Michael Sullivan - Nyphron rising

Royce was not pleased with the idea of meeting the princess in the open tavern room, and Hadrian was speaking far too loudly for his liking. Luckily, the room was empty. Most of the limited clientele preferred to cluster around the bar, where the door hung open to admit the cool summer breeze.

"That seems a lifetime ago," Arista replied, thoughtfully.

"She has a job for you, Royce," Hadrian told him.

"For us, you mean."

"I told you." Hadrian looked at him, but allowed a glance at the princess as well. "I'm retired."

Royce ignored him. "What's been decided?"

"Alric wants to make contact with Gaunt and his Nationals," Arista began. "He feels, as the rest of us do, that if we can coordinate our efforts we can create a formidable assault. Also, an alliance with the Nationalists could very well be the advantage we need to persuade Trent to enter the war on our side."

"That's fine," Royce replied. "I expected as much, but did you have to deliver this information yourself? Don't you trust your messengers?"

"One can never be too careful. Besides, I'm coming with you."

"What?" Royce asked, stunned.

Hadrian burst into laughter. "I knew you'd love that part," he said, grinning with the delight of a man blessed with immunity.

"I am the Ambassador of Melengar, and this is a diplomatic mission. Events are transpiring rapidly and negotiations may need to be altered to suit the situation. I have to go because neither of you can speak for the kingdom. I can't trust anyone, not even you two, with such an important mission. This meeting will likely determine whether or not Melengar survives another year. I hope you understand the necessity of having me along."

Royce considered the proposal for a few minutes. "You and your brother understand that I cannot guarantee your safety?"

She nodded.

"You also understand that between now and the time we reach Gaunt, you will be required to obey Hadrian and myself and will be provided no special treatment because of your station?"

"I expect none. However, it must also be understood that I am Alric's representative and as such speak with his voice. So where safety and methods are concerned you are granted authority and I will follow your direction, but as far as overall mission goals are concerned I reserve the right to redirect, or extend the mission if necessary."

"And do you also possess the power to guarantee additional payment for additional services?"

"I do."

"I now pronounce you client and escort," Hadrian said with a grin.

"As for you," Royce told him, "you'd better have some coffee."

"I'm not going, Royce."

"What's this all about?" Arista asked.

Royce scowled and shook his head at her.

"Don't shut her up," Hadrian said. He turned to the princess and added, "I have officially resigned from Riyria. We are divorced. Royce is single now."

"Really?" Arista said. "What will you do?"

"He's going to sober up and get his gear."

"Royce, listen to me. I mean it. I'm not going. There is nothing you can say to change my mind."

"Yes, there is."

"What, have you come up with another fancy philosophical argument? It's not going to work. I told you I'm done. It's over. Look at my face. I'm not kidding. I've had it." Hadrian looked suspiciously at his partner.

Royce simply looked back with a smug expression. At last Hadrian asked, "Okay, what is it? I'm curious now. What do you think you could possibly say to change my mind?"

Royce hesitated a moment, glancing uncomfortably at Arista, then sighed. "Because, I am asking you to-as a favor. After this mission, if you still feel the same, I won't fight you and we can part as friends. But I am asking you now-as my friend-to please come with me just one last time."

Just then, the barmaid arrived at the table.

"Another round, Hadrian?"

Hadrian did not look at her, but continued to stare at Royce and sighed.

"Apparently not. I guess I'll take a cup of coffee, strong and black."

Sheridan

Drapped in her long dress and riding cloak, Arista baked as the heat of summer arrived early in the day. Making matters worse, Royce insisted she travel with her hood up. She wondered at its value, as she guessed she was just as conspicuous riding so heavily bundled as she would be if riding naked. Her clothes stuck to her skin and it was difficult to breathe, but she said nothing.

Royce rode slightly ahead on his gray mare that, to Arista's surprise, they called Mouse. A cute name-not at all what she expected. As always, Royce was dressed in black and grays, seemingly oblivious to the heat. His eyes scanned the horizon and forest eaves. Perhaps his elven blood made him less susceptible to the hardships of weather. Even a year later, she still marveled at his mixed race.

Why had I never noticed?

Hadrian followed half a length behind and on her right-exactly where Hilfred used to position himself. It gave her a familiar feeling of safety and security. She glanced back at him and smiled under her hood. He was not immune to the heat. His brow was covered in sweat and his shirt clung to his chest. His collar lay open, his sleeves rolled up revealing strong arms.

A noticeable silence marked their travel. Perhaps it was the heat or a desire to avoid prying ears, but the lack of conversation denied her a natural venue to question their direction. After slipping out of Medford before sunrise, they had traveled north across fields and deer paths into the highlands before swinging east and catching the road. Arista understood the need for secrecy, and a roundabout course would help confuse any would-be spies, but instead of heading south, Royce led them north, which made no sense at all. She had held her tongue as hours passed and they continued to ride out of Melengar and into Ghent. She was certain Royce took this route for a reason. She had agreed to follow their leadership and it would not do to question his judgment so early in their trip.

Arista was back in the high meadowlands where only the day before she caught her first sight of the imperial troops gathered against Melengar. A flurry of activity was now underway on the far side of the Galewyr as the army packed up. Tents collapsed, wagons lined up, and masses of men started forming columns. She was fascinated by the sheer number, and guessed there could be more imperial soldiers than citizens remaining in the city of Medford.

The meadowlands gave way to forest and the view disappeared behind the crest. The shade brought little relief from the heat.

If only it would rain.

The sky was overcast but rain was not certain. It was, of course, possible to make it rain.

Arista recalled at least two ways. One involved an elaborate brewing of compounds and burning the mixture out of doors. This method should result in precipitation within a day, but was not entirely reliable and failed more often than it succeeded. The other was more advanced and instantaneous, requiring great skill and knowledge. It could be accomplished with only hand movements, a focused mind, and words. The first she learned as part of her studies at Sheridan University, where the entire class performed the technique without producing a single drop. The latter Esrahaddon tried to teach her, but because the church amputated his hands he could not demonstrate the complex finger movements. This, of course, was the major obstacle in studying with him. Arista was nearly certain she would never learn anything until, almost by accident, she made a guard sneeze.

It was an odd sensation, feeling the power of the Art for the first time, like flipping a tiny lever and sliding a gear into place. She succeeded, not due to Esrahaddon's instructions, but rather because she was fed up with him. It was during a state dinner and to alleviate her boredom Arista was running Esrahaddon's instructions through her head. She purposely ignored his directions and tried something on her own. It felt easier, simpler. When she finally found the right combination of movements and sounds, it was like plucking the perfect note of music at exactly the right time.