Chapter 74: Plans

“You sent for me, Honor Kotliss?” Yren asked as he entered the room, his face both worried and curious. The room was small, maybe 12 feet by 12 feet. An iron pine table mostly filled it and Kotliss was sitting on one side, a small window at his back. Next to him was another man Yren had never met.

“Yes, Goodman Dray-Tulat,” the man said solemnly. His stiff demeanor and formal voice caused a sinking feeling in Yren’s stomach. The knight gestured to the lone chair opposite them. “Please, have a seat.”

Yren looked around the room as he sat. It was beyond sparse to perhaps severe. There were no decorations of any kind on the walls, and the barred window had no curtains. The stone floor had no rugs. Plus, the room was plain gray, stone brick with no hint of the mudding in which most of the castle’s rooms seemed to be covered. It had the impression of being an old, frequently used room but it smelled of musty desperation and dried sweat.

“This is Honor Vonet,” Kotliss explained as Yren sat in the chair. The chair was plain iron pine, so not very forgiving and distinctly uncomfortable. “He’s the First of the Second and responsible for the Crown King’s safety. He’ll be joining us for our conversation.”

“Conversation?” Yren asked, looking worriedly between the two men. His eyes narrowed slightly. He was pretty sure what they were going to be conversing about, but he hadn’t expected it to be so formal. He also hadn’t expected there to be another knight involved. He got the distinct impression he might be in trouble. He’d had no real choice at the time, summoning the armor had not been his doing. He somehow doubted the two in front of him would see it that way.

“We’ve asked you here to discuss your encounter yesterday afternoon,” Vonet asked, his face stern. The man was unmoving, and his gaze was harsh. “We expect you to provide a complete, concise report but don’t hesitate to be as detailed as necessary. We will speak up if we have any questions or need you to clarify any points.”

Yren thought for a moment, his eyes on the iron pine table and his lips pursed. Finally, he looked up and looked back and forth between the two men. He would not dissemble. He respected Honor Kotliss too much to lie to him. However, he could be judicious with the truth. “I was on my way to meet you at the training circle, Honor Kotliss, when Torus Oloid called out for me.”

“Oloid?” Vonet questioned. “Former First of the Fourteenth?”

“Yes, sir,” Yren agreed. He paused a moment to make sure there were no other questions, then continued. “On our journey here, there was an ... incident ... concerning my armor...”

“We’re aware of the incident,” Kotliss interrupted. He turned to Vonet. “It’s what led to Oloid being revoked.”

“Revoked, sir?” the young blacksmith asked, not having heard the term before.

“His knighthood revoked,” Vonet explained in an even voice. “We just use the term revoked. Continue your report.”

“Oloid called me,” he repeated. “He was walking towards me at the time. He appeared to be coming from the palace gate, though I don’t know where he really came from. The gate was behind him, though. He apologized for attempting to steal my armor.”

“Did you believe him?” the First of the First interrupted.

“He seemed sincere,” the blacksmith replied slowly. “I’m not sure I believed him, though. I wasn’t certain how to take his apology, though I accepted it.”

“Would you say you were wary?” Vonet inquired.

Yren thought for a moment. “Yes,” he said simply, then decided to expand upon the subject. “He was with us for the last part of our journey to the capital, but we didn’t interact much. He was ... aloof. He didn’t speak much.”

“We’ve heard,” Vonet rejoined. “Continue.”

Yren’s eyes narrowed again. Obviously, Honor Vonet had read the reports Gillen had provided concerning Oloid’s attempted theft of his armor. Since he’d read it before Yren had brought up Oloid, it suggested Vonet had read Gillen’s complete report about their travel from Hasp. He’d have to be very careful.

“He then mentioned that Gillen wanted to see me,” Yren continued warily.

“Wait,” Vonet said, raising his hand. “Gillen? Hawksley? The former First of the Third?”

“Yes,” Yren replied bitterly, his face closing in anger. “She shouldn’t be the former anything, however.”

“I’ve explained that,” Kotliss interrupted.

“It still doesn’t make it right.”

