The Silvering of Loran (3 page)

“Yes, thank you, Claire. I’ll bathe now.”

“Right away, Miss.”

On Claire’s departure, Loran revolved back to the stone. She found no trace a liquid had ever been present. Then, she took notice of the muddy facade displayed in the mirror: She was aghast!
Did Claire assume this
is normal? She wondered.

Shedding her outer garments as she whisked off to her bath, Loran could hardly contain her delight over her new discovery.

“Magic is real!” she gushed.

THE BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION

––––––––

T
WO MASSIVE WOODEN DOORS FLEXED open before Topen and Kelamar—who then entered the vast and bright receiving chamber. Two rows of columns reached to the sky and formed a boundary for a path that terminated at the onset of four steps, at the opposite end of the room. A large ornate chair, and two lesser ones on either side, sat atop the steps on a marbled floor. Protectors, who executed their duty in silence, stood near.

A messenger boy concluded his whispers into the sovereign’s ear.

“Who is this man?” Gilvius demanded, just as he noticed two figures drawing near.

“Never mind,” he said. “He is here.”

“Forgive me my old friend,” Gilvius said to Topen when he stepped close, “I would not have received you so formally had I known sooner of your arrival.” Gilvius turned to his scribe. “Express my regrets to the remainder who are waiting, I’ll greet them tomorrow.”

“As you wish, Sovereign,” the scribe replied, and then scurried away.

“Come, sit beside me,” said Gilvius to the two men.

Topen and Kelamar sat in the chairs on either side of the sovereign.

“I fear your time is passing much too quickly, Gilvius,” said Topen.

Such a blunt statement from a man he had not seen, and whose appearance had not changed, in sixteen years did not surprise him. In fact, he would have been guarded had anything but candor coursed from Topen’s mouth.

“My sincere best wishes on the sixteenth birthday of your sons,” Topen continued.

Gilvius acknowledged Topen’s words with a nod and grateful pat to his arm.

“It’s for certain tonight will be a joyous event,” said Kelamar. “Envoys from all the regions have arrived for the celebrations.”

“Having just been informed of the guards’ behavior on Topen’s arrival, I trust you will make sure any such incident will not be repeated,” Gilvius said to Kelamar.

“I’ve had to recruit from the soldiers ranks to supplement the castle guards. A few
overly
sharp edges need to be dulled is all, but I pledge to you, the men will be ready,” assured Kelamar.

In an upper viewing area of the receiving hall, reserved for family and privileged visitors, sat Loran—who had just arrived after her bath. Her thumb caressed the magical stone in her hand. She was waiting for her father’s presence at the conclusion of the receptions.
How excited he will be when he shares in her discovery
, she thought.

Movement across the room attracted her attention. Seated in another viewing area was one of her identical twin brothers. She wasn’t quite sure if it was Gervest or Rolam, but she suspected it was Gervest, by the manner in which he stayed back in the shadows as he watched. Loran figured Rolam would have been upfront and likely waving to her from across the room.

Loran gazed down at the two men seated next to her father. The words they spoke below drifted upward in the chamber, but were just background noise to her mind—her concentration had shifted to Topen and the cloth bag placed near his feet. She would never consider drawing attention to herself in the chamber, but the urge to attract Topen’s notice was strong. Abruptly, the conversation below cleared in her head.

“—then, you haven’t told them of their birthright. They don’t know of the Avileen legacy?” asked Topen.

“Their legacy . . . what they inherit . . . I decided soon after my sons were born, this knowledge would be withheld until their sixteenth year—the age of their joining,” said Gilvius, “I wanted them to be free . . . of . . .” his voice dwindled.

Gilvius stared off in the distance; his mind struggled for the reason he would utter his next words. He resisted the urge to speak, but it was too strong.

“Of late, I’ve doubted if they should ever be told . . . if magic should ever be seen in this land again,” he spoke in a haze.

