Chapter 6

Wesson hurried to collect a vessel for the blood and then paused upon approaching the queen mother. Lecillia gave hers willingly, with tears in her eyes. Then, he took a sample from Rezkin. Although Rezkin always seemed alert, he appeared particularly aware at that moment, as though he were surrounded by drauglics ready to rip him to shreds. The spell finished with a resonant pop, and Wesson announced that Lecillia was definitely Rezkin’s mother.

 

Rezkin turned to Connovan. “Very well, I accept that Queen Lecillia is my mother, but there are several holes in your story. For one, you claim that I am a scrivener, and even though I am a direct descendant of the royal line, I am not a mage.”

Rezkin felt the tingle of mage energy emanate from Connovan and prepared for an attack. The man smiled and said, “You will have to try much harder to influence me, although I believe Striker Farson is now convinced.”

“What are you talking about?” said Rezkin.

“I am a reflector. It is a power that has served me well in my duties. I am able to reflect spells cast at me and direct them onto others of my choosing.” He looked up thoughtfully. “I suppose refractor might be more accurate, but that does not have the same ring. Your spell just struck Striker Farson.”

Rezkin shook his head. “It is not my spell.”

Wesson said, “I could never sense the talent in him, so I decided a spell must have been cast onto him that allows him to influence others.”

Rezkin said, “I do not realize I am using it most of the time.”

“I also have never sensed the talent in you,” replied Connovan. “The truth is, I do not know what you are. Your masters seemed to have an idea, but they would not share their knowledge with me. What I do know is that, aside from healing, we have never been able to make any spell stick to you. Any power that comes from you is your own.”

Rezkin pondered the Rez’s words. He did not know how much of the information he could trust, but so long as the man was being candid, he would collect as much information as he could. “And the masters? Who were they?”

“That, I also do not know, not specifically anyway. I think you know what they were, though.”

“Goka?” suggested Rezkin.

Connovan tilted his head. “More importantly, they were SenGoka.”

“Why does that sound familiar?” said Tieran.

Malcius’s eyes widened. “Necromancers,” he shouted. He looked to Rezkin. “You told us of them—the necromancers of the Jahartan Empire. You were trained by necromancers?”

Connovan said, “Elite warrior necromancers, to be precise. It was a good thing, too. No one could live through his training.” He perused their horrified faces. “What? You did not think you actually survived all of that.”

Rezkin turned his accusatory gaze on Farson. “You killed me?”

Farson would not meet his glower at first but finally acquiesced. “I did not know. There were times when we were certain you were dead. Peider was known to be a healer, though—and Jaiardun, to some extent. They assured us every time that you were alive and could be saved. We strikers argued often over it. We thought they must have been the most magnificent healers that ever lived.” With a glare toward Connovan, he said, “Sen did not cross our minds. I did not believe they existed.” He looked back to Rezkin. “A person simply cannot engage in battle for two days straight without a break, without sustenance. I do not know how you managed to last that long, but when you finally fell, you were surely dead.”

Rezkin glanced between the two of them. “How many times have I died?”

Both men shrugged.

“I have no reason to believe either of you,” he said.

Connovan shook his head. “The proof is in your skin.”

Rezkin glanced at his hand and then frowned at the man. “What are you saying?”

“You know about the Sen?” said Connovan. “You know they make marks on the skin, tattoos—a record of how each death occurs, the length of time spent in death, and the identity of the Sen who retrieves your soul. You have such marks.”

“Uh, no, he doesn’t,” said Frisha. “He doesn’t have a mark on him.” Everyone turned to her, and she froze as her cheeks turned pink. She buried her gaze in the far wall as Malcius glared at her and then Rezkin.

Rezkin looked back to Connovan. “I do not have any marks.”

Farson said, “I have never seen any marks either.”

Connovan tilted his head. “I believe the masters taught you to hide them. When you were too young to receive intense combat training, they started with your mind. Much time was spent on making others see what you want them to see. You had less control when you were young, and I was occasionally able to reflect your influence to see the marks.”

Yserria said, “Wait, you are saying he died as a child?”

Connovan ignored the interruption. “For you, the habit is dictated by the Rules. Rule 3—reveal nothing, Rule 10—do not leave evidence, and Rule 237—bear no identifying marks.” He glanced at Kai and Shezar. “The strikers break that one with their tattoos. They must have them removed before going on assignment. You learned to hide yours. I do not know how, but I believe it has become so engrained in your mental process that you no longer think of it.”

