Episode 5: Of the Evening Before Departure

The light mood of the evening seemed to have been crushed under a sudden weight, and Kreis wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t have blown up—at least, not in front of Kieme. Just what she needs—another reason to hate me. She says that she wants me alive, but if she suddenly decides that I’m too much of a nuisance…

Damn her, anyway! What makes her think she can—that she could—Kreis couldn’t finish the thought to his satisfaction. She didn’t seem like such a bad person, really. Maybe, with the example of Triana and I, and Faradine, she’ll learn that Aradinea is evil, and she’ll come to our side…

"You’re too young for the army, and too small," Kieme was telling Arik. "You should go home."

"No!" Arik replied emphatically. "I’m never going back there." The fourteen-year-old noticed Gregan. "Hey, you’re the guy my dad was yelling at!"

"Gregan, this is Arik of Iadior," Triana said. "Arik,—"

"I know who he is!" Arik replied. "There’s got to be something I can do, though, even if I can’t join the army."

Kieme looked at him thoughtfully. "Maybe. It’s something I must consult with the Queen about, though."

"I could be a spy! Yeah, like Aradel. She’s only thirteen, right?"

"Maybe. If you impress me on our way to Thaliron."

"You want to bring him along, too?" Kreis gasped. Kieme shrugged.

"I don’t see why it matters so much to you. I have permission to bring whomever I see fit along with me, and if you don’t like that, you’re free to stay in Norana."

A long time ago, it seemed now, Triana had been Arik's babysitter. It was much easier to tell a somewhat obedient eight-year-old what to do than a teenager who had made up his mind, and she sighed. Still, she had to try. If anyone could make Arik listen to reason, it would be Triana.

"Please, Arik, think about this. You've heard too many stories," she said. "Aradinea's not who you think she is. She'll crush Iadior like she's crushed the rest of Elorhe."

"I don't care! She's got to be better than my father," Arik replied. "Or someone like Lady Nele. No one’s ever stood up to people like them before. It’ll be like Naraleyn’s rebellion all over again—only it’s all around Elorhe."

"You do remind me of Ara," Kieme said softly. To Kreis and Triana, she added, "But why haven’t you, in your righteousness, intervened? You know better than any other that Chiram and Nele are tyrants, and make their people’s lives miserable. And yet you let them throw innocent people at each other to fight for each other’s plot of land, so long as they do not touch Norana and its possessions."

"Faradine takes care of refugees," Triana replied. "And we—and they—"

"War is a human invention—not Elorhan. It isn’t--" She sighed. "Why do I bother? I’m done. We leave tomorrow. I will meet you at the entrance to the Abbey." She turned to walk away, and Kreis exchanged a glance with Triana. She glanced at Gregan and back to Kreis, who groaned and followed Kieme.

"Who does she think she is, anyway?" Triana murmured. "You live in her territory—have you heard of Kieme Aemonstane?"

Gregan and Cetolyn both shook their heads. "I’ve heard of Rondin Aemonstane," Cetolyn offered. "He died a few years ago, but I think I’ve heard rumors that he had a daughter."

"This story would make a great subject for a play, don’t you think, Ceto?" Gregan said.

"So would Naraleyn’s rebellion," his sister replied. "I’ve been considering it for some time, now, but I don’t know the details well enough to write it."

Triana yawned. "It’s been a long day," she said. "If you’ll excuse me, I’d better get back to the Abbey and get some rest."

"Do you want me to escort you home?" Gregan offered.

"That’s all right, I can—"

"I’ll escort her!" Arik offered.

"But I don’t know where this Abbey is. If I escort her there, I’ll know, so I can be there tomorrow—" Gregan argued.

"But I don’t have anywhere else to stay, and I know Faradine will let me sleep at the Abbey—" Arik said at the same time Gregan was speaking.

"All right, all right, whatever," Triana sighed, suppressing a smile. Two men—well, I don’t know if I can call Arik that—but whatever they are, they’re both arguing over the opportunity to escort me. Won’t Kreis be jealous!

*

"You’re going to be very bored, Kreis Delamuir, if you choose to continue following me," Kieme said. "I sleep like any other person must, for all that I am the devil incarnate."

"I’m sorry," Kreis said, not entirely certain why but feeling that it was appropriate.

Kieme laughed her cold, sarcastic laugh. "I’m not angry with you," she said. "And it doesn’t really make a difference whether you’re sorry or not. It’s not going to change anything."

Kreis held in a sigh. It did no good to talk to Kieme; however, someone had to keep an eye on her. He let his mind wander.

"As for the other things you’re worried about," Kieme said, "I’m not related to Rondin Aemonstane, and though your blonde friend seems quite infatuated with the actor, I believe the feeling will pass."

"Why are you…" Kreis began, and Kieme shrugged.

"I’ve found that men tend not to notice things unless they’re lain out in front of them."

