58
"Leader Theodynn!"
Rook caught sight of the wiry man making his way toward them, and she couldn't help but cock an eyebrow. With all the smoke Theo talked about Pescar blowing, she had expected the eastern leader to at least be somewhat intimidating. What on earth was he thinking, picking fights with Theodynn? The Southern leader could snap him in half. Classic senseless Easterner, she mused.
"Pescar," Theo said in reply, dismounting from his hoofer. His tone was almost bored, but the approaching Eastern Leader didn't seem to care as he continued to beam.
"I wasn't sure you would accept my invitation," Pescar gushed, having reached the trio. Rook was the only one still on her hoofer, and she cursed herself for waiting. She still wasn't the most confident in getting on and off the beast, always afraid it would move at the last moment and throw off her balance as she dismounted. Maybe she should just stay in the saddle; after all, she would never forgive herself if she fell on her face in front of this prig.
Pescar continued his ostentatious greeting as Rook eyed the ground. Alan had come over to wait, and Rook caught the guard surreptitiously stepping closer to her hoofer, grabbing the beast's bridal with one hand as he kept his gaze trained on the eastern leader. Rook felt her face flush a little, but now that the hoofer was kept stationary, she steeled herself and managed a smooth dismount.
"…And this is quite a different entourage than you usually travel with," Pescar was finishing, turning his attention to Alan and Rook. "New guards?"
"Kind of," Theo offered with a shrug.
"They seem…spry," Pescar offered, glancing between the two of them. "And capable, I'm sure." His gaze rested on Rook a little bit longer, and she narrowed her eyes. The Eastern Leader's smile faltered a little. "This must be the…lovely young woman everyone's been talking about."
Rook clenched her jaw, but before she could think of a comeback, Alan muttered under his breath. "You wouldn't call her lovely if you'd had her cooking."
Everyone turned to him in surprise, and Rook smacked his arm. "Hey! It's better than Theo's cooking!" she pointed out.
"Ha. A leader cooking. How amusing," Pescar offered, the smile plastered to his face for a little longer before turning back to Theo. "So, Theodynn…what shall we do first?"
"I don't know, Pescar," Theo offered dryly. "You invited us. What did you have in mind?"
"Oh, so many options," the Eastern Leader mused, stroking his chin. "We could visit my newest education projects out in the furthest villages—the ones that didn't used to have much opportunity for it, you know. Or we could take a stroll along the lovely beaches of the East…known for being twice as picturesque as the rocky western shores. Or there is always the option of seeing my New Artisan Initiative in Market Center. Yes! I do say we should start there!" The leader seemed almost giddy about his decision, and Rook didn't miss the look Theo shot her way. She managed to stifle her smirk, and then Theo was turning back to Pescar.
"Fine. Is there somewhere we can leave our hoofers here at the fortress, or should we ride them into the Market?"
"Oh, it's not too far…surely you can see the outskirts of it from here," Pescar pointed out, shielding his eyes as he gestured to the horizon. "We'll leave the hoofers here and enjoy a crisp morning walk. I daresay it will be an invigorating beginning to your visit!"
Rook held Theo's gaze. Is this guy for real?
It was Theo's turn to hide his smile, and he shrugged in reply to the other leader. "Fine."
Pescar gestured for a few servants standing nearby to come forward, and they darted over to take the reins from Alan and Rook. The informant watched the hoofers heading off for the Eastern Fortress stables, and then Alan nudged her. She turned to see that Pescar had already started a brisk walk in the direction of the markets, with Theo trailing behind. Rook blinked and she and Alan moved to catch up.
"The inspiration for the initiative came from the many months I spent getting to know the artisans in the markets, even before becoming leader. Tala didn't really care much for artisans who didn't originate in the East. She allowed them, but didn't really utilize them. She had a bit of a chip on her shoulder about Eastern supremacy, if you can believe it."
"No…really?" Rook muttered under her breath to Alan. He rolled his eyes in reply, but it seemed the comment didn't catch the leader's attention as Pescar continued rambling to a bored-looking Theo.
"And when I became leader, I just thought to myself, 'Pescar, are you really going to just do what everyone's done before you, or are you willing to try something risky? And so I decided to go for it, and the Inter-Province Artisan Initiative was born! Now, not only do I support those artisans who come to the East from other places to sell their wares, I actually travel to other provinces to recruit talent."
"That's…fascinating," Theo offered.
"Isn't it?" Pescar beamed, continuing his hurried pace. "It's a bit thrilling, throwing caution to the wind and taking a different path than one's predecessor, isn't it?"
"Sure is," Theo sighed, and he glanced back at where Alan and Rook are trailing behind.
"Is he trying to get us to come save him?" Rook whispered.
"I hope not. I checked out three 'isn't it splendid?'s ago," Alan muttered, and Rook snorted.
"I think you'll enjoy touring the newest section of the market," Pescar continued, glancing at Theo with his ever-present grin. "If I'm right about her schedule…one of your old acquaintances should be around, and I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."
Theo's expression clouded as he seemed to realize what Pescar meant, but Rook wasn't paying enough attention to the leader's loquacious rambling as she and Alan continued talking under their breath.
"Is it just me, or are the tents getting further away?" the guard groaned in annoyance.
"Haven't you heard? It's his newest initiative," Rook whispered in mock seriousness. "Walking tents. Isn't it just an invigorating achievement?"
"You'd think he'd at least have offered to let us come in and get something to eat," Alan sighed. "I'm starving."
"I'll buy you a skewer when we get there," Rook offered, bumping his shoulder good-naturedly. Alan's expression hardened.
"I can buy my own food," he muttered.
"Fine. Then I'll let you buy me a skewer," Rook laughed. Theo glanced back at them again, no doubt wondering what they were laughing about, but then Pescar was reaching out to grab Theo's shoulder.
"There, do you see it? That magnificent bird? It's only found in our province, you know. Feeds on freshwater fish, so you will only find them here in the East. Doesn't it have just the proudest look about it?"
"Oh, yeah," Theo said, feigning interest as he turned to face forward again.
"Is it just me, or does that bird look familiar?" Alan murmured. Rook blinked, glancing at the bird of prey a few yards away. She stared as it took flight, and she was a little lost until she realized that Alan was actually looking pointedly at the Eastern Leader and his hooked nose. This time, not even Pescar could ignore Rook's laughing, and he turned to give her and Alan a long look.
"Such a…cheerful pair that you travel with now, Theodynn," Pescar offered politely. Theo had turned as well, but he was smiling softly as he studied them.
"Yep."
Alan's stomach gnawed painfully as they reached the markets at last. It was a hot day with little wind, and the young guard wiped the sweat off his neck. A waft of something delicious-smelling was lingering in the air, and he looked around in an attempt to find where it was coming from. Next to him, Rook was smirking, no doubt knowing what he was thinking.
"Maybe we can convince Pescar to take us to the food stalls before dragging us to see whatever this art initiative thing is."
