Wilek

The royal family had barely launched the king’s death boat when Schwyl and the king’s advisors had descended upon Wilek with talk of a coronation.

Wilek had more pressing things to worry about. Reports from scouts came in almost daily of giant sightings in the north, near the mountains and forests, but there had yet to be any interaction with these natives. They did not seem to come down onto the plains and hadn’t approached any of the settlements.

It seemed strange to Wilek that no one currently inhabited this section of land. With all the pit houses and brush shelters, it was obvious that someone had once lived here—and that they weren’t giants—yet there was no indication that the land had ever been cultivated. Perhaps these nomadic people were strictly hunters who followed a herd, like those Miss Mielle had met in the north. If so, what would happen when the herd brought them south again and they found that several nations had made a home of their land?

With the need to build hundreds of shelters for commoners, King Loran had commissioned the Bikoor Watchtower in Er’Rets Point much smaller than Wilek would have liked. It would be more of an outpost really, with a single tower that would provide an excellent view of the ocean and surrounding land. So far only one wing had been completed—enough to house the royal families Hadar and Pitney, temporarily anyway.

Such small quarters were not big enough for two regimes. King Loran was anxious to move the kingdom of Sarikar north to a castle his carpenters were staking out in the forested foothills of the mountains. The king was in the north now, inspecting the progress.

Wilek would need a stronghold as well—something more defendable than this outpost by the sea. The island Trevn described sounded like an ideal option, and if all went well, Wilek hoped to begin as soon as the ground thawed. It felt strange to build on this land without permission, but Arman continued to voice his approval through Onika, and with the land seemingly empty and Wilek’s people in need, he had no other choice.

Dendrick opened the door and peeked inside. “Your Highness? Prince Rosbert has arrived to collect his son.”

“Send him in,” Wilek said.

The mind-speaking magic was another problem that continued to grow more complex by the day. Wilek was not eager to see Prince Rosbert and discuss his son’s indiscretions.

So far as Trevn had been able to determine, the primary function of the mind-speak ability was communication. The magic enabled the gifted to speak to any mind—gifted or not. Wilek had been thrilled to discover he could speak with Kal, learn what the Magonians were up to, and what had become of Janek’s child.

When word of the magic had leaked out to the general population, panic ensued. Athosian priests said the gift was evil and advocated that any who could use the voices be put to death, and it wasn’t only the Athosian priests who felt that way. The population was divided. Some sided with the Athosians, but others believed the voices were a gift to Arman’s chosen.

In an attempt to assuage fear, Wilek had imposed the first law of voicing: Use it well. This had come directly from the words Arman had spoken when Wilek and Trevn first knelt on the soil of this land. The ability was not a plaything to toy with non-gifted as a prank or for nefarious means. It was not to be used to eavesdrop on others without reason, nor should anyone use a man’s thoughts against him.

As Trevn practiced and refined the different ways to use the ability, Wilek instituted training, usage guidelines, and punishments for lawbreakers. Trevn had discovered a polite way to “knock,” as he called it, when one wanted to communicate. He had also, with Hinck’s help, learned to shield his mind from eavesdroppers, which was the newest ability the duo had discovered. All this was excellent training for the gifted, but Wilek’s concern was the commoners. Trevn had taught the royal guards and high-ranking staff to shield their minds at all times, since all were pathways of information that Rogedoth might seek to infiltrate, but training the entire population was not feasible. And now several young maids had come forward, claiming that Lord Kanzer—Prince Rosbert’s son and King Loran’s nephew—had been speaking lewdly to their minds and would not stop. Bound by his own laws, Wilek had arrested the boy, which had upset Rosbert, who had been in the north with Loran.

Now he was here to retrieve his son.

There was simply no way to monitor the use of this magic. At last count, between the three father realms, nearly thirty people had some form of the voicing gift. All were third-generation royalty or better with the exception of two: Miss Onika the prophetess and her elderly maid Kempe. Wilek could guess why Arman might bestow the magic on his prophetess, but the maid had puzzled him until a short line of questioning induced Kempe to admit that she was the illegitimate daughter of Prince Wodek, Wilek’s great-uncle on his father’s side, a man who had died over thirty years ago and had never had children, or so everyone had thought.

Considering royal blood, Wilek and Trevn believed there to be another five people capable of the magic—those in Rogedoth’s camp: Barthel Rogedoth, Rosârah Laviel, Sârah Jemesha, Lady Eudora, and Hinckdan Faluk.

A knock at the door preceded Dendrick, Prince Rosbert, and a Sarikarian guardsman. Novan brought up the rear. Wilek inclined his head to Prince Rosbert, who curtly responded in the same manner.

