A/N: This chapter fought me every step of the way. I'm not sure why. It just did. But yeah, here you go.
Chapter summary: In which Princess Elspeth meets someone new and has mixed feelings about the whole thing, and Xichen tries to process what just happened.
6: Truth Spell
Why were the clergy of Valdemar forbidden by law to pray for Valdemar's victory in war? What did it have to do with the primary law 'There is no one true way'?
Elspeth was still pondering Dirk's questions when she woke the next morning. The fort on the border of Hardorn was much too small to accommodate everyone in their entourage plus their supplies. Thus, her mother, Queen Selenay, elected to make camp just outside the fort. Normally, Elspeth wouldn't have minded. She was a Herald Trainee, after all. While camping wasn't her favorite thing in the world, it was something she enjoyed.
The rain was the problem. She loved the sound of it on the tent and the smell of the damp during and afterwards. What she had a problem with was the wet. Herself wet, her things wet, her clothes wet, everyone wet. Just wet. And considering the constant flooding problem Valdemar had been having due to the pouring rain throughout the season, Elspeth had a good excuse to be frustrated by now.
There was, however, still the camp comradery which never stopped, rain or shine, day or night. That was the best part of camping. Well, she looked up at the sky in the east, the comradery and the sunrises. After such a rainy night, she was sincerely looking forward to seeing the dawn. It was a bloody red sky in the east with clouds drifting low enough on the horizon to block the actual sunrise proper. The clouds were dark streaks of gray haloed in red-orange fire above which beams of glittering gold stretched out across the sky.
Behind her, rain clouds continued to linger. Elspeth pitied anyone out in that weather without shelter. It was a steady rain that gave no sign of weakening as it trudged its way across Valdemar sky leaving behind humid air disturbed only by a gentle breeze. The streams of new sunlight struck the dark rainclouds but did not pierce through. Sheets of rain fell like threads of silver, too low for the light to hit. She hoped it wasn't an ill omen.
:Let's hope it isn't, Chosen,: Elspeth's Companion Gwena said.
Herald Skif was already up and sitting on a bench set up around one of the cookfires when Elspeth arrived. The young man took one look at her and grinned, patting the spot next to him. "Morning. Too humid for you to stay inside?" he called happily.
Elspeth smiled and took the offered seat and stretched. "Good morning, Skif," she said. "Just bored is all. And hungry, of course." They shared a cheeky grin and she giggled. "Any word from Kris and Talia yet?"
Skif's grin slid away to a worried frown. "Nothing yet, I'm afraid," he admitted, pouring her a bowl of steaming soup and handing it to her. "The queen's getting worried. So is Dirk actually. And," he paused and looked around before leaning close and lowering his voice conspiratorially, "apparently something's got a few ForeSeers here in a tizzy. Not sure what it is yet. Not sure if they know what it is. But I'll tell you right now, something's up and I don't like it."
Elspeth pressed her lips together in a thin line and ate her soup. Skif looked exhausted as he ate his own soup.
"Your Highness!" a voice called from behind her. "Your Highness!"
Elspeth turned in her seat to see a haggard looking servant running up to her, breathing hard as if he'd just run a lap or two around the entire camp. "There's a Companion on the horizon, your highness," the watchman said, pointing to the west. "Can't make out who's riding, but it's doesn't look like a Herald."
Skiff sat up suddenly and stared at the watchman in disbelief. "Not a Herald?" he repeated incredulously. "What do you mean by that? How do you know?"
The watchman shook his head and began edging away. "I don't know. 'Course, I could be wrong," he said quickly, starting to look around again. "But from what little I could see, the rider was wearing blue, not white."
"Blue?" Elspeth murmured, puzzled. "And they're coming from Valdemar? Not Hardorn?" she pressed.
Again the watchman nodded. "Yes, my Lady," he said, straightening. "I'm sorry. That's all I know. I've been tasked with passing the word along to you and the queen. I've done so for you. Forgive me!"
Then he was off, racing back through the camp in search of Queen Selenay, leaving Elspeth and Skif to consider the news in surprised contemplation.
"A Companion is coming without a Herald?" Elspeth said, turning to Skif in her confusion.
The former thief turned Herald shrugged. "It might be a Herald, my Lady," he said, finishing up his soup as quickly as he could. "Maybe they're coming from Haven and didn't have time to change? Or, it may just be a white horse. He," Skif nodded at the watchman's retreating back, "said he didn't get a good look. So maybe he just saw a white horse and assumed it was a Companion."
That… could be. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time such a mistake had been made.
"But why would Haven send us another Herald?" Elspeth wondered, downing her own soup before handing it to Skif. Elspeth made her way to the western side of the camp hoping to catch a glimpse of the unexpected visitor leaving Skif behind.
Sure enough, a shining white horse was galloping across the land towards them. As they watched, the Companion, for that is indeed what it was, broke through the sheet of rain revealing blue fabric flapping in the wind. It was difficult to make out the rider as they were leaning forward, pressed close to the Companion's flank. But yes, that was distinctly blue fabric and not the expected Heraldic White.
The Companion's galloping hooves devoured the distance between it and the camp with a speed only a Companion could boast. It altered its course ever so slightly when it caught sight of Queen Selenay's encampment and began moving towards them. As it approached, its pace slowed and the rider sat up.
Oh. Oh, they were beautiful. Elspeth felt a blush warm her cheeks as she got her first good look at the rider. It was difficult to discern their gender from appearance alone, but Havens save her. The rider wore long robes with belled sleeves in shades of blue that fluttered around them like a cloud and their long black hair trailed behind them in the wind. Something silver shone atop the rider's head and at the center of their forehead. Elspeth didn't miss the glint of a white sword sheath grasped in the rider's left hand either. The white sheath glistened starkly against the rider's blue robes and the gray western sky.
Footsteps hurried behind her, stopping once they reached her side. Elspeth looked up to see her mother standing next to her. Queen Selenay's long golden hair was tied in a loose braid that tumbled down her back. She wore simple, unadorned Heraldic Whites with only a thin coronet around her forehead to declare her position as the Queen of Valdemar. Beside Queen Selenay stood, Elspeth groaned internally, Lord Orthallen.