“Whether the revocation of Hawksley was justified or not is immaterial to our discussion,” Vonet stopped the both of them. “The Queen issued the revocation and her word is law.”

“You mentioned Oloid indicated he was in contact with Gillen?” Vonet asked to pull the conversation back on track.

When the young blacksmith nodded, Vonet turned to Kotliss. He kept his voice low, trying to ensure only Kotliss heard him, but Yren had sharp ears. “Is it possible they’re working together?”

Kotliss’ lips pursed and his eyes narrowed as he considered the possibility.

“Unlikely,” he replied finally. “While there’s no blood between them, it quietly known Hawksley didn’t care much for Oloid. Besides, Oloid was very public in his anger that Hawksley and Dray-Tulat were the ones who cost him his knighthood.”

“I didn’t know that,” Yren remarked, his brows raised. “I had nothing to do with him becoming revoked. If he hadn’t tried to steal my armor...”

“We know,” Vonet interrupted him. “It’s immaterial. Continue with your report.”

The blacksmith shrugged. “I admit I was suspicious. My thoughts may have been colored by my dislike of Oloid, but I didn’t believe Gillen would use him to bring a message to me. I was caught in a dilemma, though, because I couldn’t chance that Gillen really did need me. With some trepidation, I allowed him to lead me. All the while, I made sure to watch him closely. The journey was not long, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. Perhaps a bit longer; I’m not sure. He led me through several streets before a long street that was larger than the others. None of the streets were marked with names, that I could tell, but I made sure to keep an eye out for landmarks. I could re-trace the path, if you’d like.”

“Not necessary,” Vonet replied brusquely. “However, in the future, look at the intersection of streets. The streets are labelled with steel placards embedded in the stone brick at each intersection, with the placard parallel to the street they label. Continue with your report.”

Yren nodded. “He took me through some streets, and we entered a shop that appeared closed. He made no suspicious movements, so I had no real warning when someone wrapped something around my neck.”

“What did they wrap around your neck?” Vonet questioned. “A rope? A noose? A binding of some kind? Be specific, Goodman Dray-Tulat.”

Yren considered. There were obviously parts to this story he didn’t want to become general knowledge. His relationship with his armor was one and his ability to speak to metal was another. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the two knights with the knowledge, exactly, but he barely knew Kotliss and didn’t know Vonet at all. Besides, they were the ones interrogating him.

On the journey to Hasp, he had been fairly open with what he could do. It was how he was, how he’d always been. Hasp was a closed community and it shared in everything. There was no reason to be duplicitous since your neighbors sometimes needed to know what you could do in order that you could help them should the need arise.

This openness had carried over to the journey here but having the information out there had not been without problems. It had taken him time to realize the difference between life in Hasp and life on the road was that not everyone around you had your best interests at heart. He credited Hawksley, Sir Tergin and the princess with showing him the difference in their long, involved details about court. They had stressed upon him that he had to be careful about who he trusted when they reached the capital – and maybe even before. Oloid attempting to steal his armor was a good example; in Hasp, stealing was rare as nearly everyone was willing to give to anyone in need. So Yren had had to learn to be less open and more tight-lipped with information.

As his friends had warned, Callisto was nothing like Hasp. There was no sense of community here. It appeared everyone was only out for themselves and always put their best interests first. With this more jaded viewpoint in mind, he decided the two knights didn’t need to know what he could do, not fully. Not until they had gained his trust.

“Not a noose, it was...,” Yren’s voice drifted off and his face grew troubled as he remembered the void. “Honestly, I’m not certain what it was. It went around my neck and then everything went white.”

“White?” Kotliss questioned.

Yren nodded. “Everything was white. It was like I was trapped in my own mind, and I couldn’t get out.”

“But you did get out?” Vonet asked.

Yren considered his answer. “The thing around my neck broke.”

“It broke or you broke it?” Kotliss asked, his eyes narrowed.

