ROSISHAN GREETED Lucky at the breakfast table with a great smile on her expressive face. “Luccan! Good morning. I hope you slept well—you still look a little ragged, to be honest. But you can take it easy today. Everyone can take it easy today! I’ve declared a holiday to celebrate your return, and Han’s of course.”
Lucky returned her smile, not having the heart to tell her if he couldn’t unravel the reasons for his dark dreams, and what all he was seeing in them, he doubted he’d feel more rested no matter how many days he could take it easy. He’d always found Rose’s enthusiastic nature refreshing and contagious before, but now his smile was a little forced.
Rosishan was his aunt, the maternal half sister of Lucky’s mother Liliana, who was also known as the Lady Grace of the Sisterhold. Despite that common bloodline, though, except for the strangely twinned magic they wielded together—commonly called sister magic—it seemed on the surface they shared virtually no traits. Rosishan’s features were broad and dark; she could be impetuous, brazen, a little wild, but she was full of joy and gave freely of both love and service. Blond, refined Liliana, on the other hand, always moved deliberately, both in her daily life and as a renowned military leader, head of the elite cavalry known as Shahna’s Rangers. Usually Aunt Rose didn’t remind Lucky of his mother at all, but after two nights of bad dreams all involving his mother—though that was about all he could remember of them—just the knowledge of their relationship brought his mother’s glinting green eyes and false smile to mind.
Liliana herself wasn’t at the Sisterhold. She’d already been gone when Lucky left, and apparently hadn’t come back at all. Speculation was she was dead, but Lucky thought that unlikely. He figured if he was dreaming about her so insistently, it meant she was around. When he stopped to examine that supposition, he realized it meant he’d come to accept his dreams—or at least some of them—as something more than just his brain going through a self-cleaning process. It must have something to do with his “powers,” magic intrinsic in him by birthright as the Suth Chiell. As those powers had revealed themselves to him, he’d relied on Thurlock to help him understand them and get some modicum of control. He missed the old man more than he missed his cold, distant mother, for sure. Especially now.
He sat at the table in the place always reserved for him in the past and looked across to the chair Han usually occupied. No plate or utensils were set. “Han can’t come down?” Lucky asked Shehrice.
“No, child, he’s housed in the infirmary for now. Although who knows how long he’ll stay. The physicians and caregivers have had to fight him to stay put in the bed so he can heal. Stubborn man, that one! You can go up to see him once you’ve eaten.”
“Sure he can,” Rose said, “though we do have a bit of a schedule for you, Luccan, sorry to say.”
“I thought you said I could take it easy. What happened to the holiday?”
“Like I said, I’m sorry. You might as well get used to it, though. Holidays are easier than other days, usually, but as our Suth Chiell you’ll almost always have to do a little something. Today, you’ll need to be on the green at noon. But you’ve got a few hours between now and then and you can fill those up any way you like.”
“Okay,” Lucky said. He might have wanted to protest at least a little, but everyone was seated by then, and it was time to eat. He felt starved, even though the night before he’d consumed probably half his body weight in cold meats, cheese, fruit, and bread. This morning, pancakes were central in his attention, and Cook had set a plate of especially crispy, thick-cut bacon near his place, apparently having remembered that was how Lucky liked it. Lucky loaded his plate up with those things and fresh fruit until it overflowed, smothered his pancakes with maple syrup, and dug in.
After he’d stowed away about half of what was on his plate, he started thinking about what Rose had said. He swallowed, quaffed some tea, and wiped his face before asking, “So what am I supposed to do on the green at noon?”
“Oh, the usual stuff—it will be usual for you, anyway,” Aunt Rose answered with a smile. After a moment, she elaborated. “You’ll be expected to say a few words, just thanking folks for coming out to celebrate with you, letting them know you’re glad to be home. That sort of thing. Not really a speech. You’ll be fine just winging it. Then there’s the feast—you’ll be at the head table with Lem and I, but you have to be seen.”
