The Eynan Read online

  The passageway was empty and he padded quietly to the stairs at the end, where he quickly climbed to the second floor, and headed for the privacy of his own chambers. The sun dappled the hallway through the many small windows, but all seemed dark and dreary to Jhond as he moved along.

  When he passed the room of his elder brother, Rhou, he heard laughter inside and realized someone--more than one someone, in fact--had come back from the lake earlier than he would have expected. Rhou wasn't one for formal occasions, being too much of an extrovert to be on his best behavior for too long. Queen Paria was a stickler for correct behavior on court occasions, and Jhond expected his eldest brother, Tiran, would have returned, too. His mother and sisters were more comfortable on such formal occasions. Jhond tiptoed past so he wouldn't be called in to join the others.

  He slipped into his own chamber and firmly locked the door behind him. That alone would indicate to any who decided to drop by that he didn't wish to be disturbed. Jhond very rarely locked his door.

  However, the safety of his own quarters didn't bring the peace he craved. He might have escaped from the company of others, but he couldn't outrun his own thoughts. His own despair.

  He'd spoken the truth to his father when he'd admitted his concern over Gallia's family accepting him as a suitor. Gallia had tried to reassure him there was no reason for worry. She was the third child and had never been the duke's favorite. She believed it was because she was so much younger than her brother and sister. She had only been seven summers when her mother had died and not long after, her father had sent her away to live with the Reeve family.

  Jhond now had cause to wonder if the duke knew of the liaison between his wife and Lord Girau. Was that why Gallia had been sent to the Reeve family? While it seemed a possibility, Jhond still found it unlikely. A personage of the duke's rank wouldn't have forgiven such a betrayal so easily. True such a scandal would have been difficult to live down, but the revelation by another party that the duchess had betrayed the duke with another noble would have been even more disastrous. The royal court was nothing if not proud. No, as remarkable as it seemed, Jhond believed it had all been a miraculous--terrible--coincidence. Jhond wondered just how his father had felt when the duke asked him to take Gallia into his household, where she was drawn into the large Reeve family and gradually found much love.

  Gallia had told Jhond she was almost certain her father would be happy to have her future safely settled. The Reeve family might not be of royal blood, but they had many close connections and had been close friends with her branch of the family for many generations. Why else would her father have entrusted her care to the family if he didn't hold them in such high regard? He had still been nervous of the interview with the duke, but with Gallia's words ringing in his ears he'd been hopeful of the eventual outcome.

  He remembered only too clearly how ecstatic he had been following the nerve-wracking interview with Duke Vikor. It seemed obvious to Jhond that Gallia must have primed her father as to the purpose of the meeting; there was a distinct glint in the duke's eye as he waited for Jhond to speak.

  He could hardly remember opening his mouth, let alone recall the exact words he had spoken, but whatever he'd said must have been acceptable, for the duke smilingly had agreed they should be wed. Jhond had left the room on a cloud of pure delight, meeting Gallia pacing restlessly up and down in the Grand Gallery as pre-arranged. She had run to meet him, and he had picked her out of the air as she leapt toward him, laughing. She hadn't even needed to ask; the look on his face had been more than sufficient.

  "You look so much like the cat that lapped up the proverbial cream!" she had teased him, caressing the upper edge of his ear as it peeked out from under his side-lock.

  He'd expected to lose that shortly. Part of the joining ceremony involved the cutting the male's side-lock and the unbraiding of the female's hair. He'd never particularly liked the fashion and he had looked forward to the cutting. Unless he broke with tradition, I will never lose it now, he thought. If he couldn't take Gallia to wife, he would have no other.

  * * * *

  Gallia stood completely still, as cold as the ice gripping her heart. She was vaguely aware Jhond kissed her and then left her alone. But everything else seemed to slip away. After a little time, she slid to the ground and lay there quietly sobbing to herself.