As the Companion and rider approached, they slowed to a steady trot before finally coming to a stop a short distance from Elspeth and her fellow watchers. Now that he was close, Elspeth could see the masculine line of the rider's chin and face. Havens. She had never seen a man as beautiful as he. His eyes were almond shaped and a shade of molten gold that reminded her of dark honey. A thin, pale blue ribbon with a silver medallion circled the man's fore head. His robes were not a style she could ever remember seeing in Valdemar. Nor was the silver, elaborate hairpiece pinned in his hair a recognizable style. A foreigner then?
The next thing she noticed was that he was dripping wet. Now that his mount was still, his blue robes hung sodden and limp around him and his hair stuck to his neck and clothes. Yet, the water didn't seem to bother him much. Elspeth knew first hand that riding through rain in sopping wet clothes was both uncomfortable and cold. Yet he wasn't shivering, nor did he show any sign of discomfort.
The Companion he rode was lean and obviously built for running. There was a daintiness to the way she held her head that implied the Companion was a female. Her brilliant, distinctive blue eyes flickered between Elspeth and Queen Selenay, before giving and odd look at Lord Orthallen. She did not seem to have a problem with her rider so perhaps he was a Herald. But if that was so, then why didn't Elspeth recognize him?
Was he a Trainee? New Herald Trainees were rarely allowed to leave Haven alone. Even if he appeared much older than most Herald Trainees she'd heard of. Besides, everyone knew Herald Trainees wore gray, not blue.
"I wish to speak to one Queen Selenay of Valdemar," he said. His accent rounded out the words, pronouncing the names recognizably but with odd accents on syllables Elspeth hadn't considered being emphasized before. It was a lovely accent.
"I am Queen Selenay," Elspeth's mother said, stepping forward slightly.
The man's golden gaze settled on the queen and his expression softened somewhat. He dismounted his Companion with a grace Elspeth could only dream of and stepped forward so he stood between his Companion and the queen. Lifting his arms, sword in hand, and clasping his fingers before him, he bowed. Elspeth was struck by the unique style. The bow was well practiced and precise, although it wasn't very deep, she noted. Curious.
When he straightened, the man looped his right arm behind him and let his left hand hang so the sword rested against his hip. "I am Lan Xichen, Chosen by my Companion, Maiden Gala."
Oh, Elspeth could see that introduction had certainly pleased the Companion. The blue eyes fluttered and a white nose bumped Lan Xichen in the shoulder. Elspeth hid a smile. In her experience, flattering your Companion was always a wise decision.
"I bring word from one of your own, Queen of Valdemar," Lan Xichen continued, his golden gaze soft with Elspeth sincerely hoped was not what she thought it was. "One Herald Kris of Valdemar has been killed and one Herald Talia of Valdemar has been captured."
Talia!
"What?!" Elspeth cried before she could stop herself.
No! It couldn't be. Talia couldn't be captured. Elspeth hadn't had the chance to apologize after their fight. Talia had left Haven to go to Hardorn before Elspeth calmed down and had the presence of mind to realize she had indeed been in the wrong. She needed to apologize to her friend.
And Kris! Havens, Kris. She looked at Lord Orthallen and saw in his face the confirmation of what was perhaps his worst fear. Herald Kris was Lord Orthallen's son and, despite his general sliminess, Elspeth would never wish such a loss on anyone. She might not trust Lord Orthallen as far as she could throw him, but she did trust Herald Kris.
"My son," the man moaned, his hands reaching up to cover his mouth in genuine dismay. "How do you know this?" Lord Orthallen demanded, his eyes wide and his voice shaking as he stepped past the queen towards Lan Xichen. "Who told you this? Who told you my boy is dead?"
For a moment, the concern and sorrow in Lan Xichen's eyes shuttered before glazing slightly in an expression Elspeth knew she herself sometimes adopted when she spoke mind-to-mind with her Companion. After a moment of silence, Lan Xichen's gaze cleared and he looked directly at Queen Selenay.
"The Death Bell in Haven rang while I was there," he began, continuing despite Elspeth's soft, horrified gasp. "It was determined the death of Herald Kris was the cause."
Queen Selenay closed her eyes briefly before drawing a breath and releasing it, her mask of calm settling in place. She knew, as did everyone born and raised in the city of Haven, that the Death Bell only ever rang when a Herald died. Its lonely toll was always heartbreaking to hear.
"It can't be true," Lord Orthallen said firmly. "My son is on a diplomatic mission. No one in Hardorn would dare hurt my son. Who told you this heinous lie, boy? Who told you?"
"Lying is forbidden," Lan Xichen said simply, his tone calm and patient despite the Orthallen's vehement accusations.
"My son is in Hardorn," Orthallen insisted, waving a finger at the young foreigner's face. "How could someone from Haven, who doesn't even wear Heraldic Whites, know my boy is dead before we do? And even if, by some horrendous curse, your words are true and my son is dead," Orthallen's voice broke, "how would you know what happened to Herald Talia?"
Oh. That was true. How would he know?
Lan Xichen, however, held his silence. Instead, he just gazed at Orthallen with sad, gentle eyes and all the patience of a MindHealer listening to a patient weep and vent away their pain. There was no judgement or offense in his expression, only sorrow and understanding.
"I demand Truth Spell, your Majesty," Orthallen cried, tears sparkling in his eyes as he turned to Queen Selenay. "Kris is my son. I must know if this person's words are true."
Elspeth wanted to know too. She also wanted to know about Talia. The Death Bell only rang when a Herald died. Lan Xichen said Talia wasn't dead. Thus, the Death Bell wouldn't have rung for her. So how did he know she was captured? Or did he not know and that was just the general assumption?
Either way, why send someone no one recognized to bring the message to the queen? Why not send a Herald people knew by face and name as someone beyond reproach?
:I will vouch for him, your Majesty,: the Companion said. Her mental voice was feminine and youthful but not one Elspeth could remember ever hearing before. She made a mental note to ask Gwena about this Companion -Gala, Lan Xichen said her name was- at some point. :I was there when the Death Bell rang.:
"And were you there when he received word of both Heralds' fates?" the queen pressed urgently.