Gilvius’s remarks surprised not only Topen, but Kelamar as well. Kelamar remembered it had been barely two weeks ago the sovereign had shown excitement to him for Topen’s arrival, and the beginning of the twins’ instructions in the ritual.

“When your grandfather turned a world in anarchy into a society that lived harmoniously, despite the vast differences in the provinces, all of the enemies were contained in
this
land,” said Topen. “But the great castle war made you forever vulnerable . . . I’m surprised it was so easily erased from your memory.”

“I have forgotten nothing!
”
Gilvius yelled. Agitated, and in a forceful voice, he continued. “I have
not
forgotten the years you gave to help shape this land. I have
not
forgotten, nor has Kelamar, the many lives you saved, our own included, during the long siege on the castle. And I have
not
forgotten the price you continue to pay for your devotion to the Avileen line.”

Topen sensed the words Gilvius spoke were not so much directed at him, but to Gilvius himself—as if he needed to confirm he truly remembered the past. Topen and Kelamar acknowledged their concern of the sovereign’s outburst with a single glance between them.

The flare-up also startled Loran. It was the first time she had ever seen her father in such a state. She looked over to her brother to measure his reaction, but the slight tilt of his head, and movement of his lips, indicated he was speaking to someone—
someone
, she could not see. More importantly to her, she now realized her father, her mother, and others in the castle knew of real magic and had concealed it. Now, there is a chance that magic may be banished from the provinces—just when its discovery had opened a new world to her.

“Excuse my temperament,” Gilvius uttered. “It seems to have become unrecognizable of late.”

Topen placed his hand on the sovereign’s forearm.

“We can speak of this later. I have no desire to tarnish this joyous time for you and Leanna.”

“Yes, you are quite right,” stated Gilvius, with renewed enthusiasm. “Kelamar, would you see that Topen is given suitable lodging.”

“Of course,” boomed Kelamar. “We have much to catch up on.”

From her position, seated high above the room, Loran watched Topen and Kelamar take their leave, and she wasn’t aware of when her brother relinquished his chair, but he was gone.

Topen and Kelamar cleared the doors and entered the main hall.

“How long has he been like that?” Topen asked.

“This is the first I have seen.”

“His sons were never confirmed at their birth, maybe he fears
their
ability will be absent, as it is with him,” Topen speculated.

“Of one thing I am sure, you would think Gilvius was himself turning sixteen for all the excitement he has borne for this day,” said Kelamar. “I’m sure it’s something else.”

* * *

A
s dusk arrived, the local quarry stones used to construct all of the exteriors of the castle—the outer wall, turrets, and towers—were aglow with the flickering of torches and oil lamps.

Two late arrivals from the Kilesen province, the most advanced of the eight, had just cleared the front gate and entered the courtyard. An older man, with graying hair and a short beard to match, and his slightly younger, charismatic wife walked smartly across the bricks. The wife, who was outwardly excited—almost to the point of being giddy—was clinging to her husband’s arm while relating some history.

“I’ve heard so much about this castle. I can’t believe we’re finally here! Did you know it has been said that guests to the inner castle are treated to architectural influences that are
extremely
unique. I’ve also heard that there are stones and statues here that are not seen anywhere else in the provinces, I mean
anywhere
!” she exclaimed, while she took in the grandness of the courtyard. “And rooms built out of timber coexist with others built from common bricks and stones—or marble and granite. I just can’t wait to see it.”

“I’ve always heard the castle is haunted,” said her husband, as he scampered to match his wife’s brisk pace.

“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m sure that rumor came from the name the townspeople gave the castle after it was built:
the Castle of Illusion
. Named not just for the unique materials used here, but also because objects—statues, stones, and the like—were said to curiously appear overnight in the rooms. The tales from too much wine, I’m sure.”

“That sounds haunted to me,” her wary husband asserted, as he examined the open space they traversed with caution.

* * *

F
resh flowers filled the receiving room, and a golden runner terminated at the chairs of Gilvius and his sons—Gervest and Rolam. Long thin tables stretched between the columns and were the repositories of small leather pouches—bound with a simple cord of red yarn. On their surface was an austere golden capital
A
, trimmed in black. It was the mark of the Avileen crest.