“Oh,” Lucky said, his appetite shrinking. He hadn’t yet had to do any public speaking, but he guessed he wasn’t cut out for it. If he had to do it, he wished Thurlock could be with him. So far, the old man had consistently rescued him from his own goofs when it came to being in the public eye. But recently Lucky had made up his mind to try to be what he was born for—the Suth Chiell the Sunlands’ people deserved, and he supposed this was a step toward growing into that role. So, yeah. He’d do it—or at least give it his best try. “Anything else?” he asked, though he hoped very hard there wasn’t.
Rose’s mouth was full, but Lem spoke up to answer. He didn’t look like he felt quite so much like celebrating, and Lucky was reminded that Zhevi, Lem’s nephew, hadn’t yet returned from the great quest Lucky had practically forced him into.
Zhevi and L’Aria were on their way, in the care of Tiro, who was L’Aria’s father and a very powerful being—old as Ethra herself, most figured, and a shifter. His other form was identical to huge, powerful otters that had once roamed the continent of Asia in Earth. He was the only shifter native to Ethra, as far as anyone knew, and that hadn’t surprised Lucky any more than learning that shifters really existed in any world. He’d only recently found that out, when he’d heard Han tell the tale of the battle outside Isa’s tower back in Black Creek Ravine. Henry George, an ordinary-seeming man who’d been Lucky’s friend for a few years, had flown overhead during that battle in the shape of a California condor.
Tiro was bringing L’Aria and Zhevi back by a river route, and Lucky had no doubt he could assure their safety. Lucky had told Lem all of that last night, but reflecting on it, he supposed he could understand why Lem would worry anyway, right up until Zhevi returned safe and sound. Especially since, from the stray bits of news Lucky’d heard, strange and frightening things had been happening all around the Sunlands, and elsewhere in Ethra too.
Lem looked at Lucky across the stacks of food still filling the center of the table and spoke in what Lucky supposed were the same clipped and careful tones he used when commanding troops. “Four hours past midday, ye’ll begin a tour ’round the village from the Sisterhold steps. Ye’ll be available for the people to greet you, and ye should be bestowin’ blessings as needed—for the young, the old, the sick, whatever others approach ye an’ ask it. I’ll accompany ye, lad, and a few soldiers. We’ll keep it casual-like, but make sure the people give ye no real grief.”
“Um, thank you,” Lucky said, and gave Lem a nod and a half smile. He appreciated the care taken with the arrangements, but in truth “blessings” were the last thing he’d choose to do if it were up to him. His spirits having fallen a notch further, he forced himself to finish his plate of food anyway, then asked to be excused. “I need to check on K’ormahk,” he explained, “and I’m anxious to see how Han is doing.”
“Of course,” Rose said. “Go, and when you see Han tell him we all missed him here this morning, would you? And I’ll be up to see him later if he’s not too grumpy.”
LUCKY WAS in for a couple of serious shocks that morning.
First, at the stables he learned that K’ormahk had disappeared. He’d apparently enjoyed the thorough grooming he’d been given, had eaten his fill of oats and hay, and rested through the night. In the morning, the grooms had turned him out into the paddock behind the stables, but the next time they looked, he was gone—and nowhere to be found.
The groom who’d been tending to the great horse—a girl about Lucky’s age named Jihn—seemed afraid to confess she’d lost him. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, head bowed in either fear or shame. “I don’t know how it happened. One minute—”
Lucky held a hand up to stop her. “Please,” he said, “don’t call me sir. Not yet, at least. It’s just silly. And I don’t suppose it’s your fault about K’ormahk. I mean, how do you keep a flying horse from getting over the fence?” That wasn’t really the half of it, but a flying horse had probably been enough of a shock to the grooms of the Sisterhold’s stables. No need to tell them he was a magical beast who flew through worlds and maybe galaxies to get from one place to another in no time at all. He knew in his heart K’ormahk would be around if he needed him, so he assured Jihn he wasn’t worried and moved on, heading up to the infirmary inside the manor house to see Han.
K’ormahk’s disappearance had been a shock at first, but it didn’t compare to the scare he got when he first saw Han. The fact that the medical staff had drugged him into submission was quite evident, but even without that, Han looked… actually pale! His skin was a slightly darker shade of brown than Lucky’s to begin with, and his face, arms, and even his torso and legs to a lesser degree, were also well tanned by outdoor life. But lying there in the bed, he looked as though all the blood had fled his skin and left him sort of gray, with a greenish tinge in places. Lucky stood staring, having no idea what to say.