Rezkin knew instinctively that what Connovan said was true. The longer he thought of it, the more he could feel the marks, as if they were crawling under his skin, marks he had not recognized were there. Then, he wondered if they were truly there at all. Perhaps Connovan was an illusionist or had another talent that made Rezkin question himself. He chose to change the subject.

“Peider and Jaiardun were not old enough to have trained you.”

“No,” said Connovan, “I was trained by strikers.”

“How did a couple of SenGoka become my masters?”

“Jaiardun, I believe, was from Jaharta. Peider was from Galathia. There was a third named Berringish, also from Jaharta. They arrived before the queen even knew she was pregnant. They said they had been sent by a Knight of Mikayal to train you.”

“Me, specifically, or the next Rez?”

“It had to be you,” said Connovan. He glanced at Tieran and grimaced. “There was a time when Bordran considered sending that one. He would have broken before touching a weapon.”

“Hey, now!” said Tieran. “I am not weak just because I am not a heartless killer.” He glanced at Rezkin. “Ah, neither are you, of course.”

Rezkin considered correcting him, but Tieran seemed happy in his belief. He turned to Connovan. “Why were they sent to train me?”

“I do not know. I am not sure they knew. They would have traveled for months to reach Ashai. The fact that the Sen knew of your existence before you were conceived was proof enough for Bordran. You know that the Goka are renowned warriors, nearly the equals of the Soka. He was not about to turn them away. Their assertion about the knight gave Bordran hope that Mikayal favored you. Who wouldn’t want a god on his side?

“Still, Bordran was not yet willing to give up on Caydean. He insisted that if they were to train you, at least one would stay behind to teach Caydean and Thresson. They did not care for the bargain; but, ultimately, they left Berringish to the task. He was furious all the years that I watched him. Eventually, he disappeared. I questioned Peider and Jaiardun, but they insisted he had only joined them after they had received the message from the knight, and they did not know what had happened to him. They were not the easiest men to question, though. They wielded great power, and men who do not fear death tend to fear little.”

Rezkin stared at the king’s assassin of legend. He said, “You still have not said why you came here.”

Connovan sighed. “Caydean sent me away several months ago. It was a pointless mission. I knew even then that he was getting me out of the way for something. I did not know he intended to move against you, though. He must have given the order before you completed your training. He had known about you for maybe a month before the attack. Technically, I was supposed to inform him of your existence upon Bordran’s death, but he never asked about the next Rez in training, so I neglected to mention it. When I was forced to tell, I may have informed him of your planned completion date and omitted the fact that you were years ahead of schedule and far beyond my own training. He sent me away shortly after learning of your existence.

Malcius said, “I still do not understand why you did nothing about Caydean. You said killing the mad king was your job.”

Connovan glanced at Lecillia. He said, “I could not move against Caydean for two reasons. One, I was not his Rez. In order for me to act, he would have to do something blatant, requiring immediate removal from the throne. It is the nature of my oath. Two, he had not done anything overtly damaging to the kingdom. While there were plenty of rumors that he had killed Bordran and is responsible for Thresson’s disappearance, I was not present for those events and have not found evidence to prove it.” He paused and looked at Rezkin. “I may have taken longer to return from my last mission than was strictly necessary. I believe he did kill Bordran, and I did not wish to serve him. By the time I returned, you had completed your training, and Caydean had already tried to have you killed. It was he, I am sure of it; but, again, I have no proof.”

“So he planned to kill me before starting his war, but he only sent you away. How did he intend to prevent you from dethroning him?”

“He found a loophole. You were supposed to be his Rez. By mage oath, he would not be able to kill you—except that you were not fully trained yet, so his oath recognized me as the Rez. That left him free to order your death. If you were dead, I would continue to be the Rez, and I would be oathbound to return to him once I completed my mission. He would be prepared for my arrival. Because of the kingdom’s code of honor, if I decide to dethrone Caydean, he has the right to defend himself. We are no longer protected from each other. I believe he thought he could defeat me. His plan was spoiled, though, when you finished your training early. As soon as you passed the final test, I was released from my oath until you sought me out. I did not return to Caydean, and he failed to kill you. I do not believe he knows that he failed.”

“How so?” Rezkin said.