Alan glanced over at the two leaders. Pescar seemed giddier than ever, and he sighed. "No point," he muttered, trailing after Theo so that he wouldn't get left behind in the crowds. Rook shrugged in a 'your loss' sort of way and followed. The Eastern Market was far larger than the one in the south, and it had way more structure to it. Alan glanced down the aisles of stalls, catching sight of eastern guards patrolling the area. It was probably an easier place to patrol than the southern markets, though he knew that this place wasn't without its crime.
"The initiative is in the heart of the market—I wanted our newest artists to be front and center, so to speak," Pescar was saying, and Alan sped up as he watched someone jostle Theodynn. The Southern Leader didn't seem bothered, but Alan glanced at the man as they passed by. The market-goer seemed inconspicuous enough, but it was hard for the guard to relax. He knew that Theo had wanted to come here today because the announcement about Ottan's trial was being sent out in the south. It didn't seem reasonable that someone would have even known about their journey here today, but Alan also couldn't put it past Ottan's cronies to make the trip to catch them when they were unaware.
As they passed the various stalls, people called out their greetings to Pescar or bowed respectfully. The Eastern Leader held up a benevolent hand to each of them, but he continued to address Theodynn as they made their way to the center of the markets.
"I have spent a lot of time here. Poverty and petty crime have declined steeply since I took charge. The Markets have never been safer."
"That's great," Theo said. As Alan caught up with the pair, he noticed that Theo seemed uneasy, and he wondered if the leader had the same thoughts that he did in regards to their own safety.
"There it is! The Artisan Initiative!" Pescar announced warmly, gesturing to a cluster of stalls. Unlike the rest of the market stands, which were made of any combination of materials and mismatched in their style and construction, these ones were large and uniform. Alan studied the sturdy wooden structures, noting that the only difference between them were the colors of their cloth awnings.
"The blue stalls are artists from the central province, and the maroon are from the west," Pescar was explaining. "I have the northern artists in grey, but I'm wondering if that's a little less aesthetically appealing. Eventually, I would love to have artists from the south, but at the moment…I haven't really been able to meet any willing to join the initiative. What color do you think would be best to capture the south's…indomitable spirit?"
Theo didn't reply as he scanned the stalls, and Alan frowned as he noticed a stall that differed from the others. "That one's purple…which area is it for?" he couldn't help but ask. "The East?"
"Good question," Pescar beamed, turning to address Alan for the first time since they had arrived. "The East isn't really represented here as the initiative's whole purpose is to recruit artisans from outside the province…though if I were to include Eastern artists, and I think I would go with a nice olive green. But to answer your query, purple awnings signify artists from outlying areas that don't quite fit into any real province. At the moment, there is only one such artist, and she's—"
"Haiven." Theo cut in, and Alan glanced over at the Southern Leader. Theo wasn't looking at him and Pescar, though—instead, his eyes were trained on a young woman who was bolting toward them.
"Yes," Pescar agreed smugly, and Alan blinked in surprise as the woman reached Theo and threw her arms around him. For a moment, the southern leader seemed frozen, but then he returned the embrace.
"Hey," he offered softly, and the woman pulled away to beam at him. She was different than anyone Alan had ever seen—her hair was lighter than any other Oni he had met, and her eyes were two different shades of blue-grey.
Alan turned to ask Rook if she knew who on earth the woman was, but he realized that she wasn't right behind him anymore. After a moment, he caught sight of her drifting back into the bustling market, and he moved quickly to catch up.
"Where are you going?" he demanded, and the informant glanced up in surprise.
"I…am going to go get us something to eat," she answered, her tone a little too bright. She smiled quickly. "I could hear your stomach growling for miles."
"You can't just leave—we're not supposed to go anywhere on our own, remember?" Alan pointed out, studying Rook suspiciously.
"Please. It won't take long," Rook insisted, and her rust-colored eyes darted back over to where Theo, Pescar, and the brown-haired woman were standing. Her tone softened as she continued. "Theo won't even notice I'm gone. Trust me."
Alan blinked, but then the once-assassin was slipping back into the crowd. Within a minute, he had lost sight of her completely, and he sighed in frustration. With nothing more to do, he headed back to the others. He was surprised to see the girl waving her hands around—was there a bee, or something?
"So, you really do live here now," Theo was saying as he studied her. "That's amazing—I'm glad that you decided to strike out on your own."
The woman smiled shyly, still moving her hands. She didn't say anything in reply, but Theo acted as if she had as he chuckled.
"I'm sure it is."
Alan furrowed his brow in confusion, and Pescar seemed to notice. "Haiven communicates with her hands," the eastern leader explained. The young woman glanced over at Alan at the mention of her name, and Theo turned as well.
"Oh, yeah. I forget that most people don't understand," Theo offered sheepishly. The young woman was studying Alan critically, and he wasn't sure how to feel under her multi-colored stare. After a moment, she gestured questioningly, and Theo glanced over at her. "This is Alan. He's my personal bodyguard. Alan, this is Haiven. She's…um. A friend of mine."
Alan had a feeling there was more to the story than that, but he didn't ask as he offered the woman a polite nod. She returned it, but then she was back to using her hands to talk with the southern leader.
"Tolan's at the Central Fortress now. It's kind of a long story," Theo offered with a sigh. She narrowed her eyes, but Pescar interrupted before she could question further.
"You should come see her work, Theodynn! There are other seamstresses at the market, of course, but no one matches the quality of work that Haiven puts out. When I first discovered what she was capable of, I ordered that vest right away. You remember the one I was wearing at the last quarterly report?"
"I remember," Theo agreed as he, Haiven, and Alan drifted back over to the purple-topped stall. Haiven beat them to the stall and immediately began picking up various bolts of fabric, and as soon as she was out of earshot, Theo turned to murmur to Alan. "Where's Rook?"
"Getting food," the guard supplied automatically. Wouldn't notice you were gone, huh, Rook? He thought dryly.
Theo sighed, not seeming the least bit surprised. "Tracks," he muttered to himself, but then he was looking back up to smile as Haiven returned with a few swatches of fabric. She showed them to Theo, and he spent a minute admiring them. Then the young woman was holding the various colors up to his face, pursing her lips as if trying to decide which would look best on him.
"I take it you're going to make me something?" Theo realized with a smile. She quirked an eyebrow, and he smiled. "How much do you want for it?" She waved him off, and he shook his head. "Ven, you're a real artist now. You've got to let me pay for it."
"My vest cost me three rounds," Pescar offered helpfully, and Haiven shot the man an annoyed look.
"Five rounds it is," Theo decided. Haiven smacked his shoulder as she shook her head. She seemed to have narrowed the cloth colors down to two options, and she held them up for Theo to choose. One was a deep wine red, embroidered with birds, and the other was emerald green with fish. Theo rubbed his neck. "I'm no good at choosing," he offered at last, and Alan was surprised when Theo turned to him. "What do you think, Alan?"
