Carol Berg - THE SOUL WEAVER

“That’s what I’ve come to tell you, my lady. Unfortunately Ce’Aret’s aide, F’Lyr, saw me in the passage outside the Masters’ Waiting Chamber, the room where I had hidden the young lady, and insisted I speak with the Preceptor Ce’Aret. No insistence that I was on the Prince’s business would satisfy him, so I had to go, lest Ce’Aret herself come up to fetch me and discover the princess. I told the young lady to remain quietly hidden until I could return for her. Though I apologized for abandoning her, she did not seem frightened. She seems… uh… ”

“… a very resilient young lady,” I said.

“Indeed. Before I could return to her, the Prince arrived for the Preceptorate meeting. He asked me only if you were safe, and I said you were, but I didn’t tell him that the princess was not yet here” - he swallowed hard and glanced up - “and I do most sincerely fear his wrath if he discovers it. Even worse, when I slipped up the stairs to fetch her, Radele was entering the Masters’ Waiting Chamber! The girl must have hidden herself or gone elsewhere, for I heard no evidence of discovery. The Prince was waiting for me, so I could not stay long. Now I am commanded to return to him immediately, so I’ve no assurance as to when I’ll be free to retrieve the young lady.”

“I can find the way there and back,” I said, standing up. “I’ll go for her myself.” Roxanne was sensible. She would not let herself get caught. She would remember how to keep herself empty… surely she would remember.

“You must not leave the palace, my lady,” said Aimee, frowning. “The Prince was most emphatic about that. Perhaps I could retrieve the young lady. No one will remark me.”

“But how - ” I almost bit my tongue.

Aimee’s laugh chimed like silver. “If you or the good Dulcé will permit me to know her through your eyes, I’ll be able to recognize her.”

“It would be a great service,” I said, unsure what she meant.

“Of course, I can’t go just now. Everyone is gathering to hear the Prince speak, and so many people abroad will confuse my ability to travel. But the Precept House will be deserted, and that will keep her safe. Later, when the crowds thin out a bit, I should be able to find her quite easily. I’ll go the moment the Prince is finished speaking.”

A relieved Bareil said he would be happy for Aimee to take an image of Roxanne from his thoughts. While they discussed descriptions, images, and the most discreet routes by which to bring Roxanne into the palace, a low hum from outside drew me to back to the window.

This apartment lay on the inner face of the curved north wing of the palace, so the cushioned window seat had an excellent view of the broad front steps and the royal balcony above them, as well as the commard and parkland below and beyond. As the filmy draperies shifted in the breeze, I settled there and watched a crowd grow, pouring from every street, carrying candles and lanterns and magical lights of all kinds, until the city looked like rivers of fireflies replenishing a jeweled sea. Beyond them all, low in the east over the mountains, hung the huge silver crescent of the moon.

The parapet of the wide royal balcony had been carved with the arch and stars and rampant lions of D’Arnath. On tall posts at its corners hung lamps shining with pure white light, their fiery brilliance reflected and multiplied a hundredfold by the tall, many-paned windows behind the balcony.

Three people in the formal robes of the Preceptors filed out and took seats on the balcony. My vantage was close enough that I could recognize them: tall Mem’Tara whose long, bony face and heavy braid I had glimpsed earlier in the Precept House, the fiery little Ce’Aret, and the stoop-shouldered Ustele who crouched low in his chair. Radele, attired in magnificent robes of green, trimmed in gold and gems, followed the Preceptors. The imposing older man that accompanied him could be none but his father Men’Thor, even more resplendent in red. I had met Men’Thor, they had told me, but not in any state where I could remember him.

“The Prince comes,” said Aimee from behind me. “His presence fills the city.”

The Preceptors stood and the crowd hushed when Karon stepped onto the balcony from the doorway and walked to the center. The night wind gently shifted his plain silk robe of dark blue, so that the narrow silver trim at its hem and sleeves glinted in the lamplight. In the traditional fashion for a Dar’Nethi Healer, a silver band bound up his left sleeve, exposing the scars on his arm. The open front of the robe revealed the sword and dagger of D’Arnath sheathed at his waist.

“People of Avonar, brave warriors, defenders of the Vales, of the city, of the last hope of the worlds, I have called you here in grief and in hope, to tell you of great changes in the world.”

The hair rose on the back of my neck. Though his speech was not shouted in the usual harshness of public oratory, I could hear him as clearly as if he stood three paces from my seat.

“Four years ago I swore an oath to break the bonds of terror forged by those who rule in Zhev’Na. I promised to serve you in the ways laid down for D’Arnath’s Heirs, to heal the wounds of war, and to nurture my son to follow after me, so that life could thrive in all the worlds that have been given into our care. In all of these things I have failed.”

No breath, no cry, no whisper of sound muted the stark clarity of his judgment.

“Every man and woman within sound of my voice has lost someone to the evil that is Zhev’Na; you have seen your sons and daughters, your parents, brothers, sisters, and cousins enslaved, tortured, driven mad, or slain. You know that my family has suffered alongside yours, and that only by the talent and skill of your Preceptors do I live to walk the beauteous hills of Avonar. Tonight I have come to tell you that with me, the line of D’Arnath will end.”

My body, mind, and spirit turned to stone, while throughout the commard the long-held breath of rumor and speculation was released at last. From here and there a mournful wail arose, only to be quickly hushed when Karon began to speak again.

“My son, who was acknowledged five years ago before the Preceptors of the Dar’Nethi, has been corrupted by the Lords of Zhev’Na. By his own hand was his mother, my beloved wife, struck down, and by his acts were the Preceptors Jayereth and Gar’Dena and the Circle of our most brilliant Talents destroyed. His guilt is clear, his subjugation to the Lords indisputable, and at one hour past dawn tomorrow, he will die for these acts. My own hand must accomplish this terrible deed, for only the Heir of D’Arnath can judge a Dar’Nethi life too evil, too dangerous, too broken to continue. This is a bitter sorrow for Gondai as well as for me, and I will need all of your strength to enable me to encompass such grief.

“But you must not lose heart, for the crooked paths take us to the most unexpected places, places beyond our dreaming, and for those who follow the Way, our sorrows bring us power. In the choosing of my new successor have I been forced to give thought to all our troubles, our life, our history, our strengths, our failures, all that I - and you - have become in this interminable war, and I have come to the conviction that the changes thrust upon us by these dread events will be the key to our future. For too long I have been so absorbed in my own distress, in my anger, and in my determination to right every evil according to my own lights that I lost sight of the Way, lost the clear vision that it offers us. Many of us have lost the Way over the past thousand years. It is the greatest evil the Lords have done to us - to make us destroy our best selves.

“The Preceptor Ce’Aret has taught me how the Heir can name a successor not of his own blood, and at dawn tomorrow so I will do. Avonar is graced by a community of worthy men and women, every one of whom has the welfare of our people at heart, every one of whom is unyielding in vigilance against the depredations of Zhev’Na, every one of whom is undisputed in courage and devotion. But only one man’s vision has allowed him to see the true threat and to hold steadfast through slander and dishonor and false accusations to prove his mettle. He it is whom I have judged most worthy of D’Arnath’s legacy.”