James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

“I need to get a message to the king,” said Taeris. “Before he leaves Thrindar.”

“Ah.” Nihim nodded. “Of course. Safe passage across the border. A good thought, I’ll give you that.” He shrugged apologetically. “One problem. The king isn’t here.”

Taeris’ smile slipped. “What?”

“There’s still a delegation,” Nihim rushed to assure him, “ but it’s led by the princess.”

Taeris frowned. “Karaliene is being given duties of state? She’s just a girl!”

“She’s eighteen, Taeris,” said Nihim with a grin. “She’s old enough to have suitors trailing after her like a pack of wolves.”

Taeris shook his head. “Eighteen,” he muttered to himself. “Time has flown. Still, I would not have thought King Andras comfortable enough to send her to Desriel. Not in these times.”

Nihim shrugged. “From what I hear, one of the tournament favourites is a close friend of hers. She wanted to come.”

“Regardless.” Taeris turned back to Nihim. “Karaliene may not understand the message, but she will surely have an entourage of Gifted who are old enough. If you can give them this - ” he pressed something into Nihim’s palm – “ and arrange passage for us into the stadium to meet them, that will be more than enough.”

Nihim inspected the small metal token in his palm. It was a simple design, like a coin, but steel and with three triangles punched from the middle. “What is it?”

“A symbol from the Unseen War - a request for sanctuary. Any Gifted who lived in Andarra through those times will know what it means.” He pointed to the triangular holes. “One triangle meant the person asking was in no danger. Two meant they were in some danger, but not immediate.” He shrugged. “Three meant that if sanctuary wasn’t granted, the Gifted was most likely going to be captured and killed.”

Nihim nodded. “I think you are probably right to use the three triangles, then,” he mused.

“As it is, it’s the only one I have left.”

Nihim inspected it for a few more seconds, then gave a sharp nod, slipping the token into his pocket. “Very well.” He glanced at the boys, then back to Taeris. “I would have a word in private, first, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Taeris inclined his head, looking unsurprised by the request. He turned to the boys. “Wait here,” he said. “This won’t take long.”

He followed Nihim out the door. Davian, Wirr and Caeden exchanged curious glances, but none made any move to follow.

“So who do you think he is?” asked Wirr as soon as the door had closed.

Davian shrugged. “He knows we’re Gifted, and isn’t trying to kill us. That’s good enough for me.” Caeden nodded his agreement.

Wirr was having none of it. “He’s a Desrielite priest – or posing as one, anyway. Aren’t you the least bit curious?” He leaned forward. “My guess is that he’s one of Tol Athian’s spies. An informer.”

Caeden gazed at the closed door. “Dangerous job if he is.”

“Moreso, now we know he’s a friend to the Gifted," observed Wirr. "Even if he’s not a spy, this is a significant risk he’s taking. He must owe Taeris for something big, to not have turned us away.”

“Maybe that’s what they’re talking about,” said Davian.

Wirr cast a longing look towards the door, and for a second Davian thought he meant to follow the two men. Then he sighed. “Whatever it is, it’s obviously nothing they want us to overhear.”

After that, there was only the occasional wisp of conversation as they waited; mostly Davian and Wirr talked, though occasionally Caeden would contribute a word or two as well. The young man rarely spoke more than that at one time - he’d sometimes ask about things he’d either forgotten or never known about, but mostly he just listened, apparently fascinated by what others were saying.

For all that, when Caeden did talk he had a friendly, if shy manner, and was unfailingly polite. Not for the first time, Davian found himself convinced that - if nothing else - the Gil’shar’s charges against him had to be false.

A half-hour had passed by the time Taeris returned.

“Nihim is taking the message to the Great Stadium,” the scarred man said in answer to the boys’ questioning looks. “If he is successful, we should be escorted there within a couple of hours.”

Davian nodded, allowing himself a glimmer of hope at the news. He flashed a tight smile at Wirr, but his friend was staring concernedly into space and didn’t respond, looking more upset than relieved at the news.

“Everything all right?” asked Davian, giving his friend a gentle nudge with his elbow.

Wirr blinked, then shook his head as if to clear it. “As right as it can be, given the circumstances,” he said with a shrug. He still looked uncomfortable, though.

“Wishing you hadn’t come with me?” asked Davian.

“Fates, yes,” said Wirr with a grin. “But you wouldn’t have made it a day without me, so maybe it was worth it.”

Davian gave a half-smile, half-grimace back; the words were said in jest, but a pang of guilt stabbed at him anyway. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess,” he said softly, so only his friend could hear.

Wirr shook his head. “You’ve been apologising all week, Dav. You don’t need to any more,” he said, his tone firm. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known. And anyway – if what Taeris tells us is even close to true, some good may yet come of all this. If we can get Caeden to the Tol, find out whether there really is something dangerous going on with the Boundary, it will all have been worth it.”

Davian paused, then inclined his head. “Thanks.”

He leaned back, looking around. Caeden was sitting quietly; his eyes were closed but Davian suspected he was still awake. Taeris had sat himself down at a desk and was thumbing through some papers he’d discovered.

“How do you know Nihim?” Davian asked Taeris. “He didn’t seem too concerned about having four of the Gifted in his temple.”

Taeris paused from what he was doing. “He’s an old friend. Someone we can trust.” He gave Davian a hard look. “More than that, is not my place to say.” There was an air of finality to the statement, a tone that brooked no argument. Davian accepted it with a reluctant nod.

Some time later, the door opened and Nihim stepped through, trailed by two uneasy-looking Desrielite soldiers. For a panicked moment Davian thought they had been betrayed, but Taeris rose smoothly from his seat, calm as he gestured for them all to do the same. Trying to look composed, Davian stood.

“Children of Marut Jha,” said Nihim grandly. “These soldiers have been ordered to take you directly to the Great Stadium for your audience with Princess Karaliene Andras.” He paused, and though his expression was serious, Davian thought he saw laughter in the priest’s eyes. “If they do not carry out this duty swiftly and faithfully, you will let me know.”

Taeris bowed. “For the glory of the Last God.”

“For His glory alone,” responded Nihim.

They followed the soldiers from the temple, with no further goodbyes uttered to or from Nihim. Soon they were back within sight of the Great Stadium, the massive walls towering above them. The crowds outside had thinned somewhat; the gates had been shut, and Davian thought he could see more than one disappointed face amongst the crowd. The stadium must be at capacity.

For a moment he wondered if they would be allowed entry, but as soon as the soldiers at the entrance saw them, they were opening the steel gates a crack and ushering them through.

The stone passageway in the underbelly of the stadium was pleasantly cool compared to outside. Davian barely had time to marvel at the intricate stone friezes set into the walls before they were ascending a set of winding stairs; at the top, a pair of burly guards waved them through into another long passageway, with a narrow window cut out of the side overlooking the arena itself.