  Hesitantly, Gallia gathered herself together. She wasn't sure how long it had been now since Jhond had left. But lying here wasn't achieving anything. But then, what good was it to leave? How could she go home now? Home. His home. Could it ever be hers now?

  She had lain there, not allowing herself to think beyond her pain, but now the thought came, unbidden. Was that the reason she had been sent to the Reeve family all those years again ago? Had her..."Father" known the truth all along? No, surely that couldn't be. He would never have agreed to her marriage if he'd known the truth. She couldn't believe otherwise. Whatever had caused him to send her away, the duke couldn't have known the truth. It must all be one gigantic, terrible, cruel twist of fate.

  A twist she must now learn to live with. Live with that? Live without Jhond? Oh, Lords, how could she do that?

  Moreover, how could she ever explain it? The duke would expect them to marry. What could she possibly say?

  She got to her feet and paced up and down. She had to talk to someone. Her first choice would normally have been Jhond, but she couldn't talk to him yet. The wound was far too fresh. Who else? The only other person she was sure knew about the situation was his father. Dear Lords! Her father. Could she really broach the subject with him? Why not? Lords of Light, surely he would expect nothing less. She had no reason to fear; he was the one with the secret. With the guilt. He must help. Yet she knew she couldn't face seeing him just yet. He had hurt her too much. Who else? Marianna!

  Could Marianna know? How could she not? She had come with her mother as a bride and had been a nanny to all the children. But Marianna had been more than just a nanny as far as her mother had been concerned. She had been a life-long friend. If anyone had been a confidant of her mother, it would have been Marianna. She might know many secrets. Secrets no longer then, Gallia decided defiantly.

  Gallia strode off in the direction of her old home.

  * * * *

  There was a knock at the door. "Jhond, dear, are you all right? You've been in there for hours with the door locked. What's the matter?"

  Lady Narissa, his mother, was the one person who wouldn't let a locked door stay between them. She was also the one person, besides his father, he couldn't possibly face just then. He didn't know if she knew his father's secret. He somehow doubted it, but it wasn't his place to tell her. Even if it had been, he couldn't have done so. His pain was too private; as private as he expected hers would be when she found out. He suddenly realized he couldn't possibly cope with that on top of everything else.

  "It's all right, mother. I just have...a lot to think about."

  "You've not quarreled with Gallia, have you? I've told you before...you two are both too stubborn. Give and take, my boy, give and take."

  He thought she had gone and breathed a sigh of relief, only to gulp again as she continued.

  "You won't open up then?"

  "Please, Mother, not just now."

  "Very well, but tomorrow we'll talk."

  He listened to her footsteps moving away, he heard her muttering, too, though whether to herself or another he couldn't say. Nor did he care.

  If he'd been unsure before, now he knew. He couldn't stay here. He couldn't talk about what had happened, and come the morrow, he would have to. His father would want to explain. His mother would want to know what was worrying him. And Gallia...Gallia would want to know what they could do.

  He had no answers for any of them. Not even for himself. He couldn't cope with this, not now.

  He wanted to be left alone.

  Left alone for what? To brood. To feel sorry for yourself? He could almost hear his grandfather's voi
ce berating him.

  He absently twisted his grandfather's ring, glancing down at it when he realized what he was doing. He still thought of it as his grandfather's, even though he had worn it for a couple of years now, ever since his grandfather, Papa Marvek, had left it to him in his will, instructing that he wear it always. It was a rather simple signet ring, made of silver with a design etched into the center rather than embossed. Papa Marvek had worn the ring all his life and had seemed very attached to it. It looked very old, and Jhond had tried to refuse the bequest, suggesting it should have gone to his father. However, Jhond's father had insisted they abide by Papa Marvek's wishes and the ring now belonged to Jhond.

  He shook his head at his own meandering thoughts and forced them back to the problem at hand. He had to go, but where? He'd never been the kind of person who could just be; he had to have purpose. He had to know; he had to plan. This would be the beginning of the rest of his life, after all. Leaving was one thing, but he needed more. He needed to start again, to somehow get on with life. He could only do that if he could do...something.

