Dichotomy: Majesty
Chapter Eight: Council

Palace Cadell
Cycle of Edda, The Nobility Conference

Kier watched Adrian leave the dining area with clear regret. He couldn’t help feeling a traitor, letting Adrian be led away like a sheep in the First Companion’s wake. They’d agreed, after long and often tense discussion, that it would be in their best interest not to draw attention to themselves until they’d managed to untangle the web of conspiracy that had begun with the execution of Osbearne and his Companion. The king exited shortly after the Companions, and all those who would attend the council filed out as well, leaving the various family members to loiter over tea.

The council chamber was considerably smaller and more comfortable than the dining room, since it had to seat substantially less people. A u-shaped table seated the thirteen lords and ladies present, and a priest of priestess from each of the major temples: Priest Nerung, Priestess Aecweald, the Priestess of Seasons, and the Priest of Earths. The great goddess Aelwic had no priest save the king himself. Kier hovered in the doorway as the others made their way in, exchanging pleasantries when the situation called for it.

He abandoned the doorway as Wystan Leofwine stepped inside, crossing to him and grasping the younger man’s hand in a warm grip. “Wystan,” he greeted, then completely lost words.

“Kier.” The answering smile felt sincere, but tinged with grief and exhaustion. “I was hoping I’d see you here. It’s been too long.”

“It has. I’m sorry I didn’t hear about your brother in time to attend the memorial . . .”

Wystan’s gaze flickered away a moment, then back. His eyes shone in the sunlight and lamps, already red-rimmed. “Yes. His Majesty said he would host a memorial here,” he said quietly, “for those who have died; send them to Aelwic. He’s looking into that doctor, as well.” Wystan ran a hand over his face. He’d lost weight since they’d last met in Renweard, his fingers more bone than skin. “It’s kind of him to do so. I haven’t had time to follow up . . .” his voice trailed off. “There’s just been too much to do at the estate.”

“Of course.” Gently, Kier took Wystan’s elbow, leading him to two seats left beside each other. The order of seating in council meetings was more fluid than at meals, given how much easier communication could be in the smaller space.

The new Lord Leofwine lowered himself into one of the chairs, looking thankful for the help. “There’s to be some kind of ceremony as well, for me and Lady Drihten.” He gave a rueful little smile. “I’d rather skip it.”

“Don’t worry, it’s short. You just have to shake a lot of hands.”

Wystan glanced around. “Or not,” he murmured. “Most people are giving me a wide birth.” He looked at Kier. “My father and brother are dead of the Noble’s Disease, and Wynn is . . .” he looked away, though Kier waited with baited breath for the answer. “Everyone’s putting distance between themselves and me, as well as Drihten, in case we’re carrying something, even though Nerung Temple claims there’s no danger, that somehow we’ve managed to avoid being ill.”

Kier’s hands clenched together on the table. He’d heard no mention of Wynn yet, even whether she’d been arrested. The months wondering seemed to eat at his heart. “Have you . . . about Wynn. I’ve not heard from her in several months-”

“Kier.”

Kier and Wystan both looked up, though only Wystan inclined his head in customary greeting to Lord Ealheath, while Kier gave no such sign of greeting. A long, uncomfortable pause followed before Kier offered, “May I help you in some way?” He spoke with the frigid formality that Adrian’s presence had melted since his arrival in Kier’s life.

His uncle faltered a moment. “I’m . . . glad to see you’re well.”

“Thank you. And you as well.” Kier motioned across the table. “There seems to be a seat on the opposite side.”

“Perhaps we could meet during the lunch hour,” Ealheath offered awkwardly, and Kier hated how much he looked like the man. “Discuss how you’ve been, and some of the company you keep, since I know you’ve been holed away in Eodor for several months now.”

“I will be busy,” Kier answered dismissively, “and I doubt we have anything to discuss, given we had nothing to say to each other after your daughter was slaughtered in her own home.” His voice rang more loudly than he intended, drawing eyes from around the table. “As pleased as I am at your good health, I believe that takes care of any pleasantries we much exchange, don’t you?”

Ealheath lowered his head a bit, and Kier wondered that his inheritance from Somer could so easily gain respect when his mother’s affection for her father and brothers were only scoffed at. “Perhaps,” he said quietly, then gave a little bow and walked away.

“No love lost?” Wystan asked quietly.

“No.”

