Duty (Book 2) (19 page)

Gen said nothing and stood, laying the lute down carefully on the chair. Geoff sprang from his seat in the difficult silence and threw his arm around Gen before he could return to the Chalaine.

“It was a sad song, indeed! But how about a little applause for our near-journeyman bard here?”

There was subdued clapping all around, and more than enough frowns for Chertanne from more than one quarter. Gen retreated gratefully to stand behind the Chalaine as Geoff launched into a more cheery tune to dispel the gloom Gen’s had invited. Jaron patted him on the back before he left.

The Chalaine signaled him closer so she could talk to him over the din. “I am sorry for Chertanne’s rude behavior, Gen. Do not listen to him. You sing very well, indeed. I should like to hear more when we are in . . . polite . . . company.”

“Do not feel you have to apologize for him, Chalaine. You need not do that until you are properly married.”

The food arrived soon after, and everyone ate happily, all chatting excitedly about seeing Shroud Lake shard for the first time on the morrow. Jaron watched briefly to allow Gen to eat when most were finished. After eating a bit himself, Geoff played for the relaxed crowd. The Chalaine, Fenna, and Mirelle sat around a table playing cards with Dason, who, after the first few rounds, was clearly befuddled by the Chalaine’s newfound skill.

“Holiness,” Dason commented, “you are quite undoing us all! I must say, you are uncommonly improved. I will have to concentrate more completely! Eldwena must have given you a lesson or two.”

“You are too kind, Dason,” the Chalaine demurred, “but I’m just having a run of good fortune.”

Mirelle winked surreptitiously at Gen, who couldn’t decide whether to feel proud or ashamed of his accomplishment. He could, however, take satisfaction in the Chalaine’s skill. She was a perfect cheat, for just as those who usually tell the truth are the best liars, those presumed innocent are the best cheaters. He was especially gratified that she noticed that Dason had begun paying an inordinate amount of attention to the cards she was playing, so she backed off of cheating and relied on the stratagems Gen had taught her.

Boots on the porch outside turned Gen’s attention from the game. He could barely discern the muffled muttering outside and then the departure of whoever had come. A knock in a prearranged pattern on the door brought Tolbrook to his feet. The protocol was established, and the Chalaine rose, Fenna with her, and was escorted by both Gen and Jaron to her windowless room upstairs. Jaron went inside and Gen stood without. Captain Drockley passed by them, a slightly inebriated Chertanne stumbling behind. After letting a complaining Chertanne enter an adjacent room, the Captain stood guard just down the hall.

The door to the common room was unbarred and unlocked, and just as the hinges squeaked to open, a tremendous explosion shook the foundations of the building. Debris slammed into the front of the inn, pattering and clanging on the roof for several seconds afterward as chunks of armor and flesh fell about the inn.

Outside, men and horses screamed, and in the common room chaos erupted. Ethris, Kaimas, and Athan burst from their rooms and ran down the stairs, faces grave. Regent Ogbith was yelling, trying to order someone to shut the door.

“Is Tolbrook alive?” “Has the inn caught fire?” “Where did it come from?” “Get back in the kitchen, you dolt!” “Has someone secured the kitchen door?” “Why isn’t that door closed yet?”

“It’s off its hinges,” Cadaen yelled, “but the board will hold it in place. Get it!”

“Wait,” this was Shadan Khairn, entering from outside. “I’ll help you!” A scrape and slam indicated the door was shut.

“I said
back into the kitchen
!” Regent Ogbith yelled again.

“Back away! What are you doing!” yelled Cadaen, and Gen craned his neck to see what was happening downstairs. There were frantic footsteps.

“Stand back, I say!” This was a voice Gen did not recognize. “And don’t think about magic or I kill her. I can tell when you’re doing it. I can! That includes you, Churchman! I only want to deliver a message.”

“Stand down!” Cadaen yelled. “Do not hurt her, or I’ll. . .”

“Shut up, idiot! Bring Gen. Bring him to me!”

“Lord Blackshire?” Regent Ogbith questioned, voice quavering. “What does this have to do with. . .”

“Bring him! Now!”

