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Topiara - Chapter 23
Jilan roused slowly, the steady knocking at his door eventually insinuating itself into his dreams deeply enough to pull him awake. "Wait," he grumbled in a less than friendly tone and reached for his trousers. A glance at his window showed only the dimmest promise of a sunrise, not making his mood any better. "You had better have a good reason for this..." he growled as he threw open the door, then stared. "Lyara! What do you want?"
"We don't have our time, Jilan," she said, glancing around him into the chamber where his temporary roommate still lay snoring and then looking back at him. "We have to leave. Today."
Jilan took her elbow and steered her into the hall so that he could pull his door closed. "What are you talking about?" He frowned. "Does this have something to do with what happened to Iliria and..."
"They carried a message from the man who ordered the men in the stable. Remember the name Vinzen?"
Jilan drew in a deep breath. "He ordered this too?"
Lyara nodded. "And it has to do with that," his finger jabbed at the lump beneath her tunic that was Topiara, "the power-stone?"
"Shhh," Lyara hissed, nodding. "That and more. We have to find this man. He has made the journey south unnecessary, but the one we must make instead far more dangerous. She nodded toward his chamber door. "How quickly can you pack?"
"What are you going to tell Lyndon?" Jilan insisted, ignoring her question. "He'll want to know why."
"He already knows as much of the reason as you," Lyara returned, "because he had a message from the Oracle too."
"What about Iliria and Dorin?"
"The healer came last night. They'll be alright soon." Lyara sighed. "How fast can you pack?"
"How soon do you want to leave?"
"As soon after breakfast as we can."
Jilan shook his head. "How do you hope to find this man, Lyara? Think. We can't just dash off without knowing which direction to ride in." He leaned against the wall. "There must be someone here in Tandri who would know some thing about him."
Lyara's expression reflected surprised approval. "Now you're thinking like a Guide," she remarked.
"No," he countered, scratching his head and giving in finally to the temptation to yawn. "I just want to be sure of what we are getting ourselves into as much as possible. I'm no hero and," he placed a hand on Lyara's shoulder, "your swordsmanship still isn't back to normal. Knowledge can be a weapon too, you know, sometimes, just as dangerous as a sword."
"Alright," Lyara conceded with a nod. "We'll talk to Lyndon before we go anywhere and see if he knows anyone who is familiar with Vinzen. But pack anyway." She began moving down the hallway. "With any luck, we should have the knowledge we need and can still leave today."
oOoOo
"Close the door." Lyndon motioned to Jilan and then waved them both into chairs in front of his desk. Jilan looked about the room in curiosity as he followed Lyara to a seat. "Now." Lyndon's voice brought him back to the interview at hand. Lyndon focused his attention on Lyara. "Tell me the whole story from the beginning, and don't leave out so many blanks this time."
Lyara sighed. "It started when Karlo, Farranby and I were traveling north to bring back the bride of the Lord Dilan's son. We had gone as far as Changdu. Karlo made for a clearing on the other side of the village while Farranby and I went into town. When we were done and found the clearing, Karlo had already been attacked and was dying. He told me where the..." she looked at Jilan, and then back at Lyndon, "power-stone was and told me to take it back to the Oracle. He said he had taken it from someone who had hired him to steal it himself.
"Anyway, I finished that assignment. The Oracle was dead by the time I got back to Tandri, and a seer had told me to guard the power-stone well. All was normal until Jilan and I were on our way home from the Kauwlut Home lands. We were attacked in a stable by three who gave us the information about who wanted the stone and that they had killed Karlo. They almost killed us too, but we managed to surprise them by being awake and survived.
"Now Iliria and Dorin..." Lyara paused in her narra tive. "Master, I can't have your Service under any shadow of my making. It's me that he wants, although," she paused again and turned to Jilan, "he has threatened Jilan's life too. If we stay here, we can be sure that he will try again to send assassins against us and, because we are here, against you and the other Guides too." She turned back to Lyndon. "That's the story, all of it."
Lyndon leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers thoughtfully, looking from Jilan to Lyara and back again over and over. Finally he shook his head. "It's a pretty fantastic story, Lyara. I would say you had dreamt it all but for Karlo and Iliria and Dorin."
"What do you know of Vinzen?" Jilan asked, drawing Lyndon's attention. "Until Lyara and I overheard the three men who attacked us talking beforehand, neither of us had ever heard the name before."
"Vinzen." Lyndon leaned forward once more and folded his hands on his desk. "If there were one man who had the intelligence and viciousness to control all the vices and crime in Tandri and most of Talandria, it would be Vinzen. His network of criminals has been the target of almost all the King's soldiers for years. If you've been marked by this man," Lyndon shook his head, "your chances in this life have diminished greatly."