“Don’t panic, Lucky,” Han said without opening his eyes. “I’m not dying. They gave me some damned herb that apparently doesn’t agree with me, and I spent a solid hour heaving my guts up.”
“Oh,” Lucky breathed. “Okay. Um, sorry. I-is there anything I can do?”
Han opened his eyes and smiled, for which Lucky was exceedingly grateful. Han once again looked like Han—alive and if not exactly well, not at death’s door.
Han said, “Sneak me some of that bacon you all have been eating downstairs. My stomach’s settled nicely now, and I’m running on empty. They fed me gruel!”
Lucky smiled, and after looking around to be sure he wouldn’t be caught, produced a napkin-wrapped package of that very same delicious bacon along with two smoky sausages and a couple pancakes. “When I left the table, I went through the kitchen and hit the extras on the work table. Sorry I couldn’t figure a way to get you any syrup, Uncle Han. I hope this will do anyway.”
“Yes!” Han exclaimed and raised a triumphant fist. “I knew I could count on you.” He laid the package in one big hand and started to unwrap it with the other. “Sort of hang out over by the door, would you? Let me know if anybody’s coming.”
Lucky did, enjoying watching Han wolf down the food. It didn’t take long for it all to disappear, and once it was gone, Lucky moved back to sit on the end of Han’s bed. He felt like he needed something from Han, but he didn’t know what. But Han needed something more from him too.
“Luccan, I need you to tell Lem to gather people—he’ll know who—and bring them here to meet with me as soon as possible. I won’t be letting them give me any more potions or tonics or whatever they want to call them, at least not until it’s time to sleep. I need to have my head on straight. I’ve got to find out what’s going on with the troops, whatever other intelligence is available. With Thurlock not here, I have to try to fill in some blanks on my own.”
“You’re going to have a… meeting… a council or whatever… here?”
“Yes. What else can I do? I need to stay off this leg for a while. And… you can’t see it because of the blankets, but they’ve got it set up to drain. And they come around every couple hours to fool with it some more, either cleaning out the remaining infection or just to torture me. So, for the moment, here is where I am, but the things that need to be done won’t just go away.”
The situation seemed to distress Han, and Lucky was almost sorry he’d asked. “Okay,” he said, nodding for emphasis. “I’ll tell Lem, like you asked.” He let silence fall, wondering if he should tell Han about the dreams that had haunted his sleep.
Quietly, Han said, “Luccan. I can sense you want to say something. But you’re blocking me, so I also get that you’re not sure whether to tell me. Whatever it is, if you share, I’ll help if I can. If I can’t, I’ll at least listen, and maybe two heads will be better than one.”
Lucky smiled. “That’s what Grandpa Hank used to say.”
“Oh.” Han raised his eyebrows. “Well, I do remember Thurlock saying Hank George was a smart man, so….”
With Han’s assurance that he cared and would help, Lucky found he really did want to talk about his troubles. “It’s dreams,” he started, and he kept talking until he’d shared everything he could about them—when he’d had them, how they left him feeling, that he knew they were important but couldn’t remember any details about them. “Except one thing,” he concluded. “I remember my mother’s always there. And Han….” He paused for a moment, then finished in a near whisper. “She’s evil.”
The thought of it brought the burning pressure of tears to his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, and he held it back. Deliberately giving his emotions a mental slap.
Han reached out a comforting hand and laid it on Lucky’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, lad. That hurts. I can feel the pain in you.”
Grateful, Lucky sat quietly and gathered his scattered feelings while Han seemed deep in thought, chewing his lip as he often did.
After a moment, Lucky asked, “Your thoughts, Uncle?”
“Okay. Well, first and foremost, I truly hope Thurlock gets back from wherever the hell he is very soon. We need him. He, of course, would be the best one to help you with this. But in the meantime, I’ve got a couple pieces of advice. One, never be parted from the Key of Behliseth. Wear it to bed, in the bath, everywhere, no matter what. And then, what about the Black Blade, Luccan? Have you bound it to you—bound the magics, I mean? You know what I’m talking about? My brother, Lohen, told me about how he had to… I don’t know, swear some things, I guess. Like vows.”