"Um…" Alan furrowed his brow as Haiven moved to show him the two pieces of cloth. "I'm not really the one to ask."
"The red," Pescar offered seriously. Everyone glanced over at him, and he gestured as if it should have been obvious. "The green washes him out!" he insisted, and Haiven rolled her eyes. She held the two cloths up to Theo again, and she seemed to reach the same conclusion as Pescar because she added the green cloth to the discarded options.
"I'll come visit to pick it up when it's finished…whatever it is you're making," Theo offered as Haiven immediately began bustling around him, pulling out a length of ribbon so she could take measurements of his shoulders and chest. "Can I pay you now?"
It earned him another smack, and Alan felt lost as he watched the process. He found himself glancing back to the crowd to see if Rook would reappear, but there was no sign of her.
"Isn't the embroidery exquisite?" Pescar was asking, and Alan realized with a start that the Eastern Leader was talking to him.
"Uh, sure. If you're into that sort of thing," Alan answered awkwardly. Rather than get the attention off of him, however, everyone turned to stare at him. He cleared his throat as he tried to explain. "I mean, it's great. Just seems like it would be tedious to spend hours and hours stitching little birds into cloth when it would have made just as good clothing without all the little birds…."
He knew he was just digging himself deeper, and with everyone looking baffled at his analysis, Alan felt his face flush.
"I'm going to go find Rook," he said bluntly. "She owes me a skewer."
Haiven's expression clouded, but the guard didn't stick around. He moved quickly toward the crowd, feeling stupid. He thought he heard Theo calling out to him, but he didn't stop as he pushed his way through the market-goers. After asking for directions a couple of times, he finally made it to the area of the markets where the food was being served. He hadn't been sure if he'd actually be able to find Rook, but he shouldn't have worried.
"Five bits? For that? Please, for five bits, I'd expect a hunk of meat three times as fat," the woman argued, and Alan shook his head as he headed over to where Rook was attempting to haggle with the merchant selling loaves and smoked meat.
"If you don't want it, then move on," the man sneered.
"I'm just saying, you're losing a perfectly good—" Rook started, but she trailed off when Alan reached them and dropped five bits onto the market stand. The merchant scooped the money up quickly, and Rook blinked in surprise. "I was in the middle of something," she pointed out at last.
"You were taking too long," Alan growled. Rook frowned, reaching out to take the loaf and meat hunk. Alan snatched the food from her with a scowl, and Rook stared in disbelief as Alan took a huge bite.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"My bits, my food," Alan pointed out, taking another ravenous bite as he turned to leave. "Pay the man, if you're hungry."
Rook hesitated, and he wondered if she would. She finally sagged in defeat, tossing the five bits in irritation. The merchant scowled as he had to bend to pick them up off the ground behind his stall, and Alan noticed that the loaf and slab of meat he gave Rook were even smaller than the ones he was eating now.
"Where's Theo? Still with Pescar and…his friend?" Rook asked, taking a bite of the meat hunk. "Honestly, you'd think after all these centuries, easterners would have learned how to use spice by now."
"I don't know. He probably is…or he's out wandering the markets alone, looking for us," Alan said pointedly. He glanced at Rook, and she scowled as she picked at her loaf.
"If you're looking for an explanation—"
"I'm not. It's pretty obvious what's going on," Alan said flatly. "But don't use buying food for me as an excuse if you're not actually going to bring me back something to eat. I'd have died of starvation by the time you finished haggling with that merchant. You realize that they don't haggle here the way you do in the south, right?"
"Not my fault they don't know how to do it properly," Rook sniffed, her gaze wandering around the market. "We should probably get back now, huh?"
"Probably."
"Or…." Rook trailed off as she slowed her pace, and Alan shot her an irritated look. She smirked in reply and gestured to nearby weapons stalls. "We could waste a little more time."
"We've left him on his own," Alan said, unamused.
"He's fine," Rook insisted, drifting over to the weapon stalls.
"Rook—"
"Come on, Alan. Ten more minutes?" She said, fingering a few throwing knives with interest as the weapons merchant studied her with narrowed eyes. Alan was going to leave her on principle, but then he noticed the crossbow bolts. He hesitated, eyeing the different lengths.
"Fine. Ten minutes."
59
It had been good to see Haiven, but Theo knew that the visit probably wasn't sitting well with Rook. He glanced over at where she was laughing with Alan about something or other, and he felt conflicted. They were back at the Eastern Fortress now, eating a feast that Pescar had prepared for Theo's visit. After saying goodbye to Haiven, Theo and the eastern leader had finally tracked Rook and Alan down in the middle of the weaponry area of the market, but there hadn't really been a moment to talk with either of them with Pescar demanding Theo's constant attention.
"And then I said, 'but if you weren't going to take the boat, you could have at least charged for the washing!" Pescar laughed at his own joke, and Theo tried to bring his attention back to the dinner conversation. Rook wasn't meeting his eye regardless, so there was no point in staring at her the whole time, he reasoned. Theo tried to pull off a convincing chuckle, though he honestly wasn't sure he had caught the first part of the story well enough to know why it was supposed to be funny. The eastern leader wiped at one eye, sighing contentedly. "Oh, fishermen have the best stories, I've come to learn…but they don't have much of a sense of humor. He just stared at me blankly, if you can believe it."
"Not sure the fisherman's humor is to blame," Rook muttered softly to Alan. Theo wondered if Pescar had heard her, but if he had, he didn't show it as he continued.
"This has been a wonderful visit," the eastern leader said decidedly, glancing warmly at Theodynn. "I know that the East and the South have had their…differences over the years. And I understand why you assumed that I was trying to continue those differences…"
Maybe because you were, Theo thought, though he didn't say as much out loud.
"But I think the two of us have a lot in common. Both young, newly promoted leaders, both trying to create a better province than we were originally gifted. We could learn a lot from each other, you and I. I know it."
"Yes, well…it's been a very informative trip," Theo offered, using a napkin to wipe off his mouth. "I appreciate the invite. Um…should the south ever feel hospitable enough for it, I'll invite you down."
"That would be remarkable," Pescar gushed. "Thank you." He raised his glass, his hooked nose pointed into the air. "A toast to a more prosperous relationship between the east and the south."
"Uh, yeah. I'll toast to that," Theo agreed, lifting his own glass. Rook and Alan did as well, though Theo didn't miss the look they gave each other.
After drinking heartily from his glass, the eastern leader glanced at the nearby window. "It will probably be dark soon. Would you and your escorts like to spend the night here in the fortress?"
"I think we'll actually head back. Lots to do in the south, and I need to get an early start to it tomorrow morning," Theo offered.
"Ah. Well, in that case, I'll send a servant for your hoofers."
"I can go get them," Alan offered, standing up and heading to the doorway. Theo watched him go, and Pescar shrugged.
"I suppose that works. Do you care to come see the hall of eastern artifacts? It contains various forms of the finest possible art, dating back to the beginning of the dragon-oni war!"