"Wonderful," Jilan grumbled and slumped back into his chair.
Lyara leaned forward. "Jilan says that knowledge is a weapon. So, who knows the most about the man Vinzen? Whom do the King's men talk to?"
"Now that is the easiest question." Lyndon looked from one to the other, then allowed his gaze to rest on Lyara. "You know Vinzen's brother, Lyara."
"What?!" Jilan and Lyara said together, mouths agape.
"As a matter of fact, you traveled with him," Lyndon continued with a nod. "Lord Dilan's steward. A man named Farranby."
oOoOo
Farranby's face broke into a wide smile as he caught sight of Lyara, waiting for him near the fountain in the courtyard where he had met her for the first time. "Lyara! I was starting to think that I wouldn't ever get to see you again."
Lyara and the steward clasped arms warmly, and then Lyara introduced him to Jilan. "So you're the one," Farranby nodded approvingly as he clasped arms with Lyara's companion. "I heard about the scene in the Keep, when your uncle and father were forced to explain why they had for bidden you to try a rescue attempt." His eyebrows rose. "Is it true you didn't find him?"
"No," Lyara told him quickly. "But I'm afraid this isn't a social visit."
"I thought not," Farranby agreed, "but I'm glad to see you all the same." He patted his stomach. "At least you get to see that I'm as good as new." He struck his arms akimbo. "Now, what can I do for you?"
"Tell us about Vinzen," Jilan responded before Lyara had a chance to say a word. Farranby's eyebrows climbed even higher, and he stepped back a pace to give his two visitors an appraising look. "That's the last thing I expected from you."
"We've a good reason for asking," Lyara was quick to add, shooting a withering glance at Jilan. "Seems he thinks I have something that he wants. Badly."
Farranby whistled silently. "Sooo," he drew out.
"Just so," Lyara agreed. "I can't take the responsibility for him attacking every Guide in Tandri trying to get to me."
"I heard about two Guides being in a fight yesterday after the races," Farranby interrupted. "Was that Vinzen's way of getting your attention?" Lyara nodded, and Farranby shook his head. "He hasn't changed a bit."
"We need an edge, something we can use that he won't expect us to know. Lyara's been injured and isn't up to her fighting best, and the gods know I'm only adequate with a sword," Jilan explained quickly.
"Vinzen bought a large estate on an island off the coast, near the Varren Strait." Farranby seated himself on the edge of the fountain. "He rarely comes to the mainland anymore. If there are some of his assassins looking for you here in Tandri, your best chance would be to very, very publicly head north again -- as if you were considering making another try for the little captive -- and then head southwest by night for three or four days or until you know for certain that you weren't followed." He shook his head, rubbing his chin. "But getting onto the island without being seen -- that might be tricky."
Topiara inserted a glimpse of what Farranby was talk ing about -- and island with high cliffs on all sides and a dock that was guarded by the nearby building. Jilan was used to Lyara suddenly growing vague of expression, but Farranby did not remember such happenings. "Hey, Lyara, are you all right?" he asked in quick concern.
Jilan nodded confidently, then turned to Lyara. "Lyara?" He waited until Lyara's eyes refocused on him -- the vision faded -- to continue. "We're going to have to find somebody who knows how to get us onto that island, then. Right?"
Lyara nodded slowly, her thoughts only then coming back to the conversation. "There has to be someone who has had a falling-out with Vinzen -- someone who has been on the island and knows.."
"There is." Farranby's voice had a new note of ex citement. He placed his hand on his chest. "Me."
"Farranby!" Lyara gasped.
"Wait a minute!" Jilan shook his head at the same time.
"I'm the logical choice. I know Vinzen. I know the island. And I want very badly to see him into the under world myself." The steward was firm. "I have waited for a day such as this for years."
Lyara shook her head firmly, mouth set in a thin line. "He wants me dead, Farranby, and probably Jilan too. I don't want to end up responsible for anything bad happening to you too." She glanced up at Jilan. "It's bad enough that I've dragged him into it."
"You didn't drag me into it," Jilan grumbled, more to himself than to her.
"Let me help," Farranby insisted. "I told you a long time ago that I owed you a big debt. I just never had any idea that the way I could repay you for saving my life would give me the opportunity to accomplish my own revenge too." He stepped back and folded his arms across his chest. "You know and I know that I'm the man for the job."
Lyara looked from Farranby to Jilan and back again, only managing to become more and more worriedly frustrated. "What about Master Dilan? How's he going to react to his steward suddenly leaving his service with barely time to give notice?"