“Where is my son?” Rosbert asked.

“Confined to his room,” Wilek said. “Dendrick can take you to him.”

The man narrowed his eyes at Wilek. “Kanzer is innocent. Did he not tell you as much?”

“He did,” Wilek said, “but after hearing both stories, King Loran and I both chose to believe the maids.”

“Ridiculous. Commoners lie, Your Highness.”

“Liars are found in all classes of men,” Wilek said.

Rosbert sputtered. “Those maids conspired against my boy. I will not forget this, Sâr Wilek.” And he pushed his way past the guards and back out into the corridor. “Take me to my son. Now.”

Dendrick hurried out the door after him. “His room is this way, Prince Rosbert.”

The footsteps faded and Novan closed the door. “That went well,” he said.

Wilek sighed. “Inappropriate use of the voicing magic is a new type of wrongdoing, Novan. A young maid who fears her master could take precautions to keep out of his path, but what is to stop a magic that can enter any head at any time, without notice or invitation?”

“Nothing,” Novan said, “except learning to shield the mind.”

“And for the moment I cannot teach every man, woman, and child to do that.”

“No, but you could offer lessons to anyone who wished to learn,” Novan said.

Wilek imagined throngs of commoners flooding the keep, desperate to learn ways to guard against the frightening new voicing magic.

“On the other hand, if you could train a spy to eavesdrop on any mind, it might be useful in stopping treason before it happens,” Novan added.

He meant to listen in on the thoughts of Kamran DanSâr, Wilek’s half brother and the only traitor who had not been outed. The idea was a good one. Lady Pia had been keeping a close watch on the man, but she could not read his thoughts. Wilek had seen Kamran in Trevn’s training class on the voicing ability. If he hadn’t yet mastered the ability to shield, he had at least heard about it. “I will think on that.”

He dismissed Novan to his place outside the door and sat down at his desk to use the method called “knocking” that Trevn had devised. Concentrating on King Loran was more challenging now that he had traveled north, but it did not take long to find him. A thick fog seemed to separate their thoughts, part of the shields King Loran had erected around his mind. Wilek sent Loran his name, “Wilek Hadar.”

The barrier between their minds dissolved, and King Loran spoke, “Has my brother arrived?”

“Come and gone in less than five minutes’ time,” Wilek said.

“I am sorry. Rosbert is set on defending his son.”

“It is understandable, coming from a father. Yet Lord Kanzer refused to admit any wrongdoing. Until he does and issues a formal apology to all three maids, I will not accept him in court. I hope that you will demand the same. We should strive to keep the voicing rules equal for all nations.”

A moment of silence passed, and Wilek wondered if he had offended King Loran.

“I understand your intent,” Loran finally said. “And while I acknowledge that the boy crossed a line, I’m not so certain his behavior warrants such a harsh penalty.”

“He purposely invaded the minds of three women to antagonize them.”

“He is a boy. A royal. Had he tumbled one of the maids, it would have gone unmentioned. I agree that it was a misuse of his power, but enforcing too strict of laws will incite revolt in our people, and in this uncertain time we must keep them united.”

Was Wilek overreacting? No. He was decided on this. “I have seen the opposite happen in Armania. My father extended too much freedom to his people, which only invited Arman’s wrath. We must have discipline. We must have morality.”

“Somewhere in the middle, then, is what we must strive for,” Loran said, “though only time will show what that looks like.”

Wilek supposed that was true. “Are we at peace, you and I?” he asked.

“I have no plans to wage war.” The man chuckled. “Actually, there is a matter I would like to discuss that would strengthen our alliance. It involves my daughter Saria and your brother Trevn.”

Wilek took a deep breath, knowing Trevn would not like where this conversation might lead. “What do you have in mind?”

“Loran has proposed an alliance,” Wilek told Trevn that night at dinner in the great hall.

“We are allied with Sarikar already,” Trevn said. “Plus you are married to Lady Zeroah, and her brother is your backman. How can we possibly make it stronger?”

Wilek chose his words carefully, though he doubted any phrasing would change his brother’s reaction to the proposal. “Soon Loran and his people will move and we will no longer be part of the same community. In order to keep our mutual interests strong . . . he wishes for you to marry Princess Saria.”

Trevn began to laugh, loud enough to turn several heads. “Well, that’s a surprising offer, coming from a monogamous Sarikarian. He knows I’m already married.”

Trevn’s unsanctioned marriage to Miss Mielle remained a sore spot with Wilek. “Many do not believe it, brother. Loran included.”

