the others say, speak to Birlerion, he’ll know more. This Birlerion was closer than the others, from what I can make out; he was special.”
“In what way?”
“He travelled widely, on behalf of the Lady, yet he is so young – what did she see in him? And at the end, she kept him near her, and sent the others out into the Watches. Why?”
“I suppose she must have trusted him.”
“Or maybe she didn’t. But why him? And not Guerlaire? He could tell us, but he won’t. He won’t talk to me about anything. I think he’s hiding something.”
Jerrol laughed. “I’m sure he is. How would you feel being awoken three thousand years in your future? You wouldn’t want to share everything about yourself now, would you? Just think what they’ve lost – would you want to talk about it?”
“I’m telling you, Jerrol; you need to be careful. He is hiding something, and until we know what it is, he is a threat.”
“Rubbish, he’s a Lady’s guard, a Sentinal. He’s here to do her bidding, and so far that is what he has done. Just because he won’t talk to you doesn’t mean I can’t trust him.”
“He let Isseran escape. Doesn’t that make you suspicious?”
“No, he didn’t. The King’s Guards let him escape. They didn’t follow his instructions. I was there when he told them to keep his eyes covered.”
Torsion snorted. “We’ve known each other for years, Jerrol. I’ve looked out for you since you were a kid. I only want what is best for you. You are family. You followed my advice then; you should heed it now. Take care, Jerrol, there is much about these Sentinals you don’t know.”
“And over time we will learn more. Don’t rush them, Torsion. We have to earn their trust as much they earn ours. They need time to adjust. They report to me. They will obey my orders; for now, that is enough.”
“I hope so, Jerrol, for your sake. Speak to Birlerion. We need to know what he knows. Don’t leave it too long, or we may all regret it.”
Jerrol watched his friend stride out of the library: dark, tall