Farranby smiled as if reminded of a humorous event. "I'm Dilan's steward more by merit of his wanting me in his service than my needing the position. I've stayed on here more because nothing that caught my fancy had come my way." He chuckled and scuffed at the ground. "Dilan won't be happy," he admitted, "but he won't be able to stop me either."
Lyara looked back at Jilan as if for help in dissuading the man, but Jilan shrugged. "The man's determined, Lyara. Besides, we really could use all the help we can get if we want to live through this."
"I don't like it. We all could be killed."
Farranby shrugged. "We all have to die sometime. I wouldn't mind dying in this effort." His face darkened. "You have no idea what a favor we would be doing the entire world by putting that man as deep into the other world as possible."
She thought for a little while more, gazing frankly at the steward, and then seemed to arrive at a decision. "How soon can you be ready to leave? The sooner we get away from Tandri the sooner the rest of Master Lyndon's Guides don't have to be watching over their shoulders in case Vinzen decides he needs another messenger."
"I can be ready by mid-afternoon -- will that be soon enough?"
Jilan and Lyara nodded in unison. "We need to purchase some provisions anyway," Jilan reminded her urgently. "And if we're smart, we'll stock up on healing herbs as well as those meant for cooking. I wouldn't mind having some more of what Marisa used for you as well as some gel."
"As long as you're shopping," Farranby said pointedly at Jilan, "see if you can't find yourself a good longbow and quiverful of arrows." He nodded at the questioning look in the young aristocrat's face. "You may think of archery as a simple sporting event, but I know the damage a well-aimed arrow can do." He turned to Lyara. "You said that none of us were exactly up to a heated swordfight with any of Vinzen's men. Well, that may be true, but that doesn't mean we can't make ourselves dangerous using other means."
"What about you then?" Jilan asked quickly, before Lyara could respond.
"Don't worry about me," Farranby chuckled quietly, as if at a private joke. "I can't handle a bow to save my soul, but I won't be defenseless either, believe me." He stared at Jilan as a thought struck him. "You can shoot an arrow straight, can't you?"
Jilan glanced at Lyara, who turned a face with up raised eyebrows in his direction to wait for his answer. "Of course I can shoot straight -- all Torbishahn men take pride in marksmanship," he replied, surprise at the ques tion making his voice sharp. "I may never have enjoyed swinging a sword in the sawdust as a boy, but I used to love the hours of target practice in the open fields."
Farranby met Jilan's tone of voice with an even gaze. "Considering what we're talking about here, its best to know some of these things before we get too far along. Now, when do we leave?"
Lyara extended her hand to Farranby. "Meet us at the north gate at mid-afternoon."
Farranby took her arm firmly. "Until then." He took Jilan's arm quickly and then turned to announce his depar ture to Dilan.
"Now we're three," Jilan remarked brightly. "Maybe we've improved the odds against us some."
Lyara didn't answer, as Topiara was once more whisper ing in the back of her mind.
"What are we doing over here?" Lyara demanded in amazement at Jilan's announcement of where they were headed next.
"You heard Farranby. I need a good longbow and ar rows. The best longbow I know of is the one I kept at my father's house."
Lyara's brows knit together. "And what makes you think, after your father has disowned you, that you're going to be able to retrieve an obviously valuable weapon?"
Jilan shrugged. "My father may be thick-headed, but he wouldn't have tossed anything valuable in a manly way. It would have been my books and notes from the university that he would have tossed. And besides, he knows the bow is mine -- I won it in competition fairly. The King him self awarded it to me. He has no right to it at all."
She shook her head in doubt as they pulled their ponies to a halt in front of the gates of a grand hall. "I hope you know what you're doing," she grumbled as they dismounted.
Jilan's smile was friendly, but his eyes were already cold in anticipation of the argument he expected to come soon. "Trust me," he breezed and then led the way through the gate.
The front door of the hall flew open, and a rather wizened old man sped out toward the two young people as they neared the steps, arms flapping in the air. "Master Jilan! Gods be praised, I thought you would never come home! I told Erla just this mor..."
"It's all right, Debin. But I'm not coming home." Jilan caught the old man by the arms. "Do you know if Father has cleaned out my old room?"
Debin grinned in gape-toothed mischief. "Erla and I wouldn't let him! Told him that he was a blamed fool and that we knew you'd be by eventually for what was yours by right." The deep blue eyes twinkled. "Oh, there was a hue and cry that eve!"
Jilan turned to Lyara, most of the coldness drained from his expression by the news. "Knowing Father, that must have been some row!"
"Eh, Master Jilan." The old man elbowed Jilan in the ribs. "Erla and I trained you better than that. Who's your young lady? A Guide?"
Jilan blinked. "I'm sorry, Debin. This is Lyara Chivan; the Guide who saw me into the Kauwlut lands and back looking for Sidon. Lyara, this is Debin, my father's steward and my foster-father."