“Gen! Come here,” Regent Ogbith ordered. “Horace, take Gen’s place.” Gen waited until Horace, Gerand’s Dark Guard master, stood in front of the door before taking several steps at a time to the bottom. As he entered the common room, it took several moments to digest the macabre scene. Debris—wood, glass, and dinnerware—littered the ground. Although the front windows were shuttered, every one was broken, holes and breaks riddling the shutters’ slats.

Two bodies, one badly burned, the other an unconscious Tolbrook, lay near the back of the room opposite the wall where the explosion had blown them. A Dark Guard worked furiously to stem blood flowing from Tolbrook’s body from several deep gashes. The other was dead. Smoke from a fire outside filtered into the room, and from the bright orange light coming through the shutters, Gen surmised that the willow trees had caught fire.

Everyone, however, was focused on Mirelle, a kitchen servant behind her with a knife to her throat. The First Mother was rigid and bent slightly backward, face composed but sweating. Cadaen stood exactly opposite, face angry and desperate. Kaimas, Ethris, and Athan stood to the side of him, standing very still.  Shadan Khairn, clothes and hair singed and sooty, had drawn his sword, and Gen knew that if the slightest opportunity presented itself he would strike.

Gen surveyed the situation. The servant’s eyes were calm and collected, and he smiled maliciously at Gen as he approached. He was young—in his twenties—with stringy dark hair, thin lips, and a pale face. Gen had noticed him several times before. That he should attack the First Mother and claim to know of magic seemed ludicrous, but Ethris, Kaimas, and Athan did nothing, taking the threat seriously. The attacker held the knife rigidly and to the side of Mirelle’s throat, increasing the probability that even if he were incapacitated, the knife would find a mark.

“What is your message?” Gen asked calmly, trying to read the man’s eyes.

“Well, you are just as she said, thinking yourself quite clever and important, arrogant after all your ‘accomplishments.’ My message is to you alone. You will leave this room and start down the road to the Portal. My friends will tell me when you have arrived, and I will release the First Mother and depart. If you are followed, she dies.”

Gen glanced toward Regent Ogbith, who nodded
no
.

“My duty is to the Chalaine,” Gen said. “I will not leave her.”

“I was told you would say that. Very well, then. Joranne sends her best to her sons, who may have figured out by now how she sent me here.”

In a quick motion, he slit Mirelle’s throat, Khairn leaping forward to strike as Mirelle slumped to the ground. Gen saw the young man’s face go slack just as the Shadan ran him through, eyes locking on Gen’s. Gen wanted to walk forward, but an ice cold shock wrenched his body and he stumbled. In an instant, he could no longer control himself, feeling as he had when the masters in the Training Stones had taken control of him. But there was no push or struggle for his mind; it was his own and he controlled his thoughts but nothing else.

Let’s go
, said a voice only he could hear.

“It’s passed to Gen!” Kaimas warned, and every eye turned. “Contain him!”

Gen was only a spectator as what controlled him dove for a shuttered window. The shutters broke easily under his weight and he tumbled out onto the patio.  Standing quickly, he sprinted into the yard. Bodies, blood, and carnage lay everywhere, the three willows, now smoldering, had been blown down and away from each other, a small crater in the center marking the focus of the explosion. Smoke wreathed everyone and everything. Soldiers wandered about confused, yelling orders. None thought to stop Gen. The door creaked behind him. He was almost to the front gates, which hung crookedly, providing a small hole through which soldiers clambered in and out. Outside the walls, people gathered, trying to glimpse what was going on within.

Ethris incanted, and the ground in front of Gen gave way. Gen landed hard in the bottom of a hole, struggling against what possessed him to no avail. Whatever controlled him rose, pulling himself up and kicking against the dirt wall to propel himself out and over. As he finally scrambled over the ledge, a fierce wind slammed downward and pinned him to the ground.

“Do it, Athan!” Ethris yelled. Gen was relieved that he was stopped, though the pressure of the column of wind sent a fiery pain down his back. Athan concentrated and incanted.

“It is done,” Athan said, sweat beading on his brow. “It cannot pass to anyone else. I can hold it for a little while. Fetch the other two Padras. Together, we could probably hold him for an hour, maybe more.”