“Uh, yeah, I do know. She told me—Ciarrah, that’s the Blade’s name. She worked with me on the mountain because I’m Lohen’s son—she said she could sense it in my blood—but she only did that because it was an emergency. She said we’d have to ‘complete our bond.’ You think I should try to do that now?”
“I do. That Blade, it’s the dark one, twin to the Amber that’s lost now—the one you had with you in Earth. But dark and light, a lot of people get that confused with evil and good. It’s not like that. I can’t pretend to be an expert on that Blade—I know the Amber far better, and frankly it is a less complicated talisman. But the Black Blade has a lot of power, and while it may not be exactly benign, in the right hands, it’s not evil. It seems it—or she, as you say—thinks your hands are the right ones. Not surprising, you know. The Key of Behliseth was crafted by Karrighan, the ancestor of all the Ol’Karrighs including Thurlock, your mother, and you. But the Twin Blades come down through the Drakhonic line—the family heritage you and I share. So the long and the short of it is, I think if you complete that bond, she might protect you while you sleep.”
AS SOON as Luccan left, Han called for a nurse. He was less than happy when instead of a nurse, the healer Tahlina answered. She was the Sisterhold’s chief physician. Han couldn’t have hoped for a better healer, and he was grateful her rougher than necessary treatment didn’t prevent her from doing her best to help his wound heal. But he couldn’t pretend to be happy to see her. It was no secret that she hated Han.
“What is it,” she asked coldly, “more pain?”
“No… well, yes of course I have pain, but that’s not why I called. Is—” Han stopped himself, hesitating because he knew what conclusions Tahlina would jump to. He shook his head, then went on. “Is Tennehk on duty this morning?”
Tennehk was a nurse who worked in the infirmary, but also a close, longtime friend of Han’s—the man Luccan had called Han’s “friend with benefits.” And since Han’s sexuality was exactly why Tahlina hated him, he was prepared for her vitriolic response.
“No,” she said, biting the word off and continuing in the same tone. “He’ll be here tonight. But let me tell you, you won’t be having that kind of visitor in my infirmary—”
Han interrupted—his ears already hurt from her bile-coated words. “Look, Tahlina. I know—everyone knows—what you think of me and why you think it. It’s true: when I do want a physical connection, I want it with a man. But of course I’m not going to have that kind of visit!” He stopped and took a deep breath, calming himself so he could continue in a more politic tone. After all, how could he expect her to be civil to him if he chewed her head off and spat it out? “I need to get a message to Tennehk because there’s something important that needs doing, I can’t do it, and he’s well suited to see to the task. Can you please get someone to ask him to come in and see me as soon as possible?”
Tahlina also breathed deep and sighed. She looked a little embarrassed, but not exactly contrite, and she didn’t apologize. She did, however, agree to do what Han asked, and before she left she checked his wound and his temperature, asked about his pain, and refilled his water glass. “I’ll have some willow-bark tea brewed for you. It should help take the edge off your pain without making you sleep. But no more than a cupful every three hours, mind!”
She left in a huffy rush, the biting tone of her last sentence hanging in the air, but Han recognized care when he saw it. She didn’t want to have to take care of him, he could tell, but she would do her best at it anyway because that’s who she was. She’d never harm him or allow harm to be done to him on her watch. That seemed a good thing, compared to the way some of the bigots he’d met over the years behaved.
It made him sad, when he thought about it, though after two-hundred years of living very much in the public eye in the Sunlands, he knew better than to focus his energies on people judging him for something so intrinsic, so much a part of him it didn’t even need thinking about unless others brought it up. He remembered a conversation he’d had with Luccan, only days after they’d found him in Valley City, months ago—before Lucky even knew they were related. They’d been on a city bus—one of the few mechanical things he’d run across in Earth that he didn’t love at all.
Luccan had asked whether he and Thurlock were a couple—something he used to wish were true, but never even came close, the old wizard being far too heterosexual for that.
“But you are gay?”
Han had answered truthfully. “Well, I’m a man, and all the people I could be romantically attracted to are men. In Earth, that makes me gay.”
