Lena sat on the edge of the largest bed she'd ever seen, watching a bevy of servants set up a cot in a corner of Princess Sarah's room. Even the cot was bigger than her bed at White Hall, the bedding upon it finer than anything she owned. The princess sat beside her, chattering away about everything and nothing. Lena found the constant stream of words oddly comforting, and the princess seemed to have picked up on that. She'd kept Lena occupied all afternoon, first with a lavish lunch, then with a tour of the palace gardens. Lena wasn't used to such busyness, but she had rarely experienced the emotions of someone so open and so genuinely kind. It was refreshing.
A wave of curiosity rippled from the servants, who were listening to the princess' words with great interest. "It's only for a few days," Sarah was saying, continuing a line of conversation Lena hadn't been taking in. "Until your own rooms are prepared. You'll love them! They're quite near these, and I've requested some of the loveliest furnishings in the palace be moved there." She squeezed Lena's hand. "I can't tell you how glad I am to have you here."
Lena's smile was forced. As much as she was enjoying Sarah's company, she couldn't help but feel trapped. The queen herself had explained it to her after lunch: a soul reader was too valuable an asset to leave at White Hall. The soul reader was to move to the palace. The soul reader's few possessions had already been sent for. Father Branford would visit her here to continue her training as both his and her schedules allowed. It had all been arranged. The queen had referred to her as "soul reader" as though it were a title – she had never once used Lena's name. Lena didn't know how to tell them she wasn't planning to live in the city forever, so she had said nothing.
With a snap of linens and thump of pillows, the servants finished their preparations. "Anything else, princess?" one asked as the others stood in a line behind her.
"No, Bodwhin. You may leave us."
With an air of disappointment that they no longer had an excuse to eavesdrop, the servants bowed and filed out.
Lena looked over at the cot, at its rich blankets. "It's so gorgeous," she said, unable to keep the longing out of her voice. "But I can't accept this. It's against white mage custom to live in such luxury when others have nothing."
The princess laughed lightly, but there was no scorn to it. "Not so! You can't seek out such luxury for yourself, but when a gift is given freely, you should accept it with an open heart. Isn't that right?"
Lena nodded. That was the true interpretation of the philosophy, she had to admit. She knew the high priests lived in rooms at least as opulent as this one. Mother Kendra, who had been a beauty in her youth and had outlived three husbands, had rooms that made these seem austere by comparison. "It is very generous of you." She tried to imagine living in a beautiful room in the castle, but couldn't. She cleared her throat to cover her embarrassment, then a question occurred to her. "How do you know white mage philosophy?"
The princess smiled, but her emotions betrayed the memory as bittersweet. "There was an old woman, years ago, a white mage, who was my father's last soul reader. It was before the troubles with the Brotherhood, so she wasn't needed often. When there were no official matters to attend to, she took care of me. Me and Kane."
Lena thought back to the sturdy young man she'd met that morning. He, too, had been kind to her. "Kane? You mean Guardsman Carmine?"
Sarah nodded. "His father is the court bard. Kane was born here in the palace. We grew up together."
There was both fondness and confusion there. Lena smiled. It wasn't quite love, but it was a pleasant mix. Sometimes she enjoyed being able to sense the emotions of others. She wondered what she would sense if she mentioned the princess in front of the handsome guardsman.
A gentle hand on her arm brought her back to the present. The princess was looking at her with eyes full of concern. "You've come to us at a very bad time. I'm afraid you will have to read many souls for my father. I'm so sorry."
Lena felt a flush overtaking her face. "You needn't worry." She ran a hand through her curly hair, pulling it over her shoulder and off of her neck. "Most souls are pleasant. They're like points of light, like a flame burning inside someone. I can read the flame like a story, every emotion or memory that makes someone what they are, like a kaleidoscope picture. They… they're usually beautiful."
"But this morning," the princess said, hesitating as if she wasn't sure how to phrase the question. "Was it very terrible? What you saw when you… looked… at him?"
Lena thought back on what she'd seen: a little blue flame, staggeringly bright, surrounded by thick black bands, like scars on his soul, as if it had been ripped apart and forced back together over and over again. She couldn't imagine what would have caused wounds so deep. It was obvious he'd lost both his home and family, but even that couldn't account for what she'd seen. She looked up at the princess, who was still waiting for an answer, and nodded.
Sarah's mouth contracted in a thin line, her emotions protective and fierce like an older sister's might have been. "I wish you hadn't had to meet a man like that."
"No," Lena said, realizing she had given Sarah the wrong idea. "It wasn't his fault. He did nothing wrong. I wouldn't have vouched for him otherwise."
Sarah's frown turned puzzled. "But you were so shaken afterward! I'm sure that isn't normal."