"Uh…maybe another time," Theo offered, his gaze going back to Rook. She was still avoiding his eye, and Pescar snapped his fingers.
"That reminds me! Excuse me a minute, I've got to go retrieve something."
Theo barely noticed the leader leave the room, and he cleared his throat as he tried to think of what to say to Rook now that they were on their own for the first time. She glanced over at him and smiled.
"Got a flavorless bit of food stuck in your throat?" she guessed.
"I just…about what happened at the market—" Theo started.
"What do you mean?" Rook asked innocently.
Theo raised an eyebrow. "Did you think I wouldn't notice you vanishing?" he asked dryly.
"I just didn't want to intrude on your date," Rook offered with a shrug. Theo sighed, rubbing his face.
"Look, you know Haiven and I aren't—"
"I didn't mean with Haiven," Rook cut in, pushing herself to her feet with a mischievous grin. "I meant your date with Pescar."
Theo gave her an unamused look. "Very funny."
"You know, based on your description of him, I was honestly expecting another self-righteous Tala," Rook pointed out as she glanced at the door Pescar had gone out. "But now that I've met him in person, I think that his real problem is just how desperate for attention he is."
"Please—he gets lots of attention. Did you miss the fifteen times people personally thanked him for all he does for this province?"
"I don't know, Theo," Rook said with a shrug. "The more someone insists on something, the less it feels like it's true, you know?"
He shrugged, not really wanting to waste their minutes alone discussing Pescar. "But about you disappearing at the Market—"
"I was fine. Honestly, I was just getting some food for poor Alan. Didn't you notice him looking a breath away from fainting?"
"I know that seeing Haiven probably made you feel a little…uncomfortable. I just wanted to say that I didn't know Pescar was going to—"
"It's fine," Rook repeated, rolling her eyes. "Sheesh, if you aren't going to believe me, maybe I'll go check in with Alan and the hoofers." She moved to leave, and Theo made it around the table quickly to catch her. She turned to raise her eyebrows as he grabbed her arm, and he met her eye challengingly.
"You know, the more someone insists on something, the less it feels like it's true," he pointed out. A flush ran up her neck, and she pulled her arm out of his grip.
"I don't want to talk about this right now," she said, dropping her false innocence at last. Theo sighed.
"All right," he conceded. "But I'd like to point out that you never feel like talking about this kind of stuff."
"Because it's better that way," she insisted, once again avoiding his gaze. "I really am going to go check on Alan—just to make sure he didn't get lost on the way to the stables again."
Theo didn't move to follow this time as she left the room, and he was still picking apart her reaction when Pescar returned with a finely-woven tapestry as a 'gift of good will.'
Teag hammered the black iron quickly, as he had been taught…but he couldn't help but keep one eye on the cursing blacksmith in the corner. Byar had basically had a black cloud over his head the last few days, and the teen wasn't sure how to interpret the newest mood spiral. Though gruff and grumpy in general, there was a dark glint in Byar's eye and Teag wasn't sure what it meant.
The blacksmith turned, and Teag averted his gaze quickly as he stared down at his task. He heard Byar come closer, and Teag waited for the onery man to say something. Rather than speak, Byar merely growled, shoving Teag aside mid-pound and grabbing the hammer from his hand. Teag narrowed his eyes in annoyance as Byar started the process in his place. There was nothing the man was doing that Teag hadn't already been doing, but he bit his tongue to keep himself from pointing that out. Having been booted off his task, Teag made his way over to the never-ending pile of blades needing a polish.
"Who do you belong to, kid?"
Teag froze at the question, glancing over in surprise. Byar had never once asked him to explain himself…he couldn't even remember if the man had asked for his name. Teag was pretty sure he had introduced himself at one point, but Byar either didn't remember or didn't care enough to use it.
"What?" Teag finally asked in annoyance, scraping the blade furiously with his whetstone.
"You a servant?"
"No, I'm a blacksmith," Teag muttered. Byar snorted derisively.
"You from some village around here?"
Under different circumstances, Teag would have been a little touched that Byar was taking an interest in him as a person, rather than as a body to order around. However, something about the situation rubbed Teag wrong, and he tried not to squirm under Byar's silver-pupiled gaze.
"Moved here from the West. They don't have black iron over there," Teag muttered vaguely.
"You're not connected to this new leader, are you?"
Teag's blood ran cold. Byar never talked about anything other than smithing—Teag realized with a start that he had no idea where the blacksmith stood in regards to the current southern politics. Teag pictured Theodynn and swallowed carefully. "He knows I'm here. He lets me stay in the servant quarters," he tried.
Byar snorted. "Not a servant, huh? But you're staying in the servant quarters?"
"You don't like the new leader?" Teag asked bluntly, looking up at the blacksmith. If Byar was going to corner him with questions, then maybe he should throw some back. The blacksmith blinked.
"All I care about is having enough iron on my anvil and enough silver in my pocket," Byar said at last, turning back to the blade he was pounding. "Other people…they're a little more opinionated about how things are going."
"People don't like him much," Teag agreed, staring down at his whetstone. "But that's not my problem." Deep down, he was feeling uneasy, but he didn't want to expose how closely he actually knew Theodynn. Just in case, the teen thought grimly, remembering all too well what had already happened to Tolan.
"Could become your problem, if people think you're connected to him."
"I'm as connected to him as you are," Teag pointed out irritably, glancing up at Byar. "We both work for him—it's not like you quit after he was instated."
Byar rolled his eyes. "People know better than to mess with me."
Teag didn't answer, hoping that the conversation would die down. This was the most Byar had ever really talked with him. His hopes were dashed as the bald blacksmith spoke again.
"That day you showed up here, covered in bruises…you said that people had ransacked your forge. What forge?"
"Just a forge out in the village," Teag muttered.
"You had another Master, then…you're hardly good enough to own your own forge."
Teag's cheeks blazed as he glanced up to glower. "Maybe I did, but he's out of the picture now. What's with all the questions? You gonna run me through if you decide you don't like my backstory enough?"
"So dramatic," Byar muttered, but he didn't answer the question. Silence fell at last, but Teag found he couldn't quite shake off the apprehension that the conversation had triggered.
The southerners gave the Guardian a wide berth, and honestly, Theo didn't blame them. The large beast seemed to be dozing in the sun, but he turned his head as Theodynn approached the work site.
Master of Earth.
Theo shivered as the dragon's voice entered his head, and he held a hand up in greeting. By now, the other workers had noticed him, and Theo tried not to read into their stares too much as he approached the gaping hole. In the weeks since construction had begun, the chasm Theo had created had become a more uniform shape, with extra reinforcement put in along the edges. Now that the pit itself had been created, he supposed they could move on to the next step.
"Has the stone arrived yet?" Theo asked the closest southerner. The man glanced over with a frown.
"How's it supposed to get here?" he growled. "Fly?"
