“Of course, child.”
“He says speaking with me helped cure him of that madness. Just like your visits help him.”
Ahaesarus had no reply as he gulped down his shame. It seemed like something out of a story one of the Wardens might tell to pass the time around late night campfires.
“Now that his mind is free,” Penelope continued, “he wishes for his body to be. If you allow it, he will go far, far away from here and never come back.”
“Why has he not told me the same?” he asked.
“He’s afraid of you, Master Warden. He loves you, but he fears you. You put him in the well.”
Ahaesarus cringed, guilt building up inside him. The boy had certainly seemed like the old Geris as of late, and Penelope sounded so full of youthful optimism. Ahaesarus knew he should punish her, forbidding her from leaving her family’s tent for the span of a week, but how could he punish her? He then felt his insides go soft at the prospect of Geris’s progress being real. Penelope sensed it, and she placed her velvety fingers over his, looking him directly in the eye and doing everything she could to show her earnestness. Yes, she is captivated by him, he thought. Just as all of Paradise would have been had he not lost his mind.
He rapped his fingers on the table.
“Penelope,” he said, “I feel the need to think on this. I bid you to return to your family, but do not tell others of what we’ve discussed. I will return to you when I have an answer.”
“An answer to what, sir?”
He chuckled. “That, among other things, is what I must discern.”
Erstwell entered the room when called and escorted Penelope from the manse. He did not look very happy about it. Ahaesarus lingered in the room for a moment, running his fingers through his hair, and then forced himself to move. He had his meeting with young King Benjamin to think of now, and he had the distinct feeling he was going to be distracted the whole while.
He found the king sitting on his throne in the old dining hall. It was the very same room where Geris had attempted to take the boy’s life, the stain on the stone floor covered over by a patterned rug. A family of nine was kneeling before his throne, cobbled together of wicker and grayhorn ivory, the three young daughters handing him baskets of fruit and a horn of bread. Howard Baedan, the master steward of Mordeina, stood behind them, hands clasped behind his back.
Isabel DuTaureau was there as always, sitting in a chair to the right of the king, her frosty stare devoid of emotion as she watched the proceedings. Her husband, Richard, the matriarch’s near twin, hovered by her shoulder, his fingers lingering on the nape of her neck. The man’s eyes kept flicking toward King Benjamin, and there seemed to be something spiteful about his stare. Ahaesarus felt a moment of disgust. If there were one individual in all of Paradise that he didn’t care for, it was Richard DuTaureau, who was just as icy as his wife, but without her occasional charms and gift for leadership. It didn’t help that Richard had once tried to murder his own son before he was born. If any god other than Ashhur had lorded over the land…
The matriarch of House DuTaureau glanced up, saw him standing there, and then leaned forward and whispered into the ear of the young king. Benjamin offered a pointed nod at Baedan, who quickly said, “Our king has other duties to attend to, my good people. Let us leave him to it.” The family said their good-byes and headed for the exit. They were all laughs and smiles, their teeth pearly white and their simple clothing clean. They passed within a few feet of Ahaesarus, and he could smell rosemary and sage coming off them, as well as a hint of saffron. Each member of the family, from a child of four to the father, who was in his mid-thirties, met his gaze, their innocent smiles widening. It both warmed Ahaesarus’s heart and troubled him.
Once the doors to the makeshift throne room were closed, King Benjamin rose from his throne.
“Master Warden Ahaesarus,” he said, “it is splendid that you have chosen to greet us this fine day.”
“My presence was requested, my liege,” Ahaesarus replied, squinting in confusion.
“Of course it was,” the king said, giving a questioning glance to Isabel, who was as still as stone, her hands folded over her lap. She nodded to the boy king, and Ben Maryll shifted uncomfortably before returning to his throne. He tugged at the scarf wrapped around his neck, revealing, for the briefest of moments, the jagged white bolt of scar tissue that stretched across his throat. Though Ahaesarus, Daniel Nefram, and a team of Mordeina’s greatest healers had succeeded in mending the wound Geris had given the boy, they had barely saved his life. The new king would forever be marked by that fateful night.
Ahaesarus approached the raised platform and knelt before it, but he did not incline his head. That would have been akin to worship, and the only being in all of Dezrel who deserved worship was Ashhur.
It had been a long while since Ahaesarus had seen King Benjamin, for most of his time was spent working on the wall. He took a few moments to examine the boy, and it was an odd sight. Ben was clean, his skin well powdered. Rouge had been applied to his cheeks, which gave him a more childlike appearance than he should have possessed at fifteen years of age. His clothing was draped velvet, both smooth and crushed, in varying shades of maroon, emerald, and lavender, the dominant colors of House DuTaureau. His hair was chopped short and shining with oil, and a plain wooden crown rested evenly atop his head. Ben was growing pudgy around the middle and starting to develop a second and perhaps even third chin.
In most every way, this Benjamin Maryll resembled the child that the traitor Jacob Eveningstar had tutored during the majority of the lordship. Although Judarius had whipped the boy into shape, Ben seemed to be reverting to his old ways. He had a lax demeanor, very unlike the hardened youth his fellow Warden had helped mold. It was amazing how much could change in less than a year’s time. Ahaesarus wondered if Isabel was spoiling her pet king into complacency or if this was simply Ben’s natural state.
“So, Master Warden,” said the young king while he rubbed his hands over his throne’s ivory armrests, “tell me: How does the wall progress?”
Ahaesarus cleared his throat. “It progresses well, my liege. There is but a small section yet to complete, and we still have a sally port to cut, but all being equal, I would say our progress is back on schedule.”
“You have led your workers well, Master Warden,” said Isabel in her remote, emotionless tone. “I see a change has come over you, and one for the better. It was only a few weeks past when you could not reach those who would be your wards.” A smile finally came across her lips, and Ahaesarus had to admit it made her even more beautiful. “Now they work themselves day and night, and success is within our reach.”
“They work not for me, but themselves,” he retorted. “They are beginning to understand the gravity of what will befall them.”
“And you had much to do with that. The progress you have made is admirable.”
Having four talented spellcasters has helped.
“My Liege and Lady Isabel, it is the people of Mordeina whom you should be lavishing with praise, not me,” Ahaesarus said. “I am merely a teacher, a Warden. If what I have taught has taken seed, if the men and women I care for have come to realize the preciousness of the gift of existence that has been bestowed on them, then it is they who deserve to be rewarded.”
“You truly mean that, don’t you?” sneered Richard DuTaureau, who still hovered behind his wife.
“I do,” Ahaesarus replied. He glowered at the petty little man and took the opportunity to rise from his kneel. Ahaesarus towered over everyone in the room, and Richard fell back a step, his expression uncertain, and then retreated. The man’s reaction made Ahaesarus want to laugh aloud, especially when he heard Richard’s footfalls disappear into the alcove to the rear of the hall. It might have been petty, but he so did not like that man.