I had never considered myself a remarkable man, but as I sat before the Dar’Nethi Preceptorate, knowing what I did of my own life and contemplating what I was about to do, I believed I could say truly that no experience in the history of two worlds had rivaled my own. That of D’Arnath himself, perhaps-the sorcerer and king become warrior, powerful enough to build a link between worlds, reverenced so truly by his people that his successors never took his own title, but considered their highest honor to be named his Heir. But even D’Arnath had lived only one life. I had lived two, each of them twice through, once in the proper order of time as all men do and once in memory. And for ten years I had been properly dead, my orphaned soul linked to an artifact of power-a small black crystal pyramid-by the enchantments of an audacious Healer. And next… I could not think of next.
My trembling was quite real on that occasion, both as a result of what I had been through and in anticipation of its sequel, and when I said, “Ten breaths more and I will be unable to stop screaming,” I believed that to be the literal truth.
I had known I would have to follow Dassine’s instructions to give myself to the Preceptorate. All I could offer the Lady Seriana and her companions were a bit of power and a strong sword arm, and neither appeared sufficient to their needs. The problem of the child was too complex, and Dassine, the one who understood such complexities, was dead. My mentor’s legacy was my life, and the only thing he had ever asked in return was my trust. I could not refuse him.
Once I had decided on my course as we sat in the Guesthouse of the Three Harpers, I considered what to tell the lady, but I couldn’t think what she would want to hear from me. How stupid I was. How blind. She was so angry, and I thought it was because I couldn’t be what she expected, because I kept falling off the edge of the world in front of her. And so, in the end, I said nothing but to my madrissé. I abandoned the lady, walked into the grand commard of Avonar, and told a sleepy baker’s boy my name.
Dassine had not said to keep my going secret, and I hoped the crowd might provide some measure of safety. It became a much larger spectacle than I had envisioned. We Dar’Nethi are a romantic people, much given to ceremonies and rituals that draw out our emotions. Over that long night I had also decided to surrender myself to Madyalar instead of Exeget. Our meeting at Dassine’s house had left me with a good impression of her.
“Come with me, my lord,” said Madyalar, proceeding briskly between the columns of the portico. Her shoes clicked on the flagstones. The palace gates clanged shut behind us.
“Pause a while, good lady,” said Exeget, spitting venom as he held his ground by the gates. “Despite this charming little pageant we have just witnessed, the protocols of the Preceptorate are not suspended. I, as head of the Preceptorate, will carry out the first examination of the petitioner.”
“Master Exeget is correct,” said Ce’Aret.
“The Prince surrendered himself to me and no one else,” said Madyalar. “All saw it. Come, my lord.” She grabbed my arm and dragged me toward a side door, tucked away under the portico beside the great entry doors.
“You overreach, Madyalar,” shouted Gar’Dena. “The subject’s choice has no bearing. I think that Ce’Aret, as the eldest…”
As Bareil had warned me, presenting myself to Madyalar instead of Exeget had caused an uproar. Each of them chimed in, wrangling over prerogatives and precedence. Meanwhile I was barefoot and shirtless, shivering, and faced with the undignified prospect of being unable to wipe my dripping nose because my hands were still bound with their confounded ribbon. And truly, there was no dispute.
“I submitted to Madyalar,” I said, causing all of them to stop in mid-argument and stare at me. For me to interrupt or to speak at all was quite improper, according to Dar‘-Nethi ritual. “She will determine what is best, else I will determine some other way to accomplish my purposes.” I wrenched my hands free of the silver ribbon and used it to blot my nose.
All discussion was immediately ended. Being the Heir of D’Arnath had its privileges.
Madyalar was pleased, of course, and Exeget was livid, which pleased me. He bowed. “I leave you to the viper, my lord.” I thought his teeth might turn to powder from his grinding them.
Madyalar led me on a long trek through the passages of the east wing, the part of the palace given over to the Preceptors who desired work space in the most secure building in the city. Her lectorium was a businesslike chamber, windowless and chilly, as were most such workrooms devoted solely to magical pursuits. Flasks and boxes of potions and powders were neatly arranged on her work-tables. Small chests and painted cabinets that would hold bits of glass and metal, stones and gems were set square against the dark-colored walls. She gave me a green linen tunic and a pair of sandals to put on, as my shirt and boots had not found their way through the palace gates with us. Then she motioned me to a chair facing her across a low table.
“I’m gratified, but curious as to your course of action this morning, D’Natheil. After so long away and so soon after your mentor’s death, to submit for examination seems strange. I presume you understand the depths to which you have humiliated Exeget. We all know of the unease between you, but this… it’s most likely irreconcilable. Why me?”
“I believe you are honorable and care deeply about the future of Avonar and its people,” I said. “Exeget is not and does not.”
She dipped her head in acknowledgment.
“And I’m in somewhat of an awkward position.”
“Go on.”
“Dassine sent me to you-well not to you precisely, but to the Preceptorate.”
“Dassine?” She jumped up from her chair. Her tone was sharp as a razor knife. “I understood his wounds were mortal.”
“I was with him when he died.”
She stepped back a bit and put her hands inside the rainbow folds of her robe. “What did he tell you?”
“Only that if certain things were to come about, I was to surrender myself to the Preceptorate for examination. No other explanation. I hoped you might understand what he meant.”
She considered my words briefly. Then she sat down again. “Dassine and I were good friends, not intimate, as I’m sure you know, but allies. We had… business…together. Perhaps if you were to tell me of these ‘certain things’ to which you refer…”
“A boy has been taken by the Zhid. Dassine said that if the child was taken to Zhev’Na, then I had to do this. The child must be rescued.”
She threw back her tousled gray hair and laughed uproariously, though her laughter seemed shallow and out of proportion to her amusement. “Is that all? It sounds just like Dassine. ‘I’ve taken the Heir and kept him hidden for ten years, letting him out only long enough to preserve the Bridge, and, oh, by the way, tell him how to rescue an unknown boy from Zhev’Na.’ Tell me, my lord, what is it you want from me? Are we playing games here? I’m not a fool.”