“But I have said so, and Cadoc has given his witness. Once I bring Mielle here, she will present our wedding contract and the list of one hundred witnesses.”

“I don’t doubt the ceremony took place,” Wilek said carefully. “But Loran thinks she died.”

Trevn’s easy smile vanished. “He thinks I would invent having spoken with her? Is that supposed to make me eager to join his family with mine?”

“It’s just that no one but you has been able to mind-speak with Miss Mielle—not even Zeroah.”

“No offense, Wil, but Zeroah is afraid of the new magic. She hasn’t come to any of my trainings to learn to shield. I don’t think she’s putting forth much effort.”

“She has been ill of late and overly tired from the pregnancy,” Wilek said.

“Even if Mielle and I did not speak for hours every day, our soul-binding is all the truth I need. If she had died, I would have felt it. If you would permit me to go rescue her, this conversation wouldn’t be necessary.”

Wilek could not let Trevn go traipsing about this land when there were giants out there. “I want you to at least consider a temporary betrothal to Princess Saria.”

Trevn stood, knocking over his chair. “Absolutely not!”

Wilek noted the faces that had turned their way at Trevn’s outburst. “Sit down and hear me out,” he whispered. “Please.”

Trevn folded his arms and remained standing.

“The betrothal would be acted upon only if Miss Mielle were not found by your twentieth year or—”

“I would certainly hope I find her before then,” Trevn spat.

“Or if I were to die and you became king,” Wilek finished.

“Is someone planning to kill you?”

Wilek shrugged. “One never knows. It hasn’t been an easy year. You accept, then?”

Trevn’s face flushed. “No, I don’t accept.”

“You won’t have to follow through if you find Miss Mielle before you are twenty or if I live a long and healthy life. We must keep peace with Sarikar, Trevn. Should Rogedoth attack . . . we would not survive against his magic without their numbers.”

“Hinck says Rogedoth won’t attack with magic. Not yet, anyway. And if they do attack, Rurekau or Sarikar will be their first target, not Armania.”

“Regardless, we must be ready to defend ourselves and our neighbors.”

Trevn righted his chair and sat down again. “Why would Loran agree to such vague terms?”

“Because I fought for them. And because his son is sickly. There is no one else for him to marry Saria to. I want you to agree to this, brother. It will help mend the rift I started by arresting Lord Kanzer.”

“You make a mistake and I must pay for it? Mielle is out there,” Trevn said, pointing at the wall as if the girl were in the next room. “Let me go find her and prove it to you.”

He would have to give something to convince Trevn to agree. “I will let you go look. If you agree to the betrothal.”

Trevn rubbed his face and growled.

Had that been acquiescence? “You agree, then?”

“Draw up the contract,” Trevn said, his voice hoarse, “but know that I will read every word to make sure the two of you aren’t trying to trick me. In the meantime I will pack for my trip so that I can find my wife and void this contract as soon as possible.”

“I can’t do without you at present, Trevn. You must stay with me at least until Zeroah gives birth.”

“You have kept me prisoner here long enough. And now I have agreed to your ludicrous betrothal. Let me go as you promised not one minute ago.”

“You have never been a prisoner,” Wilek said. “I’ve needed your help to understand the mind-speak magic. And you’ve done very well. But we never heard from the four ships that turned back from the ice. I don’t feel it’s safe to let you wander out there on your own.”

“I am not completely incompetent, you know.”

“I never said you were.”

“I might be able to reach them by land if you’d let me go through the mountains.”

“Where the giants roam? Absolutely not. If something happens to me, you are all that is left for Armania.”

“I’ll stay until your coronation. It’s my final offer, or you can forget the whole thing.”

Wilek could not recall anyone being so stubborn in negotiations with their father. “You’re going to tell me how things are now? Is that how this is going to work?”

“If I must,” Trevn said, standing again. “I no longer trust your word. First you said I had to wait to explore until I learned to forage food. Then until we found housing for everyone. After that you put me in charge of learning to mind-speak, then training others how. And now I must wait for your child to be born? Wil, I cannot stay here while Mielle and the passengers of those ships are lost. I must find them. And if it means defying your order, then I will do it. Lock me up, if you must, because that is the only way you will stop me.”

Wilek had pushed too hard; he saw that now. There was no fair way he could think of to disagree. “Very well. Put together your contingent for my approval. After the coronation you may sail north, but you will travel the eastern coast. You also must voice with me daily, make maps as you travel, and should an emergency arise, you must return at once, whether or not you’ve found Miss Mielle. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Wil. Thank you!” And the Second Arm of Armania took off in a sprint.