"I ordered it at the beginning of construction," Theo pointed out with a sinking feeling. "The masons should have shipped it via hoofer at the beginning of this week."
"Maybe they didn't feel like it," the man muttered before wandering away. Theo sighed, but he supposed he wasn't all too surprised. Even now as he glanced around, he noticed that the number of workers had decreased immensely. Ever since the announcement about Ottan's trial had gone out, tension had begun building once again. Of the workers who had stayed, Theo couldn't tell which were here for the money and which were here to keep an eye on things…and him. Though, he supposed it was very possible for them to be after both lucre and revenge.
Theo headed over to where the Guardian was, wishing he had Alan with him to point out how many of the lingering workers were still tied to Ottan. However, he didn't dare bring Alan out of the fortress lately, not with tensions so high. In fact, Theo couldn't help but wonder if it would be better to relocate him somewhere else, even with the chance that rumors would be spread to sully Alan's reputation further. He would do what he could to explain that Alan's reassignment wasn't due to disloyalty on the young man's part, but he knew that his explanation would fall on many deaf ears. He might continue to be shunned, Theo thought glumly. But at least he would be safe.
The safe road is ever sought out, but rarely achieved.
Theo flinched at the voice in his head—he forgot that at such close proximity, the Guardian could hear his thoughts.
It doesn't have to be close proximity, the dragon pointed out as he studied Theo's approach lazily. I can hear you wherever you are in the realm, given that you are addressing your thoughts to me.
Theo swallowed as he reached the dragon, forcing himself to look the Guardian in the eye. "I know," he offered audibly, rubbing his neck. "But I wasn't directing those earlier thoughts to you, you know."
You have loud thoughts, the Guardian sniffed unapologetically.
"I appreciate you watching over the construction these last few days," Theo offered, turning to glance at where the workers were reinforcing the edges of the hole. "Has there been any trouble?"
It has been dull. Dust shot out of the dragon's nostrils as he exhaled lazily. But I believe that excitement is not something you were hoping to occur here.
"I'm glad things seem to be going smoothly," Theo agreed. "Once I get things sorted with the stone masons, I'm sure I can make good progress here." The southern leader hesitated before continuing. "Do you…think you can give me a ride to the Central Fortress?"
Elemental Masters are allowed that privilege, the Guardian pointed out.
"Thanks. I mean, I guess I could transport, but I figured maybe you'd want to stretch your wings. I feel bad, leaving you sitting here all day." Theo adjusted the bag slung over one shoulder. The Guardian continued to stare at him.
If that is your wish, Master of Earth.
"Could you just call me Theo?" he asked awkwardly, moving to climb aboard the dragon. He could feel the workers watching him, and he tried to ignore their stares. He hoped they wouldn't try something crazy in a single afternoon without the dragon here to babysit them, but who knew anymore?
Such labels are not fitting.
"It's my name," Theo pointed out dryly. "Surely, you have a name other than 'Guardian.'"
I am called what I am, and I call you what you are.
"I know I'm the Master of Earth…but that's just another label. It wouldn't kill you to call me Theodynn," the leader pointed out dryly as he got adjusted. The Guardian spread its wings, and Theo braced himself as the beast leapt into the air.
If that is the label you prefer, perhaps you should do better at emulating it, the Dragon challenged. Show me courage before fear before demanding that I address you as such.
Theo reddened as he clung to the back of the dragon, and he began to regret coming to see the Guardian. These were the exact type of mental games he didn't care to play. He didn't answer the dragon, and silence fell as they made their way to the central fortress.
Ultimately, it took far less time than a hoofer ride, even if it wasn't as quick as a transport. They landed in the middle of the training ground, and a few guards held their hands up in greeting as servants rushed off, no doubt to inform Cole and Keyda that he was here.
"Thanks for the ride," Theo offered, sliding off the back of the dragon. He didn't wait for a reply as he quickly headed for the fortress walls, guarding his thoughts until he was safely inside. Maybe his father thought that the Guardian was eager for some master-guardian bonding, but Theo couldn't shake the feeling that he was nothing more than an elemental disappointment.
He knew his parents would be expecting him, but he had one stop to make before seeking his father out for training. He made his way to the guest wing of the fortress, and just as he was wondering if he was going to have to ask a servant for directions, he located the person he was looking for.
"Omar!"
The man looked up from where he was walking, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Theodynn! Hello."
"How are you feeling?" Theo asked as he came down the hallway.
"I'm faring well. Did you believe otherwise?"
"I just wanted to check in," Theo explained. "Alan asked me to."
At the mention of his son, Omar's expression clouded and he broke eye contact. "I see. Well…the scar's a little tender, but no worse for the ware. I can handle myself well enough, and I've been taking patrol shifts."
"I'm glad to hear that you're doing well," Theo said. There was a tangible tension, and he cleared his throat as he pulled something from his bag. "Um…he also asked that I give these to you. I told him that he should give them to you himself, but…" The Leader trailed off, holding out the bag of top-quality crossbow bolts.
Omar's expression twisted as he tentatively excepted the bag, looking at it in confusion. After a moment, however, his gaze hardened. "So not only is he trying to buy forgiveness, he is sending leaders on his errands."
Theo shook his head. "No, he just—"
"You just said you told him to deliver it himself, and he still made you do it. Forgive me, Theodynn, but if you continue to let him manipulate his situations, then he's never going to learn."
"He didn't ask me to do this because he's insubordinate," Theo argued flatly. "He asked me because he didn't think you'd want to see him."
Omar flinched a little then, and he seemed to be trying to figure out what to do with the bag of bolts. Theo studied the man carefully, his tone becoming gentler.
"I understand why you're angry with him, but you've got to know it wasn't Alan's fault."
Rather than looking surprised, Omar's expression darkened with anger. "Whatever he's told you…"
"It's not what he's told me…it's what he hasn't told you," Theo cut in. Omar looked up then, and Theo continued. "Yeah, he made some mistakes, but he's a good kid, Omar. I promised I wouldn't get involved more than delivering that—" he gestured to the bag. "—But you should really talk to him. Get the full story. I think it would make a lot of things clearer."
Omar just stared, and Theo knew there was little more he could say now without betraying Alan's trust in telling Omar the full story himself. The southern leader sighed.
"He misses you," he offered, and left it at that. He could feel Omar watching him as he turned and headed back down the way he came.
60
Rook strapped the hilts to her waist, glancing at the mirror on the wall. Her reflection stared back, and she rubbed the wrinkle on her forehead. These days, it felt like her eyebrows were eternally furrowed, and she sighed. It had been several days since their trip to the East, and she had tried not to think about the conversation that Theo had tried to start. She should have known that her disappearance at the market would be noticed, and she still wondered if Alan had ousted her. Maybe I shouldn't have left…but I sure wasn't going to stick around and watch Theo flirt with his ex.