The regular castle guards took the activity in stride. However, they heeded anyone near the sovereign or the twins. The
soldier
guards recruited for this event stood uncomfortably restrained in the crowds and jolted with any loud noise nearby; sudden laughter or a dropped wine glass had the same effect on them as a battle cry from an unseen adversary. At least they resisted the urge to draw their swords.

The crowded room resonated with sincere congratulatory wishes that reflected the affection the subjects of the eight provinces had for Gilvius, and by extension, all of the Avileen family. Gilvius stood to address the gathering and the many conversations that filled the room quickly fell silent.

“I and my sons, Rolam and Gervest, want to thank all of you for being with us tonight,” he began with humility. “As you all know, at sixteen a young boy enters the path of manhood, an event to be celebrated. The pouches on the tables throughout the room represent obligation and trust. In each bag are two coins—a silver kranista, which is our coin of least value, and a golden
sonyee
, which holds the greatest value.”

Subtle
gasps
and whispers rippled through the gathering. The golden sonyee’s value was approximately six-month’s earnings for many workers in the provinces and rarely traded, or even seen, due to its great worth.

“They share the pouch that contains them in harmony,” he continued. “My sons and I pledge that the future of the Avileen sovereignty will continue to be guided by both temperance and generosity in all matters.”

Exuberance filled the crowd as they applauded. Many among them shook their heads in approval of his words.

Gilvius raised a hand to silence the applause.

“Rondros Avileen, my grandfather,
also
made a pledge to this land, and in doing so, brought stability to a realm diseased with hate and turmoil, where the strong consumed the weak. And although war between
eight
of the provinces is no more, we will continue to complete my grandfather’s dream to unite
all
of the provinces and end all war in our land.”

Raucous applause filled the crowd. When the noise tempered, Gilvius continued.

“I ask that all of you accept a pouch in commemoration of the bonds we hold to each other, and use the wealth contained within, wisely, to the benefit of your province.”

Gilvius retook his seat and the gathered assembly began to collect pouches distributed by the castle guards—amid murmurs about their generous and wise sovereign.

* * *

J
ust outside the rear castle gate, various tents populated the spacious cropped grounds. Performers entranced the crowds with juggling skills and other feats of nimbleness. Displayed and sampled were varieties of food from all of the provinces. There was the feel of Carnival, but with greater intimacy and purpose.

Loran and her mother, Leanna—a forty year-old woman of startling beauty and pale blue eyes, whose long blond hair kissed the small of her back—sampled some food from the wooden table before them.

Loran noticed Topen a few yards away seated in a tall chair near a tent, brightly illuminated by neighboring torches. A portion of the regions finest wine filled the glass he held. For the first time since arriving, he was without his cloak. Around each of his wrists, he wore a wide silver bracelet with raised symbols. Loran thought they were far too ornate for battle and guessed they must be ornamental, worn for the festivities.

“He seems so distant from everyone,” said Loran.

“Who are you speaking of, dear?” Leanna replied and looked up from the table.

“Topen,” said Loran. She motioned with her hand in his direction.

Leanna identified Topen nearby. Seeing him made her eager to begin the ceremony her sons were about to embark on tomorrow. She would also no longer have to keep secrets from her children—which has been one of the few contentious issues she has had with Gilvius.

“And, how is it you know Topen?” questioned Leanna, when she realized her daughter’s casual utterance of his name.

“I saw him with Kelamar,” Loran replied, without a moment’s hesitation. “You should hear what everyone is saying about his horse,” she threw out, hoping to dissuade further probing.

Although she knew her mother would not accept it as so, Loran reasoned she wasn’t
exactly
lying—as she had watched the two men in the receiving room. And the story of Topen and the mighty Daramose had reached every corner of the castle.

“Yes, the tale of Topen’s and Daramose’s arrival has even touched my chambers,” said Leanna, with a budding smile.