“How could I have broken it?” the blacksmith asked incredulously. To be honest, he wasn’t certain how the stupid thing had broke. He had done nothing to break it except reach for his emotions. It had been a struggle to grab and hold them. He was fairly certain this was what had broken the collar, but it could be difficult to explain that precisely. Besides, the two knights didn’t need to know that. The secret was to give them as much of the truth as he could but hide what he didn’t want to tell them without outright lying to them. Such as meeting with Kyr, for example. It was a fine line, but he knew he had to walk it. “I was still stuck in my own head.”

“What happened after it broke?” Vonet questioned.

“They attacked me,” Yren said. “I thought I was going to die.”

“And the armor?” Kotliss asked.

“What armor?” Yren asked in reply, feigning ignorance. Still not a lie as they had not specified in which armor they were interested.

“Your blue armor,” Vonet clarified.

“What about my armor?” Yren asked, his face confused. Internally, he could feel his stomach tumbling.

“Were you wearing your armor?” Kotliss said, clearly frustrated.

“How could I possibly have been wearing armor?” Yren asked. He was threading the needle so as not to actually lie. “Honor Kirendell had confiscated my armor earlier that morning.”

It went like that for a long time with Kotliss and Vonet approaching the same question from several different sides. A highly edited version of the mage fight also came out, with Yren mostly running from spells and using his speed and agility to finally kill one of the mages. The story that emerged was not a lie; Yren worded everything carefully to avoid lying to the two knights. It was just a highly edited, highly stylized version of a very stretched truth.

Finally, after several hours, the two men released the blacksmith.

“What do you think?” Vonet asked.

“He never directly answered a single question,” Kotliss chuckled.

“He lied?” Vonet asked in surprise.

“No,” the other knight replied. “I was monitoring very closely. Nothing he said was an outright lie. He just made sure to answer in a way that didn’t really answer the question. Or he answered in a way that led us in a completely different direction without coming out and stating things outright. I’m fairly sure he was omitting things, but I couldn’t figure out a way to determine what it was. It was a pretty masterful performance. I would not have expected it from a blacksmith from such a remote, rural town.”

“So, do we question him again tomorrow?” Vonet asked.

“We’re likely to get the same answers,” Kotliss admitted. “But what else can we do?”

It was much later that night that found Yren in his room, cleaning up after a particularly rigorous training session with Honor Kotliss. The two had fought to another draw, the session taking the better part of two hours before Honor Kotliss had called an end to it. Yren was still pretty sure Honor Kotliss was taking it easy on him, though he’d passed up quite a few hits to the older knight as well. Winning and losing in practice didn’t matter to Yren. He was more interested in learning new techniques and new ways to think. He wanted to be absolutely sure he was the winner when it counted.

He was fairly certain Kotliss and Vonet knew he had been obfuscating during their interrogation, but Kotliss never brought it up during the training session. Instead, they’d just practiced the sword and shield.

He thought back to the interrogation briefly. He had given a particularly good description of the female mage, but he wasn’t sure it would do any good. The mage had been incredibly powerful, and he’d escaped mostly by luck. He couldn’t count on luck to save him too often. Kyr had been right – he needed to learn. He just wasn’t certain who could actually teach him about his abilities.

It was nearing eight bells and he’d not had any dinner yet. Honestly, though, he was too tired to eat. He was still not quite recovered from the fight with the two mages, and his bed seemed to be calling him. He’d just decided to get a good night’s rest and have a bigger than normal breakfast when a quiet knock on his door caught his attention.

He walked to the door and opened it, surprised by the person standing there.

“Honor Hawksley?”

“I’m not an Honor anymore, Yren,” the brunette said with a soft, if slightly hurt, smile. “You can just call me Gillen ... or Hawksley.”

“Gillen,” he repeated in surprise. “Is everything okay?”

The former knight looked around the hallway. “I’d rather not talk out here.”

“Of course,” the young man offered, stepping to the side so Gillen could enter. She stopped a bit inside of the room, enough that Yren could get around her after closing the door. She’d not been to this particular room before, though most of the rooms in this part of the palace were largely the same. There was a large, four poster bed off to the right side with a wardrobe directly across from it. To the left was a rich, cherry desk and in front of it, a few matching cherry chairs cushioned with soft blue pillows. The room was windowed and the windows near the desk had two upholstered chairs set around a small reading table with an oil lamp set atop it. Next to the bed, the windows gave way to a set of double doors that led out onto a small balcony with its own set of chairs and a small table.

