The Labyrinth of Destiny (21 page)

Any simplicity in the exterior of
the main Manor building was heavily compensated for in the interior. Rich
carpets covered every inch of the floors and the walls were filled with
tapestries. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings and ornate furniture
filled any space that could be spared. Every flat surface contained some sort
of—statuettes, vases, paintings.

As E’nes followed the palanquin
through the halls, his senses became overwhelmed with the glitter of his
surroundings. He found he could not properly appreciate the beauty of the
individual objects when they were crowded together in such a manner.

The corridors meandered upward
without any stairs. It was difficult for E’nes to tell how far they had
ascended, but eventually they reached the top level. A pair of doors covered in
gold stood twice the height of a full-grown man, and they were guarded by half
a dozen soldiers.

Umarina’s slaves set down the
palanquin and lifted her out of it. She carefully straightened her hair and her
skirt, and she examined her painted face in a mirror that was provided for her.
When she was satisfied that she looked as she should, she gave a stately nod to
the guards and they opened the doors for her.

E’nes and Mar’sal were not
instructed to do otherwise, so they followed her as she swept into the room
beyond.

The roof was a glass dome, allowing
sunlight to stream into the room. The room itself was filled with crystal and
gold, so that E’nes was momentarily blinded by all the reflected light.

A corpulent man with a sparse red
moustache sat on a golden throne on a raised dais. He was dressed in a golden
damask to match his daughter’s dress, but his clothing was covered with rubies
rather than topaz and pearls. His elaborate hair was clearly a wig.

The man was surrounded by fawning
sycophants, all seated on embroidered pillows that had been pulled as close to
the throne as was possible without touching the occupant.

Umarina minced forward, looking
immensely proud of herself and basking in the murmured praises of the obsequious
onlookers. She came to the foot of the dais and gave a flourish with her hands.

“Noble father, great Lord Governor
of this beautiful city, I have come to present you with a gift to mark my great
esteem for your magnanimous and wise person.”

E’nes and Mar’sal had stayed near
the door, uncertain what was expected of them. At this second reference to the
“gift” for the Lord Governor, E’nes shifted from foot to foot uneasily.

Wakichonze looked at his daughter
with an expression of boredom. “What is this gift that you have brought me?”

E’nes was surprised by the sound of
the man’s voice. It was strangely high and effeminate.

Umarina assumed a stance like a
performer about to reveal the highlight of a show. Her voice rang out with the
clear assumption that she was astounding every hearer. “I have brought
you…magic-users!”

A stunned silence followed.

After several moments, Lord
Governor Wakichonze began to giggle in an absurd fashion. Several of the
sycophants followed suit.

“Magic-users?” he questioned his daughter.
“Surely you jest. I am known for my wonderful sense of humor, but this is too
much.”

Umarina looked as though she would
be flushed with humiliation, if her face weren’t painted white. She turned and
pointed to E’nes. “You,” she snapped, “show my illustrious father your gifts.”

E’nes felt his own face growing
warm with anger. “I have a name,” he said in a firm voice.

The young woman stared at him. “I
commanded you to show my father your gifts.”

E’nes was unmoved by her words. “I
am not your slave, m’lady, nor am I anyone’s property. I am a free man, and I
will not consider your request until you have acknowledged my name.”

Mar’sal looked even more nervous at
E’nes’s words, and E’nes didn’t blame him. They were in Charan to ask for help,
and they were not off to a good start. Even so, E’nes refused to be treated
like some sort of show dog.

Wakichonze finally deigned to speak
to them directly. “Who are you, stranger? What has brought you to my presence?”

“I am E’nes, son of Me’shan, of the
L’avan people. I am a Royal Protector to the king of the L’avan, and I am a
Captain Protector in the L’avan army. This is Mar’sal, son of La’tif, and he is
also a Captain Protector in the L’avan army.”

“I have never heard of the L’avan
people,” responded Wakichonze lazily. “What lands do you possess?”

“We are from Pevothem. It is a
nation on the northern lands of Sehar.”

“Sehar has no-”

E’nes cut him off. “We are not a
part of Sehar. Our nation has been independent since just after the Great
Wars.”