“He’s your uncle, isn’t he?” Kier looked at Wystan in surprise, and one side of the new lord’s mouth lifted in something like a smile. “Wynn used to write letters, and talk about you when she visited. The two of us gathered a good bit of gossip, her through the army and me through the cities. She thinks the way your parents met was very romantic.” His voice caught. “Now, she’s the subject of gossip,” he murmured. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but you will soon enough.” He lifted his chin. “Wynn is dead, Kier, and her name won’t be mentioned at the ceremony. Nor will she be named, or her soul sent to Aelwic for judgement and rebirth.” His voice hardened. “But it’s a lie. I know it’s a lie.”

“Wystan-” Kier tried to warn, glancing at the door to see if King Odran was entering, even though his chest tightened and clamped down, his breath trapped in his chest for a sharp, painful moment.

“No,” Wystan lifted one hand, sharply. “I won’t stand idly by when he announces that she’s been beheaded for treason and her spirit sent to Faidadh.” He looked at Kier then, his eyes still too bright, but clear, full of some knowledge or suspicion with Kier at its heart. “You know it’s not true, don’t you?”

Kier breathed slowly, the image of Wynn’s rose eyes, her easy laughs over the years, and the feverish, half-forgotten sound of her voice ordering him and Adrian to safety. “I know it’s not true.”

Wystan’s shoulders slumped. “Thank you,” he whispered. “It’s all I know: death for treason. But it’s not true.” He looked at Kier again, his lips pale and pressed tight together. “And one day the world will know it.”

The doors opened then, and the king strode in with all his easy smiles and welcoming voice, the First Companion, having apparently dropped off the others, directly on his heels. Everyone rose, heads bowed, and Kier laid his hand on Wynn’s brother’s shoulder and squeezed in silent agreement.

The First Companion led the line of Duilians down several long, empty hallways into a large sitting room. Adrian’s curiosity made him want to pepper the silent man with questions, but his and Kier’s position in the dining hall placed Adrian too far back in the line. Instead, he could only see the back of the First Companion’s head as he led them through a pair of heavy wooden doors. Soft chairs and sofas were scattered near a large fireplace, and a long table held jugs of water and platters of fresh fruit. It all felt very inviting, except that the collection Companions stood in silent, stilted groups. Adrian frowned; some of them had to know each other, so why all the discomfort?

“Good day,” the First Companion said smoothly, then grasped the doors and swung them closed with a final clang.

“Good day to you,” Adrian muttered. He tapped his pocket thoughtfully and glanced around the room with more care this time. There were only a dozen and a small handful of Companions in attendance. He saw Neacal, tucked quietly to the side with an embroidery hoop in her hands. She stared down at it, needle moving methodically through well-woven white cotton. The act obviously allowed her to ignore the goings-on around her, and Adrian gave up trying to initiate a second conversation with her as a lost cause. He doubted she’d have anything to say after he’d set the new Lady Drihten’s cellar contents on fire, so long ago when he first left the Center. Adrian turned his back and kept looking for the Companion who’d stood behind Priest Nerung, the one who hadn’t appeared to eat anything.

He spied the deep red tunic and sparkle of silver by the one set of large windows opposite the fireplace. Heavy curtains had been closed when they walked in, but the man sitting there must have opened it a bit, allowing in enough light to catch those silver highlights. Adrian approached cautiously, feeling unusually shy. “Excuse me?” he hazarded, slipping just to the edge of the Companion’s line of sight.

No response was forthcoming. The man continued to gaze through the slim break in the curtains with single-minded intensity. So much so, in fact, that Adrian suspected he wasn’t being ignored and tries again. “It’s a great view, isn’t it?” he asked, pushing the heavy curtain a bit more to the right. The town sprawled below them, already bustling at this early hour. He could even see, if he squinted and peered carefully into the sunrise, a paddock with Kier’s four horses. None would be sold until the meetings were over, but Reed would make sure they received plenty of attention in the interim.

Still no answer, and Adrian moved into the thoughtful man’s direct line of vision. “This is my first time in Cadell,” he said politely. “Have you been here before?”

The man finally twitched, his eyes widening a moment in clear surprise. “I’m sorry,” he said, “what?”

Adrian grinned, well used to people who spent so much time lost in their thoughts they sometimes forgot other people existed. “I was just saying it’s my first time at Cadell. Is it yours?” He didn’t think so; the man in blue looked several years his senior, and so much have been placed longer. Adrian didn’t remember him from the Center.

“Oh, no, it’s not my first.” The man ran a hand over his face. He looked tired, pale, his freckles standing out too dark across his nose. “My apologies, I wasn’t ignoring you. I suppose I was just lost in thought.”