“You killed everyone. No spy was left to report back to him.” Both of their gazes slid to Farson, who scowled in return. Connovan continued. “Caydean did not know where the fortress was located. The only people remaining who know are in this room. I doubt he will find it. The fortress is not so easy to find for those who do not know where to look.”

“It is enchanted?” Rezkin said.

Connovan shrugged. “It is unclear. As far as I know, no one has discovered any wards, but it is possible they were constructed by the more powerful mages of ancient times. The fortress is old.”

“So you returned from your journey and did not report to Caydean. What then?”

“After discovering what had happened at the fortress, I eventually went to check on Lecillia. He could not override Rule 1, of course, but Bordran’s standing orders with me were to always protect Lecillia and Thresson before any other duty. That was how I found out you had left the fortress. Marcum went to Lecillia because she was the only one who knew how to contact me. He rightfully feared that you were the next Rez, but Marcum knows only the stories that everyone else knows—that the Rez is the king’s assassin. He does not know the Rez’s true purpose or that you and I are members of the royal family.

“Wait,” said Frisha. “Uncle Marcum knew, not only that were you a sword bearer, but also that you were the Rez?” She swallowed, and her gaze became distant. “I need to apologize to him.”

Connovan looked at her with disinterest and then turned back to Rezkin.  “I heard of Caydean’s attempt to have Marcum killed and then caught wind of a plan to move against the houses. I helped Marcum and Adelina escape and then spirited Lecillia away. I sent Marcum to the fortress, by the way. Your wards are allowing him and his loyal soldiers to pass. I have no idea how you are doing that.”

Rezkin scowled at the man. Even if he had the power to make wards, he certainly could not make something that extensive and complex, nor could he maintain it from so far.

Connovan said, “Since I am presently free of my oath, I was able to tell Lecillia about you. She wanted to find you, so here we are.” He narrowed his eyes at Farson and said, “We should kill that one. He is the only one to escape the fortress. It is possible he was a spy.”

Rezkin said, “I have considered that and am still debating his fate.”

“He is an unnecessary threat.”

Farson said to Connovan, “You are an unnecessary threat.”

Connovan nodded. “That is true.” He turned to Rezkin. “You should kill me as well.” Waving a hand around the room, he added, “I will kill all of them first, if you want. They know too much and should be eliminated.”

“That would be counterproductive,” said Rezkin. “They are the support force.”

“We will see how loyal they remain now that they know who you really are.”

Rezkin glanced at the frightened and disturbed faces of his friends. “They wish to go home. They know that I am their best chance of achieving that goal. Until their desires change, or they believe they have found another solution, they will remain loyal.”

Malcius leapt to his feet. “How can you say that? You know we are your friends, and we have all sworn fealty. Our loyalty should not so easily be dismissed.”

Rezkin was genuinely surprised. “You say this after what you have just heard?”

Tieran said, “What I heard is that you are a legitimate prince of Ashai with a responsibility to kill the mad king. Ah, sorry, Aunt Lecillia. I know this must be difficult for you.”

Rezkin turned back to Connovan and Lecillia. “Tieran is right. You two are the greatest threat.”

Tieran grew defensive. “What? I said no such thing.”

Rezkin turned to his cousin. “Connovan may be using Lecillia’s familial relation and his long-winded story to get close to me. Lecillia, let us not forget, is also Caydean’s mother. She does not know me, yet she has been present for Caydean’s entire life. She may wish to kill me to prevent me from killing him. This entire scenario is a clever ploy. They entice me with what I desire most—information.”

Lecillia grabbed Connovan’s arm and said, “Why is he saying this?”

Frisha abruptly stood to join Malcius. “Rezkin, that is your mother. Do you not care for her at all?”

Rezkin did not take his eyes off Connovan and Lecillia as he said, “I do not know this woman from any other. There are plenty of stories in the histories of mothers killing their offspring, especially in defense of another who is more favored. This man is an admitted assassin, and she is the mother of a madman who likely killed her husband and younger son. Where was she? She was living in the palace the entire time, dining with their killer. I have no reason to trust either of them.”

Connovan leaned toward Lecillia and said, “I told you what he is. Do not take it personally. He is not capable of feeling. His humanity was driven out of him when he was but a small child.”

