Chapter 16 - Silence Defined

  Kalin scratched the edges of his beard. Never had he thought it would one day take the color of ash, but here he was, turning old at last. Turning old alone without Sar'tara beside him. The greys were slight but they were there. “Say that again, soldier,” he asked. The messenger before him, one from Elizia's small contingent, was out of breath. A young rider with earthen hair and a clean shave as Kalin once had.

  The man nodded. “Captain Elizia has chased the group of Field Burners toward the north into High Lord Caranel's demesne, Lord Commander,” he said. “Er, she sent me back with this message alone. I believe she means to make contact with the high lord, but I know nothing of her intent.”

  Jolts ran up Kalin's spine. He feared for his daughter, for what rash actions she might take in her unsettled state, but he could not hold her. She would lead House Serene one day. Though he worried, she was well out of his reach by now. He could only sigh and trust her judgement.

  Kalin waved the messenger away. The man gave a deep bow and led his horse to be stabled. The grounds within the walls were as plain as they'd ever been. Nothing but greys and browns to shade the inside. There were trees here and there where space allowed —they'd been planted at Sar'tara's recommendation, but their blossoms were late in coming this year, as if the ground were no longer fertile. Kalin saw within his fortress a reflection of the state of Xenaria. Children being sent to war by the Empire. Pirates raiding our coasts, our queen held captive and two despot high lords in charge of our iron and food supplies. And here he was unable to act on anything at all.

  Kalin closed his eyes. He hadn't seen Tara's face in months. He feared returning to Metsiphon these days. The black lines of the Decade's Curse had spread farther throughout her body. He did not want to see her in that state. Her face had grown gaunt, her supple cheeks sunken in. There was only so much the physics could do to keep her alive. Kalin did not want to look upon her and be reminded again of how much nearer she was to death.

  Yet, he climbed atop his horse, a destrier of dark fur that might be mistaken for black at a distance, ready to leave for his home city. Silenus, his first horse, had breathed its last a cycle ago. Another dear friend lost. Kalin had not the heart to name this new steed, at least not yet. A contingent made of several dozen soldiers awaited to accompany him home. A figure ran toward them —one Lord Arhad Calthus, Kalin's new right hand. A man of minor status but an excellent soldier and former officer who Kalin thought appropriate to promote to Commander Rask's position.

  “Your grace, sir,” Arhad breathed out, lowering his head. His hair, a light brown, ended in a widow's peak. He wore a fine dark coat that fit him tight, longsword strapped to his waist. He was a half inch shorter than Kalin and thinner than Rask. Not quite domineering, but adept at other technical aspects. His mother had been the daughter of a wealthy Tarmian merchant, and some of that color shown in his skin.

  “Commander Calthus,” Kalin said, sitting up straight and maintaining his stone like posture. “I'm not even gone yet and you already seem troubled by managing the fortress.”

  “No, your grace, sir. New reports from your spies have just come in. I thought you should know before you departed.”

  Kalin nodded. If the man at all was bothered by the light jab, he did not show it. That was well. A man of middling years should not fall prey to words so easily. Yet I used to do it all the time until Tara entered my life. “Speak,” Kalin ordered.

  Arhad eyed the contingent behind Kalin, knowing for certain others must have spies within the garrison as well. Kalin nodded anyway. These men were of his most trusted.

  “Word from the capital. This one is an official report. Her majesty has decided to pardon the pirates for their capture of Kovar and subsequent raids into Xenarian mainland in return for their services as privateers. There are no mentions of Lady Coraine's thoughts on the matter. Further, Queen Emeria is setting out for the city of Heira for a religious pilgrimage to the grand temple.”

  Kalin scratched his beard again. He struggled to keep a frown from coming over him. Settling with the pirates. So we've now stooped this low… Further, troubling word had come from Heira. The tensions in that city were high with it having taken in so many refugees during the civil war. Attending a city like that was not wise, yet it could also be a ploy to calm the people and further strengthen the hold of the Trillian Order over Xenaria. “And what do our spies report?”

  “That, well, our man within Lord Galadin's court claims he's raising iron prices again. By a significant margin this time. Over a hundred miners have quit their work and moved away, and he's suffering from a labor shortage.”

  Kalin cursed in his head. “Any truth to those rumors?”

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  “Yes, the miners have been reported travelling north.”

  “To Galadin's marble quarries near Heira?” That wouldn't be much better. It was said Lord Jasim's taskmasters worked men like slaves, imposing harsh hours and paying ill wages for it.

  Arhad shook his head. “Further north, your grace, sir. Toward Red Vine it seems. Rumor has it Lord Caranel has found and iron vein within the ?ld.”

  “Rumor, Commander?”

  “We don't have any spies in northern Xenaria, your grace, sir.”

  Kalin wasn't sure why, but adding 'sir' behind 'your grace' every time was irritating. He made no mention of it however. An iron vein north… Conflicting word had come from travellers and merchants going north. Some said Lord Caranel was a whoring despot. Others claimed him benevolent and caring. It had seemed pointless to place spies in a place which was mostly country land and more often cold than not. It was fertile land, but winters took longer to wear away. Whoever Lord Caranel was, it remained a fact that he'd been installed by the Trillian Order and was a former pirate. It was unlikely he had the kingdom's best interests at heart.

