Bastion of Sun

CHAPTER FIVE

A Patient Man

Patience was perhaps Nolan's greatest asset. Some men were valiant—diving into a sea of swords bellowing battle cries—some men were wise, like Councilor Godfrey, with sagacity gained from many years of study and introspection. But Nolan, while he knew he had many of those qualities too, was above all patient. Yet now he was restless beyond measure.

He folded the note back up his cloth sleeve at a hard knock behind him and called loudly, "Enter!"

The beaten gold doors of the Light Hall swung wide and his manservant, Maldred, entered. The man might have been tall once but age, or perhaps the weight of running a whole kingdom's staff as head servant, had stooped him. Still, as always, Maldred's clothes were immaculate, his white robes slashed with black and gray were clean and perfectly pressed. His boots were oiled and gleamed like the floor beneath them. His skin, however, was barely wrinkled and surprisingly pale like most of the councilors—those men and women who were appointed by the citizens of Vaster to rule over the Great Kingdom of Sun. That pale skin was the result of staying inside the walls of the Apex and avoiding the ever-present sun. Otherwise, Maldred's features were unremarkable. If Nolan hadn't known the man for four decades, he'd have lost him in a crowd himself.

Nolan cared dearly for Maldred but knew the man was getting on in age. His hair was nearly all but gone—only a rim of gray hairs clung to his skull like the last remnants of stew clinging to the sides of a bowl. Looking at him now, he looked like Nolan felt. Twice he'd gifted Maldred a gilded cane. Each time Maldred thanked him stiffly, treating it with reverence, and yet never once had Nolan seen the man use the blasted thing. When Nolan would inquire about it Maldred would thank him again and say he would use one of them when the day came. He had a feeling that Maldred would never throw the canes away, but that he would also never use them. Each would be buried deep within his closet until the day the man died. Pride, so much pride—a trait all Vasterians shared and one he knew far too well. Maldred cleared his throat and Nolan shook himself, meeting the man's gaze. "They're here, my lord," Maldred announced slowly, waiting for recognition to spark in Nolan's eyes. Ah, he must have already said it once, Nolan realized.

"And my daughter?" Nolan inquired.

"She attended to them just as you instructed, High Councilor."

He smiled. He hadn't instructed that. Far from it; he had told her to stay away. The note said to trust these figures... But Nolan was not quick to trust. Legends. Myths. Killers. He would risk everything for them and soon, but not his only child—the dearest thing to his heart since the passing of his beloved wife. But it was just like Evangeline to twist his words. Likely she'd repeat what he'd told her, and he'd realized his words sounded like aid the newcomers, not avoid the newcomers. He knew she didn't do it out of spite. In fact, she only directly disobeyed him when she was concerned for his safety. In every way she seemed to prove herself a replica of her mother. He brushed the matter aside. "Where are they now exactly?"

"They are making for the Lightway and should be—" Maldred was cut short as Nolan strode forward.

The walls appeared to be white like clouds, but Nolan approached and put his hand to the nearest glass panel—the one that should overlook the Lightway. The panel turned clear, the white surface now transparent like fog banished by the sun. Sure enough, he spotted them. He narrowed his gaze. They rode on the grand walkway of yellow that crisscrossed back and forth, leading to the Apex's foot. The series of walkways, called the Lightway, hung over a moat that encircled the Apex, the central tower that housed all the nobility. The moat beneath was made not of water, but of white-hot gold. Unlike the Sunroad's friendly warmth, that yellow fire was not so friendly. It could sear the flesh from one's bones in a matter of seconds. Unwise critters, like redbirds and crows, occasionally fell into it, leaving only a sizzling hiss and the charred smell of flesh.
"Their mounts, is that a—?"