Though, Theodynn had insisted that there wasn't anything between he and Haiven any longer. Rook just wasn't sure she could believe him. Was he really able to move on from past romantic feelings so easily? And if so…had he already moved on from what he had felt for Rook? If he ever felt anything real for me at all…
Rook scowled at her reflection. "I don't have time for this," she reminded herself. "It'll be another long day at the pit, and I need to have my wits about me."
She moved to the door of her quarters, casting a longing look at her bed before opening the door. Though she was still allowed the privacy of these rooms to change in and store her things, Theodynn hadn't given her permission to sleep here yet. It seemed he was still worried enough to want to keep her close at night, but seeing him constantly was making it more difficult to pretend that she wasn't still harboring feelings.
Rook shook the thoughts from her mind as she made her way to the dining hall, trying to find something else to think about. When she caught sight of the young guard picking at his breakfast at a nearby table, she finally managed to relax. "What's on the menu today?" she asked with a smile, plopping down in front of Alan. "Something palatable?"
"It's decent," he offered with a shrug.
"Just decent, huh?" Rook said, resting her arms on the table. "I see you're dressed and ready to go. Are you coming with us to the pits after all?"
"Nah." Alan's expression flickered. "Theodynn said that it's probably still not a good idea, now that the trial's been announced."
Rook's smile faded. She wasn't surprised to hear that Theo had banned Alan from coming, but she was surprised by how disappointed she was about it. She had gotten used to talking to Alan every time she found herself being distracted by Theodynn and all the unanswered questions their relationship held. A servant brought Rook a tray of food and she picked at the loaf. "Maybe we can talk him into it. Isn't his giant dragon bodyguard going to be there today too? What could go wrong?"
"It's fine," Alan pointed out. "The pit is too accessible to Ottan's goons. Besides, Mahlyn's already counted me into the patrol numbers today."
"It feels like all you ever do these days is walk circles around this fortress," Rook pointed out.
"That's what fortress guards do," Alan muttered.
Rook frowned as she tried to think of something else to say. "Well, at least be ready to pay up," she tried at last. He glanced up at her in confusion, and she smirked. "Theo's finally cleared things up with the stone masons—I guess a visit from a massive dragon was enough to remind them what they had agreed to do. At this rate, the pit's going to make the month deadline, which means you owe me five bits."
"I'm not counting my money out yet," Alan countered, rolling his eyes. "If they haven't even started the stonework…"
"Psh…that will go fast."
"Do you understand how stonework works?"
They continued their bantering throughout breakfast, and by the time Theo had arrived, Alan had finished eating and Rook was nearly done herself. They looked up as the leader entered, and he gave them both a tight smile.
"Glad to see you got something to eat," he offered. "Do you mind if we head to the pit early, Rook?"
"I better go find Mahlyn," Alan murmured, standing and leaving the hall. Rook tried to think of something to say to him as he left, but her mind drew a blank. She was quiet as she watched the door close behind him.
"Rook?" Theo pressed, taking a seat across from her.
"Are you sure we shouldn't take Alan with us?" Rook asked, glancing over at the leader. "For a bodyguard, he doesn't do much guarding."
Theo glanced at the door Alan had left, and he sighed. "I know. After the trial, I won't be so strict about it. Until then…"
"You rarely let him leave the fortress even before you announced the trial. Are you really going to let him afterward?" Rook fiddled with the goblet in front of her. "It's obvious he hates patrolling, and that's what he's going to end up getting stuck doing the rest of his life if we aren't careful."
Theo rubbed his face. "It isn't the most entertaining job in the world," he agreed softly. "But bringing him to the pit, with all the Ottan supporters working right there…"
"They probably only volunteered to work there with the hope that they could get ahold of him," Rook agreed reluctantly. "But I've been thinking…if we're going to end up leaving him here more often than not, then he needs a better job to do while he's stuck in the fortress."
Theo glanced up at her. "What were you thinking?"
"Remember the training we did yesterday with the servant recruits? You and I worked with the higher group, but I told Alan to work with the lower ones. He seemed to have more patience with them than Treave does."
Theo considered it. "Do you think he'd rather work with the recruits than patrol on the days he gets left here?"
Rook shrugged. "We could always ask."
"Should we ask him today?" Theo wondered, looking back over at the door Alan had left.
"Maybe not today. He mentioned that Mahlyn already counted him into the patrol rotations. But… it's something to think about."
Theo seemed thoughtful a little longer, and he finally nodded. "All right, I'll talk to him about it when we get back today." He went quiet for a few minutes, his brow furrowed in thought. At last, he glanced up and met Rook's eye. "Are you ready to go to the pits? I was hoping to get an early start today."
"I'm ready to go when you are," Rook offered, standing and stretching. "Should we head down to the stables?"
Theo smiled, and Rook was surprised at how mischievous he suddenly looked. "Actually…I was thinking of riding with the Guardian. Have you even ridden a dragon, Rook?"
Rook stared, and almost immediately, her stomach churned at the thought. Riding hoofers felt unpredictable enough…she had little doubt that riding a dragon would be ten times worse. However, she swore she saw the glint of a challenge in Theo's eye, and she grabbed her goblet to down the rest of her water in a single gulp.
"Bring it on."
Patrol wouldn't have been so bad, if Treave hadn't been assigned as Alan's patrol partner. It wasn't unusual for pairs to walk in silence, but this silence felt heavy and tense. Alan kept his head up, trying to seem as alert as possible. A good guard didn't let his mind wander, he knew, but he had never really considered himself a good guard. Even before everything else had gone down, he had a hard time focusing as he wandered from empty hallway to empty hallway.
Alan risked a glance at Treave as they turned down another corridor. The man's expression was stony, and Alan sighed internally. They were only an hour or so in, with the rest of the afternoon to go. What possessed Mahlyn to put them together? Maybe she hated Alan as much as Treave did.
A servant was coming toward them, and Alan and Treave both moved out of the way to let them pass. However, rather than skirting past the guards, the man held up a hand to get their attention.
"Are you Alan?"
Both guards came to a stop, and Alan could feel Treave's gaze on him as he cleared his throat to answer. "Uh, yeah."
The servant looked relieved, and Alan wondered if he had spent a while trying to find him. "Your father is here to see you."
Alan wasn't prepared, and he felt the blood drain from his face. For a few moments, he just stared, and the servant's expression clouded.
"He's waiting for you in a meeting room. Shall I tell him that you cannot come see him?"
Alan was still trying to process the fact that his father was here to see him. Was it some kind of trick, set up by Ottan's goons? Or was it really Omar? But if it was, then why would he come to see him now? Alan's heart was pounding, but one thought stuck out above the fears. After everything that had happened, if Omar was here now, something must be really wrong.
"I'll see him," Alan said at last. He saw Treave shift in his peripheries, and he knew the senior guard was irritated with him. Alan steeled himself as he turned to the guard. If his father had come all the way here, it was for something important. He wasn't about to ask for permission. "I'll be right back."