The Companion bobbed her head in a semblance of a nod. :I was.: Her blue eyes flickered to her Chosen. :I saw it with my own eyes.:
Well then.
"Your Majesty!" Orthallen cried, stepping before the queen. "Kris is my son. I will not accept the hearsay of one man I do not know and a horse that does not speak."
Does not… But Gala clearly BeSpoke them. It was as clear as a bell. Oh, well, perhaps that wasn't the best comparison to make at the moment. Unless, Elspeth glanced at the Companion and her unusual Chosen, Gala only chose to BeSpeak Elspeth and her mother. Did all Companions just not like Orthallen?
:I certainly don't,: Elspeth's Companion Gwena muttered just loud enough to be heard.
:Hush, loveling,: Elspeth chided fondly. Gwena made no secret of her dislike of the man and, considering everything she now knew of him, Elspeth agreed with her Companion's sentiment wholeheartedly. Still, for Gala to deliberately leave Orthallen out of the conversation was a very odd choice.
Interestingly enough, it seemed even Gala's Chosen was confused by her choice.
"I can offer you no proof aside from my words," Lan Xichen said, moving forward until he stood within a few feet of Orthallen. Golden eyes still soft with sympathy. "I am sorry for your loss," he said gently. "If it will ease your thoughts, know that it was quick."
Orthallen straightened, squaring his shoulders and outright refusing to face Lan Xichen. "I demand the right to hear him under Truth Spell," the man declared obstinately. "It is my son and your Queen's Own, Majesty. If indeed his words are true, then he should be comfortable speaking them under Truth Spell."
Damn him. Why did that sound so reasonable?
:Because it is wise, in this case, Chosen,: Gwena said, her mental voice grim as if discomfited by the very idea of agreeing with the loathsome man. :Our unexpected guest has made serious allegations as to the fates of Herald Kris and Herald Talia. Those allegations could make or break this entire diplomatic mission. Such things must be confirmed. And since his words are all he has to show for it, aside from his Companion's word which I take as proof enough,: she added wryly, :it makes sense to those who aren't Heralds to trust in Truth Spell.:
Elspeth huffed.
"Your Majesty?"
Startled, both Elspeth and her mother turned to Herald Skif who stood a few feet behind them. How long had he been there?
"I've alerted the Weaponsmaster and the Seneschal," Skif said. "Do you want me to have them meet you at your tent?"
Queen Selenay sighed but nodded gravely. "Please. Tell them we'll be there shortly."
Skif hesitated. "Do you want me to inform Herald Dirk as well?"
"Yes, but wait a bit first," the queen said after a moment. "But no one else. No need to sow uncertainty without proof."
Skif bowed, flashed Elspeth a significant look, then vanished into the camp, easily weaving through the crowd of curious onlookers that had gathered since Lan Xichen and his Companion arrived.
"Will you give your full report of what you know under Truth Spell, Lan Xichen?" the queen asked. At his visible confusion, the queen explained, "It will not hurt nor will it be uncomfortable. It will merely prove whether the words you speak are truth or lies."
Lan Xichen blinked, startled interest visible on his face. "There is such a spell?"
This time, it was Elspeth and Queen Selenay who blinked in surprise.
"There is, yes," Queen Selenay said. "Will you consent to it?"
Lan Xichen glanced back at his Companion who nudged him gently and whickered as if in reply. Then he returned his attention to the queen, nodding in acquiescence though his expression was unsure. "If it will prove my words, then I will allow it," he said.
The queen nodded and turned towards the camp. "Good. Then follow me," she said briskly.
Elspeth waited until Lan Xichen and his Companion passed her by before falling into step behind them and following her mother to the queen's meeting tent. That was when she noticed a long, pipe instrument of some kind tucked into Lan Xichen's belt and pressing against his back. It was a beautiful piece made of some material she didn't recognize. It almost looked like crystal. That was definitely silver inlaid into the instrument, Elspeth would bet her best pair of shoes on that.
His sword was also a work of art. The sheath was pure white except for a small bit at the top that was jade green. The grip was an odd white stone strikingly similar to the same material the pipe instrument was made of. Whoever this Lan Xichen was, he must have been a lord of some kind before he was Chosen. Oh dear. A foreign lord Chosen by a Companion of Valdemar. Companions didn't often go on Search for potential Heralds outside of Valdemar. But when they did, it tended to be an interesting story.
Herald Alberich of Karse, Valdemar's current Weaponsmaster, was a perfect example.
The walk to her mother's meeting tent was short and quick despite the number of people who'd come to ogle the goings on. Elspeth might not have her friend Talia's Gift of Empathy, but she wasn't blind to the tension around her. Well, she thought wryly as she noticed yet another badly hidden blush, tension and attraction. Even if he did not openly react to it, Lan Xichen must be aware of the attention he was drawing.
When they arrived at the tent, Alberich was already there holding the tent flap open for them. Herald Alberich was a sturdy man who's scarred face and dark eyes had seen more war than Elspeth could imagine in her short life. He was a hard man, but he was also fair. He truly cared for the Heralds he trained. Elspeth knew she could trust him to both work her into the ground and give her valuable advice after listening to her vent her frustrations.
He was also one of the few people who could see through Lord Orthallen's glistening mask and outright refused to turn his back to the man. In her opinion, anyone Alberich feared was someone no one should trust. Elspeth wondered what her Weaponsmaster would think of Lan Xichen.
The Companion stopped at the entrance of the tent and waited for her Chosen to enter first. since she was too large to enter herself. Lan Xichen did not pause, but he did brush his fingers against her flank as he passed. He nodded with a quiet smile of thanks to Alberich for holding up the flap. However, Alberich held up a hand, stopping Lan Xichen in his tracks.
"Your sword," the Weaponsmaster said simply, holding out his hand.
That seemed to unnerve their guest. His golden gaze narrowed and he turned to his Companion for confirmation. Whatever she said made Lan Xichen tighten his grip on his sword and move it subtly closer to his side.
"You ask much, Master," Lan Xichen said, studying the Weaponsmaster warily.