“What about in Ethra? You wouldn’t be gay in Ethra?”
“In Ethra, we don’t have a label like that. We’re just people.”
Luccan’s response to that had been far too optimistic. “So… nobody hates people like us… you in Ethra?”
How Han wished that were true, but it wasn’t. Case in point, Tahlina. He felt bad for her son, who shared the trait. She hadn’t expelled him from the home—Han had seen that happen in Earth, but in Ethra, where people still depended on seasons and soil for their lives, people would rarely throw away a family member. Especially a strong young son.
Han didn’t dwell on it for long—he had no time. He felt like he was in the middle of a game of political chess—just the sort of game he hated the most. While strategy was one of his strongpoints, he found strategy with troops and weapons came much easier. Predicting an enemy’s moves was a fair gamble. But when it came to other matters, he found it hard to even know who the enemy was, much less what they might do. The board was set, but more than half the chessboard was hidden from him, and whoever the enemy was, they’d had several turns before he even knew play had started. He wasn’t supposed to be the player; he was supposed to be a piece on the board. Let the hand of Thurlock, with Behlishan behind him, pick him up and put him down where he would. But the Sisterhold was noticeably short on wizards named Thurlock at the moment, so Han had to do his best to fill in.
He’d woken up early that morning with his fever down and his mind almost clear. Immediately, he realized he had to try to do something to help with the situation the Sisterhold—and by extension the Sunlands—was in. After hearing a few reports, he realized that with Liliana and Thurlock both missing, what leadership remained—primarily Lem and Rosishan and a couple of rather inept wizards—had been stretched far too thin. People who were in a position to help—troops on the ground, so to speak—would be arriving shortly to meet with Han.
He spent the time before they came dealing with his personal needs and trying to regain some sense of dignity, but he felt ridiculously inadequate anyway. He couldn’t possibly look very in-charge, propped up on a collection of pillows in his infirmary bed with various bits and bobs the nurses left on the bedside table and a tube attached to his leg to drain the festering wound. At least he’d managed to shave and put a shirt on, and he hoped the herbs simmering on the small stove against the far wall masked the smell of infection and sweat.
He was already worn out, truth be told, just from the effort of trying to look presentable, and he knew it would have been better if he could have followed the healer Tahlina’s orders.
“Stay still!” she’d said. “Sleep. It’s the best thing you can do to help your body heal.”
He agreed, having gained some battlefield medical skills of his own over the years. And honestly, the idea of sleep beckoned like a secret garden. But he couldn’t go there, not yet. Not that Rose and Lem weren’t capable, but the twin jobs of managing the Sisterhold and governing were too much for two people, even as skilled as they were and with the help they’d had. Han was needed, if simply to add another brain for problem-solving and—when he was capable again—one more body to do the work.
But for other reasons, some of what plagued the hold and the country were specifically his problem. For starters, everything that had happened to Lucky and around him over the months they’d been absent from the Sunlands pointed to a crisis on the horizon, and crises most often rode in armed for battle. And, too, the military effort in the south at the Fallows, if the sketchy reports he’d received so far were accurate, had gone badly wrong. Battles and military matters of every kind were absolutely Han’s business. He felt himself personally responsible for every man and woman in service and for the outcome of every skirmish. If all that wasn’t enough, Thurlock remained absent, and he was Han Rha-Behl Ah’Shieth—his very name meant Wizard’s Left Hand. In military terms, the man on one’s left hand took the role of shield man. Han had an obligation, a duty by oath, to make sure the old man was safe and well.
And I still can’t reach Thurlock’s mind, no matter what I try. He sighed. Gods, I miss the days when making sure his socks were clean and his blood pressure was low were my biggest worries.
Of course, those days never had existed in truth. But for a while, when he had accompanied Thurlock to Earth to find Luccan, he’d managed to pretend it was true—at least if he blocked out worries over the search for the Suth Chiell. The fruitless year before Luccan—or Lucky as he was known in Earth—had shown up on the magical radar had seemed to consist of not much more than mundane chores. Even then, though, Han knew he’d only been fooling himself, and since Luccan was found, not a single day had been idyllic or peaceful or easy in any way.
