The Silvering of Loran (16 page)

“Are you going to sleep
there
?” Loran asked.

“You need to rest, undisturbed by my company,” insisted Topen. “When you awake, you can complete the silvering on your own. I will leave with you two stones, and the understanding you need to safeguard your family until I return.”

Although Loran knew that Topen was sincere and dedicated in his quest to protect all of her family, she was confused. The bonding had allowed her to feel Topen’s passion in a way she could not have imagined, and it gave her the knowledge of his desire to share love. Still, Topen kept his distance, and gave no sign of the deep feeling she knew he held for her. Maybe he hoped she did not detect his emotions, she wondered, or perhaps he felt it was not yet time to act upon his desires. The destiny Loran dreamt for was no more than six feet from her reach, but she turned away.

Topen fashioned a place to rest for the few remaining hours of the night. And although Loran missed seeing Topen’s attentive eyes on her as she ambled to her bed, she needed no further proof of his wants.
A life with Topen is possible
, she thought. Loran turned down her covers and crawled into bed. She rotated to see Topen lay onto the nest he had built, closed her eyes, and fell into a pleasant slumber.

A BARGAIN

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T
HE SMALL SHOP, CUT BETWEEN the larger buildings adjoining it, advertised itself as a curio shop for rare magical artifacts—which was not unusual to find on this narrow street in Topen’s realm. There were several other such shops boasting equal claims along this busy lane. Not many knew of the value of the artifacts
this
shop kept secret—hidden behind the protection of magical barriers—but the patron who had just entered through the unassuming door at the front, did.

The owner, Agsloth, was a small man, with thinning white hair and spectacles worn low on his nose. He showed neither surprise nor a welcoming tone as Topen stepped before him.

“I thought I would not see you again in my shop . . . Topen,” scoffed Agsloth, peering over the rim of his glasses. “At least those were the last words you spoke to
me
, as I recall.”

“You seem to remember our parting with some malice,” said Topen. “In my memory it was as amicable as it could be with a trader of the blackened stones.”

“Yes, there is that air of self-righteousness that has been absent since you last required an item from me. It has not been missed,” snarled Agsloth. “I do not judge how others choose to use the items I have acquired.”

Topen scanned the shop and picked up an artifact, an unassuming candleholder, near the counter.

“Does this still illicit passion when a candle burns in its grip?”

“So, it is difficulty with a woman that has brought you back.”

Topen placed the candleholder on the counter and leaned in closer to Agsloth.

“I am looking for a
chamcryst
,” he announced, “and before you tell me of the difficulty in acquiring such an object, I am prepared to pay you what you ask, no haggling. But my offer expires if you cannot deliver the crystal in the next five minutes.”

The wide smile on Agsloth’s face gave Topen his answer, and the expectation that the payment would be costly.

“The one thing I always did envy about you was your capacity to attract luck,” said Agsloth, as he retreated towards a doorway behind the counter. “It is fortunate I have procured an object that can duplicate that gift—with the right incentive.”

Agsloth displayed a toothy, wry grin, and then vanished when he passed through the magical portal of the doorway.

Another patron entered the shop and casually browsed among the many items that crowded the intimate space. The attractive young woman flipped her long red hair off her shoulders, inattentive to Topen’s presence—except for the covert glances she managed when she thought he didn’t notice her. When she got closer to Topen, she lifted a plaque from a shelf, but her attention was on him.

“What qualities does this object have?” she asked.

Topen turned to her, but before he could speak, the woman’s face emitted surprise.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were the shopkeeper,” she said.

“You’ve not been in this shop before?”

“No, I noticed it from across the street. It seemed more
authentic
than the others on this lane.”

“I see,” said Topen, and then he rotated back to the counter.

The young woman ambled even closer to him.

“Do you happen to know what magical properties
this necklace
holds?” She asked, as she slid along his side and raised a gold necklace—embellished with small copper ornaments—close to his face.

Topen viewed the necklace, but did not touch it.

