The Labyrinth of Destiny (13 page)

The academics from Tanar were being
settled in by some of the former High City citizens. Gainor’s promise of
helping out had been honored enthusiastically by many. The High City refugees
knew what it was like to be thrown out of comfortable homes and to try and get
by with no real survival skills. They helped every newcomer to feel less lost
and lonely, and they gave a lot of helpful advice.

Adesina led the way from the camp
of the Ojuri. Hestia followed somewhat reluctantly.

The L’avan queen looked around at
the faces of those who were more accustomed to reading books about travel than
actually travelling. They were dirty and weary, having fled across more than
half of the nation. They all wore heavy robes that varied in color, and
peculiar hats that were small and conical. The oldest scholar seemed to be the
one in charge, and Adesina addressed herself to the aged woman.

“Excuse me, please. Are there any
among you well versed in Seharan history?”

The old scholar gave a wan smile.
“My child, we
all
are. Which aspect of history are you seeking?”

“The genealogical lines of the royal
family, and the history of the Northern Tribes.”

The white haired woman nodded
thoughtfully. “For that, you will want to talk to the Hite clan of scholars.
They study such things.”

She pointed to a group of five
scholars wearing emerald colored robes. They were sitting next to a fire,
gratefully warming their hands and feet. A High City woman handed each of them
some bread and a bowl of hot soup.

Ravi was the first to approach
them. “Pardon our interruption of your meal, but we are told you are the Hite
clan of scholars.”

The two women and three men stared
at the Rashad in amazement.

“Fascinating,” exclaimed one of the
men. “A talking cat of enormous size.”

“Most unusual,” agreed another.
“Could it be some sort of trick? Ventriloquism, perhaps?”

“We must call over the Jos clan of
scholars,” said one of the women. “They would be delighted to study this
creature.”

Adesina felt Ravi’s annoyance
through their Joining, and she suppressed a smile. “Please allow me to
introduce myself. I am Adesina of the L’avan, and this is my guardian and
companion, Ravi. He is a member of the Rashad race, and he is as intelligent as
any human.”

The scholars appeared even more
startled.

“Forgive us,” apologized one of the
women, “but we believed such races to be myths. We meant no offense, Master
Ravi.”

“Join us,” encouraged the first man
to have spoken. He had a dark complexion and a full beard that covered half of
his face, but his eyes were a shocking shade of blue. “I am Greyr, senior
member of the Hite clan of scholars.”

The other two men introduced
themselves as Iayn and Zamual, and the two women were named Karan and Deela.

Hestia introduced herself last, and
she was instantly the center of attention.

“You are a member of the Northern
Tribes?” repeated Deela in excitement. “How delightful. You know, our clan
studies the origins of the Northern Tribes.”

“Among other things,” inserted
Zamual.

“We have never actually spoken to a
tribal member,” admitted Greyr. “We have always wanted to, though.”

“How many tribes are there?” asked
Karan. “Do the tribes ever intermarry or join together to form new tribes?”

“Only eleven tribes remain,”
answered Hestia carefully. “There used to be dozens, but many disappeared over
time. Some died out, others dwindled to small numbers and chose to join other
tribes for protection. There is some intermarrying, but it is not common.”

The scholars took in this new
information with hungry expressions on their faces.

“Which tribes remain?”

“Do you keep family records to
track family lines?”

“Do you have any written history,
or only stories passed down through families?”

Adesina held up her hands to ask
for quiet. “Please, I know you have questions, but we actually came here to
request a favor.”

Greyr tilted his head to the side.
“What would you ask of us?”

“Hestia is the leader of the Ojuri
tribe,” began Adesina with a glance at her friend, “and she has decided to
claim her right to the throne of Sehar.”

A stunned silence followed.

“That is no small thing,” said
Greyr soberly. “The Seharan monarchy has long been dead. There are many who
would oppose its resurrection.”

“We understand that it will not be
easy,” responded Adesina.

