Stepping off the disk, Ivory spared no glance at the cavernous nature of stone bastion. The dark walls or the distant square structures. They didn't matter. Only one did--Kabel. How was she to tell him his death was all but assured?
To tell him that even after her desires, actions, the truth had been revealed by a now-dead, stupid old man? All was for nothing. Tomorrow, perhaps the day after, he would be executed. Argon would need to make a show of his might, and likely the church would refuse all claims to him for that same reason.
Even after your loyalty to the church, they would undoubtedly dispel you for their own safety.
She groaned...
This is chaotic.
The attack on the grand hall had changed things. Everyone required a sacrifice for the acts committed. Too many deaths and all that. In the end, the victim was Kabel. A fruitless death.
Valor required complete removal from any connection to the church, and having an Aspirant in prison was unacceptable. But one that had caused harm to the clan...now that was useful.
Kill the Aspirant and show your power!
Even if the blame for the attack could not be pinned directly to him, there was always the act of 'the kidnapping', which alone was enough.
Ivory rubbed her right palm; there remained the false glove. Touching it registered no true sensation in her awareness. Nothing.
I want to feel something, anything!
She stepped over a rock, edging closer towards the square building. There, Kabel was held to be killed later.
In the end, I could do nothing.
Mist the politics of this world!
Behind her, Nail trailed slowly, observing the surroundings for the inklings of some danger. Anything at all, and Ivory would be scooped from Bastion. The early attack warranted such vigilance. Nothing could harm the highHeir of valor. Yes, that was what she was. Regardless of the battle, the death. The coronation had happened. Except...that none of the Vassal clans had sworn fealty to her.
That was perilous.
What if they never do?
What if my connection to Kabel was the wall against it?
She caressed her hair...So even the highHeir can only be what she is...Nothing else.
Unknown when...but she had long arrived, standing solemnly before the dark metal doors of the cage. Just a singular step, and its proximity charges were sure to activate. Should I? Behind that door was a face she was unsure how to face?
How did one tell a man...A good man that he was, to die.
She chuckled. This isn't like me, is it? Since when was I so...emphatic..Yes, that's the word.
She heaved, commanded Nail to remain put, and stepped in.
Let it be done!
The door opened to the side, and seated there on the bed was Kabel: Dark-haired, sharp-eyed, with that often mocking expression. It was gone now, replaced by something else. Sadness...
She broke!
"I...I...." She looked to the wall. "I couldn't. I..Mist it!"
"That's okay!" Kabel said, smiling. Why in the lord's was he smiling?
"No, it's not," Ivory said, looking down on the blood-stained white dress. So unelegant. "You are...I couldn't!"
He said, "I renounce the church!"
What?
There were no thoughts, no ponderings. Just a tide of something. Rhaena's words fitted back into her mind.
I am Enough!
Ivory's eyes were wide, her arms quickly wrapping around his back. Intimate. "Are you sure?" By the almighty, what am I doing? The resistance was weak against the internal sensations. This man...This wonderful man.
He smiled. "Hey, call me Kabal the foolish!"
"Yes..." She muttered. "You are an idiot."
You deserve a reward!
Her lips pressed against his, and she felt it, the brief startlement that rocked through his body. Surprised. Just for a moment, and he grabbed her, his arms, oddly powerful, wrapped around her body. Something was happening. Something that her innate awareness screamed against. But who cared?
Who had ever done such a thing for her?
Choose death. Choose her over their existence!
He gentled her atop the bed, hard, his face looming above hers. Mist escaping from his lips.
She muttered. "I don't want to think!'
And he leaned, grabbing her...passionate.
Who would have guessed that a common Aspirant would one day bed a Highness?
Ah, the rumors this would bring!
__________
Ivory stared at a distant wall...dark. A few hours had now passed. Hours. lords, he felt like a minute ago. She smiled, unsure exactly how to analyze these blossoming emotions. What were they? It was like burning. A sweet, gentle warmth. And then there was that incessant warning.