"I'm coming with you," Treave countered, and Alan wasn't sure how to interpret his tone. The thought of the sour-faced guard accompanying him made Alan break out into a cold sweat, but he knew that there was no point in asking Treave to remain behind.
The servant nodded and then moved to lead the way. Alan followed behind, his movements feeling wooden as he tried to figure out ahead of time what his father would be here for. Had his health declined? Except Omar wasn't the type to tell others if he was struggling…and given their relationship, Alan was pretty sure he would be the last person his father would confide in. But what else could it be? Was something wrong with his mother? With Freyda?
Before he knew it, they had reached one of the waiting areas near the front of the fortress. Alan swallowed hard, trying to keep his hands from shaking as the servant opened the door. He knew Treave was right behind him, so Alan made sure not to hesitate at the door. With his head as high as he could manage, he entered the room and spotted his father sitting on one of the seats.
"What's going on?" Alan blurted immediately, ready to get whatever it was over with sooner. Omar glanced up and caught sight of his son, and his expression did little to calm Alan's fears.
"I hope that Theodynn didn't mind me pulling you away for a minute," Omar finally said. Treave answered before Alan could.
"Leader Theodynn isn't at the fortress today."
Alan glanced at Treave in annoyance. It was one thing to come along, but it was another to address his father without being invited. Omar's expression clouded further.
"I thought you were his bodyguard," he pointed out as he studied Alan. "Why aren't you with him?"
Alan didn't miss the accusation in his father's tone, and he tried not to get angry. "It's complicated," he said at last. "I was on patrol. What's going on? Why are you here?"
Omar glanced away. "Can't a father check in on his son?"
It wasn't the answer Alan was expecting, and he waited for Omar to say more. When the tense silence continued instead, the young guard cleared his throat. "So…no one's sick, or hurt? You just came to visit?"
Omar pushed himself to feet, glancing over at Treave. "Do you mind if we have a little privacy?"
Treave didn't answer right away, but he finally nodded once and slipped through the door. Alan didn't miss the final glance the guard gave him, and the young man had little doubt that Treave would be reporting this straight to Mahlyn.
As soon as the door clicked closed, Omar moved to approach his son, and Alan stiffened, unsure of what to expect. For a brief moment, Alan actually wondered if his father was going to embrace him, but Omar stopped right before reaching him.
"Why are you here at the fortress, if Theodynn isn't?" the short man demanded. "He's the one who told me I should pay you a visit, and insisted that you're worth trusting. Yet, when he has somewhere to be, it seems he leaves you behind. Tell me honestly, Alan…have you done something new to betray his trust?"
Alan's hands balled into fists. "No. He just…he doesn't always need me."
Omar's expression betrayed his suspicion, but then he was reaching into a satchel hanging by his side. Alan recognized the bag of quality crossbow bolts as Omar pulled them out, and Alan blinked in surprise.
"I see that Theo got those to you," he tried. Omar glanced at him with a cold look, and then he passed the bag over to Alan. The guard hesitated but finally accepted the pouch with a sinking feeling.
"Yes. It seems you have no shame in using a leader as a messenger."
Alan flushed. "I just…I mentioned that I wanted to get them to you, and he offered—"
"What are you trying to do, sending those to me?" Omar cut in. "Has Ottan rubbed off on you that much, that you think you can patch things up by merely sending expensive gifts?" He gestured to the bag. "What makes you think I would need such costly weaponry?"
Alan could feel his face continue to blaze, and he pulled one of the bolts from the bag as he studied the polished metal tips. "You're the one who bought a high-end crossbow. Generic bolts don't fit it right—"
"I'm more than capable of affording my own weapons. I certainly don't need my son to purchase me lavish gifts using his blood money."
Alan clenched his jaw as he looked up to meet Omar's eye at last. "I bought them from my salary—from the money that Theodynn has paid me," he insisted.
"A truly repentant man wouldn't accept money from a leader he previously betrayed."
"He won't let me work for free," Alan snapped. The bolts were feeling heavy in his hand, and he finally tossed the whole bag over onto one of the seats in the waiting room. "Is that the only reason you came? To throw my gift back in my face?"
"I came because Leader Theodynn insinuated that I might not know the full story of what went down with you and Ottan. So, I came to ask you what you left out."
Alan felt a spike of frustration. The leader had promised not to oust Alan to his father…and yet it sounded like he had done exactly that. What exactly had Theo said?
"Well?" Omar demanded, and Alan rubbed his face.
"What do you want me to tell you, Dad?" he muttered. "That I didn't do it? Because I did. I was Ottan's informant. There's nothing that can change that fact."
"And you admit it without remorse," Omar pointed out grimly.
Alan's throat burned. "I never said I didn't regret it," he said at last.
"You just regret that you were caught, is all."
"I turned myself in!" Alan snapped, his anger building to a head. "Look…I never wanted anyone to get hurt. Not Pon, or Theo…or you…" His voice broke, and he cleared his throat as he tried to maintain his composure. "The whole reason I did it was so people wouldn't get hurt. Ottan was the leader when he first started asking me for information. Back then, I thought I had to do what he said. I just—"
"Don't give me that." Omar cut in coldly. "I taught you all from a young age: leaders deserve respect, but our loyalty is to the Rulership, and the Rulership alone. I made sure to instill that difference in you from the moment I started training you."
"But things aren't always as black and white as you made them seem," Alan argued. "There are complications…sometimes it's hard to figure out what the right thing to do is."
"The right thing?" Omar scoffed. "Is this what Theodynn wanted me to know? That you shouldn't be faulted for your decisions because you were apparently so confused as to what the right thing to do would be when it came to selling an ex-leader critical information that put the very Heir of the realm at risk…"
"Dad, you aren't listening."
"Because I'm mortified that Theodynn believes this act that you're putting on. You have no right to be playing martyr—I raised you, Alan. I know that you knew better. I know that this was a decision made out of greed, or pride...not desperation. All you had to do at any point was confide in me, if you really felt trapped."
Alan went quiet, a fury building up inside. Tears were stinging his eyes now, and he fought against them with everything he had. It wouldn't even matter, if I told him the truth, Alan realized. Even if I explained everything…he wouldn't believe me. He would never see me as anything but a weak, selfish disappointment.
"If I could convince Theodynn of it, I would…but it seems that for whatever reason, he's decided to trust you," Omar continued. "I just hope you're never foolish enough to betray that trust again." When Alan didn't answer him, he cleared his throat. "If nothing else, I hope you have realized which leader is more worthy of your loyalty and respect."
"Ottan never had my respect," Alan muttered darkly. "Not for one moment."
Omar scoffed derisively, obviously not believing him, and Alan fought down a desire to break down completely. This is for the best, he reminded himself. It doesn't matter what he thinks of you—your reputation has been past saving for years.
"Did you need anything else? Or can I walk you back to the stables for your hoofer?" Alan asked coldly. Omar seemed to realize that Alan was kicking him out, and he scowled.