“Yet you will try anyway,”
concluded Karan.

Adesina and Hestia both nodded.

“To even begin you must prove that
your claim is legitimate,” stated Iayn. “Which, I assume, is why you have come
to us.”

They nodded again.

The scholars exchanged glances, and
a smile stole over each face.

“When we were driven from Tanar we
feared that our days of research were over,” Deela said quietly.

“Now we have the opportunity to
change this entire nation with our work,” finished Zamual in a tone of immense
satisfaction.

“We would have to prove that you
are a direct descendant of Princess Derora,” Greyr said to Hestia. “Do you have
any records that we can use?”

Hestia smiled. “The Northern Tribes
continued the practice of the Nobles in keeping meticulous records of births
and marriages. I am glad that information will be used now, instead of just
taking up space in a wagon.”

The scholars looked ready to jump
to their feet at the prospect of reading such valuable information that had
been unavailable to them before.

Ravi chuckled at their enthusiasm.
“Shall we go right now?”

***

The morning air was brisk, and
Adesina breathed deeply. She looked forward to what this day would hold, but
she was also a touch nervous.

L’iam put his arm around his wife’s
waist and also took in a deep breath. He smiled. “Mornings are my favorite part
of the day,” he said conversationally.

“I know,” replied Adesina lightly.

Together they walked away from
their tent and down the small hill toward the large gathering of people to the
north. Every being that was beyond the Thieves’ Forest—which was now commonly
called the Wall Forest—was assembled together at the request of the L’avan king
and queen.

Human, L’avan, and Rashad alike
awaited to hear what their leaders had to say.

A small platform had been erected
for this purpose. Ravi, Sitara, Riel, and Ruon stood at its base, watching the
crowd patiently.

That is to say, Sitara and Riel
looked patient. Ruon, as always, looked as if he had been asked to do something
distasteful.

Adesina spoke to him as cheerfully
as she could, hoping to annoy him. “Good morning.”

She was successful.

Ruon’s thin, grey lip curled into a
sneer and he looked away without responding. Sitara and Riel both replied to
the greeting with smiles on their faces.

Ravi kept his amusement hidden from
his face, but Adesina could feel it through their Joining.

You should not tease him so.

Adesina gave a mental shrug.

He should not make it so easy.

Ravi shook his head and turned back
to studying the crowd.

Hestia and Greyr were standing on
the platform, conferring in quiet voices. Hestia looked weary and grave. She
had made it very clear throughout this process that she did not feel she was
the one for this task. Now that the moment was upon them, she made no further
objections. She had the look of one who has accepted their fate, no matter how
reluctantly.

“Good morning, Hestia. Are you
ready to begin?” asked L’iam.

Hestia nodded, rubbing her hands
together nervously.

L’iam climbed onto the platform and
raised his hands to attract the attention of the large mass of people. He began
to speak, and his voice was magically amplified by one of the L’avan soldiers
nearby.

“War has come to our homes. None of
us gathered here needs to be told of the dangers and sorrows this brings to the
land. Such strife can tear nations apart, but it can also bring nations
together. We, the L’avan, have long wished for peace and prosperity with our
neighbors. An alliance with Sehar has never been possible because of the void
left with the death of King Rasim. But perhaps that can now change…”

L’iam stepped back and motioned
Greyr forward. The crowd murmured at the cryptic statement of the L’avan king
and seemed eager to hear what was to be said next.

Greyr held in his arms a large book
bound in rough leather. He cradled it like a child and stepped forward with an
expression of great dignity.

“Gentle citizens of Sehar, I am
Greyr, senior member of the Hite clan of scholars from the city of Tanar. Our
clan is charged with knowledge of Seharan history, specifically the genealogy
of the royal and noble families. Queen Adesina came to me a few days ago and
asked that I find proof of the identity of the heir to the throne of Sehar, and
I am pleased to say that I have done so.”

The murmurs in the crowd grew much
louder, and the air was filled with excitement and wonder.