Three members of the Dark Guard, faces grave, came and took Gen by the hands and feet. Kaimas released the wind, and the soldiers half carried, half dragged a struggling Gen into the inn, tying him securely to a chair with thick ropes.

“Get everyone out of this room, everyone but Ethris and Kaimas!” Padra Athan ordered. “Do it now! Regent Ogbith, hold on a moment. Be sure to check the kitchen!”

A spent Shadan Khairn passed by Gen first, eyes angry, and went outside. The Dark Guard carried a groaning Tolbrook up next, the First Mother ordering them to take him to the Chalaine.

“I will stay,” she said, rubbing a thin scar on her neck where Shadan Khairn had healed her. Mirelle remained rooted to her spot despite the objections of everyone else. Regent Ogbith waited nervously by the door, clearly out of his depth.

“What am I to do, Padra?” he asked tremulously.

“I’ve little time to explain,” Athan said, remaining focused on Gen. “The enemy has used soul jumping to get here. A soul jumper can pass to any person in sight, displacing the spirit of another. When the soul jumper leaves, it kills the victim. Have your men make inquiries in the town. See if anyone has died recently and if you can trace the occurrences. If we can find the soul jumper’s body before my ward fails, we can kill him for good. He is likely somewhere out of the way, in the woods or in a locked room. It will appear as if he is asleep, but he will not wake. Kill him immediately if you find him. Go!”

Regent Ogbith left hurriedly. Mirelle’s distress captured Ethris’s attention.

“Is Gen dead, then?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes.

“If we cannot find the soul jumper’s body before he leaves Gen’s body, Gen will die,” Athan stated flatly. “But there is hope. You should go to your rooms. What we have to do may be unpleasant. We should prepare to leave as quickly as possible. As we are short-handed, perhaps you can be helpful and get everyone organized.”

Mirelle nodded distractedly and went quickly upstairs.

“Let’s move him to the kitchen,” Kaimas said. “No need for everyone to see or hear this.”

The three of them hoisted the chair and Gen into the kitchen. Ethris closed the door to the outside, which stood ajar, drowning out the sound of Cookmaster Broulin commanding a frightened group cooks to pack up.

Whatever they do to me,
the voice said,
you’ll feel it too. Do not worry, though. We were prepared for this turn of events.
The other two Padras entered next, eyes wide at the scene before them. Ethris filled them in quickly.

“I will tell you when I am starting to fail,” Athan instructed, already showing signs of strain. “When I do, you take over first, Marin, and then you, Orviss, when he fails. We need to get as much information as we can. There is some plot against us here. Kaimas, Ethris, I leave it to you to find out what you can. Do whatever necessary. Gen isn’t nearly as important as whatever the jumper knows.”

“On the contrary,” Ethris disagreed. “The first question is why Gen was chosen in the first place! Joranne is clearly behind this, but she can only know Gen by reputation.”

Gen figured that Joranne knew that he was the Ilch. Why hadn’t she exposed him? Kaimas came forward, placing his hands on both sides of Gen’s head. Exhaling, he closed his eyes and concentrated. “Speak! Who are you? What do you want with Gen?” Gen was dimly aware of the struggle. It was not with his mind, but with the jumper’s, whose will was strong.

“Mother has warded his mind,” Kaimas said, releasing his hold. “I will need your help, brother.”

Ethris nodded, standing behind Gen. Both men placed their hands on his head, and the war of minds continued. Several times during the struggle, Gen felt fear from the jumper—the brothers’ combined strength was staggering. The jumper focused his own mind as the wards failed and fought hard. Gen’s body tensed, teeth clenching with the effort to repel the men. Suddenly it stopped, and the jumper laughed, Ethris and Kaimas releasing their hold.

“Curse that woman!” Kaimas swore. “She is too strong!”

“And she is coming,” Gen heard himself say mockingly. “You have nothing left to fight her with. You have wasted your strength.”

“You’re bluffing,” Ethris countered, sweating and shaking. Kaimas closed his eyes. The jumper focused his attention on Athan, sensing an opportunity.

“He isn’t,” Kaimas said, voice distant. “She is near. “