“It appears to be an item of no
natural
magical properties.”

“Oh well, I suppose it would be still make a beautiful gift for my husband,” she responded, unconcerned with Topen’s assessment. “Would you be willing to wear this for me? I can’t decide if it would please him.”

Topen retrieved a stone from his pocket and placed it on the counter; his fingertip hovered over the smooth indentation in its center.

“If I am correct, you already know what magical properties this stone wields.”

The woman’s eyes bulged wide on recognition of the stone. She immediately dropped the necklace she held: it fell towards the counter. On her release, Topen instantly pressed his finger to the stone, and the necklace she had let go, glowed red-hot—it melted rapidly after it finished its fall to the counter.

“Shall we find out if you hold any more of those trinkets,
searcher
?”

Fear washed over the young woman’s face as she began to pull necklaces, and anything else of metal from whatever pocket she could reach. She frantically thrust them away from her.

Agsloth returned through the magical portal with a velvet pouch in his hand. He noticed the blob of melted necklace on his counter and the scared young woman in a frenzied display on the other side.

“Searcher?” he asked Topen, while amused at her gyrations.

“A very inexperienced one I would say, with such a transparent attempt,” Topen replied.

When the woman was satisfied she was safe from the power of the stone, she stood and shifted her eyes between Topen and Agsloth—unsure what to do next.

“Are you alone?” Topen asked.

“I saw an opportunity for your capture when I recognized you from across the street, but others know where I am. They will be here soon.”

“A brave bluff, but unnecessary,” said Topen. “I do not use the blackened stones, and I have no desire to harm you. However, I suspect you have never believed such assurances from those you seek.”

“No one
ever
stops using a blackened stone,” the young woman stated, with fiery conviction.

“I do not have time to convince you otherwise,” Topen replied. “You should rest now.”

Topen opened his palm and tiny particles of light, resembling dust, passed to the young woman’s face.

“Wai—” she tried to mutter, before falling to the floor, unconscious.

“I should charge you extra to clean up your mess,” said Agsloth.

“Is that it?” asked Topen, eyeing the pouch Agsloth clutched.

Agsloth placed the pouch on the counter, far from the melted necklace that still emitted the heat of its destruction. He reached inside and slowly removed a flawlessly cut, clear crystal stone. Topen lifted it from Agsloth’s hand and rested it in his palm—while holding the stone he had just used in his other hand. The chamcryst began to transform, mimicking the shape and coloring of the stone in Topen’s other hand. In moments, the chamcryst had completed its transformation. To a casual observer, Topen now held two identical stones.

“Your price?” Topen asked.

Agsloth stepped back from the counter and studied Topen for a moment, while he pondered his answer.

“You could have given the searcher a rewarding scent to follow,” said Agsloth. “Is it that you had not yet procured what you came here for, that you did not?”

“Of the two of us, only one can lay claim to never
using
a blackened stone, but the searchers do not see any innocence in their desire to punish. They would just as easily strip you of your mind for any information that would feed their irrational hunger—to eradicate all the blackened stones, and the evil that they invoke.” Topen sat the chamcryst on top of the velvet pouch. “Even if I could, I would not ally with such blind ignorance.”

Agsloth had resented Topen over the years, often due to Topen besting him in a bargain, but also due to his aggravating sense of virtue. Still, he knew Topen was a man to be trusted with an agreement, and would honor any that he struck. However, care with the words that construct the bargain was essential.

“I am going to propose something that I would offer no other,” voiced Agsloth. “I will
loan
you the chamcryst.”

Topen raised an eyebrow at Agsloth’s suggestion, expressing doubt of his sincerity. Agsloth reacted with a quick explanation.

“The offer is real, but before you think I have softened, there is a condition. The next time a blackened stone comes into your possession, you will deliver it to me instead of destroying it. That is my price.”

Topen stared at Agsloth across the counter, just long enough to consider his words, and leave the impression that he was reticent to accept his offer—before he swept the chamcryst up from the counter.

“We have a bargain.”