"The protection of the queen, my job is," Alberich replied, keeping his hand out expectantly.
"Could an exception be made in my case?" their guest asked, his sword pressed close to his side as to almost be behind him. The tension in his shoulders tightened when Alberich shook his head firmly.
For a moment, neither moved. Then, reluctantly, Lan Xichen grimaced and held out his still sheathed sword with a sigh. However, he did not immediately relinquish it when Alberich took hold of it. He held it fast.
"I would have your word," Lan Xichen said, his golden eyes boring into Alberich's. "My sword remains in your care only and within my sight until such time as it is rightfully returned to me."
Alberich hummed but nodded, and Lan Xichen reluctantly released his hold. Though golden eyes kept straying back to the sheathed blade as he stepped into the tent.
Once inside, Lan Xichen moved aside to allow enough room for Elspeth to enter, offering her a small, quiet smile as he did so. Alberich entered last, dropping the tent flap and moving to stand behind the queen. Queen Selenay took her seat at the head of the table in the center of the makeshift room, brushing aside a small assortment of papers and resting her forearms on the wooden surface.
Typically, Weaponsmaster Alberich and Seneschal Palinor would stand to the queen's right while the Queen's Own Herald Talia and Elspeth would take up position to Selenay's left. But seeing as Talia was gone, Alberich stood behind the queen with their guest's sword clasped in his hand, Elspeth stood to her mother's left, and Seneschal Palinor and Lord Orthallen stood to Selenay's right.
This left Lan Xichen standing alone on his side of the tent. He did not seem openly unnerved by his situation, but there was a slight downturn to his brow that hinted that he was at least somewhat aware of the power dynamic. His golden eyes were sharp as they scanned each of them in turn before his expression settled into a cool mask. He did not speak, choosing to wait until he was addressed.
His eyes still flickered to his sword in Alberich's grasp though, Elspeth noticed.
"I am Queen Selenay, as you know," Elspeth's mother said. "This is Seneschal Palinor, Lord Orthallen, my daughter Elspeth, and my Weaponsmaster Herald Alberich."
Lan Xichen nodded respectfully to each of them in turn.
"Now, if you're ready," Queen Selenay said gravely, "I will cast Truth Spell."
Lan Xichen simply nodded and waited. The queen began silently casting the Truth Spell. However, the moment the distinctive blue glow of Truth Spell appeared, haloing Lan Xichen's head and shoulders, the man stiffened, his golden eyes widening in surprise. In quick, precise movements, his right hand flashed up, two fingers pressed together, and made a short slicing motion that flickered with ice-blue energy. And the blue glow of the Truth Spell vanished.
The silence that followed as Lan Xichen calmly replaced his arm behind his back was heavy with surprise and suspicion. The queen's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
Lan Xichen met her gaze evenly, his face smooth and unreadable as if carved from stone. "I gave you my consent to use a spell to test the truth of my words," he said slowly. "I did not give my consent to allow a spirit into my mind."
:It is a misunderstanding, your Majesty,: Lan Xichen's Companion said quickly, poking her head through the tent flap and BeSpeaking everyone present. :No harm was meant by either party. We can explain, I promise.:
Then she lowered her head so her blue eyes could meet Lan Xichen's gold at the same level, likely speaking to him silently. After a few seconds, the shadow that Elspeth hadn't even noticed settle on Lan Xichen's brow suddenly cleared and he turned his attention back to the queen. Again, his arms rose, hands clasped, and he bowed, somewhat lower this time Elspeth noted.
"My apologies, Queen of Valdemar," he said, sounding genuinely contrite. "I did not know what your Truth Spell entailed. I and my clan deal with spirits regularly. Allowing one into the mind is considered dangerous and not something done lightly. When the air spirit touched my mind, I reacted as I have been taught and banished it." He tilted his head down slightly, a faint hint of color in his cheeks. "I did not realize the air spirit was part of your spell. You may cast it once more, if you wish. I give you my word, I will not resist it this time."
The Companion snuffled, shaking her mane and disturbing the tent flap she'd thrust her head through. The blush in the young man's cheeks darkened. Elspeth snickered in her mind, knowing all too well what it was like to be scolded and teased by one's Companion.
"I see," her mother said slowly, jolting Elspeth back to the present. "I take no offense then."
Gala bobbed her head once, bumping Lan Xichen's shoulder in a comforting manner, then stepped back through the tent flap leaving her Chosen alone. Queen Selenay's brow furrowed and she cast Truth Spell once more. This time, Lan Xichen did not flinch, or twitch, or even blink when the familiar blue glow reappeared around his head.
"Please state your name for those present," Queen Selenay commanded.
Lan Xichen's expression smoothed back into his well-practiced, perfect mask that revealed nothing. "Lan Xichen, Clan Heir of the Gusu Lan, called Zewu-jun." He paused and blinked, his gaze dropping briefly as if in confusion. "Are you compelling the truth from me?" he asked, a hard glint in his gaze.
"I am," the queen replied with a nod, her expression serene. "This news involves those close to me. I cannot risk a lie being told."
"Lying is forbidden," Lan Xichen said, as if that should explain everything.
"So you've said," Selenay said. "And yet lies still flow around me. Such is often the nature of politics."
Their guest pressed his lips together, obviously not enjoying this. "Then I would ask that you keep your questions on the topic at hand and not stray. Some things I must keep secret. Should you push, I will banish the air spirit once more."
"I would advise you not to speak so rudely to the queen, young man," the Seneschal warned.
"She is not my queen," Lan Xichen said, his tone polite but firm as he turned his attention to Seneschal Palinor. "Nor do I serve her in any capacity. I am here by request. Once I complete the task I have been given to the best of my ability, I will leave."
The blue glow remained steady. Oh. Yes, this could definitely end up being an interesting situation. Before things could begin to spiral out of hand, the queen held up her hand silencing any further arguments.
"The message you were asked to convey," she said, "what was it?"
Lan Xichen returned his gaze to the queen. "Herald Kris of Valdemar is dead and Herald Talia of Valdemar has been captured."
