Arkendian royal blood is represented by violet in the colors of the blood arch, and is allowed only to families married among royals for five or more generations. Each generation of royal-to-royal marriage is signified in the coat of arms with a gold "bar," or ray, radiating from the central device. Shields of the oldest royal families have so many bars that their emblems appear as sunbursts of golden rays, hence the moniker, "Suns of Arkendia..."
- From A Study of Arkendian Heraldry, by Chani of Losif Major
Chapter Fourteen
Jamus and Ellentane entered the south wing of the lodge, where six of their knights stood watch over the hall in which Bannus chambered.
Sir Grinnet, a stocky knight in green armor, stepped forward officiously. "It has been a quiet watch, Your Majesty."
"Sir Bannus remains within?"
"He does, Your Majesty."
"He took a girl from among the staff."
Ellentane raised an eyebrow. "Same Bannus, I see."
"The girl is gone, now." Grennit nodded toward an adjacent servant passage. "Seems to have slipped out of a hole His Holiness created in a wall."
"Send word to the hostess that I secured the girl's release."
Grennit signaled a squire, who left with the message. "Sir Bannus's shield-bearer is on watch," he said, as he ushered the princes to Bannus's door. "It's said that he...." The knight seemed to search for appropriate words. "That he's become a...." Grennit frowned.
"You refer to Titus," said Jamus. "Indeed, a sad story. A bastard of my father's making."
Grennit bowed, signaling his gratitude to be so deep in the prince's confidence. He opened the door to a dark passage, giving Jamus a candlestick.
Jamus met Ellentane's eyes only briefly, to assure himself his brother-in-law was prepared, then led him into the paneled hall. Grennit closed the door softly behind.
* * *
In the light of Jamus's candle, Sir Bannus's shield bearer cut a lean, straight figure upon a stool outside his master's door. He sat erect as a pillar, wrapped in clothes and capes of deep royal violet, his gloved hands folded in his lap. Before the princes' arrival he'd sat in complete darkness. He did not stir when they approached, nor did he turn to meet them, but remained in profile, as motionless as the carving of a man.
The yellow light reflected from his partly hooded face in little glimmers, as though his cheeks were made of glass. When they halted beside him, they saw that he wore a glassy red-stone mask concealing all his features.
"Gods leave us," Ellentane whispered.
Jamus fought back his own revulsion. Titus had become a Faceless One. Bannus had resurrected the vilest cult of the worst days before the Cleansing, and imposed it upon his squire.
"Welcome back to the Isle of Heroes, Titus, Bastard of Pellion," Jamus murmured.
The figure remained motionless, but the candlelight now illumined him fully, allowing Jamus to study him. The mask was carved of wine-red alabaster, the traditional material, for the coolness of the stone was said to soothe the heat of the scars. The mask's expression was mild and serene, its features of idealized male beauty - cleft chin, cut jaw, delicately sculpted lips and nose - and with an air of dreamy, almost sleepy repose.
"You see my devotion to His Holiness," Titus gasped through the mask. He convulsed slightly with the effort of speech.
Jamus's nostrils flared. "Is that what your master calls it? Devotion?"
"All is discipline. All is will. The body nothing. Pain unreal."
Jamus regarded him for several heartbeats in silence. He exchanged a grim glance with Ellentane. Then, as if his bastard brother were no longer present, he turned crisply, and seized the handles to Bannus's chambers.
One of Titus' gloved hands flashed to Jamus's wrist. His breath came in strangely hissing rasps. "His Eminence does not wish to be disturbed."
The prince did not look at the Faceless One, nor did he remove his hand from the door. "Is he sleeping?"
"Resting."
"Is he with company?"
"Alone."
"Will he...punish you, if I enter?"
"He - " There was a strange, dry-throated swallowing behind the mask. " - Left orders. None enter."
Jamus quirked a tiny smile on one side of his mouth. "He makes you immortal with the Phyros blood? Heals you with it?" Titus said nothing, but his breathing was harsh and gurgling. He released Jamus's wrist, and stumbled from the stool to face the prince on one knee. Red-rimmed eyes pleaded mutely within the mask. Jamus snorted in disgust. "So refreshing to see the - what did you call it? Devotion? - to the Old Ways, Titus." Then, sadly, "You could have stayed with us, you know. Our father didn't offer immortality, but his sort of devotion paid well in other ways. You would have found it so."
Titus stood. He straightened his cloak around him, and sat back on his stool, still and erect. Once again a carving of a man. "All is discipline. All is will..." he chanted, as if the princes had left him.
Jamus met Ellentane's gaze. Beneath his brother-in-law's stern aspect, Jamus sensed the man was horrified. "Ellentane," Jamus said, softly, but firmly. "Worse than this lies beyond these doors."
Ellentane nodded curtly.
"Under no circumstance must Sir Bannus sense your fear, or it will send his wildness past recovery. Remember this: an Old One is half god, half rabid beast, but he respects one thing above all else - royalty. Which we must appear to be, or he will tear us and our titles to pieces."
Jamus laid his hands on the doors in preparation for heaving them inward. "I should probably tell you, too, that he is also likely quite insane. The most ancient of the Old Ones usually are, which is why they're so unpredictable."
This time Ellentane's face remained an undisturbed shell of indifference. "Ah, well," he said, lightly, "who isn't a bit mad these days?"
"Steel yourself," Jamus warned, and heaved the doors inward.
*************************************
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