"No need. I'm not headed to the stables." The short guard headed for the door, and Alan frowned in confusion.
"You didn't bring a hoofer?"
"I brought a hoofer, but if I've made the trip down here, I'm going to stop by the market for some spices. The central markets don't have nearly a good enough selection, I've found."
Alan's anger faded, replaced by fear. "The markets? You can't go to the markets."
Omar glanced over in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"The south is still crawling with Ottan's supporters. If you go somewhere so public where they can see you, you'll be a target in minutes!"
Omar snorted. "Alan, I lived here in the south for twenty years. I've never once been targeted in the markets, or anywhere else. I think I can handle a trip to the spice trader."
"That was no coincidence!" Alan insisted. His father went to open the door, but Alan grabbed the handle first, trying to force Omar to listen. "Everyone in the south knows you, Dad. They know who you are, and—"
"And they know better than to mess with me," Omar insisted, grabbing the handle firmly, fighting his son for control of it.
"The only reason no one ever messed with you is because Ottan told them not to!" Alan tried desperately, and Omar froze. Alan flushed as the confession came out, and his father turned to meet his eye.
"Pick a side, Alan," Omar said coldly. "One second you're swearing that you have no respect for Ottan, and the next you make him out to be some kind of savior."
"I'm just stating a fact," Alan snapped. "Regardless of what kind of person he is, Ottan is the reason that our family managed to be safe here for so long. If you would just listen—"
"No." Omar yanked the door open, despite Alan's efforts to stop him. "I'm not going to sit around and listen to you sing his praises, after everything he's done. After Theodynn has gone out of his way to give you another chance."
"You can't go to the markets right now!" Alan insisted. "You were shot just a few weeks ago, Dad. If Theodynn was here, he would tell you to listen to me…that it's too dangerous—"
"I'm back to full strength," Omar insisted, glowering at his son. "If someone tried something, I could handle it…but no one is going to. I would hope that in all my efforts in more than two decades of work, I'd have earned some kind of respect from the people of the south." His gaze hardened. "Even if I haven't apparently earned respect from my own son."
Alan couldn't quite stop the tears as he followed his father into the hallway. Omar wasn't waiting around to hear Alan's further arguments, and the younger man followed desperately as the shorter man headed for the entrance of the fortress. "At least take a few people with you. We could get you an escort," Alan begged. Omar stiffened, and Alan could already see from his father's expression that he had made up his mind.
"I'm not helpless, Alan," Omar said, his tone clipped. "Do you think that little of me—"
"This isn't about your pride, Dad. Not even Theo goes out into the markets on his own!"
"Because given the kinds of people he chooses to surround himself with, it makes sense he would need to be cautious," Omar sniffed.
They reached the sentries guarding the front entrance. The heavy doors opened and the guards allowed Omar to pass, but one reached out to bar Alan from following. "Leader Theodynn has banned you from leaving the fortress, Alan," he reminded firmly. Alan shot the guard a withering look, and Omar scoffed softly.
"Seems Theodynn doesn't trust you as much as he said he did," he muttered as he passed by the guards to the bright afternoon sunlight.
"If he was here, he could explain everything," Alan insisted. "Wait to buy your spices until he gets back, and he'll tell you—"
"I don't need him to explain anything. I know the kind of place the south is—better than you do, and better than he does. I know what kind of characters that hang out in the southern market, and I know there are risks. But I know myself even better."
"Dad—"
"Worry more about yourself, Alan," Omar ordered, meeting his eye one last time. "Straighten up and walk the line…and maybe someday you'll be trusted enough to visit us at the central fortress yourself, instead of being stuck on house arrest and forced to use the Heir of the Realm as a messenger."
Alan just stared, and Omar turned and headed down the steps of the fortress. By the time Alan found his voice, the sentries had already brought the heavy doors to a close, and the young man began shaking with adrenaline. "We have to go after him," he insisted, glowering at them again. "They'll know who he is—they'll know he's my father. They'll target him!"
"We were given orders to make sure you remain in the fortress," the other sentry reminded, straightening her helmet. "We're following those orders, Alan."
"You can feed your orders to the dragons!" Alan cursed, and both sentries stiffened as he moved to push past them. "He's still recovering from an injury, and he's got a bad leg. If something were to happen—"
"What's going on here?" a voice demanded, and Alan whirled to see Treave studying him coldly. Alan wasn't sure how the man had materialized so fast—it seemed he hadn't gone far after leaving Alan with his father in the meeting room down the hall. For a moment, Alan hesitated, but then he risked trusting the older guard.
"My father's going to the markets. He needs an escort…or a bodyguard. Something!" Alan insisted. Treave didn't answer, and the younger guard clenched his fist. "Can't you send someone after him?"
"If your father had asked for an escort, we could have possibly obliged him. But he didn't."
"If Theodynn was here, he would insist on it!" Alan snapped. "And you would listen to him. So why—"
"Theodynn is the leader," Treave reminded firmly. "And you are not. You're not even a real guard. In reality, you're little better than a criminal with privileges."
It hit hard, and Alan hands shook with anger. "I'm not—"
"Think about it, kid—you're never allowed to leave these four walls, unless the Leader is with you. Do you really think that's because he cares about what happens to you? You're not his bodyguard—you're just a prisoner that he insists on keeping an eye on himself."
The words sent a shock through Alan's system like lightning. He opened his mouth to retort, but then his throat constricted. Not trusting himself to speak after all, Alan whirled on the sentries instead and shoved the door open. The guards immediately moved to restrain him, and Alan tensed as he felt them grab his arms.
"Let go!" he ordered, fighting against them.
"Stand down, Alan…or we'll have to restrain you fully," the woman pointed out in warning. Alan's heart was galloping, tears stinging his eyes again. The longer he waited, the closer his father was getting to the markets, and all of Ottan's goons that were undoubtedly in the crowds.
"I'm going after him, if no one else will!" Alan snapped angrily.
"There's more risk for you than him," the other guard insisted as they began carting him away from the front doors. "Your father has worked here in the south for decades. I'm sure he can take care of himself."
"That's just want he wants everyone to think!"
"Let him go." Treave's order caught everyone by surprise, and the guards restraining Alan froze. The young man turned, and Treave met his eye indifferently as he gestured to the sentries to stand down. "If he wants to go directly against the leader's orders and betray Theodynn's trust…then who are we to stop him?"
Bile clawed at Alan's throat as he saw the challenge in Treave's expression. The two sentries obeyed the order to stand down, but they glanced at each other uneasily.
"Theodynn made his orders clear, Treave," one finally pointed out.
"Exactly. He told Alan what his expectations were. If the kid wants to disobey them, then maybe our leader will finally wake up to the kind of person he really is."
"I don't have time for this," Alan decided at last. His insides were a mix of fear and anger, but for once, the anger was winning out. With the door no longer barred and the guards no longer restraining him, Alan moved to force his way out into the blinding sunshine.