The light remained steady and Elspeth felt something cold and hard settle in her gut. A part of her had honestly been hoping this was all a hoax. Because if it wasn't, then that meant it was real. It was true.
Queen Selenay breathed a shaking sigh, pained dismay lining her suddenly very pale face. But she did not cry. Lord Orthallen, however, gasped audibly. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he lunged at Lan Xichen with a cry. However, Lan Xichen did not flinch. He simply looked at the man with gentle eyes filled with sadness and a heartbreaking understanding. Lord Orthallen stumbled to a stop, his eyes wide in shock that quickly turned to anger.
"How do you know for certain that my boy is dead?" Orthallen hissed. "Who told you?"
"My Companion, Gala, informed me of the discovery soon after the Death Bell rang," Lan Xichen said. "Then I confirmed it myself."
"How?" Queen Selenay asked.
Lan Xichen paused, his gaze sliding between the queen and Lord Orthallen. "I have the ability to speak with spirits," he admitted softly. "I confirmed it by asking Herald Kris myself."
He could… talk to ghosts?!
"Speaking with spirits… That is a very rare Gift," Seneschal Palinor said carefully.
"It is not a Gift, as you call them here," Lan Xichen said. "It is a technique, a skill cultivated by my clan."
"If it is not a Gift," Lord Orthallen said, obviously swallowing his temper with some effort, "then you will forgive our doubt. Charlatans claiming to speak with the dead are not an uncommon occurrence, after all."
Something flickered through golden eyes before they shuttered behind black lashes. When they opened again, whatever Elspeth thought she saw was gone, replaced by sympathy.
"The Truth Spell still holds, my lord," Elspeth said, cutting off the nobleman before he could dig himself a deeper grave and potentially offend their guest. "He can't be lying."
"I truly am sorry for your loss," Lan Xichen said softly. "Losing those close to you is never easy on the heart. Grief has a way of wearing down one's self control causing one to speak words they do not mean and do things they would never typically do." He looked directly at Lord Orthallen. "Which is why I will not take offense at your words. Your heart is aching. That is nothing to be ashamed of."
"Do not claim to know my heart," Orthallen said, a furious frown upon his face.
"I do not know your heart, Elder," Lan Xichen agreed. "But I can feel your heart breaking. It is a feeling I am well acquainted with. You should mourn, Elder," he said, meeting Lord Orthallen's eyes. "There is no shame in mourning." He placed a gentle hand on Orthallen's arm, never breaking eye contact. "Go."
Elspeth watch as, wonder of all wonders, Orthallen backed down and nodded grimly, before turning and leaving the tent without a word.
"What Gift did you say you had?" Seneschal Palinor asked, suspicion seeping through his surprise.
"I did not say," Lan Xichen replied, letting his arm return to its place behind his back as his attention settled on the queen once more. "My Gift is Empathy."
Oh.
"Did you use your Gift on him?" Elspeth asked worriedly.
He hesitated, then nodded slowly. "I tried to ease the pain he felt. It runs deep. He felt…" Lan Xichen tilted his head thoughtfully. "He felt betrayed by something. It fueled his heartache and festered an anger that would have overwhelmed him had he stayed. I deemed it wisest to encourage him to leave."
"That was not your choice to make," Queen Selenay said seriously. "We do not condone the use of Gifts in such a manner here. I would ask that you refrain from doing something like that again."
Lan Xichen did not answer verbally, though he did tilt his head. Whether that was an agreement or an acknowledgement, Elspeth didn't know.
"Is Empathy your only Gift?" Queen Selenay asked with interest.
Lan Xichen shook his head. "I also have a limited Gift of Tongues. I can speak any spoken language I hear fluently."
Oh. That could be a double-edged sword if there ever was one, Elspeth thought with a wince. It could be useful to comprehend and speak a foreign language without ever having to learn it. But it could also be dangerous for the exact same reasons. Thank goodness the Heralds' Arrow-Code wasn't a spoken language.
"Is Valdemaran your native tongue?" the queen pressed.
"It is not."
"What is?"
"I…" He hesitated, his brows furrowing as he considered his answer. "I do not know what to call it. Where I come from, there is only one spoken language. Though there are many different accents and dialects unique to particular regions and towns."
"Where are you from?"
"Gusu."
Elspeth had never heard of it. And judging from the expressions on the faces of the others present, neither had they.
"I see." The queen sat back in her chair.
"There was more to my message, Queen of Valdemar," Lan Xichen said, easily transitioning the conversation back to its origin. "Herald Kris was killed by soldiers under the command of Prince Ancar of Hardorn. He and Herald Talia witnessed Prince Ancar murder his father, King Alessandar. He wanted you to know that Herald Talia is alive but she is being held prisoner. He did not say where."
The silence that followed was devastating. Elspeth could barely breathe. Not once had the blue glow of Truth Spell flickered. It had remained steady as damning evidence supporting those horrible words. Kris was dead and Talia was captured.
By Ancar? Prince Ancar? The very Prince Ancar who was being considered as possible suitor for Elspeth's hand in marriage once she graduated as a full Herald? That Ancar?
He'd killed his own father?!
"Was there anything else?" Queen Selenay whispered.
"…yes."
Gods.
"Herald Kris asked me to 'save her.'"
"Save who?"
Lan Xichen shook his head. "I do not know for certain. I suspect he meant Herald Talia. Though," his eyes slid shut with a sigh, "I do not know how I can help. I am unfamiliar with this land or any lands surrounding it. I only made it here with Gala's aid." He shook his head minutely, gold reappearing under dark lashes. "And I must return home. I fear what will happen if I stay here much longer."
Elspeth felt her curiosity prickle as her mother nodded, dismissing the Truth Spell.
"Thank you for your report, Zewu-jun," the queen said, standing. "Please wait outside while I find somewhere for you to stay while you're here. If you need anything, flag down one of the Heralds in white."
Face as smooth as glass, Lan Xichen gave the same odd, foreign bow as before. But he did not leave right away. Instead, he held out his hands and looked at Alberich.
"My sword, please," he said.
Alberich glanced at the queen for permission before circling the table and returning the weapon to its owner.
"A fine weapon, it is," the Weaponsmaster said.