The governor was clearly
unaccustomed to being interrupted. He looked almost lost. After a moment he
cleared his throat noisily and assumed an arrogant expression. “Well, Enes of
the Lavan,” he said, leaving out the proper breaks in the words with an air of
defiance, “are you what my daughter says you are? Or have you deceived her so
that you could be brought to my presence without the appropriate protocol being
followed first?”

“We are magic-users,” acknowledged
E’nes calmly.

There were several titters as the
sycophants surrounding Lord Governor Wakichonze reflected his dubious
expression.

“What magical powers do your people
possess?” the Governor demanded.

“That varies, depending on the
L’avan,” explained Mar’sal patiently. “For example, I am able to heal others,
but E’nes is not.”

The room almost exploded in a rush
of excited whispers. Lord Governor Wakichonze stared at them with wide eyes and
Umarina looked very smug.

“Is my gift not a great one,
illustrious father?” she asked in a voice that dripped with affected sweetness.

“If his words are true,” answered
Wakichonze after a slow pause, “then you shall be honored above all daughters.”

The corpulent ruler of Charan
struggled to get to his feet. He beckoned the L’avan forward with an imperious
gesture.

“I suffer from a painful illness,”
Wakichonze announced with a hint of pride, “although not many would know it. I
am known for my strength and my reluctance to complain.”

Many heads nodded in vigorous
agreement.

“If you are, indeed, magic-users,”
Wakichonze continued, challenge gleaming in his eyes, “then you must heal me.”

Mar’sal’s expression showed the
same reluctance that E’nes felt. This was not why they had come to Charan. They
did not wish to become some sort of sideshow attraction. They had only hoped to
get the attention of the Governor so they could skip all of the bureaucracy.

Well, they certainly had his
attention now.

“Should I do it?” Mar’sal asked
quietly, speaking in the language of the L’avan.

“I do not know that it can be
avoided now,” responded E’nes in the same tongue.

“I am not trained as a Healer. What
if his illness is too much for me to overcome?”

E’nes was worried about that very
thing. “If that is the case, then I suppose it would be best to simply say so.
Do what you can, Mar’sal. Perhaps by doing so we can gain the goodwill we need
to convince them to send help to our armies.”

Mar’sal turned back to the waiting
Governor and bowed gracefully. “I shall do my best, Lord Governor.”

Mar’sal approached the dais and
Wakichonze waved a hand, giving permission to ascend. E’nes could not see what
Mar’sal was doing with his
vyala
—since it was a different kind than
E’nes possessed—but he could see his friend’s eyes glowing yellow with power.

E’nes could also see that the
Governor looked distinctly uncomfortable. He guessed that Wakichonze could also
see Mar’sal’s glowing eyes, and it seemed as though he was trying not to squirm
under the scrutiny of the L’avan’s powerful gaze.

“Lord Governor,” said Mar’sal after
several moments, keeping his voice low enough that E’nes could barely hear, “I
am afraid there is little I can do. Even if I heal you, the pain will return in
a matter of weeks.”

“What do you mean?” asked
Wakichonze with wide eyes.

“The problem lies with your…size,”
Mar’sal explained reluctantly. “Your body is suffering from its own weight, and
the diet that you maintain only makes it worse.”

The Governor’s face flushed red
with anger. “How…how dare you,” he sputtered.

“Like I said,” Mar’sal went on, “I
could heal you of the pain, but it will return unless you change your habits.”

“Do what you say you can, you
charlatan,” commanded Wakichonze, his voice loud with rage, “or I shall have
you executed for your lies!”

Mar’sal sighed and then went to
work. His face was fixed with concentration and beads of sweat began to form on
his brow.

E’nes watched him closely, wishing
that he had the ability to lend some of his own energy to his friend.

E’nes could understand Mar’sal’s
reluctance to heal the Lord Governor. L’avan Healers would often enforce a
change of habits if that was the cause of an illness, saying that it was a
waste of
vyala
to heal someone if they were not committed to staying
healthy. Wakichonze clearly had no intention of changing his lifestyle, so
healing him would do nothing in the long run.

Still, Mar’sal had no option but to
try.