“That’s fine. I end up in the same state a lot.” Adrian carefully drew the napkin from his pocket before tugging a chair over a bit and settling down. “Ah,” he started, a bit uncertain how to offer food, “I thought you might be hungry,” he finished, a bit shyly, and held out the slightly smashed biscuit.

The man smiled, and reached out for it, although he did have a small plate of fruit. “Thank you,” he murmured. The sunlight caught the side of his face, highlighting the outline of a vivid purple and yellow bruise coloring the skin around his left eye. “Shane,” he offered as he opened the napkin. He didn’t ask how Adrian could know he’d be hungry.

Adrian introduced himself with a grin, pleasantly surprised to hear Shane real name, and not “Companion Nerung” or whatever he’d been stuck with when he was placed. “You’re a healer?”

“I’m paired with a healer,” Shane answered, tearing off a bite of the roll and nibbling at it.

“Which makes you a healer,” Adrian said, confused. “My sister’s one, too. She’s teaching me a little, but I’m not very good at it.”

Shane studied him a moment. “You have an odd way of looking at things,” he said, though not in a tone intended to wound.

“So people tell me,” Adrian returned with a little grin. Shane smiled a bit in return.

“My master is considered the healer, not me.” His eyes flickered to the base of Adrian’s throat. More of the crest was visible than Adrian liked, but he and Kier had agreed not to draw too much attention to themselves if at all possible.”You’re paired with a lord?”

“Kier Blackwatch.”

Shane’s eyes focused upward a moment as he searched his memory. “Blackwatch. I believe I’ve heard of him.”

“Have you?” Adrian ignored the flash of pride at that. “I’m not surprised. I think he’s done quite a bit for the country. He just recently left the military, you know.” Shane nodded, then winced, touching fingertips to his own temple. “. . . Can’t you heal that?” Adrian murmured.

“Hm? Oh. No.” Shane lowered his hand slowly. “It’s more difficult to heal myself than others, but don’t worry about it. I’m sure it looks worse then it feels.”

His tone passed off the injury so easily that something churned in Adrian’s stomach. This couldn’t be the first time he’d been injured, and there could only be one man who would lay hands on a healer’s Companion: the healer himself. Adrian felt the heat prickle in his hands but fought it down, hoping that Kier didn’t overhear his flash of fury at Shane’s calm, accepting tone and haunted eyes. Shane ran fingers over his too-dark freckles, and changed the subject before Adrian could decide what he could say without offending his new acquaintance. “How are you liking Cadell, then?”

“It’s,” Adrian searched a moment for a word that could encompass the entire city and came up with nothing, “large. I like it. My family’s from Isabelline, but it’s nothing like this.” He perked up some. “I’ve brought some items they made to sell. I think I’ll be able to go down at lunch today, if Kier comes with me, so I’m looking forward to that.”

“What sort of items?”

“Oh, clothes, tapestries, they’re masters at anything to do with fabrics and sewing. They’re living,” he stopped himself just in time, remembering why the family was hidden in the first place, “Isabelline, but Kier and I had to go through there a few months ago and picked up some things to sell for them.” He leaned forward, elbows settling on his knees. Shane unconsciously shifted closer as well. “I could try to heal that for you,” he offered, taking his own opportunity to change the subject. “I’m not as good as my sister, but I can do a little.”

“You’re a healer? That’s unusual for a lord.” Shane tilted his head to the side. “Wasn’t a doctor sent there recently?”

Adrian’s nose wrinkled, and he answered the half of the question he wanted to. “I’m . . . almost a healer.”

“Almost? How so?”

“I healed Kier when he was stupid and ended up mostly dead, but since then I’ve only been able to handle little things. Things I can see, mostly.” Adrian could certainly see the ugly bruise on Shane’s temple. Shane had been right there throughout breakfast; shouldn’t someone have said something about his obvious injury? Much less the fact that he wasn’t allowed to eat like everyone else!

“That doesn’t sound Companion-level.” Shane sounded curious, rather than insulting.

“I didn’t know I could heal at all until a few months ago.” Adrian held out one hand, uncurling the fingers and allowing a little flame to burst across his palm.

“Interesting! I’ve never known anyone with two powers before.” Shane reached out, feeling the heat coming off the little lick of flame. “And you can create it rather than borrowing it from a fire?”

“Sometimes even when I don’t want to,” Adrian admitted sheepishly, and closed his fingers around the flame. He didn’t admit out loud that bonding with Kier had increased his control, though he thought it. “My parents thought I would be air when I was little, since I have wings, but I’m more fire than anything else.”

“I wonder if others would have more powers if we thought to look for it,” Shane mused. “Though I find wings are usually a sign of healing. After all, it has to do with shifting around the bones under the skin.”