Lecillia stood, her chin held high as she held her hands in front of her. Despite the tears in her eyes, she had the bearing of a queen. “It is true. I stayed in the palace but not because I wanted it. I could not leave. Where was I to go? Who would help me? Caydean would have killed anyone I told. He tried to have Marcum killed several times because he thought I had said something. Connovan could not assist because he was bound to Caydean. It was only after he was released from his oath that he was able to help me escape, and the fact that he remained free told us that you were still alive. Neither of us wish you harm. If you cannot believe we care, then think logically. If you die, Connovan must return to Caydean’s service, and he will likely kill me. It is in our own, selfish interests that you live.”

Lecillia lurched back as a phantom wraith suddenly appeared. Rezkin said, “These two are to be a watched carefully. They are possible enemies. They are not to leave the corveua.”

Shielreyah Elry bowed. “Yes, Spirétua Syek-lyé.”

Connovan said, “So you can summon them with your mind. That is fascinating. Can anyone do it?”

Elry turned his vaporous orbs on the man. “It is an honor to serve the Syek-Lyé, and we respect the Spirétua. You are neither.”

Rezkin said, “You two may remain on the island under supervision. They do not need eyes with which to see or ears with which to hear, and your weapons and talents will be useless against them. If you challenge them, they will kill you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Lecillia said as she blinked tears from her eyes.

Connovan nodded as he studied the phantom.

Rezkin said, “You have been assigned quarters?”

“Yes, in the city,” said Connovan.

“You will be moved to the palace,” Rezkin replied. “Frisha and Yserria will escort the queen mother to appropriate quarters. Wesson and Shezar will escort Connovan.”

“Are you taking me to the dungeon?” said the man. “You know I cannot be captured alive. It is against the Rules.”

“You have not been captured,” said Rezkin. “You are to wash for the midday meal.”

Connovan smiled and picked up his goblet. Sniffing it suspiciously, he met Rezkin’s gaze, then drank to the last drop.

 

Frisha walked down the corridor beside the queen mother, with Yserria guarding the rear. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Lecillia said, “He is my son, and I love him. I want him to be happy, but why would you consider marrying such a man? He is so cold, so empty.”

Frisha glanced back the way they had come. “He did not seem that way when I met him. He smiled and laughed, and he was the perfect gentleman. I had no idea he was the …” She stopped and placed her hands on her knees as she took several deep breaths. She fanned her face and said, “Oh, I cannot believe I was scolding the Rez for being rude to his mother.”

Yserria looked down at her with a frown. “You have spent months with that man. You have mooned over him and screamed at him and kissed him. He was no less the Rez then than he is now.”

“That makes it even worse,” Frisha said with a groan.

“You had no idea?” said Lecillia.

“No, how could I know? It was not like he went around killing people all the time. I mean, he was great when we were attacked by bandits, but that was different. I have been listening to Tam go on about the Rez all our lives. The Rez is an assassin. The Rez is cunning and cold and merciless.” She pointed back the way they had come. “The Rez is that man back there.”

Lecillia stared down the strange, twisting corridor with its crystals and mystical mosaics. “But you loved him when you did not know?”

“I thought I did,” Frisha said as she straightened. “At least, for a while. Now, I think I was in love with a fantasy.”

Lecillia placed her hand on Frisha’s shoulder. She said, “I have spent much time dealing with the squabbles and backstabbing at court, with kings and generals—with the Rez, and I have some understanding of how these people think. There was no reason for you to be in that room.”

“Because a lady cannot be alone …”

“No, I am fairly certain your Rezkin knew who I was before calling us there. He at least had an idea, and he knew your presence was not necessary. Hers would have been enough,” she said with a nod toward Yserria. “He asked you there because he wanted you to bear witness, to hear it from the source. He wanted you to know who he is. I promise you, the Rez does not part with that information lightly. The people who know him die—usually before they realize what they know. It is part of their rules. Anyone who was in that room is someone he trusts, someone for whom he cares.” She paused and then added, “Or, he is trying to root out a spy.”

Smiling sadly, she said, “I cannot say that I know my son—any of them, truly. I was closest with Thresson. He was a sweet child, sensitive. When he was young, I tried to protect him, but it often made things worse. I hated the idea of being parted from him, but I asked Bordran to send him away where he would not be bullied by his older brother. Bordran said he could not trust the dukes. We might have gone with Wellinven, but my husband said it would show favor. Caydean was our problem, and I am afraid Thresson paid the price.” With a despondent sigh, she said, “Now Caydean is everyone’s problem. Perhaps Rezkin is right to mistrust me.”