"I suppose you notice everything, then?" Kreis retorted, a little irritated by her comment.

"I didn’t say that, did I?" Kieme replied. Kreis was silent for some time, but realized that Kieme was following a path that would lead them back to the Abbey.

"You’re too worried about understanding things," Kieme said out of nowhere, startling Kreis out of his train of thought. "I wouldn’t worry so much about it. After all the work it takes to find something out, you’ll realize that it’s something you always knew—or something you’d rather not find out. To be honest, I don’t claim to understand you, or anyone else I know, and I don’t care to. I’ll be just as happy when this is over as you are."

"Why are you doing this?" Kreis wondered. "Why were you chosen to escort us?"

"Because someone told me to take care of you and Triana. She couldn’t trust anyone else to keep you safe."

"What the hell are you talking about? The Queen—"

"I think, that when you get to know the Queen, you’ll find that she’s not what you expect her to be," Kieme replied. "I would think, with your obsession about understanding things, you’d be able to see that."

"Sure, you can say that she’s doing it for the good of Elorhe, and all that shit, but that doesn’t change what she’s done! All the people that’ve died in her wars—not just your tyrants, but innocent people, too! What about the fire in Esjaram—a whole city, burnt to the ground!"

"It wasn’t my fault," Kieme said firmly. Kreis stared at her—he knew he’d let his temper get away with him, and had expected another reaction like he’d gotten after the play, but wasn’t sure what to make of this.

"They blamed me," she said, her voice under tight control. "I—I was there, and they blamed me, but I didn’t do it, all right? So don’t say that it was my fault!"

"I never did," Kreis replied, keeping his voice from being either pitying or angry.

"You seem to hold me personally responsible for everything else that the Queen does," Kieme replied, her shrug a little too casual. There’s something she’s not telling me, thought Kreis. But then, what else is new? But neither spoke again for some time. It was Kieme who broke the silence. "Here. We’re at your Abbey. Happy?"

"Oh, dear, I didn’t see you there!" Kieme looked up at the person who had bumped into her; Kreis also recognized him as Gregan Rosalis. "I’m terribly sorry, my lady."

"I’m unharmed," Kieme replied. Now Gregan recognized her, and put on a smile that seemed to light up the darkness.

Kieme returned it.

"What brings you here?" Kreis wondered.

"I was just escorting Triana home," Gregan replied. Since when does a fully trained mage like Triana need an escort? In a place as safe as Norana?! Kreis thought irritably, but kept the thought to himself.

"How thoughtful of you," Kieme said, still smiling. Kreis frowned; was she flirting with him?

"I would love to stay longer in your presence, but I really must be getting back to my sister and the others," Gregan said, ducking his head in a bow, "so if you’ll excuse me, I look forward to seeing you in the morn."

"Yes," Kieme replied. "Good night."

"Good night, sweet lady." Gregan kissed her hand. As soon as he was out of earshot, Kieme laughed.

"I like him," she said bluntly. "None of this confusion about him. He knows who he is."

And you don’t have a clue who you are. She didn’t say it aloud, but Kreis could feel it.

*

A bright light opened into Triana’s room, and she squinted, feeling her eyes water. "Hey, I need to sleep, all right!" she shouted. "Don’t bother me."

Slowly an image came into focus in the bright light. An unfamiliar woman holding a lantern spoke to her. "You are asleep," she said.

"So…this is a dream. This is going to happen. A woman will interrupt my sleep, and tell me—no, this is too strange!"

"You’re right. This isn’t one of your usual dreams. Will you follow me, please?" the woman asked. Reluctantly, Triana stood and followed her out the door.

She was not in the hallway of the abbey, though; she was standing in a strange room like none she’d ever seen before. In its center was a whirlpool that seemed to be continually changing colors—Triana could feel her fears beginning to fade. "Who are you?" she asked the mysterious woman.

"My name is Tarin." She appeared to be somewhere around forty, and she was several inches taller than Triana. She had aged well, and had a mature, elegant beauty about her. Her wavy, dark green hair flowed down past her waist. "You don’t know me, but I knew your mother, a long time ago."

Triana nodded, and Tarin continued. "She asked me to teach you, but, unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find you for a long time."

"I see," Triana replied. "Teach me about what?"

"You come from a long line of prophets and prophetesses, Triana."

"Oh. I see." Why am I speaking like this? she wondered. Why am I so…I can’t… "Why didn’t you tell me this before?"

"I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I lost track of you. A shame, really, after I made a promise to your mother—I shan’t expect you to forgive me, but I do ask you to listen to what I say."

"Oh, it’s quite all right." No it isn’t! a part of her shouted, but that part sounded very distant and quiet. She wasn’t afraid; in fact, she felt rather comfortable. "What do you need to tell me?"

"I suppose you’d like to learn to control your visions, correct? I can teach you how to do so."

Triana nodded. "Yes, I would…thank you."

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