Han put his ruminating on the back burner when Lem and Rose arrived within minutes of each other. Rose’s spirits seemed high now that both Han and Luccan had returned, but that didn’t surprise Han. Rose had always embodied a peculiar mix of formidable, mouthy, and optimistic. He loved her for that character, and he knew she treasured him as well, as she would a brother. Lem, however, hadn’t shaken his worry for Zhevi even after Han explained about Tiro and the route they were taking home, and made it clear he and Luccan had arrived first only because of K’ormahk’s magical speed.
They had no time for small talk or further reassurances, though, before Joh came in and took a seat on the bench against the far wall. An accomplished horsewoman and fighter with considerable experience, with Liliana absent and Lem otherwise occupied, Joh had taken charge of the day-to-day doings of Shahna’s Rangers. Two other rangers stood by her. The rest of the bench was taken up by Ringo and Link, the chief officers of two Behlishan’s Guard battalions.
Joh addressed Han, respectful but not formal, while they waited for the remaining attendees to arrive and the council to begin. “It’s good to have you back, sir. How are the healers treating you?”
Han smiled. “Mostly pretty well, although they always seem to have an excuse for making things hurt.”
Led by a muscular woman named Mahri, four senior officers of the Sisterhold Police Watch crowded into the small room and stood at parade rest, flanking the stove against the far wall. They were the last of those Han had asked to come. It was time to begin.
Since not all present had been there to hear the discussions at the table the previous night, Han started by once again running down the events of the last few months where they concerned the Suth Chiell, and his own experiences as well. Some of the truth, however, hadn’t been told last night and wouldn’t be told now. Specifically, no mention was made of Lucky’s visit to the Wraith Queen, or Han’s interaction with Naht’kah. The horror of the prison caves had to be made known, however. Children being kidnapped and enslaved and even killed—that was something they must deal with as best they could with their limited resources, and Han already had a plan. He laid it out before moving on to any other matters.
“A small force should be plenty. We’re low on available cavalry, but horses can’t work well in the tunnels, anyway, and that’s where fighting is most likely to occur, particularly if, as I suggest, you manage to keep the element of surprise. A company or so, individuals well suited to all types of action including hand-to-hand fighting, dealing with magic, and facing nonhumans—I fought a caveblight while I was there. And, of course, take people who have experience with rescue missions.”
Further discussion led to an agreement for mounted scouts to join the expedition from Shahna’s Rangers, and a plan to wait until Zhevi and possibly L’Aria were available to accompany the group too, as they’d been there before. “We got there overland after running from a storm,” Han said, “and I’m not sure exactly where we were, but there are only a few mountains in the area that could hold those caves, so I’ll work on pinpointing which one and determining the best way to get there. Truthfully, it’s not far. It should be a quick mission, there and back again in a matter of a few days.”
Moving on, Han set the scope for the remainder of the meeting. “We won’t be able, here and now, to come up with clear answers for all the other troubles we face, but we can begin by making sure we are all aware of what needs doing. Later, I’ll meet with some of you in smaller groups to come up with ideas on how to deal with specific issues. I’m still recovering from a hell of a hard time.” He smiled in chagrin, making it less of a complaint and more of a confession. “I’m healing, but I’m already exhausted. So this meeting will be it for a while unless Thurlock comes home. I know every one of you has talent and smarts we need. I’m hoping you’ll put your minds to things and together we can come up with plans quickly.”
When he finished, he looked around the room meeting each person’s eyes momentarily, but what he was thinking was, When did I turn into a politician?
Foremost on Rose’s mind, the Sisterhold seemed to be holding on to stability and peace in the community by a few slim threads. Nedhra City had pulled back its liaisons to the Sisterhold and closed its office near the manor, and no one really knew why except that Liliana—with whom they usually conducted government business—wasn’t there. The winter had been harsh too, and full of the unexpected. Blue drakes and other beasts had encroached on the hold’s lands almost to the near edge of the Greenwood, and business had turned sour for farmers and crafters who usually found markets elsewhere in the Sunlands and beyond….
