The Line Between

20: Strings and Circles

Kavin nodded thoughtfully. It was a nice sentiment, he thought. Although he suspected that the home you reached at the end might not be the one you'd left.

The kite maker came jogging up to them, the lightning-patterned kite in hand. "We can start getting this one into the air. You ready?"

X

The tea parlor was spacious and clean but almost deserted. It was a sharp contrast to the afternoon bustle outside. The woven mats and cushions arranged upon the floor seemed to absorb sound, creating an illusion of privacy despite the parlor's open layout.

The man who had introduced himself as Shayle had positioned himself so that he was facing the window, which left Emilu with her back to it—something she would have objected to if the enormous, decorative mirror behind him didn't provide her with a view at least as good as his. On reflection, this was probably better, as the mages who wanted her charge knew her face and would have a hard time missing her uniform. At least from behind, she might be mistaken for someone with a taste for vivid crimson shirts. Her sword lay on the ground beside her with the King's sword next to it. It was a small comfort.

Leveling her gaze at the man lounging on the other side of the table, Emilu marveled at his calm. If it was contrived, she couldn't see it. And she was looking.

"So...you are a mage," she stated, fiddling with the small teacup in her hand.

"I am," he agreed, a knowing glint in his eyes. "A Reilin intermediate, to be exact. Not," he added at the sight of her raised eyebrows, "that that really matters at this point. I assure you that I have no designs on that blade you are hovering over."

"But you helped me," she pointed out. "Against your bretheren."

His face darkened for the briefest of moments, but his voice remained light. "They are no relations of mine. Contrary to common belief, we mages don't all come out of the same mold."

"I'm sorry. That was tactless of me."

He flashed her a lopsided grin she couldn't read. "Not really. But that's not relevant, is it? How long have you been a Royal Guard?"

Caught off guard by the question, Emilu found that she suddenly couldn't remember. "A few years. Why?"

"And you still don't know about the sword?"

Emilu bristled. The man wasn't even trying to hide his incredulity. Though she fancied his expression was more frustrated than anything else. It still irked her. Who was he to ask such a stupid question? What did he think he knew that she did not?

"Explain it then," she snapped.

"Tell me, what do you know about our last few Kings?"

Emilu's frown deepened at what she saw as an irrelevant question. Her curiosity was beginning to outweigh her annoyance though, so she searched her memory for an answer. "Well, the last one was a poor ruler. He started out all right, but he got tired of the responsibility and started leaving more and more of his duties to the council. By the end, he was spending almost all his time just entertaining himself with parties and banquets and so forth. Apparently, he was very fond of music. The one before him did an excellent job, but she was short-lived, dying of an illness after only six years in—"

"Let me rephrase my question," Shayle cut in before she could say any more. "What do you know about what they were before they took the throne?"

"You mean before they were chosen? It was some kind of government official and the daughter of a merchant, wasn't it?"

"Exactly. You know, no one gave that sword to Kavin. It follows him."