 

Rezkin had put his faith in the shielreyah that they would keep the Rez from harming his people. He did not know why he had done that. He figured it had to have something to do with the mystical power of the citadel making him feel comfortable, complacent. If he had not been responsible for the safety of the hundreds of people he had brought there, he would have left long ago. He was surrounded by strange powers he did not understand and could not control. The katerghen had disappeared each time they disembarked, and he did not trust it either. The most confounding was the mystery of the power he supposedly wielded without conscious thought. The revelation of his parentage should have solved the mystery, but it had only left more questions. Why was he so different?

 After living his life without knowledge of, or even interest in, his lineage, he had discovered a cousin, an uncle, and a mother. He had a family. What was he to do with a family, especially a family he could not trust? This meant the enemy he was supposed to kill was his brother. The missing prince was also his brother. Supposedly, family members had a duty to each other. Was he supposed to find the missing prince—to rescue him, if necessary? The histories were filled with tales of brothers who coveted each other’s wealth or titles or lovers. Brothers fought over their father’s favor or the family inheritance. Yet, he had read of brotherly love and loyalty as if they, themselves, were rules.

Rezkin felt none of this for Caydean nor Thresson. He felt nothing for his mother or uncle. To remain separate from his emotions was an important Rule, as were they all, and to fail to comply with it could lead to failure and death. His uncle knew this. The Rez would not expect sentiment and would probably exploit the pointless weakness if discovered. His mother, however, seemed hopeful. He wondered if he could pass the responsibility to someone else. Who among his friends was in need? Reaylin and Yserria had both mentioned losing their mothers when they were young. Perhaps one of them would care to have one. They were women, though, and Lecillia expected a son. Tam seemed like a good son. He spoke highly of his parents, but he had a mother. Could a man have more than one mother? Then again, was it his responsibility? He had not asked for a mother. Since his birth, he had not required one. He knew, however, that problems rarely went away when ignored. He had no more time to consider it, though. He had a sword of prophecy to acquire.

The docks were busy with personnel performing maintenance and resupplying both ships. Rezkin could hear his prey the moment he set foot outside the warehouse.

“If you don’t hold still, I’m not going to heal you, and you can stack crates with a broken hand!” said a female voice.

A gruff voice replied, “Ya know, most healers are nicer to their patients.”

The woman’s frustration escaped in a growl. “Look, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to help you. I’m only doing this because they say I have to. Now sit still and shut up.”

Rezkin rounded a stack of crates to witness the petite blonde healer shove the sailor onto one of them. “Apprentice Reaylin, a good bedside manner is a requirement of passing your skills exam. It is a known fact that it is less draining on both the healer and the patient if the patient feels comfortable with the person helping him. Perhaps we should confiscate your bed until you are capable of performing at an acceptable level.”

Reaylin fumed as she stalked up to Rezkin and raised a finger. “What does my bed have to do with this?”

“Nothing, but it would incentivize you to learn a good bedside manner.”

“I didn’t ask for this—”

“You swore fealty.”

“You said I could still be a warrior.”

“And you may. Heal him, and then we will discuss your assignment. Do it nicely.”

Reaylin exhaled heavily, blowing the blonde locks out of her face. She spun around and smiled sweetly. “Please allow me to assist you. Please give me your hand, and please be still. This will only take a few moments.”

The sailor glanced at Rezkin. He had stood and bowed upon seeing the king, and the man’s face still bore the shock of seeing Reaylin berate him. Rezkin nodded, and the man straightened uncertainly before sitting back on the crate.

Once Reaylin was finished healing the broken hand, she spoke in the same syrupy voice. “Thank you for your patience. You may return to work now.”

The sailor bowed to the king and then skittered away as if running from a fire. Reaylin crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Well?”

Rezkin started to speak and then paused. He instead said, “Do you desire a mother?”

Reaylin’s retort died on her lips. “Um … what?”

“You do not have a mother. Do you want one?”

“Rez, what does this have to do with my assignment?”

Rezkin shook his head. “Nothing. It was an errant thought. You will be going on the next mission. We leave tomorrow. See Journeyman Wesson for details.” At that, Rezkin turned and left the dock.