  Concentrate on that. Try to forget what cannot be and find something that can. It is the way to sanity. The other way... The other way would only lead eventually to madness.

  Think. What? What matters? What's important? What could I make... no, how could I make a difference. Think beyond I. Think about what matters.

  Think. Don't feel...think.

  * * * *

  Gallia decided not to go directly to the duke's house after all. There'd be too much explaining to do, and she wasn't ready for that yet. All she wanted immediately was to talk to Marianna, and at this time of night, a visit would provoke questions. She decided to slip away to Duke's Folly, which had been used as a playhouse by the children of the royal family for years.

  She'd always loved the crumbling old building, which she'd long believed was a true copy of the fabled temple of the magi. She was imbued with a kind of peace whenever she visited it. Her older--now erstwhile--siblings had always teased her over it, saying it couldn't be a real copy for the original wasn't real, but only a children's fable. She even remembered an argument with the duke when she'd been about fifteen, brought on a visit by Lady Narissa and Jhond to her family. She'd insisted the legends were true, "Especially as everyone knows the real Temple of the Magi is on the cliff tops at Tandera," she had declared ardently.

  "Rubbish," the duke had said. "That's what comes of leaving you in the care of the Reeve family." He'd continued, with a sharp grimace at Jhond, "Have you been filling her head with such tales, young man? Your family has dabbled in this ridiculous magic gobbledy-gook since time immemorial, and what have you learned? Nothing!" He had turned back to Gallia and said patiently, "The ruined towers at Tandera are simply the remains of an old castle or maybe an abbey. Those stories were started many, many years ago to keep people from the ruins on the cliff edge. It's far too dangerous up there."

  "That's not so, is it, Jhond? You tell him. You know more about it than I do." Gallia had felt a fervent desire to believe in the legends.

  "And what is it you know that's different from the truth, sirah?" the duke had asked Jhond peremptorily.

  "Please, Your Grace, I know of this story, and the supposed reason that the cliff edge is unsafe, but it doesn't make it true. That's the lie, perpetrated by those who would hide the truth. The ruins of Tandera are those of the Temple of the Magi. The books in our archives prove this beyond doubt. There are many hidden secrets within those ruins--"

  "Oh, nonsense," the duke had interrupted imperiously. He had stood and quoted sonorously, "The Lords are in every man if he but knew how to look." He swung his hand down with a flourish. "Ha! What self-satisfied rubbish," he'd continued as he took his seat again.

  Gallia still remembered the hurt look Jhond had thrown at her, as he'd subsided before the duke's clearly closed mind on the subject. Duke Vikor wasn't the kind of man one could philosophize with. He had his opinions and only his opinions mattered.

  She dragged her mind back to the present and the Duke's Folly. Luckily, it lay on this side of the estate. She wouldn't need to pass by the great house to reach it. There were always cushions and rugs in the old building, which innumerable children had used for all sorts of games over the years. She could comfortably spend the night there and quietly seek out the old nurse the following morning.

  Chapter 3

  Girau slipped from between the sheets. It was only just dawn. He'd pretended to sleep long enough. His wife had already complained of his restlessness, so it easier to let her sleep in peace.

  He knew Gallia hadn't returned the previous night. Just before dinner had been served, he'd been forced to lie to his wife when he'd told her Gallia had sent a message to say she was staying with her family for a day or so. Lady Narissa had been excited, providing her own reason for Gallia's protracted visit. She decided Gallia was going to speak to her father.

  "About what?" He'd queried absently and had been shocked when she had blithely answered, "Why to broach the subject of being wed to Jhond, of course!"

  Had he been blind? No, he berated himself, just self-involved as usual. He'd listened in wonder as the rest of his family had calmly discussed the possibilities of Jhond being acceptable as a suitor. Rhou also had assumed it as an explanation for Jhond's non-appearance at dinner.

  "Too excited to eat," Rhou had suggested.