Debin took Lyara's outstretched arm with raised eye brows at the firmness in her grip. "Now this one's a damned space better than those flax-haired fluffs your father used to toss at you, boy. Much better." He dropped her arm and moved between them, a hand on each of their shoulders. "Well, what are we standing out here in the hot sun for, Master Jilan? Let's go get your bow and arrows!"
Jilan and Lyara exchanged amused smiles over the top of the wizened little man's head as he pulled them up the steps and into the hall. Lyara caught her breath. Jilan's home was by far more elegant and finely decorated than Master Lyndon's Guides Hall, which had been the finest dwelling she had ever seen before now. Richly hued tapes tries leant a warmth and hominess to the massive size of the rooms. Their footsteps reverberated against the ceil ings. Everywhere were heavy cabinets and chairs of finely carved hardwood.
"What in the name of all the Gods are you doing here?" boomed a very loud and angry voice, and Rodayn Torbishahn appeared suddenly in a door that had opened in the polished wooden wall.
Lyara felt Jilan stiffen next to her. "I'm here for what's mine, Father," he said coldly.
"You are no son of mine," Rodayn retorted with equal chill. His gaze moved to Lyara's face. "I see your little Guide whore is recovered now."
Lyara placed a hand on Jilan's arm when she sensed him bunched to spring at his father. Her voice dripped with disdain and distaste, but it was low. "Don't let him bait you, Jilan. Just get your possessions and let's get out of here."
Jilan grunted reluctant agreement to her voice of moderation. "All I want are the bow and arrows the King awarded me last year at the meet," he pronounced slowly, without expression in his voice. "Believe me, after today, the last place I will ever come again will be this hall. Give me access to my room one time, and I guarantee you will never see me again."
Rodayn's face worked, his anger mixed with admiration for Jilan's facing his wrath so calmly. Why could Jilan never have shown this kind of strength before asked a small voice in the back of his mind. His gaze moved to Debin, and in those old features saw the beginnings of true rebel lion to his authority building, awaiting only his denial of Jilan's right to his possessions. Frustrated and so angry that he couldn't even speak, he waved his hand at his son and stomped back through the door, slamming it behind him.
Debin looked up at his young master with sadness. "I never thought to see the day, Master Jilan." He patted Jilan's shoulder with one hand and handed him a small key with the other. "You go on upstairs and get your things from your room. I'll talk to Erla and have her pack some supplies for you." He scowled. "Master Rodayn has more than enough to provide for your journey -- wherever it is you're going."
"Come on," Jilan placed his hand in the small of Lyara's back and guided her to the staircase and beyond, speaking low as they walked. "If Debin locked my room, you can wager that he also gathered all the keys up so that Father couldn't get in after all."
"Debin seems to have a great deal of influence for a steward," Lyara observed.
Jilan nodded. "It is an old arrangement between the Torbishahns and Debin's family, the Fahminzi. There will always be a Fahminzi steward in the house of Torbishahn. The office will not be open to negotiation, and no Torbishahn will ever be able to dismiss a Fahminzi steward for anything less that outright treason." He paused in front of a closed door. "Here we are." The little key turned easily in the lock.
Jilan's room was surprisingly neat considering he was a scholar, Lyara thought. A few papers were scattered across the writing desk near the window, but otherwise books and papers all seemed to be in their places. Jilan moved to the opposite side of the canopied bed and bent down to peer beneath it. First he brought up a beautifully carved and inlaid longbow and laid it on the bed, and then a tooled leather quiver with over a dozen arrows.
With a practiced motion, he first settled the quiver strap over his head and across his chest, and then he likewise settled the bow itself in the opposite direction. He looked up to find Lyara watching him appraisingly.
"There," he said with pleasure. "What do you think?"
Lyara nodded, the corners of her mouth quirked up in approval. She waved her hand at the rest of the room's contents. "Is that all you need from here then?"
Jilan turned completely around slowly, studying the room that had been his ever since he could remember. As an afterthought, he moved to the writing desk and gathered a thin book, several blank papers and writing tools. He opened a drawer and drew out a thin leather sachel into which he thrust his items and then tied shut. "That ought to do it." He looked around again. "It's hard to believe that I used to think all of this was so valuable."
Lyara looked up at him as he moved to her side as she stood by the door. There was a sadness and finality in his attitude that she wished she knew how to comfort. But instead, she cleared her throat awkwardly and said gruffly, "If you're ready, then, let's go find Debin and Erla. We can't spend too much time here."
Jilan looked down, startled at the tone, but found a well of understanding in her ebony eyes. With a thin smile and small nod, he let her go before him through the door and, with a small key, lock his past life behind him.
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