Lan Xichen smiled, his long fingers closing over the blade possessively, pulling it close to his chest. "She is that. Thank you."
With a polite smile and another bow, he turned and left the tent. Well, this certainly wasn't what Elspeth expected on this trip.
Talia…
Xichen strode passed Gala and did not stop until he was a far enough from the tent to start to feel comfortable again. The emotions in that room were a tangled mass of shock, fear, suspicion, and no shortage of exhaustion. Normally, something like that was fairly easy for him to handle. But it was so much more than that.
Back home, children were expected to be open and unrestrained with their emotional states. They were still learning and growing, discovering new things about themselves and the world around them. But adults knew better. Cultivation was easily affected by the cultivator's emotional state. Too much raw emotion without any sort of self-regulation or control of any kind could result in Qi-deviation which were deadly.
Xichen was eternally grateful to Gala for reinforcing his shields because if there was one thing Xichen was quickly learning about Valdemar, it was that the people here felt. They felt strongly, boldly, and without reserve. They projected their emotional states, wearing them like prized regalia. They didn't bother to maintain control or even the slightest bit of self-regulation. Even the Qinghe Nie and Yunmeng Jiang Clans weren't this oppressively emotional. The sheer force that one Valdemaran's emotions induced was greater than Wangji's. At least Wangji had restraint.
When Xichen initially arrived at the encampment, he'd felt the people before he ever saw them. There was an underlying undulation of nerves stemming from anticipation, excitement, and worry. His announcement had sparked fear and anger and uncertainty, particularly from the Lord Orthallen. Once Xichen learned the man was the father of Herald Kris, he felt his heart weep.
However, Lord Orthallen's sudden wave of emotion smashed into his senses almost painfully and resounded with the tell-tale oil slick of resentful energy. The cause was understandable and easily forgiven. No parent should have to bury their child. That was a curse Xichen would never wish on someone. Nevertheless, the emotional assault was constant, the pressure was distracting, and the resentful energy needed to be tempered before it could affect the Valdemaran's sanity.
Xichen was eternally grateful for the endless hours of practice he and his brother went through to help Xichen learn to control himself during such assaults. Wangji felt more strongly than most people, but he also loved Xichen. So when their practice reached a point where Xichen couldn't continue to defend himself, Wangji could easily change his emotional push to a caress that was harmless and tinged with gentle fondness and love.
It should have been enough. Except it wasn't. What tipped the scales was when Xichen found himself to be the focal point of every single emotion in the entire tent after accidentally dismissing the initial cast of the Truth Spell. All of the anger, the hatred, the pain, the despair, and the betrayal locked on him and pushed. Gala's intervention served to smooth over his misstep, but only just. It had only gone progressively downhill from there.
Truth Spell. Xichen breathed deeply through his nose, deliberately working the tension out of his shoulders and unclenching the fist resting against the small of his back next to Liebing. He had never encountered something like before and he wasn't sure if he wanted to ever again. He would never outright lie. But he;d found himself incapable of even deflecting the queen's questions under Truth Spell.
While he could see its uses, utilizing spirits in that way went everything Xichen knew. Spirits were meant to be respected and left alone unless they caused a disturbance that necessitated cultivator a spirit, even something as simple as an air elemental, to not only confirm truth but compel it… Again, it could prove vitally useful, especially with the growing conflict against the Wen Clan. But was it ethical? Xichen hadn't detected any resentful energy or darker emotion from the spirit. Quite the opposite actually. It seemed curious and eager, until Xichen banished it, that is. He would need to think about this carefully.
Then there was the censuring he received from the queen.
Lord Orthallen's vehement anger, hatred, and deep-seated feelings of betrayal fueled his verbal and emotional outburst. Xichen still wasn't certain where the betrayal came from, but he did not appreciate being the focus of the very powerful, very abrasive sentiment. It was physically painful in its intensity. It was through sheer force of will that Xichen hadn't called Shuoyue to his hand and used it as a solid barrier between himself and the Valdemaran lord.
Without Shuoyue as both a physical and spiritual buffer, Xichen felt exposed and vulnerable. As long as he'd been in the tent, he'd effectively been surrounded and outnumbered. Although he could run away, he couldn't fly without Shuoyue. Besides, he would never willingly leave his spirit sword behind. Though weathering the emotional onslaught was a trying experience.
Finally, Xichen felt compelled to defend himself on some level. He needed to even the playing field just a bit. Although Herald Alberich held Shuoyue, Lord Orthallen was the worst offender in the emotional assault. Thus, he needed to be dealt with first. It was a simple thing for Xichen to reach out with his Empathy, latch onto Lord Orthallen's sadness and hurt, and pull it to the forefront.
Emotional manipulation was not something Lan Xichen made a habit of doing. It felt cruel, disingenuous, and was an inherently selfish act. He could also see several ways in which such a thing could be dangerous to both himself and the other person. But it was a useful tool when he felt threatened. If he could convince an opponent, human or spirit, to cease their attack or redirect their attacks to himself rather than an innocent or another Lan disciple, then Xichen would gladly do so. Protecting his people must come first.
It worked just like he expected. Lord Orthallen lashed out at Xichen, venting his genuine pain and sorrow. Xichen took the tongue lashing and verbal insults with the serenity and patience cultivated from years of practice as the First Jade of Lan. Lord Orthallen truly did care for his son and felt Herald Kris's loss with every fiber of his being. Once the grief had a firm hold, it had only taken a gentle empathic nudge backed by his spiritual power to encourage Lord Orthallen to leave.
The absence of the lord's tumultuous emotions was a relief. Xichen could breathe easier and think clearer. It was like standing in a room full of people talking in loud voices, but only one person insisted on yelling directly in his ear. By removing Lord Orthallen from the equation, Xichen could deal with the rest of the people present.
And get Shuoyue back in his grasp where she belonged.
Unfortunately, instead of easing the tension in the atmosphere, it had the opposite effect. That's when Xichen realized he'd misstepped. Back home, manipulation was central to inter-Clan politics. The Lan Clan was just as guilty as the others. No one was innocent in that respect. The defense and survival of one's Clan always came first.