* * *

D
aramose stood regally near the entrance to the stables on Topen’s estate. He shook his head energetically when Topen came close with a velvet pouch—that he secured in his saddlebags. In the distance, Emily, the young daughter of Hanson—the stable manager, walked alongside her father as they strolled towards Topen. The six year-old girl broke from her father’s stride and ran alongside Daramose. She raised a small red jewel, secured on a leather strap, and presented it to Topen.

“What is this, now?” Topen asked Emily, who looked up at him with a bright smile.

“It’s a
talis . . . man
,” she proudly declared. “It will keep you and Daramose safe.”

“She picked the jewel out herself and asked me to infuse it with protective magic,” said Hanson, arriving a few steps behind his daughter. “I’m making no guarantees, you understand,” he joked.

Topen took the talisman from Emily’s hand and found a place on Daramose’s saddle where he could place it. Emily watched intently as Topen tied the leather strands together through a small metal ring near the horn.

“See . . . it won’t leave Daramose’s side,” assured Topen.

Emily’s bright smile grew even larger when her father scooped her up as she returned to him.

“If all goes well, you will barely notice my absence,” Topen said, and placed his foot into the stirrup. He rose to the saddle, and with a quick nod, he was off.

Hanson and Emily offered parting waves to Topen while Daramose raced from the stable entrance—toward the path that would take them back to Loran.

“Did you do your very best magic on the talis man?” Emily asked.

“My
very
best,” her father assured. “Don’t worry, they will return . . . they always do.”

PENLARIS—NEPSARIL

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D
ARAMOSE DREW NEAR THE OPEN gates of the sovereign’s castle. Two guards stood outside the gate and walked towards Daramose as he approached. When they reached Topen and his stallion, it became obvious that their intent was to block Daramose before he could get any closer to the castle entrance.

“Topen!” shouted the young guard who had advanced to Daramose’s side. “Kelamar has asked us to watch for you and inform him of your arrival before you enter the castle.”

“I will wait here while you advise him as he has instructed.”

The young guard nodded and retreated into the castle. The second guard was much older, and wore a short beard with gray hair scattered throughout. He remained with Topen and constantly skimmed the area—ever diligent in his alertness.

“You’re Casimit, aren’t you?” Topen asked.

The guard glanced upward at Topen—including him in his constant scans.

“I am surprised that you would remember me,” said Casimit. “I have not spoken with you since the great castle war.”

“I remember you as a very young man when Kelamar pulled you from the soldier ranks and instructed you to guard the innermost castle.”

“I was just a boy. I would have perished long ago if not for the captain. I owe a debt to him I can never repay.”

“What of the younger guard? Does he hold Kelamar in such high regard?”

“He was picked by the captain himself to wait for your arrival. He can be trusted, but all he knows of you are rumors of the man who never ages. He knows nothing of your magical land. I told him who you were when I spotted Daramose from a distance.”

“Kelamar has entrusted you with many secrets. It is no small task to demonstrate worthiness in his eyes.”

“Not even my wife shares the knowledge the captain has given me.”

The young guard returned from the castle entrance with Kelamar at his side. Kelamar’s scowl hinted of the news he carried.

“Gervest has tightened his control over movements in and out of the castle,” warned Kelamar. “Too many of his personal guards inside the gate follow his command only. Skirmishes with the guards placed directly by Gervest are on the rise.”

“Do you know why Gervest has chosen to exercise such control?” Topen asked.

“He is trying to weaken my position among the guards, but there is more to it. Since you left, he allows no one but his personal guards and Penlaris near him.”

“Penlaris?” Queried Topen.

“An advisor to Gervest.”

“How long has he been a counselor?”

“For quite some time,” Kelamar reflected. “You might recall that he was the new advisor I had heard about the day of Loran’s cotillion, on her sixteenth birthday.”

“The question now before us, is the manner in which my arrival is announced,” said Topen. He reached into his cloak and removed a stone. “We do not want to needlessly incite a war within the castle.”