Disengae. Disengae.
What was there to disengage?
If anything, they had...engaged!
She blushed, a reaction she herself found bizarre. I suppose Master Geld should be glad of his gift!
He was...amazing.
A voice snapped into her awareness. "Your Grace, do you still require rest?" It was a man, middle-aged, long black hair with two white braided strands falling off on both sides of his neck. He stood strong, clad in dark armor, a black cape flowing down weightlessly behind him. And on his back, a sword was hoisted there. Sea Call, as she had remembered. That was the blade's name.
"Sir, Barristan!" She mouthed. "I apologize for the battle."
"Ah, there is no need for it. It is good to wet sea call from time to time."
She smiled; it felt easier. "One would think a weapon with the world's oceans would require no wetness."
He chuckled in a hoarse tone. "Within it. The seas are within it. The blade itself does get dry." He unsheathed the sword, leveling it over his palm. Blue, yes, that was the color. A cerulean hue of vast waters, swirling. A blade with a pointed tip, inscribed with a myriad of symbols. Words to be exact.
"Oceans are one!"
"Within one and for one." Barristan completed. "Old tongue.."
Ivory "hmmed", observing once more the sacred relic. She noted a thin crack on the metal. "There." She said. "Perhaps you should leave it with us. To fix that is."
"Oh." He spectated the blade. "Ah, I see. Sorry, no. Call it a reminder." He smiled. "That is the only crack on this weapon. Raymond made sure of it."
"Raymond Dawn, the former starlord?"
"Yes, that was his title. But now, an impressive lad goes around with it."
"This is the way of the dawn clan."
"Indeed," He said, "And the lad Julius Dawn is an impressive enough fellow, unlike his predecessors, but that is the way of things."
Ivory nodded, keenly aware of the rather odd manner of speech adopted by this man. It was...barbaric, lacking in subtle meanings, double interpretations. Thus was the way of Caster's speech. But he was, however, a caster. There was no need for the Oral History to confirm that. Why then did he speak like that?
Was he veilCounsel? She wondered and said, "These attackers are unknown."
"They are Fermen." He said.
Ivory regarded him. "I know that." She said, "I meant the ones they work for are unknown. Anyone could be the enemy."
"Like Odium?"
Lords, the casualness with which he spoke! Ivory confounded. For a man who stood as the lordCaptain of a Great Clan, he seemed rather 'Unimpressive'
Perhaps if I had seen his violence during the battle, a better opinion could have been formed. But there is not. There is only this.
Ivory said after a breath, there was still a trace of weakness in her muscles. "I apologize sincerely for this error. You can be excused if you so desire to leave Cintry."
"Ah." Barristan Chuckled. "Would Argon be a friend to that action?"
Ivory poised. "I am highHeir."
He nodded, said, "That you are."
This is getting bootless...Ivory thought, and knew at that moment the reason this futile conversation was entertained in any entirety. She was running..Ah, would you look at that.
She was afraid of her parents.
Odd.
There were talks, rumors often gleamed from the passing handmaidens, or even Aspirants. Talks about the ways of the darkCrowns. Supposedly, children could be punished by the shutting of doors. Was that to be the outcome of this error?
She palmed her face--an undignified action she sensed threw Barristan off. That is, if he had the awareness to understand its significance. A quick glance.
He didn't. Currently, his eyes were locked on a man at the far end of the hall. Alone, leaning on a giant pillar. Javid with that detached gaze of his. Like an ant, the size comparison to the pillar was colossal.
Then she recalled.
What was that thing he did? She wondered. The changing of symbols? Akin to the attribute owned by the chalk? No, not the same. The chalk seems to function by the gathering of surrounding symbols in order to generate effects.
A brush that required present paint.
Likely, she sensed, certain drastic changes could not be done with the chalk. A scenario: If I were to stand in a whitezone, could such changes be done? Perhaps not. The chalk, in essence, didn't rewrite, but restructured.
Amazing.