  “There is one other thing,” Arhad said. “A missive by bird that arrived not half hour ago from Heira. The Trillian Order seems to have raised a woman they've labelled as 'Saintess'. They say she gave a fiery speech to a crowd of angry refugees and that a brilliant light shone from within one of the temple windows at its end, where she thereby claimed to bless them.”

  “A ploy to calm the people,” Kalin growled.

  “So I thought, Arhad said, but I cross checked with older reports. Rumors of this Saintess originate from Red Vine, your grace, sir. They'd begun shortly after Lord Caranel's installment.”

  Kalin frowned. It could still be a Trillian ploy. The boy lord was a plant, and yet… He's never once responded to a letter I've sent. Even if he was a puppet, a political response was still expected. Silence was not the way of a man controlled. Silence created mystery and offered no definitive answer. It gave no insight into the person behind the pen. Kalin could deduce nothing of the man's true character if he could not even imagine the voice of the man —something his written word might have offered.

  There were too many threads here for Kalin to dismiss as mere coincidence. Imagination is a weapon after all. They were all rumors, and rumors were easily dismissed. Even if they weren't, a more cautious man could label it all a coincidence. But when every thread was put together…

  Kalin did just that, working the threads he had into a coherent knot. Jasim had lost miners, and Aarondel had allegedly discovered mines —which if true, was not made official in any capacity. But why would he? Everyone knew of Jasim's absurd iron prices. This was grounds for a hostile takeover of the iron markets. Further, reports of bandits in northern Xenaria had stopped coming in, and trade had resumed. A healthy export of leathers and wines were coming out from the region again.

  Then there was the Heiran refugees. An impoverished population who were starved with high food prices —an issue that would not rear its head if Lord Caranel was truly in the Order's pockets. He but just had to let out his region's grain and food stores to cull the inflation. Lastly was the Saintess created in his own land, gaining the trust of the Heiran people…

  Silence is the way of a schemer.

  No, Lord Caranel was no despot. He was calculating, ambitious, and most importantly dangerous. Dangerous, but not an ally of the Trillian Order. Kalin dismounted from his horse. This was no time to be leaving for Metsiphon. He could yet make a partial ally out of this boy lord. A proper letter, written to further the boy's goals…

  “Arhad, follow me. Everyone else, back to your posts, or go to Metsiphon if you've signed for a leave of duty to visit family.”

  “Your grace, sir,” Arhad began once they were back inside the castle.

  “Stop adding 'sir', after every attempt, Commander. It is not needed. Merely 'sir' or 'your grace' will suffice.”

  “Yes, your grace, s—, er, apologies.”

  Kalin shook his head. Arhad was a good man, but somewhat lacking in the brutal edge Rask possessed. While technical specialty was useful on the field, Kalin doubted the man was capable of leading the kind of devastating charge from the front if the need ever arose. Kalin turned a corner to reach the first of the fortress' many stairs leading to the top. His tongue clicked, unintentional, but it happened. Age was such a damning thing that he was beginning to dread stairs. This was him past his mid-forties. What would happen another ten years from now? Would he even be capable of lifting a sword?

  “Your grace, if you're considering negotiations with Lord Caranel, I would volunteer myself,” Arhad said.

  “No. I need you somewhere else.” The queen was finally coming out from within the capital, from within a fortified position. This was an opportunity that could not be missed. This is as much as I can do for us now, Elizia. “Take our absolute best recon troops. A thousand of them. I—”

  “A thousand, your grace? That would leave our borders unwatched.”

  “I will have those holes filled, Calthus,” Kalin said, stepping upon the last step to the second floor. “Make haste to Heira. Reclaim our queen. Bring her back to this fortress.”

  Arhad nodded. “I understand that we've determined her actions controlled, but taking her will leave her seat in the capital open to be claimed by whoever is the next strongest power in the royal palace, your grace.”

  “That's a bridge we'll cross when we get there. We need the queen on our side, Calthus. No matter what. We cannot move so long as the Trillians hold her will against us. This must be done. Raids and infiltrations are your point of excellence. It is why I selected you as my right hand over other officers in the army. We're roiled in a fight that cannot be won with brute force.”

  “And Lord Caranel?” the commander asked.

  “I'll write him a new letter. One that will better appeal to his ambitions if he's the man we think he…” Kalin trailed off. Flames! He'd forgotten that his daughter was heading toward the north. It'd been over a month since she'd set out from the garrison. There was no letter Kalin could send to Lord Caranel that would arrive before the boy lord got wind of Elizia's presence. “Set out at once, Calthus. Better you take the queen on the road than when she's in the city. Even if she does get inside—”

  “I'll pull her out unless I deem it absolutely impossible,” Arhad said, bowing.

  Kalin nodded. “As for Lord Caranel, I can only trust Elizia to make the right decisions.”