It apparently was not as common a practice here. Worse. Valdemar was full of people with Gifts similar to Lan Xichen's Empathy. So while cultivators would see Xichen's actions as typical political machinations, Valdemarans seemed to know what to look for. And based on the queen's scolding, they did not approve.
:If it means anything, Queen Selenay believes you,: Gala said, brushing his mind with gentle encouragement, her hooves chiming as she approached him. :She believed you from the moment I vouched for you.. A Companion never lies. No Herald would doubt the word of a Companion. The Truth Spell was a formality only to dissuade any potential dissenters from calling you a liar.:
Perhaps, Xichen thought hesitantly.
He still felt slighted even though he knew it hadn't been deliberate. Despite some similarities, the differences between his native culture and Valdemaran culture were vast and numerous. The insults were little ones, though none of them seemed to be intentional. Xichen was certain he would receive quick, honest apologies if he bothered to voice his concerns. He chose to maintain his silence. He had no right to enforce his culture on these people just as they had no right to enforce their culture on him. He would respect them and their traditions as was appropriate for a cultivator visiting another clan's territory. But that was it.
Even if certain people were reminiscent of Clan Leader Jin Guangshan. Xichen hadn't spent much time with Lord Orthallen, but something about him made Xichen's skin crawl like it did when in the vicinity of Jin Guangshan.
:Jin Guangshan?: Gala queried, hesitant curiosity in her thoughts.
The Clan Leader of the Lanling Jin Clan, Xichen replied, pulling up a memory of the man in all his obnoxiously opulent, golden glory. He tried to keep his own opinions out of it, but a memory was always tied to the thoughts, emotions, and circumstances that created it. And none of Lan Xichen's memories of Jin Guangshan were pleasant.
:He can't be as bad as Lord Orthallen,: Gala drawled.
Gossip was forbidden. The gathering and sharing of information to an ally, however, was not. Gala was pleased with his ability to find loopholes in the Lan Clan's rules if the wry snicker and knowing side glance she shot him in his peripheral vision were anything to go by.
Her amusement quickly vanished as Xichen fed her memory after memory of Jin Guangshan's behavior. Memories of the Clan Leader openly toying with a prostitute during a Conference, strolling out of a woman's quarters with a satisfied smirk on his face and no care for who saw him, the hungry eyes that followed every young female cultivator no matter what clan she hailed from, the inappropriate remarks he would make during official meetings, and anything else Xichen could think of at the moment.
:And that is the leader of the Jin Clan?: Gala asked, aghast.
A small smile tugged at his lips as he tilted his head towards her. Unfortunately. I have hopes for his heir, Jin Zixuan. He has a good heart, but he is terribly shy and trying desperately to escape the expectations of his father. I believe he fears he will just be seen as another Jin Guangshan.
:I can see why,: the Companion murmured with a sigh, lowering her head so her chin rested squarely on Xichen's shoulder. It was such a trusting and playful motion that Xichen couldn't stop the corner of his mouth lifting. :Can't you no just kick Jin Guangshan out of his position?: Gala whined.
With a heavy sigh, Xichen shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he said aloud, his native tongue a comforting sound to his ears. "Clans do not… Did not," he corrected with a pained grimace, his right hand reaching up to brush the soft hairs on Gala's cheek, "interfere with each other unless needed. The actions of the Qishan Wen Clan were both offensive and unexpected."
He swallowed back the memories of his people crying, screaming, dying in flames and swords around him. A frightened disciple warning Xichen and Lan Qiren the Wens were turning both living and dead Lan cultivators against each other, the flash of familiar Lan whites fluttering nearby, the gut wrenching shock of clouded eyes and black veins creeping across a thin neck, a friendly sword raised to strike one who should be an ally, the despair of ending the life of a fellow disciple. The dawning realization that this was only the beginning of something far, far worse-
:What…!?:
Horror spread through Xichen through his bond with Gala.
"Now you understand," he whispered. "I must make sure my people are safe and the other Clans are warned. If this is what the Wens are capable of with just a single piece," his fingers found Gala's bridal and gripped the leather, "then we need to be prepared. I don't think there's any way to avoid war now. I cannot let my people face that alone."
Shuoyue hummed in his hand.
"I fled to prevent the Wens from stealing our knowledge and secrets." Which he knew to be the right thing to do, even if his conscience would never forgive him. "I can only imagine the damage the combined secret knowledge of two Great Clans wielded by a single clan as powerful and offensive as the Qishan Wens could do."
The three full qiankun bags still tied to his belt burned where they rested against his hip. So many ancient texts, dangerous collections of music that could kill with a few spiritually powered notes of a single song, the Mo Incense Burner which allowed users to traverse dreams, a guqin, and so many other relics. He could not let them fall into the hands of someone like Wen Ruohan.
Wangji. His grip on Shuoyue tightened. Mingjue.
A sharp pang stung his chest seizing lungs and stealing his breath. Startled, Xichen pressed the hand clutching Shuoyue to his sternum. For a moment, it felt as if something tried to yank his heart out. But as quickly as it started, the pain vanished leaving him unnerved and off balance. He rubbed at the place where the pain originated. He must be truly exhausted to be experiencing these twinges now.
Ah, the curse of being a Lan. To love once, fiercely and intensely and so completely that their very cores yearned for their partner.
:How long has it been since you last saw him?: Gala asked, one brilliant azure eye regarding him without judgement.
"A while," Xichen confessed softly, pressing his cheek to hers. "I did not intend for it to be this long. I had hoped to visit him before…"
Before Wen Chao appeared in his private chambers unannounced. Before Wen Xu burned down Cloud Recesses. Before he'd been forced to flee for his life and ended up here.
He wanted to go home.
It was childish but it was something he wanted so badly it hurt. But there was nothing he could do about it right now. So he took a deep breath, catalogued his emotions, set them aside, and focused on the ribbon circling his forehead. Restraint. Self-control. Discipline.
He would keep his promise to Herald Kris's spirit. Then he would return to his homeland, warn Nie Mingjue, and search for Wangji. With any luck, Wangji was at Lotus Pier with the Jiang Clan. A-Zhan couldn't hide his attraction to Young Master Wei if he tried. Not from Xichen a least.
