James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Wirr shook his head in chagrin. “You’ve known all this time?”

Aelric allowed a half-smile to creep onto his face. “Since the second day.” He paused, the faint trace of amusement quickly disappearing. “As, I assume, has my sister.”

Wirr nodded mutely.

Aelric gave a slight shake of his head, looking frustrated at the confirmation. “You’d think she’d have learnt from my example,” he muttered in a wry tone. He rubbed his forehead. “Look – I can’t tell either of you what to do, and maybe this isn’t the best time to bring it up. But if it hasn’t been clear, I don’t think you and Dezia getting attached to each other is a good idea.”

Wirr flushed. “It’s not like that.”

“I’m not an idiot, Wirr. Torin. Whatever you want me to call you.” Aelric said the words gently, only a hint of reproach in his voice. “The two of you are becoming close – anyone with eyes can see it. Once we’re back in Ilin Illan though, how long will it take for your father to start pairing you off with one of the girls from the Great Houses? A month? Two? The more time you spend with Dezia now, the harder that will be for her. For both of you.”

Wirr was silent for a few moments; he wanted to protest, but Aelric wasn’t wrong. “Nothing’s happened between us,” he said eventually.

Aelric gave him a tight smile. “And I believe you, if for no other reason than Dezia’s too smart to cross that line.” He sighed. “I’m not suggesting you should stay away from her, or that you shouldn’t be friends. Just… don’t spend so much time together, especially off by yourselves. There’s no point letting those feelings develop. Do it for my sister’s sake, if not your own.”

Wirr’s heart twisted. Aelric was only repeating what Wirr already knew - that his friendship with Dezia needed to remain just that - but it didn’t make confronting the fact any easier, especially tonight.

Still, he nodded a reluctant acknowledgement. He understood why Aelric was concerned, and also why he hadn’t waited to talk about this. The older boy hadn’t mentioned it explicitly, but they both knew that grief could cause people to make poor decisions. Wirr hated to admit it but in Aelric’s position, he would probably be doing the same thing.

Wirr’s response seemed to satisfy Aelric, and the conversation drifted to lighter topics. It did not take Wirr long to grudgingly decide that he was beginning to respect the older boy, maybe even like him a little, despite his first impressions. Aelric knew without having to ask that Wirr was keeping a vigil, waiting to see if Davian would miraculously emerge from the mists of Deilannis during the night. Rather than tell him the foolishness of the task, he seemed content to simply keep Wirr company.

Finally the conversation ceased and they lapsed into a companionable silence, each lost in his own thoughts. A silent understanding had passed between the two young men, and both were content to sit there quietly as the night slipped by.

Dawn came too soon, yellow and bright. Wirr and Aelric rose and headed back to camp. The others were already awake; no-one needed to ask where they had been.

They gathered up their meagre possessions, the silence sombre. Soon they were on the move again, upward for a time along stairs similar to those on the Desriel side of the city. They crested the steep hillside, then began to walk the gentler slope downward. Wirr glanced back over his shoulder, watching as the mist-bound city was lost from view.

He turned forward again and swallowed a lump in his throat, forcing himself to finally admit the hard truth.

Davian was gone.

Asha gave an inward groan as she saw the line of nobility waiting outside Elocien’s study.

She gritted her teeth, ignoring the stares as she passed. It had been weeks since she’d been officially introduced as Tol Athian’s Representative, but more often than not, she was still looked at like something akin to a dog that had suddenly learned how to talk. The worst of the offenders were people like those waiting for Elocien. They wouldn’t be happy about what she was about to do… but the duke had sent for her, and it had sounded urgent.

The hallway had gone silent at her appearance, but now a low, annoyed muttering started up behind her as she knocked on Elocien’s door. It was well-known that she was only at court through the Northwarden’s insistence, and few people tried to hide their disapproval away from Elocien’s sight. This would only serve to reaffirm their opinion that she didn’t know her place.

There was silence for a few moments, and then the door opened. A man Asha didn’t recognise peered out at her with a frown.

“The Northwarden is busy,” he told her, his tone stern. He tried to shut the door again, but Asha jammed her foot in the crack.

“Tell him that it is Representative Chaedris. He sent for me.”

The wiry man hesitated, then gave a sharp nod. A few seconds later the door opened again and the duke appeared, ushering out a disgruntled-looking older man.

“This will not take long, Lord si’Bandin,” Elocien said. He turned to Asha; his expression was smooth but she could see a strange combination of concern and excitement in his eyes. “Representative Chaedris. Please, come in,” he said politely.

As soon as the door was shut, the Northwarden’s manner changed. He collapsed wearily into a chair, but despite his obvious exhaustion, his mood seemed upbeat.

“Ashalia. Thank-you for coming,” he said with a tired smile, gesturing for her to take a seat. "I have news of Torin. He’s alive."

Asha stared at the duke for a long moment, barely daring to believe her ears. She sat, a sudden burst of emotion dizzying her. She’d hoped, of course, but to have it confirmed…

She laughed delightedly. "That’s wonderful!" She was about to say more when she realised that the other man, who had opened the door the first time, was still standing by another chair in the corner. She hesitated.

The duke caught her glance and nodded to himself.

“Ah - of course. How rude of me. Ashalia, meet Laiman Kardai, my brother’s closest friend and most trusted advisor.”

Laiman grimaced at the introduction. He was an unassuming-looking man, thin in both body and face, with wire-rimmed glasses that lent him a scholarly air. “Until recently, anyway,” he said with forced cheerfulness, running a hand through his mousy-brown hair. He nodded to Asha. “A pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard much about you from Duke Andras.” He gave a slight smile. “And from others, too, these last few weeks. You’ve managed to make quite a stir.”

Asha made a face. “Not deliberately.” She bit her lip, glancing again at Laiman. She was ecstatic about Torin, but she could hardly have this discussion with Elocien while there was a stranger in the room.

Elocien followed her gaze. “Laiman knows everything, Asha. About Torin, and about the Augurs. You may speak freely in front of him.”

Asha tried not to look surprised; after all Elocien’s talk about keeping the Augurs a secret, he had told the king’s closest friend? Still, it was hardly her place to question the duke’s judgment.

She relaxed a little, allowing her smile to return. "So… where is he? What happened to him - is he safe?"

"Details are scarce at this point," Elocien admitted. "We do know for certain that a couple of weeks ago, he was in Thrindar."

Asha stared at the duke. "In Desriel ?"

Elocien nodded grimly. "He made contact with Princess Karaliene at the Song of Swords - she let me know as soon as she arrived home this morning. He’s on his way home too, apparently." He rubbed his forehead, looking as though he didn’t quite know whether to be pleased or irritated at the next part. "She says he didn’t even know about what happened at Caladel - that he’d left before the attack, to investigate the weakening of the Boundary… it was all very vague, to be honest. I don’t think he told her much at all."