“It is?” Adrian’s eyes widened, thinking of the twins. They were wind, but if Shane’s explanation proved true, they must have some earth ability as well.

Shane nodded. “I suppose I shouldn’t say it as if it’s a fact,” he added pleasantly, “since it’s more a personal theory than anything else. I have wings, and I’ve felt while others put out their own. It feels to my power as if bones and muscles shift and realign, much like when a non-healing earth user causes plants to reshape and grow. They’re so unusual, though, and it seems as if they’d make more sense with wind, don’t they?” He looked down suddenly. “Excuse me,” he murmured, embarrassed, “I don’t usually talk so much.”

Adrian laughed. “Don’t worry. I do! I can always think of something to say, such aaaas,” he considered a moment, “you’ve been here before, right?”

“Yes. This is my third time at the Nobility Council.”

“Then you know what we do all day? Do we just sit in there for hours, staring at the walls?” Adrian glanced around. He saw two other groups talking, one an older pair who seemed to know each other well, and the other a set of three murmuring politely around the table as they poured water. The others had settled in much like Neacal, and calmly ignored the low-key goings-on around them. “We’re not even allowed to go outside unless they come to fetch us for lunch.”

“At least we can talk to each other.” Shane nodded toward the older couple who had taken chairs beside the roaring fire despite the heat. “Companion Esmond told me that years ago, when she first came here under Queen Eloran, that Companions were confined to rooms during meetings.”

“Ugh!” Adrian’s entire face twisted into an expression of disgust. “I wouldn’t have liked that,” he announced, with as much understatement as possible. His true feelings must have come across, though, as he earned a slight smile in return.

“Nor would I,” Shane agreed. “I spend enough time in quarters as it is. But you’ll be selling, yes? That should be enjoyable.”

“You should join us!” Adrian invited eagerly. “Would you like to?”

“I need to stay here,” he said calmly, but not without a touch of bitterness.

“Why?”

For a moment, Shane’s eyes narrowed, tight and angry. “My master wishes for me to stay.” He managed to banish the expression as quickly as it appeared.

Adrian bristled. “Well. That’s just-” he cut himself off, biting off what he wanted to say, which, besides being mutinous, probably also wasn’t fit for polite company.

“The way it is,” Shane finished for him. “I’m used to it.”

Impulsively, Adrian reached out, fingertips barely brushing the purpling flesh around Shane’s eye. Shane didn’t flinch, but watched him with polite curiosity of his own. ::I need to borrow your power,:: he told Kier impulsively. He healed better with Kier to help focus and search out the injury, or so Moira had helped them to discover. He pulled what he needed without waiting for a response, a fairly new ability he couldn’t help feeling a bit smug over. His fingers tingled with a warmth totally separate from fire, and intense concentration allowed him to soothe burst blood under the skin. He pulled back, feeling too drained at first to see if it worked. “Oh,” he said, disappointed. “I can still see it.”

Shane raised a hand to touch the bruise, wincing before his fingertips came in contact, but his eyes relaxed when he came in actual contact. “It doesn’t hurt, though,” he said, clearly impressed, though it still shone yellow and green against his fair skin. “Which is a big improvement.” He clearly read Adrian’s expression, a conciliatory smile, though it looked forced and stiff at the edges. “I’m used to this, as well.” He raised a hand before Adrian could speak. “Thank you for trying. You say your sister trained you?”

“She lives on the estate, now.” That seemed safe enough without giving away this his whole family moved there. “She’s the official Healer.”

“A Healer in her own right?” Shane sounded wistful. “Lord Blackwatch seems to have his fair share of odd ideas as well.”

“Oh, he does,” Adrian answered with a grin. “Everyone who works around the castle eats dinner together. The table is huge and always noisy, nothing like breakfast here. People talk and pass food, and nobody has an assigned seat.” He thought a moment. “Well, Kier sits at the head of the table, but other than that, it doesn’t really matter.”

Shane smiled, but rolled his eyes at the same time. “It’s never noisy at Nerung. Too much studying.”

“So you actually live at Nerung Temple? I’ve never met anyone from there before.”

“Oh yes,” Shane’s tone sounded almost dismissive. “My master is the High Priest of Nerung; that’s why he’s always expected at these meetings.”

Adrian froze a moment, eyes wide. A million questions chased each other through his mind, all tangled up with his instinctive draw to someone who didn’t attack him for his odd thoughts and the piercing suspicion that surely, if Priest Nerung poisoned lords, his Companion must know about it.

Wouldn’t he?