  No one else seemed at all amazed by the subject of the discussion. In hindsight, Girau realized now Jhond had seemed surprised during the early part of their discussion that Girau hadn't guessed the reason for the requested interview. The whole thing only made him more disgusted with himself, if that was possible.

  He drank too much and by the end of the evening had a thundering headache. Not such a bad thing in the end. Narissa blamed his drinking for his not sleeping and berated him for his stupidity.

  Wrong cause, he had silently informed her.

  He left their room and quietly made his way to the floor above to his son's chambers. He tapped on the door, expecting Jhond hadn't slept either. It wasn't unexpected when he received no reply. He tapped again, saying in almost a whisper, "Please, son, we need to talk." He waited, listening for any slight sound. Nothing. He tried the door and to his surprise it wasn't locked. He pushed it open and looked inside.

  The bed hadn't been slept in, though it was ruffled and the coverlet was in disarray. Girau looked about the room, a cold fear gripping his heart. The drawers of the desk by the window were partially open; the robing room door was ajar. He rushed over to the robing room. Drawers there were open, too, and so were doors to the robe cupboards. There were coats, jackets, shirts, trousers and tabards strewn about. Under-garments were tossed aside with night-attire. The baggage cupboard was open as well.

  Jhond had packed in a hurry...that was obvious. Girau couldn't tell how much he had taken, but it looked as if only the largest hold-all bag was missing. Also one of the backpacks, he thought. He checked the footwear locker. Boots and shoes were gone, too. He must check the weapons trunk in the back hallway to see if Jhond had taken anything from there.

  He had a numbing dread running through his mind, a dread he'd avoided thinking about all last evening. It probably had exacerbated his need to drink too much. He feared that in his distress Jhond would want to leave, and Girau could understand. He only hoped Jhond wouldn't jump at one of the perhaps more obvious choices for a young man who believes his life is ruined. War.

  The war, which had crept across the northern continent because of the growing empire of Illuria, was a draw for quite a few young men from this side of the Straits. Now, if it had been Rhou, such an action would have been almost certain, but Jhond had always been much more of a philosopher than a fighter, but yesterday much had changed. Would Jhond change even more?

  He suddenly remembered the disturbed desk. He turned back and hurried over to it. What was gone from there? The first thing he noticed was that the map box was empty. There were a
lso three small books missing from the shelf at the back. Most of the books were downstairs in the library, of course, but many family members kept a few books of particular interest in their chambers. Girau couldn't for the life of him remember just then what books Jhond had kept there, even though he'd spent many hours in this very room discussing a variety of subjects with his son. Jhond was the thinker of the family, after all. Not for him the all-encompassing interest of the hunt, sports and weapon training, which so engaged his other two sons. If only he could remember which books Jhond had kept there, it might give some clue to where his son had gone.

  Girau turned from the desk to pace about the room. He walked toward the bed, heading for the window. All at once, he felt the need for air. However, before he reached the bay window, he noticed the large white envelope lying on the pillow of the bed. It had been partly covered by the thrown coverlet. His hand shook as he picked it up and read his own name there in his son's neat hand-script.

  He was torn by the desire to read his son's words and the very real fear of what Jhond might have to say. He turned the envelope over and over in his hands.

  Oh, Lords of Light, help me, he prayed, as he finally found the courage to tear open the thick paper. Inside was a neatly folded sheet of paper and another smaller envelope. Gallia's name was printed on the second envelope. He swallowed as he slowly opened the folded paper.

  Father,

  I couldn't stay to hear your explanation or to have to discuss matters with the rest of the family. I leave it to you to tell my mother and the others whatever story you feel is best. As for my love, I leave her to your care also. After all, she is your daughter. I don't mean that quite as harshly as it might sound. I mean you care enough to look after her. She will need you, though she will not acknowledge that yet, I am sure. She may lose her family; I know not what she might say. All I know is I can't stay near her and not love her. Please give her the other letter.