Greyr was not accustomed to having
such rapt listeners, and his chest puffed out with pride as he continued. “King
Rasim was the last ruler of Sehar, and he was murdered along with his wife and
children. His sister, Princess Derora, would have been next in line to rule,
but she—along with all of the other noble families—was forced to flee the capital
city during the uprising that followed the death of the king. The outcast
nobility became wanderers, unable to find a permanent home. They became the
Northern Tribes.”

Adesina watched the faces of those
gathered, and she saw the surprise that filled those listening. Not many
Seharans knew that part of their history. They were taught about the last king
of Sehar, but not about the origins of the Northern Tribes. Their ancestors had
chosen to forget that there had been a rebellion that had displaced all of the
Nobles after the death of the king.

Greyr held up the rough-bound book
he was holding. “This is a carefully kept record of the genealogy of Princess
Derora. I, along with my fellow scholars, have verified its authenticity. Few
remember the name of Princess Derora’s husband or of her infant son, yet this
book has both written plainly on its pages, along with the dates of their
births and deaths. It also contains the names of the ancestors of the Duke of
Ojuri, which is knowledge that can only be found by the scholars of history. If
this book was fraudulent, it would have had to have been compiled by those who
had access to ancient and obscure documents. Yet, this book was found in the
possession of one of the Northern Tribes as one of their precious heirlooms.”

Many heads in the crowd nodded,
accepting this information with confidence. There was an inherent distrust of
the Northern Tribes that had been passed down for generations, but the scholars
of Tanar were reputed to be thorough and without guile.

Adesina smiled to herself. How
lucky it was that such a reproachless source of historical information had come
along to support Hestia’s claim.

No, it was not luck,
she
corrected herself.

Greyr’s magically enhanced voice
cut through Adesina’s musing. “Using this record, we have been able to prove
that there is a direct descendant of Princess Derora living today. By the laws
of the monarchy of Sehar, this descendant—male or female—is the rightful heir
to the throne.”

The anticipation in the air was
tangible. The mass of people listening almost seemed to be leaning forward in
suspense.

Greyr seemed to be enjoying the
emotion that his words evoked, but he did not drag out his speech any longer
than was needful.

“That heir is Hestia, leader of the
Ojuri tribe.”

He gestured to the woman standing
near the back of the platform and all eyes turned to her. She walked forward
with her natural grace, and there was a quiet dignity that radiated from her
frame. Her clothing was patched and her jewelry was inexpensive, but her
presence was so powerful that one would have assumed she was dressed as finely
as any queen.

Hestia’s voice was also magically
enhanced so she could be easily heard by every member of the crowd. Her tone
was subdued and thoughtful as she began to speak.

“I have always known my heritage,
but I never considered making a claim to the throne of Sehar. Seharans are a
proud and independent people, and I told myself that they had no need for a
queen.”

Several of those gathered to listen
nodded in acknowledgement of her words. This was certainly what the Seharans
had told themselves over the years.

Hestia’s voice grew stronger as she
went on. “But the time for independence from one another is past. Our homes are
being destroyed by the Scepter of Cha-sak, an organization that is growing each
day. Our beloved homeland will soon be overrun if we do not act now. We must
stand united—not just as allied villages and cities, but as a nation. The
Scepter of Cha-sak may think that Sehar is an abandoned land that is free for
the taking, but it is not. This is
our
home, and we will fight to
protect it as one.”

A cheer erupted from the crowd,
from both Seharan and L’avan alike.

Hestia waited for the noise to die
down before continuing. “There has been a long history of mistrust between
Seharans and the Northern Tribes. Now you know why that began and why it need
not go on any longer. We are all Seharans, and we will stand together in this
fight.” She took a meaningful pause. “I am your queen by birth, but I am
without a proper government. Over the next few months I hope to come to know
all of you individually and to fill the necessary positions of leadership and
advisory. I will consider all that wish to apply, no matter birth or prior
education.”