The Silence of Medair

"What if she’s not?" Kel las Raithen asked, matronly calm gone in favour of tense nerves. "I didn’t contract for a battle with White Snake guards, Vorclase. This has gone bad. Face it and let’s get out of here."

"Don’t rush off just yet, Fariti," Vorclase said. He selected a chair and placed it opposite Medair. "I had assumed Cor-Ibis didn’t know what he had," he said, conversationally. "But if he has provided you with protection of this order, he obviously has some inkling. Well, Medair – may I call you Medair? I shall share the history behind this chase, if that will make you more reasonable. You cannot want to continue in the company of Ibisians, surely? I admit we handled our first encounter badly, but there is time to make amends. A decem or so."

Medair, nothing loath to hear an explanation, merely raised her eyebrows and leaned back more comfortably on the chair.

"A captive audience, in a way," the Decian said. "Well, you must know that we grind slowly towards war. King Xarus has made solemn vow to set the rightful ruler of Palladium on the Silver Throne. Tarsus, the Emperor-in-Exile, descends from Prince-Elect Verium, son of the great Grevain Corminevar."

"I assume that there’s proof of this?" Medair asked, her interest showing in her voice. She had heard the Ibisian side of this story. She would listen to the Decian version.

"Of course. The Prince-Elect died before his daughter was born, but he sent the child’s mother out of Athere with written acknowledgment of paternity." He paused, dark eyes narrowing. "Sealed with the Imperial Ring, so none might gainsay the girl’s parentage."

Medair stiffened, and saw his satisfaction at her response. The impression of the Imperial Ring was impossible to forge. Constructed to prevent the falsifying of documents in the Corminevar name, it had descended into the hands of Kier Inelkar. Inelkar was unlikely to go forging documents to end her own rule. So Verium truly had–

"These are only your words," she said, stiffly. "Nor does it at all explain why you pursue me from Kyledra into Palladium itself. What am I to kings and emperors? I assure you I have no Imperial blood."

"Perhaps not. But, as I said, war darkens the horizon. We skirmish for possession of the best weapons. Collections of rahlstones, mercenaries, women who live on mountains. My King would see that this battle is won with the least bloodshed possible, and he turned to military advisers, histories, even seers to ensure this end. Most seers are charlatans, but one, one had a reputation earned with true power, and he spoke these words to my King: When the thrones of all Farakkan hang in the balance, control of the one who dwells on Bariback Mountain will decide the future. Exactly how and why we would have asked him, but the True Seeing cost him his life’s breath. Inconvenient."

"I don’t intend to take sides in the coming battle," she replied, forcing her voice to remain even.

"Everyone must take sides, Medair ar Corleaux. I don’t know what it is that you can do, but I can see that you are Farakkian, hear the message of your name. Yet you travel with White Snakes. Why? Out of fear of us? Then I give you my word and my oath – in the name of Xarus Estarion, on the blood of my ancestors, to the peril of my soul, I swear you will not be threatened in any way if you come with us. Every honour we can extend will be yours." Hawk face sincere, he leaned forward on his chair. "You know it’s the right thing to do. Too long has the usurper race sat upon the Silver Throne, while the true Corminevar heirs have lived in hiding. Can you truly say this battle does not concern me? Live up to the promise you made when taking the name of an honourable and loyal woman. Be true to her memory, to the Empire she served, and help us drive the White Snake invaders out."

Medair looked down, unable to meet his eyes any longer. His words would not draw her out of the spell-shield. Her understanding of the current political situation was shaky, but she’d readily gathered that Xarus Estarion sought to expand his own borders and was using this Tarsus as a stalking horse. But what if there truly was a Corminevar heir, duly acknowledged? Instead of returning to the northern mountains, should she find Tarsus, offer him support not connected to the ambitions of the Decian throne?

Medair looked down at Avahn, his face obscured by a braid of silky white hair. Finrathlar was his home, Palladium was the land to which he had been born and raised. She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to interpret her oath, or if it was even valid any more. She didn’t want to be part of this and Vorclase read that in her face as she raised her eyes to his again.