“How have you been?” he asked, as he walked over and sat on the edge of one of the reading chairs. His elbows were on his knees, his hands clasped before him. His face was curious and his eyes eager.

“As best as can be expected,” Gillen replied, tilting her head. “I’ve been better than you, at any rate. I hear you had some trouble in the north-east market yesterday.”

“There was some trouble,” Yren replied with a grimace. “Chaos knows why, but I seem to have a talent for finding trouble – or perhaps I let others get me into trouble.”

He shook his head and looked up inquisitively at his guest. “Did they send you to question me, too?”

“They?”

“Honor Kotliss and Honor Vonet spent a few hours interrogating me,” the blacksmith explained.

“Oh,” she replied. “That’s probably to be expected but no, I haven’t spoken with either of them.”

“Did you want to sit?” he asked politely.

She shook her head and looked at the young man carefully, trying to figure out an adequate way to broach the discussion. She had thought of a number of ways, but she didn’t want to spend her time explaining everything. They didn’t have that kind of time. The problem was, Yren questioned everything. She was having a hard time deciding the best way of moving forward.

“We’re friends,” Yren said when he tired of waiting for the woman to find the words she wanted to use. “I think we’re good enough friends that I won’t take offense to whatever you have to say, even if it comes out wrong.”

The brunette former knight laughed, suddenly.

“What’s so funny?” the blacksmith questioned, a little put out.

“I was on the opposite side of this conversation with a different person not so long ago,” she chuckled.

“Is Teran and Bena near?” she asked finally.

Yren’s eyes grew markedly curious and he nodded towards the door. “Their rooms are on the opposite side of the hallway.”

“How about Elva?”

“Same. Teran and Bena share a room and Elva is next door.”

“What about Vestra?”

Yren’s face echoed his growing curiosity. “She’s on the other side of Teran and Bena. Originally, Teran and Bena had their own rooms and Vestra was in the same room as Elva. Bena gave Vestra her room and moved in with Teran when Vestra indicated she was tired of being ‘mothered’ by Elva.”

Yren held up his hands at Gillen’s curious expression. “The words are hers, not mine.”

“I guess mothering someone is an occupational hazard for a mother,” Gillen remarked, though she was deep in thought.

“As Teran is fond to say, there is very little difference between mother and smother,” he quipped.

The former knight pursed her lips and looked at the blacksmith askance. Finally, she shook her head and closed her eyes. Opening them, she looked at the young man seated in front of her. “Do you trust me, Yren?”

“Of course,” he replied immediately.

“I mean really trust me,” Gillen questioned, looking at him closely. “Enough to do what I say without questions?”

“I trust you with my life, Honor Hawksley,” the young man replied. “Chaos knows you’ve earned my trust. I certainly hope I give you no reason to doubt it.”

“Then I need you to walk across and tell everyone – Elva, Teran, Bena and Vestra – to gather their packs and everything they might need for a journey. Have them meet you here in fifteen minutes or so. Make sure they know to hurry but not to forget anything they truly need while still packing as light as possible.”

“Are we going somewhere?”

“What happened to doing what I say without asking questions?”

Yren nodded, though his face was troubled. He moved quickly towards the door.

“Yren,” Gillen asked before he could open the door. The younger man turned and looked at her. “Very quietly. We want no one to know that you’re leaving. When you get back, pack your own backpack. Be quick, but make sure you have everything you’ll need. Also, make sure you pack your swords. Try to hide them, if you can.”

Yren’s mind swirled with unasked questions, but he ground his teeth instead of voicing them. Gillen looked strangely focused and serious, and she’d made clear now was the time for speed, not questions. He drew a breath and then turned to go.