Young Master Wei would be the perfect Cultivation Partner for Xichen's little brother. Wangji deserved a better fate than their parents' and Xichen would make sure he got it.
But first, he needed to dry off. He was still damp from the rain and he would love to wash the dust from his robes. He didn't have any spare outfits, after all.
"See? I told you."
Curious, Xichen tilted his head towards the tingle of smug satisfaction and listened.
:I seem to recall you mentioning a Lan rule about eavesdropping being forbidden,: Gala teased.
It can hardly be called eavesdropping if they're so close I can hear their words without even trying, dear one, Xichen thought back with a soft laugh.
"Alright, you win," another voice said, accompanied by a weary sigh which hid a sparkle of weary interest.
"So?" the first voice, youthful and masculine, drawled in an accent Xichen hadn't heard before. The tone, however, was very familiar. Xichen could easily imagine that very same tone sliding past Nie Huaisang's lips right before he teased Mingjue in earnest.
"So what?" the second voice said suspiciously, masculine as well but older than the first.
"Dirk really? You don't even want to ask him?"
A heavy sigh. "I…" Guilt, a burning curiosity and needtoknow tempered by a nagging fear. There was also something else. Resentful energy? Again?
The words, perhaps even the emotions, Xichen could ignore. Resentful energy, he could not. His fingers itched with the desire to play away the cloying energy as he'd been trained. But not here. Not yet. Not until he knew why he sensed it.
Giving in to his own curiosity, Xichen turned his head to the two newcomers and smiled politely. Sure enough, dark wisps of resentful energy danced around the older man in white, a Herald. This must be Dirk. Such an odd name. The energy was weak and guttering, starkly visible against Dirk's white clothes, as if something else were trying to smother it but hadn't quite succeeded.
He felt Gala brush his mind with hers, quietly asking permission. He gave it freely. Next to him, the Companion's head jerked up and around, her wide eyes locking on Herald Dirk and her ears erect and alert as she saw through his eyes.
"Is there something you wish to know, Young Masters?" Xichen called, a welcoming smile on his face.
Herald Dirk flushed a bright red while the young man next to him snickered. "Caught red-handed, I see," the younger man chirped happily, his short brown curls bouncing. "Hello to you too. Xichen, I think was your name? Got there a bit after you'd introduced yourself."
Xichen hid a wince at both the overly familiar address and the awkward pronunciation behind another smile. He was himself guilty of the pronunciation problem often enough. Valdemaran was such a different language.
"Lan Xichen," he corrected gently. "I understand it can be somewhat difficult to pronounce in Valdemaran. You may call me Zewu-jun if that's easier."
The youth grinned and rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, a bit. But I promise to try."
Xichen lowered his head in gratitude. "May I have your name as well, Young Master?"
The youth barked a laugh. "Did you hear that?" he crowed, elbowing his older companion in the side. "He called me 'young master.' I'm important." He grinned. "The name's Skif. And this is my friend and teacher Dirk," he added, pointing to his older friend.
Dirk was a homely man with friendly eyes and smile. But he looked as if he had come on hard times recently. There was an exhaustion that lined his eyes, a hollowness to his cheeks, and a weary set to his shoulders. He looked as if he was recently recovered from a bought of illness. Or, Xichen studiously did not look away from Dirk's face, he was struggling against the influence of the resentful energy flickering around him. Possibly a combination of the two.
"Good morning, Herald Dirk," Xichen said, draping a thin net of Empathy over the Herald, subtly urging him relax his guard enough to voice his question. "Was there something you needed?"
Herald Dirk hesitated, resisting Xichen's net, then frowned. His gaze sharpened abruptly, narrowing in suspicion. "What are you doing?" he demanded.
Startled, Xichen withdrew his influence thoughtfully. Instantly, Dirk's frown deepened.
"You can feel that?" Xichen asked, astonished when Dirk nodded.
Could his use of Empathy be detected here? It didn't seem to be the case with Lord Orthallen. Xichen had assumed the others simply guessed he'd used his Gift. Had they actually sensed him use it instead? Could Herald sense another Herald using their Gifts like cultivators could sense other cultivators' spiritual power?
"Can you feel this?" Xichen reached out with only his spiritual energy, boosting his own aura like he would in battle. There was no reaction from Dirk himself. However, the resentful energy did waver, withdrawing into the folds of white cloth like shadows retreating from candlelight.
So he couldn't feel spiritual energy, just Xichen's Gift. Good to know.
"I apologize for alarming you," Xichen said, pulling his spiritual power back. He faced Herald Dirk and bow politely. "I meant no offense."
After a moment, Herald Dirk nodded. "What were you trying to do?" he asked.
"Calm you," Xichen replied simply. "I did not want you to allow your uncertainty to prevent you from asking what you wished."
Dirk's frown turned thoughtful. His gaze shifted between Xichen and Gala. "If I may ask, what is your Gift?"
The corner of Xichen's mouth lifted in a smile that hid quiet laughter. "Empathy."
He was prepared for the surprise. He was not prepared for the despairlosslonging the rushed from the Herald. Nor was he prepared for the rapid growth of the resentful energy around the Herald, as if it was feeding on Herald Dirk's emotions. Shuoyue hummed in his hand and Liebing's presence felt heavy in his belt. This could be a problem.
"Does the nature of my Gift bother you?" Xichen asked, studying Herald Dirk closely while simultaneously keeping a wary eye on the resentful energy.
However badly he wanted to play it away, he also did not wish to cause a scene in an unfamiliar place where he'd already been the bearer of bad news. The queen may believe him, but that did not mean she trusted him.
Still…
"I know someone who has the same Gift," Herald Dirk said, hope kindling in his dark eyes. "Herald Talia?"
The resentful energy darkened when Herald Dirk spoke the name. Ah. So Herald Talia was the source of the man's pain. Interestingly enough, Xichen did not sense hatred, or anger, or frustration, or even annoyance from the Herald. He sensed love. Love so deep it was nearly drowning in heartache, hopelessness, and loss. It felt like-
Father.