"It wasn't. I'd never seen anything like it before. His soul is… well, broken, I guess you could say. It was a bit of a shock. I was surprised he was still standing." Lena took a steadying breath. She tried to remember the beauty of it, the brightness of that flame amidst the chaos, blue like the ocean on a clear day.
"That does sound horrible," Sarah said, putting an arm around her. "Can you mend it?"
Lena searched Sarah's emotions, but the princess was serious. "Beg pardon?"
"Well, you're a white mage, aren't you? You heal broken things. That's what you do."
Lena smiled, looking at the floor. The princess didn't understand how white magic worked, but Lena was touched at her sincerity. "This isn't a skinned knee or a stubbed toe. This is a man's soul we're talking about here."
The princess gave her shoulders a companionable squeeze. "I'm sure you'll figure something out."
In another part of the castle, lower down and nearer the servants, Thad followed the monk, Orin, to his rooms. It had been the longest day, stuck in a boring room with uncomfortable chairs. Thad had sat in the center of the room with Carmine and the black mage – and didn't he wish he'd never picked that particular pocket? – while a bunch of fat, old people asked them a million questions: about their homes, their families, why they were in the city. Mostly, they had asked about the orbs, where they had come from, and how Thad and the others had come by them. When they had gone through every question Thad could imagine, they started over, asking the same questions again.
They had also questioned other people. Carmine's father had spoken at length on the guardsman's behalf, as did several other guards and castle servants. The guardsman obviously had many friends – Thad was glad of that, as Carmine had always been nice to him. Conversely, the black mage had had no one to speak for him, except the captain of the ship he'd come in on, who had very little to say. The old people, who Orin had told him were the majority of the mage council, had badgered the black mage so thoroughly that Thad was sure he would get angry and set fire to the room, but the mage never even raised his voice.
Thad hadn't had to talk about himself quite as much. Master Edward, the tailor he was apprenticed to, had been brought in to verify everything Thad told them about himself; the man had all but run away when he was finally dismissed. He didn't look at Thad even once during the questioning, though he was right beside him. After that, Carmine and some of the other guards spoke for Thad as well. The monk, Orin, had stayed with him throughout it all, speaking tersely to the questioners if he didn't like their tone. Thad had appreciated the monk's presence, but still didn't know why the strange foreigner was helping him.
When the meeting had ended, the monk had taken Thad to the kitchens and introduced him to the cook, a nice man, not much older than Master Edward, but comical. He'd given Thad nearly half a roast chicken to eat – a small one, but still nearly half! – and had told stories as Thad and Orin ate their meal, funny gossip about the castle servants that was just as good as anything he'd seen the strolling players put on at the spring festivals.
At the end of the hall, Orin stopped in front of a carved wooden door. "They've prepared a bed for you here. My own quarters are behind that door." He indicated a door across the hall.
Thad looked at both doors and blinked in surprise. "Your quarters? You live with the servants?"
"Of course. I am the king's servant, after all."
"But you're his advisor!"
"And the more I know about his commonest subjects, the better I can advise him." The monk placed his hand on the knob of the carved door, but didn't open it. "I forgot to ask, young Shipman, but can you read?"
Thad frowned. "Yes, my grandmother taught me. Why?"
"I was only curious," said Orin, opening the door and motioning him inside.
Thad stopped, awestruck, in the doorway. He had never seen so many books in one place! The room seemed made of shelves. It was as big as the whole sitting room in his grandmother's house had been – bigger! – but full of shelves that were full of books. He hadn't known there were that many books in the whole world.
"Is this a library?" Thad asked in a hushed, reverent voice. He'd heard of libraries. His Pappy had told him he saw one on his travels once, and there was a legendary one in the storybook his grandmother had read to him when he was little.
Orin chuckled. "Not at all. This is only my personal collection. However, you are welcome to read any of them during your stay."
Thad gazed at the collection in wonder. His grandparents had had only three books in their home. Master Edward had a single shelf with eight books on it, and he was considered wealthy for a tradesman. A room this size, with this many books, had to contain all the knowledge in the whole world. And he was welcome to read any of them. Anything he wanted to know, right here at his fingertips. What did he want to know? "Are there any…" he started to ask, hardly daring to hope.
"Yes?"
"Are there any with… pirates?"
Orin looked surprised. Thad wondered if it was the wrong thing to say. Would a Warrior of Light really read pirate stories? Should he have asked for something else? But then Orin smiled broadly. He walked to a shelf in the corner, near an oversized armchair, and pulled from it a thick volume which he handed to Thad.
The book was old, its leather cover cracking with age. As Thad flipped through it, the pages turned easily. It had obviously been read many times. There were even pictures. He looked up at the monk, who still smiled.
"You remind me of myself, young Shipman," Orin said, his foreign accent subtle, but still there. "So I know you will ignore me when I tell you not to stay up reading all night."
"Yes, sir."
The monk laughed as he closed the door behind him.
