Carol Berg - THE SOUL WEAVER

He cocked his head, looking at me quite seriously. “Do you truly think you’ll come to Avonar to live?”

“Gondai is my husband’s home, Radele. He sits the throne of Avonar, and my son is his successor. Of course I’ll come.”

He did not comment, just bowed and walked away. What did Karon mean when he said he needed someone whose heart was not engaged with our family? I slammed the wicket gate so hard it bounced back open again.

After a second week of this peevishness, a tentative tap on the study door brought Teriza with news. “A man’s come to see you, my lady. He’s waiting in the small sitting room.”

Visitors at Verdillon were a rarity. Pausing only long enough to wipe my pen and close the inkwell, I followed Teriza down the wide staircase and into the sitting room. Awaiting me was a sturdy man wearing a thin-at-the-elbows coat of dark blue and holding a soft, wide-brimmed hat in his hand. The flame-colored patch on his coat proclaimed him a sheriff, a local magistrate whose first responsibility was the extermination of sorcerers. Fortunately his weathered face proclaimed him a friend - Graeme Rowan, the sheriff of Dunfarrie.

“How wonderful to see you, Sheriff. And Paulo will be delighted.”

“It’s fine to see you, too, my lady,” he said, taking my hand and offering a polite bow.

I didn’t lie when I said I was happy to see Rowan. Though I had once despised him for his office, he had shown himself to be a faithful ally and a man of honor and integrity. Yet one close glance at the sandy-haired sheriff made it clear that he was not to be the instrument to relieve the tensions of the household. Deep creases lined his ruddy brow. When I sat on a couch that faced the windows overlooking the overgrown lawn and cherry orchard and motioned him to join me, he perched on the edge of the cushions.

“What brings you so far, Sheriff? Just a visit, I hope.” One says the words.

“Free to speak plainly, ma’am?” His soft-spoken manner and country accent did not accurately reflect the capabilities of a man responsible for maintaining the king’s law in a sizable district of Leire. Graeme Rowan was easily underestimated.

“I’ve never known you to do otherwise,” I said.

The lines in his brow failed to soften at my meager humor.

“There’s no one but me in the house.” I said. “Tennice is gone to Yurevan for the day. Teriza and Kat are heading off to market. Gerick is most likely in the stables with Paulo, and Radele, our new Dar’Nethi bodyguard, is never far from him.”

“King Evard wants to see you.” He held out a small folded paper.

“Evard!” The paper was heavy and stiff, of good quality. Nothing was written on the outside, and the red wax seal bore no device. I turned it over in my hand. “How is that possible?” Almost six years had passed since the day Gerick had been abducted by the Lords, and I had followed him to Gondai and Zhev’Na. I thought I was well buried.

Rowan’s voice was tight and low. “All I know is that ten days ago, two gentlemen of the Royal Household come to Dunfarrie. Their only interest was your whereabouts. I told them the story we agreed on, that I’d heard naught of you since your nephew’s abduction. I said how I had it straight from the bailiff at Comigor and the sheriff of the district that no trace of you or the boy had ever been found. But these two men said the king believed you alive and that he ‘very much wished to speak with you.’ ”

Very much wished… That didn’t sound like Evard at all. “How could he know I was alive? And what could he want?”

“I asked them that. They said only that if I was to ‘happen to run across you,’ then I was to say that your pardon stands and that this matter is with regard to the last conversation you had with His Majesty.”

“That’s when I told him about the other world and the threat to this world posed by the Lords. I wasn’t even sure he believed me.” Once caught up in rescuing Gerick from Zhev’Na, I had never looked back at my old nemesis, the King of Leire. Our enmity was too deep. His boyhood friendship with my brother had prompted him to issue a pardon for my “crimes” of consorting with sorcerers, but I expected no further favors from him. “So what did you tell them?”

“That anyone who thought you were alive was an optimist, and anyone who thought you’d be living in Dunfarrie again was a fool.” Rowan fidgeted with his hat, his face knotted into a frown. “For certain they didn’t believe me. The whole business smells bad. That’s why I thought I should bring this myself.”

I broke the seal. The message was brief and to the point.

Your counsel is needed. Sunset on the fifteenth day of the Month of Veils. On the arched bridge in your late cousin’s famous gardens. E. R.

“Windham… he wants to meet in Martin’s gardens at Windham.” I wadded the notepaper and threw it to the floor. “Cheeky bastard! How dare he set foot there!”

Martin, Earl of Gault, had been my mother’s distant cousin and my dearest friend and mentor when I was a girl. On the same day the king and the Council of Lords had condemned Karon to burn, Evard had executed Martin, his beloved mistress, and Tennice’s brother Tanager, accusing them of plotting with sorcerers to topple his throne. Only chance had allowed Tennice to escape death. No matter who claimed Martin’s land and titles now, the thought of Evard walking in Martin’s gardens was vile. Vile.

“One more thing,” said Rowan. “The messenger said, ‘Tell her that a search for one missing person may turn up others who should never be found.’ ”

Cold fear quickly doused my indignation. “Stars of night! Could Evard know about Gerick?”

“They said no more than I’ve told you. I thought maybe they knew of the three sorcerers living at your place. At least they’re well away.”

On his first venture to save D’Arnath’s Bridge, Karon had healed three Zhid, restoring the souls that had been stolen from them centuries before. The three had stayed at my old cottage for a while, but were now back in Gondai on a mission for Karon. Out of Evard’s reach, at least. But if the king had any idea about Gerick… that he was Karon’s son… a sorcerer, too…

I snatched up the letter from the floor and stared at it again. And then there was the matter of Tennice… Rowan watched me, his thumb rubbing the brim of his hat.

“I can’t let Evard start looking for me,” I said. “Any questioning of my old associations would lead him to Tennice’s father, which could easily point them here. Not only would that endanger Gerick, but Tennice is still condemned.” That my old friend had escaped execution sixteen years ago was only a matter of luck.

“Perhaps it’s time for you to move on. Away from here.”

“Where could we go? We can’t hide forever.” Very much wished… Your counsel is needed… “Besides, I’m curious…”

Perhaps it was the week’s tension that made me so certain I had to answer Evard’s summons, anything to get away from Verdillon and the teeth-on-edge days. For myself, I wasn’t afraid of the king. Even his not-so-veiled threat could not shake my confidence; I believed it nothing but an indication of urgency, a clumsy effort at persuasion. Evard had always been a bully. But his friendship for my brother, proven over and over again, had prevented him from physically harming me. And somehow, on the day I had told him of Tomas’s death and the strange circumstances surrounding it, I had felt that youthful loyalty transferred to me, a gift of grief in a heart that knew little softness.

No, my only concern in such a meeting would be Gerick’s safety. I didn’t want Evard getting curious about him, yet I couldn’t leave him behind, either; the echoes of my son’s night terrors still rang in my ears.