More alarming than any of that, unrest had developed right there at home. People had been hurt in brawls and feuds, and two people had been killed. Rose and Lem, with the help of the Watch and the Council, had barely managed to keep things from blowing up. Han, as a military commander, didn’t ordinarily have authority over the governing of the hold, but Thurlock wasn’t there, and the usual authorities were failing, and Rose asked for help.
After a pause for lip-chewing and thought, Han threw out an idea. “Maybe we should have regular opportunities for people to come and meet with us. If we make it clear we’re going out of our way to hear what people have to say—and that we’re doing everything we can when we can—folks will be less likely to let panic take over when there are some things we can’t fix.”
“Good idea, Han,” Rose answered. “But I have to wonder, when am I going to have time? Lem too—he’s been running himself ragged trying to keep up with things.”
Han nodded. “I know. I’ll try to be available to help as soon as I’m able, though I admit the business at the Fallows, the children in the tunnels, and Thurlock being missing are going to have to be priority for me. Could we recruit help? Maybe some elders, active leaders, some promising younger ones. You know—people the citizens already respect and trust. And Luccan’s here. He can take part as soon as he’s rested up. He’ll learn a lot that way too.” He looked around at the others present. “Any volunteers here?”
Except Ringo, who already had his assignment, all the senior officers present raised hands, and a younger member of the Watch volunteered his grandfather. That got a few chuckles, but the people in the room who knew the older man agreed it was a good idea.
When Han learned the old man’s name—Alahn Kahrry—he said, “Oh! Yes, I know of him.” The Kahrry family was a branch off the Ol’Karrigh, so the old man was a relative of Thurlock’s. “Let me know what he says, Jaydehn.” Han gave the boy a smile that reflected his hope that things might soon improve—or at least not get any worse.
Finally, Han listened to reports about the situation at the Fallows. The troops—his troops, the people he was responsible for—were unable to communicate with the Sisterhold, so little was known, but what few reports Lem had received seemed to indicate a something alarming was happening.
After a long, silent moment, Han said, “I’ll give it some thought and decide how to proceed.” He brought the meeting to a close without addressing that situation any further. He truly didn’t know what to do—not something he was used to at all.
He had little time to think on it before he had to move on to something more urgent—the reason he’d asked Tennehk to meet with him.
“Hey!” Tennehk said as he came in the door. “You look a hell of a lot better than you did last night. Feeling any better?”
Han was anxious to skip the small talk, but before he could answer, a young woman he didn’t know by name delivered his willow-bark tea. Han checked it was at a drinkable temperature with a careful sip, then drank the whole bitter cup before answering. “That should help, I’m told.”
“It should,” Tennehk said. He came and sat on the bed, careful not to jar Han’s injured leg. “What do you need me to do?”
Although Tennehk was a caregiver by profession, he was also very skilled in martial arts. What’s more, he knew how to be on duty without being seen as such; in Behlishan’s Guard, he had often been assigned to intelligence gathering—spying—or to be an unobtrusive bodyguard in case things went bad when talks were taking place. He’d left the military, but from time to time filled a stealthier role in the Sunlands affairs. Han trusted him implicitly; he was the perfect person for what Han had in mind.
“Luccan is supposed to make a public appearance at noon today on the green. There’s so much… shit going on, I’m worried.”
Tennehk went quickly to the same page. “Right. The mood among the people… I’ve never seen it like this.”
“Exactly. And other stuff. Can you be there? Maybe get a few others you trust? Be in the crowd and close enough, just in case.”
“I’m on it. Anything else?”
“No, not unless you’ve changed your mind about taking on some political responsibilities.”
“Oh no. Huh-uh. Not me. You already know that, though.” Tennehk laughed.
Han smiled. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.”
“Again.”
“Right.” Han chuckled, but somehow the motion caused a twinge of pain in his leg and his smile turned to a brief grimace. When it had passed, he said, “Thanks for your help with Luccan this afternoon, though.”
“You’re welcome. I’m off to gather up some people for the job, then, Han. Get some sleep, okay?” He leaned in and kissed Han’s cheek, winked, and left without another word.
Han had done all he could to make sure his nephew the Suth Chiell would be safe in the crowd come afternoon. He should just relax, he knew he needed sleep.
But, Behl’s beard, I have got a bad feeling about this, and I can’t seem to shake it.