It was late when Kane finally made his way back to the set of rooms he had once shared with his parents. His father, widowed five years ago, had lived there alone since Kane had been stationed at the harbor guardhouse. After this morning's events, though, when Kane and the others had been declared Warriors of Light, the king had ordered them all to stay in the castle until the mage council could figure out what to do with them.
As if the debacle in the throne room hadn't been bad enough, the series of hearings that followed had been excruciating. He, the mage Jack, and the boy Shipman had been subjected to questions and lectures from both the mage council and the king's advisors for hours on end. The mage had been questioned more than Kane and Shipman – it was obvious that the council didn't trust him. Had Shipman not fallen asleep in his chair, prompting Orin to persuade the king to release them for the evening, they might be in there still. Kane understood that, as a soul reader, the girl Lena was above the need for such an interview, but even so he fought against a rising feeling of resentment at the unfairness of it all.
He had immediately gone looking for Sarah. He couldn't wrap his mind around being a Warrior of Light and needed, desperately, to talk it over with a friend. Maybe things had been a little awkward between them since he'd left, but he had always been able to talk to her about anything. Instead, he'd passed Bodwhin in the hall and learned that Sarah had already retired to her bed, though it had still been early. He doubted she was asleep, had gone as far as the hallway outside her chambers, but couldn't screw up the courage to knock on her door. Instead, he'd taken the stairs to the ramparts and stood on the wall, staring out across the city until the sun had set completely. Only then did he make his way back to his father's rooms.
Not fully a year in the harbor guardhouse and already these were his father's rooms, no longer "his" rooms. It was strange to think about. Kane hadn't always got along with his father, particularly after his mother died, but ever since he had joined the guard corps against Lord Redden's wishes, he felt that their respect for each other had grown. Lord Redden was known throughout the kingdom as both a scholar and a poet, had even developed some minor skill in both black and white magics through diligent study. It wasn't that Kane disrespected his father's good name and reputation in the court; it was that he, Kane, wanted to make a name for himself.
He opened the door without knocking, still quite at home even if he no longer lived there, and was surprised to see Jack standing in the outer sitting room. The mage turned at the sound of the door, regarding him with startled, wary eyes. He was in his long coat and scarf still, as he had been all day, not once removing the heavy coverings during the tedious, stifling meetings. The two of them stared at each other, neither moving.
"Ah, Kane! I wondered when you'd arrive!" Lord Redden emerged from his bed chamber, carrying a book and a heavy blanket. "Here you are then," he said, handing the items to Jack. "Though you're welcome to prepare a fire in the hearth, if you'd rather."
"I never sleep with a fire," the mage said. His voice was quiet, steady. Kane had been surprised throughout their interview at the calmness of it – it was hard to believe this was the man who had caused a magical panic in the harbor square that morning.
Lord Redden stopped short. "No, I imagine you don't. Forgive me."
Jack merely bowed his head in response.
Lord Redden addressed Kane as he said, "I've invited Jack to stay with us."
"Oh?" Kane said, fighting back disappointment. First he hadn't been able to talk to Sarah, and now he couldn't speak privately with his father either. Lord Redden had been at the meetings, after all. Who better to hash out the Warrior of Light situation with him? He began to say "Why…" but stopped himself, changing it after a brief hesitation to, "Where exactly?"
"Your mother's sitting room. I've had a bed prepared."
"Surely the king would have prepared him his own rooms?"
Redden's eyebrows drew together in warning. He said, "The king would have, had I not stopped him. I invited Jack here myself. I knew you wouldn't mind."
Jack shifted uncomfortably, his eyes creased in worry. It was amazing, Kane thought, the amount of expression the man could get across with half his face covered. "I won't be any bother," he said, his voice just on the edge of begging.
He expects me to send him away, Kane thought. This is a prophesied Warrior of Light and he still expects me to send him away. Instead, Kane, who didn't feel much like a prophesied Warrior himself, stepped forward, extending a hand to the black mage. "You're not any bother," he said, looking Jack in the eye, seeing the relief writ plain there. "I was simply surprised that you would care to share our humble rooms. Please, make yourself at home. I'm at your service."
Jack's grip, when he shook Kane's hand, was firm.
I'm not the only one, Kane thought. "I wonder if you'd sit and talk with me awhile, Jack. I seem to have a lot on my mind."
Author's Note: As I said last week, I'm terrible at coming up with character names. I knew the Fighter character would be "Kane," because my late brother liked it, and I knew I'd fit "Redd" in there somewhere, but the others were a mystery to me. It was important to me that the names only be four letters long, as that's what you're limited to in the game. While I was thinking of that, I realized "Kane" was pretty similar to "Kain" from FFIV, so I borrowed "Lena"/"Lenna" from FFV (one of the best games in the series, in my opinion), and "Orin"/"Auron" from FFX. More on other names as we go along.