E’nes just hoped it would be enough
to convince Wakichonze to send his city soldiers to the aid of the L’avan.

After a handful of tense minutes,
Mar’sal stepped back with a gasp. He was pale from his efforts and he had to
sit down on the steps of the dais. Even so, he looked surprised and pleased
with himself.

“It is done, Lord Governor,” he
said faintly.

Wakichonze was grinning without
restraint. “Yes, I can tell! How young I feel. So much energy and life! I
cannot remember the last time I felt so good.”

The occupants of the room burst
into spontaneous applause.

When the noise died down, Mar’sal
addressed Wakichonze in a soft voice. “Please remember, m’lord, it will not
last more than a few weeks. Your body will return to its former state unless
you change your habits.”

Wakichonze waved his words of
warning aside. “Not last, you say? Well, I shall just have to keep you close so
you can heal me again.”

E’nes felt a spike of alarm at the
Governor’s words. “We cannot stay here in Charan, Lord Governor. We have come
with a purpose, and we must leave when it is done.”

“Why have you come to my city?”
asked Wakichonze.

E’nes took a deep breath. He had
hoped to lead to his request more gently, but there was nothing he could do
about that now. “We come to beg for your aid, Lord Governor Wakichonze. Sehar
and Pevothem—the homeland of the L’avan—are under attack from a dangerous group
called the Scepter of Cha-sak. The goal of the Scepter is nothing short of
world domination. They threaten to destroy us, and we need ally soldiers to
help us win the fight.”

Wakichonze seemed to be in an
expansive mood due to his healing, and he looked at E’nes with amusement. “I
have heard reports of this Scepter of Cha-sak. They are nothing more than a
group of thugs.”

Mar’sal frowned. “They are more
than that, Lord Governor. They have amassed an army of more than ten thousand
mercenaries. Surely that is cause for concern, even for this great city.”

Wakichonze raised an eyebrow. “Ten
thousand? Well, I will admit that is larger than I anticipated. However,
mercenaries are notoriously unreliable, and I have even greater numbers at my
command here in Charan.”

“Will you send soldiers to our aid,
m’lord?” Mar’sal asked eagerly.

Wakichonze laughed loudly, and his
fawning followers joined him. After a moment he waved them to silence. “Of
course not. I will not risk my soldiers by getting involved in some
tribal
matter.”

E’nes felt sharp disappointment
pressing down like a weight on his chest. “It is more than that, Lord Governor.
This is a global threat.”

The Governor’s smile was
patronizing. “I doubt that, young man. I am certain that it seems that way, but
I assure you that the Scepter of Cha-sak will be stopped before too long.”

“Your confidence in our armies is inspiring,”
E’nes said wryly, “but what if we cannot stop them?”

Wakichonze sat back down on his
golden throne with a careless gesture of his hand. “If you are correct about
their aspirations, then I am certain they will be stopped by the armies of the
next nation they invade.”

“You will not take action unless
the Scepter of Cha-sak moves against Etan?” Mar’sal asked, incredulous.

The leader of Charan shrugged. “It
is not my concern, otherwise.”

“Not your concern?” sputtered
Mar’sal.

“You would sit by and watch the
population of Sehar be slaughtered?” E’nes’s voice was quiet but powerful.

Some of the sycophants looked
uncomfortable and avoided the gaze of the L’avan, but Wakichonze appeared to be
more bored than anything else.

“Sehar means very little in the
greater picture. It has not been an important nation for a very long time. What
does it matter if a group of ruffians wants to set up a new government?”

“You are not listening to what we
are saying,” said E’nes, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. “The
Scepter of Cha-sak will not stop until they have bathed the world in blood.”

Wakichonze’s face was haughty. “And
you are not listening to what
I
am saying. You may think that your
little skirmishes are important, but they are not. Your two armies will fight,
one will win, and everything will go on as it always has. Should the Scepter of
Cha-sak be foolish enough to move against Charan, my city’s soldiers will
easily finish them.”

“Etan is Sehar’s ally,” Mar’sal
burst out passionately. “If you do not stand with us now, I can promise you
that we will not stand with you in the future.”