Closer to thirty minutes later, Gillen led them down the hallway, moving almost silently. Teran, of course, was just as silent. Elva, Yren, Bena and Vestra were a bit less so. Gillen winced at every sound, but she continued to lead them down the hall. She stopped at every corner, looking around it surreptitiously before leading them on. There were a few times when Gillen stopped them, suddenly, ushering them into nearby rooms or alcoves when people couldn’t be avoided. She was careful to keep them hidden and silent until the people had passed.

As Yren watched the former knight, he started to take their movements a bit more seriously. Gillen was definitely on edge, her face a mask of concentration. Her movements were sure and her commands curt and abrupt. Though Yren had no idea where they were going, he noticed the route she was leading them seemed circuitous and unnecessarily long, until he realized Gillen was taking extreme care to only take corridors where they could quickly find a place to hide. She’d even led them through strange rooms to move from one corridor to another instead of moving through intersections. She was constantly vigilant, always surreptitiously peeking around doors and around corners. At even the slightest sound, she was quick to push them into the nearest dark alcove or darkened room.

They moved up some stairs and down others, though Yren got the impression they were moving rather steadily down. He had not explored the castle fully, content in his own little part of it, so he’d never realized how extensive the castle was or how labyrinthine its halls. He realized his mistake and vowed to take better stock of his surroundings if he were ever in a large building like this again.

Teran knew how deadly serious Gillen was from the beginning. The minute bulge in her stomach was throwing off her rhythm slightly, but she quickly recalled her skills at moving silently and hiding in plain sight. She was stealthy and graceful, despite the small addition.

Elva was confused, but she wasn’t fully paying attention to her surroundings. Much of her thought was how she was going to reconcile with Issa. The two had had their rows at times, but it had never been this bad before. She wasn’t sure what she could say or do to make her middle daughter see that she loved her without question.

Vestra was just happy to be out of the cage. She had rather quickly grown tired of being locked in her room. Eventually, she had returned to her practice of being unseen. She roamed the hallways, mostly at night, and had even exited into the surrounding courtyard a few times. Being unseen gave her the freedom she craved and none of the people she was quickly counting as friends were any the wiser.

After what seemed like hours but was probably only fifteen to thirty minutes, they came to a corner door where two long hallways met. How Gillen knew it was the right door was anyone’s guess. The door was as non-descript as any of the others along either of the corridors through which they’d recently passed, and the corridor was not particularly noteworthy. The door was made from a blackened iron pine, with brass fittings and handle just like every other door along the hallway.

Gillen opened the door, motioning for them to enter quickly. Elva, Teran, Bena and Vestra followed the former knight’s directions. Yren followed behind a bit more slowly, his face contorted in curiosity as he looked at her. Still, he entered, watching as Gillen took a final look around the hallways before backing in and closing the door as quietly as possible.

When he turned back, he almost ran into the four women who had stopped just beyond the door. As soon as he looked around, he could see why. The room was rather large, with bookcases lining most of the walls and a fire burning in a fireplace along the far-left wall. The popping of the fire was loud in the suddenly quiet room, and the burning logs lent a woodsy smell throughout.

The bookcases held some books but also odds and ends. There were finely crafted ceramic figurines, wooden gadgets of strange and captivating design, and various other trinkets. There were also several different types of fine metalwork surmounted with stunning filigree work that Yren itched to examine closer. The fireplace, on the other hand, simply held three unmatched lanterns on its mantlepiece. It was surmounted by an oil painting of an elderly woman dressed in a dark blue and black dress who was looking sternly out of the portrait. The painting itself made it seem as if the woman was looking down her nose into the room.

Scattered unevenly around these bookcases were a series of unmatched chairs and a few small reading tables. Ataya was sitting on a green upholstered chair with white stripes in the near corner across the room. She was wearing a light gray peasant dress with a single button undone and she smiled at Yren. On her lap was a small girl of maybe six to nine years, dressed in a blue and white gingham dress. Ataya’s red hair was, as usual, wild and free, tumbling in curls and whorls around her soft, oval face. The young girl’s hair, in contrast, was blonde and cut to just below her shoulders and was held out of her face by little, tiny, blue bows. Her face was serious but there was just a hint of curiosity flickering around her eyes.