Douglas Niles - Measure and the Truth

Collect herself for what? The question rose up and challenged her almost as soon as her breathing returned to normal.

What in the world was she going to do?

Jaymes drove the Freemen hard, riding past dark every night, rising before dawn and returning to the mountain road early each morning. His thoughts were focused on his wife: she would understand what had transpired; she would see the reason he had needed to show his mastery of the nation! He didn’t stop to think about the matter rationally but just rode forward, thinking of Selinda and of the miracle of the child growing within her.

Anxious to keep moving, the column rode right past the High Clerist’s Tower, without the emperor even thinking to stop and pay his respects to General Markus. That garrison commander watched from the High Lookout in some amazement as his lord and the escort of his loyal riders passed the crest of the pass and started on the long, downhill course to the great city by the sea.

So hard and fast did they ride that on the afternoon of the fifth day, Palanthas was in their sights. Only as they drew close to the city gate did the emperor allow the column to slow. He was, after all, returning from a victorious campaign, and he would enter his capital with all the pomp and ceremony his station warranted.

So he slowed the procession to a proper march, and he and his men smartly returned the salutes offered by the guards at the gates. Still, it was all he could do to hold back his horse, to refrain from galloping to his palace on the great square, from bounding up the steps, racing up the stairway to the room where she was waiting for him. He felt a sudden flush of regret at locking his wife up in her rooms. He would apologize and explain; she would understand!

Riding through the city gate, he threw back his cloak and sat astride his saddle with his head held high. He glanced up at the tower of his palace, rising into view from barely a mile away.

He took scant notice of the citizens of his city, although the Freemen muttered among themselves that there seemed to be an unusually small and unenthusiastic turnout for the emperor’s return. The great leader had eyes only for his palace, and when at last he rode through the gates, Jaymes dismounted quickly, strode through the front doors, and started across the hall.

It was there that he was met by his old sergeant Samuel, a garrison commander who had experienced all that the Age of Mortals had delivered unto Krynn. Something in the grizzled veteran’s eyes gave the emperor pause, and he halted.

“What is it, Sam?” he asked, fighting to remain calm. “Is my wife unwell?”

“Er, no, Excellency. She seems fine. It’s just that… well…”

The old soldier was uncharacteristically hesitant, and Jaymes had no patience for delay. “What is it? Spit it out, man!”

“Well, it happened about six days ago. We went to check on her, as we did nice and regular, just like you ordered.”

“Was it the baby? Is something wrong?”

“No, well, I don’t know. You see, she was gone when we looked in on her. And then she came back-just like magic, my lord.”

Selinda watched Jaymes lead the Freemen back into the city. The emperor’s column of a hundred knights came down the road from the High Clerist’s Pass. They were trailed by a heavy wagon, and palace heralds shouted the news that the carriage bore the overdue taxes owned by Vingaard Keep to the national treasury.

Selinda noticed that the crowds of Palanthians-usually festive on such occasions-seemed to avoid the heralds. There were very few people lining the streets as Jaymes made his way to the palace, and those who were out seemed to be watching in sullen silence. The attack on Vingaard had certainly not been popular with the people of Palanthas.

Indifferent to his people, the emperor sat astride his horse, looking neither right nor left, Selinda noted. He accepted the effusive praise of the palace garrison with a casual salute as he rode through the gate. Stablemen vied to take his horse, but he ignored them as he entered the keep, vanishing from her sight.

Not long after, he was knocking forcefully at her door.

“Enter,” she replied.

He came in, looking to her eyes like a stranger, though he was still the same man. Jaymes Markham… an outlaw when first she met him… then general and ultimately lord marshal of a great army… and finally the emperor of Solamnia. A long, long time ago, it seemed, she had agreed to become his wife. The reasons for doing so seemed compelling at the time, since then they were vague and indistinct.

No, she did not love him. And yes, she feared him.

“Hello,” he said. She was aware he was scrutinizing her. His narrowed eyes were dark above the neat beard. She noted more gray along his temples, and in that beard, than she remembered. Had he really changed that much in a fortnight? She watched him closely, saying nothing. She had nothing to say and felt at a loss for words.

“The guards tell me you gave them quite a start.”

“How so?” she asked, feeling a jolt of terror.

“They thought you were in danger, had fallen or suffered some stroke in your sleep. But when they broke in here, after hours of trying to rouse you, you were nowhere to be seen, according to their report.”

“I was…” She faltered. The lie that had diverted the guards would no longer suffice. “I was gone. I traveled to Vingaard. I wanted… I wanted to see firsthand the way you would rule your new, proud nation.”

“Magic?” He frowned then glared. “You teleported! How?”

She didn’t answer but unconsciously placed her left hand over her right, concealing the ring. The quick movement did not pass unnoticed.

“So you have a magic ring,” he declared haughtily. “Don’t you understand the dangers-to yourself? To our child?”

“I felt perfectly safe.”

“I can’t allow you to risk yourself and the baby like this.” He took a step closer. He didn’t appear so much angry as concerned. Holding out his hand, he spoke again, more gently but still firmly. “You can’t do this again; I won’t allow it. Give me the ring.”

“No!” The word exploded from her lips, but Selinda didn’t regret blurting it out. She felt a wave of relief, the first excitement of honesty. She took a step backward, watching him warily.

“Don’t refuse me!” he snapped, his anger starting to flare. “I’ll simply take it from you if I must.”

“No, you won’t do that, either,” Selinda said. She stood at her full height, chin raised. Her fingers touched the little circlet of silver, ready to give it a twist, to activate the magic. “If you try, I promise by all the gods that I will use the ring to go away from here and never return.”

“To where?” he asked, appearing-for the first time ever, in Selinda’s experience-to be stunned.

“I won’t tell you. But I will tell you this: I will not be locked up in this tower, not by you, nor by all the troops in your army.”

He stood staring at her, mute, for what seemed like a long time. Finally he turned and stalked to the door. “This is not the end of this,” he said before marching from the room.

Jaymes was wrapped in a cold fury as he rode out of the Old City, lashing his horse into a gallop, scattering pedestrians out of his path. The steed galloped up Nobles Hill and clattered onto the paved road leading to his destination.

The great manor house was owned by Jenna, Mistress of the Red Robes. The powerful crimson-garbed wizard had been declared head of the Orders of Magic at the momentous Conclave that convened after the gods of magic returned to Krynn. Coryn had helped Jenna attain that vaulted station against the ambitions of Dalamar the Dark, and in gratitude-and genuine friendship-Jenna had offered Coryn stewardship of her magnificent house.