ZIHAEN, The Shadow of the Revenaunt, Book 2

CHAPTER 10 - BAVOLT (Part 1)

Uwella did not, to say the least, wake up happy. The moment she heard what had happened after she fainted, a storm broke loose.

'Did you have to drag me as a helpless novice to the high temple? Did nobody think about how you destroyed my reputation? If you'd just put me to bed, all would be well. Now I look ridiculous in the eyes of all those bigots of the White Temple. I, a wikke of the Gray Order.'

Bo wanted to say something, but she silenced him with a gesture. 'No excuses, Bernabo Lusindral. You made a spectacle of me. Of me, the Valvodjara of Vavaun!'

Ghyll spread his hands. 'Pipe down for a minute. None of us knew what was in that black bottle. It could have been a poison that caused the death of my parents and the entire crew of the Yanthe Star.' He shrugged. 'I'm sorry, but I thought your health more important than your reputation.'

'Besides,' Bo said slyly. 'Nobody knew who you were and we didn't think to mention it. They were all much more impressed by Ghyll and the proclamation, than by your little swoon.'

Uwella pressed her lips together and wrapped herself in an icy silence, while the others turned their attention to the morning meal.

Sometime later, while the servants came to clear the table, the senior of them bowed to Ghyll.

'Excuse me, my lord Baron. There is a... person below who wants to see you.'

Ghyll lowered his cup of cawah. Torril was right, he thought suddenly. These footmen do look like Zino's camel. 'A person?'

The man bowed again. 'Yes, my lord. He wears a hooded cloak and I could not see his face.' His voice sounded faintly reproving, as if mysterious strangers had no place in an establishment like the Crown.

Ghyll put down his cup. 'I'll be down in a minute.'

'You want me to come?' Olle made as if to rise, but Ghyll shook his head.

'In the Crown? I can't imagine anything happening here.'

When he walked into the taproom, the host pointed to a hunched figure in one of the shadowy alcoves along the right wall. Ghyll limped over and sat down opposite the unknown visitor.

'I'm glad you came,' the man said, and Ghyll recognized his voice immediately.

'Why don't you come up, Major?'

Tibaun's hands trembled on the tabletop. 'I cannot, Sire. My son is there. I failed him – and you – so terribly I can't face him. Rabogst, Derivall, the Dar'khamorth, all that happened and I didn't know. Even your real identity... I realized it only when the heralds cried their news in the streets.'

He put his hands with their strong, slender fingers flat on the table. 'I bring you two things, Sire.' From his sleeve, he pulled a pair of sealed envelopes. 'The address of Squire Thu Bavolt. Lammer Kilman, the fat man, is indeed his servant. And this is my letter of resignation, Sire.'

Ghyll stared for a moment at the two envelopes. Then he picked up the envelope with the resignation, tore it in half and gave it back. 'Rejected, Major. I need you too much. The things you reproach yourself with were almost inevitable. Rabogst was a failure of Domains, not of your Heralds. You couldn't predict the activities of the Dar'khamorth since nobody knew for sure that something like an order of falmages existed.'

'Sire, I should have known something was wrong. I should have warned you of danger. Instead, I offered my son directly to the mouth of the lion. He's young; inexperienced. He...'

Ghyll interrupted him. 'Major, that's as much my fault. If I had known there was a sorcerer involved, I wouldn't have sent Zethir. Only none of us did.' He stood up. 'Come with me, Major. Your son needs you.'