(Chapter 15: The Scholars of the Cardinal Fane, cont.)

  “Peace, travelers,” said the Scholar in the center. He was looking at Ean, even though the motion to release his knife was a subtle flick of the wrist. “We are a gentle folk, and only fight in self-defense.” He stood and carefully made his way down the two steps of the dais. He was old, not old enough to be decrepit, but enough that it showed in his sloped shoulders and shuffling gait. He stopped in front of the Prince and bowed.

  “Well met, Prince Leonid. I am Chief Philosopher Cirocco, the Keeper of the Temple.”

  Leo gave a deep nod back. “Well met.”

  Cirocco gestured to the others on the chairs. “These are my Elders, Ilaria, Caius, Basil, Phong, Nadia, and Dar.”

  Basil was the threatening one. Ean kept half an eye on him as Leo gave their introductions and formal titles. Asali was Captain of the King’s Guard, Chadwick was Right Hand of the Prince, and Flora was Mage-Apprentice.

  “And… Ean,” Leo finished, somewhat lamely.

  “A shadow-walker,” Cirocco said.

  Ean’s eyebrows jumped with surprise. How had he known?

  Cirocco gestured to his own head. “And quite accomplished for an apprentice. A good choice for your journey, however corrupted the profession.”

  Ean’s eyebrows rose further. He knew what his braids meant?

  Cirocco gave Leo a small smile. “I know why you have traveled here, Prince Leonid. But this is a conversation best held in private. Come.” He held out an open hand, motioning toward the door.

  Leo stepped forward to accompany him. Ean followed, as did the others.

  Cirocco paused. “No harm will come to the Prince while he is at the temple. He is an honored guest, as are all of you.”

  Ean glanced at the others. From their guarded faces, they weren’t any more convinced than he was.

  Cirocco read their apprehension and turned to Leo. “You have loyal companions and that speaks to your character. You may choose one of your party to accompany you.”

  Ean scowled, already knowing that Leo wasn’t going to pick him. The Prince was better friends with Asali and Chadwick, and as they were members of the royal court, they could offer political advice. Even Flora was a better choice because she was apprenticed to Aldine who counseled the King. All Ean could offer was protection, and Leo had already rebuffed his attempts at bodyguarding.

  Leo’s eyes flicked around the group, indecision on his face. “I would speak freely in front of all my companions.”

  “One,” Cirocco intoned.

  Leo nodded and his eyes settled on him. “Ean.”

  For a moment, Ean was too stunned to move, but Chadwick’s stammered objection had him jumping forward before Leo could change his mind. The Philosopher gestured to the door, and Ean followed Leo, this time trailing the courtly half-step behind. He didn’t know why the Prince had picked him over the others, but he wasn’t going to make a hash of it.

  The Philosopher led them to the eastern wing of the temple. The ceilings here were of average height and the walls were paneled with wood. More tapestries were displayed here, though smaller and less detailed than the ones in the front hall. Ean found it surprisingly modest. The cathedrals and houses of worship in Eastmere were far more ornate, every surface gilded in gold or inlaid with precious jewels. Such decadence had always seemed incongruous to him. This temple displayed no such hypocrisy.

  Cirocco gestured Leo into a room at the end of the hall. Ean stepped in first and noted the exits, the door they had entered and two windows in the back. The room appeared to be the Philosopher’s study. Tall shelves lined the walls, crammed full of books and scrolls. A large desk in the corner was buried by stacks of parchment and strange instruments.

  Cirocco beckoned Leo to a small sitting area on the left of the room where two fur-covered armchairs sat in front of a fireplace. A low flame was still burning. Leo chose one chair; the Philosopher sat in the other. Ean took up a position by the mantle where he could keep an eye on Leo, Cirocco, and the door. Cirocco turned his chair, giving him better vantage of the Prince, but putting Ean in his sightline as well. Ean crossed his arms in a show a leisure. His hands gripped the hilts of his wrist knives.

  Cirocco addressed Leo. “We expected your party to number one more.”

  “You seem to know a great deal of our traveling plans,” Leo said. “Those plans were meant to be secret.” He paused a moment and Ean watched him size up the Philosopher. “Your spies must be very good. We did have another member of our party, but he was killed by Wildmen on the moors. The Wildmen also knew of our traveling plans.” He said the last with a slight challenge in his inflection.

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  Cirocco answered his unspoken question. “We Scholars stay well-informed of current events, but we are pacifists and only fight in self-defense. Setting out bandits to attack your party would be in direct opposition of our beliefs. I offer my condolences for your loss.”

  Leo inclined his head, then asked, “Would your belief in pacifism keep us from claiming the Eld sword?”

  “That depends on what you intend to do with the weapon.”

  Leo paused again, and while he hesitated, there was a knock at the door. Ean stood up a little straighter. A young Scholar entered, a tray of food in hand. He quickly set up a table for Leo and the Philosopher. He offered Ean a plate, but Ean declined with a shake of his head. The Scholar bowed and hurried from the room.

  The delivered meal was a simple one, bread, cheese, and cold meat. The Philosopher made his plate first and took a bite, a signal of safety. Neither he nor the Prince spoke of the sword over their meal, as if it were somehow impolite to mix politics and dinner. Instead, they talked about daily banalities that set Ean’s teeth on edge. He wasn’t interested in the complexities of life in the mountains or the advancements made in agriculture. He frowned in Leo’s direction, wishing he’d get to the more important topic at hand. The sooner they wrapped this up, the sooner he could get a meal for himself, and then they could retire for the night, hopefully in a real bed.

  The same Scholar returned after they finished their meal. He cleared their plates, poured them small goblets of brandy, and then slipped out of the room once more. Leo sat back in his chair, his expression becoming somber.

  Cirocco mirrored him. “What has urged you to seek the Eld sword now?”

  “Westenvale is seeking it,” Leo shared honestly. “Their sponsored coup in Sudala was to search for the sword and it’s clear they wish to use it offensively. They’ve been building their army for generations and recent border disputes have turned into larger skirmishes.” Leo took a sip of his brandy. “It seems as if war has always been inevitable for our kingdoms.”

  “War is never inevitable,” said Cirocco. “You can always surrender, can’t you?”

  Ean’s eyes shot to the Philosopher. He couldn’t be serious.

  Leo sat forward, his mouth opening on a rejoinder, but he stopped himself. His brow furrowed and he took another sip of brandy. Ean stifled an impatient sigh. Leo was giving the question far more thought than it deserved. Cirocco sipped his brandy as well, watching Leo over the rim of his glass. Leo’s consideration seemed to have pleased him.

  Leo finally answered, his words slow and measured. “Eastmere affords its citizens certain rights, which I believe are just and fair. The right to a trial, if one is accused of a crime. The right to own land and property without fear of seizure. The right to practice different religions without persecution. As Prince of Eastmere, it is my duty to protect my people and their rights. The King of Westenvale does not grant the same privileges. He is the judge and jury in his court of law. He takes what lands he desires. He chooses what gods may be worshipped. And those that oppose him are tortured and slaughtered, their families are killed, and their houses are burnt.”

  “We are aware of similar atrocities,” Cirocco agreed.

  “You must understand then; surrendering to such a man, and subjecting my people to his cruelty, is not an option.”

  Cirocco nodded. “I do understand. It is not our way to prepare for war, but that does not mean your path is wrong. If I may ask though, what is your intention with the sword? Will you march into Westenvale, burning through villages to liberate a country of which you have no claim?”

  Leo laughed. “No claim? In the future, we may debate on that. But for now, in answer to your question, it is my father who will decide what is done with the sword.”

  “But if it were your choice,” Cirocco pressed. “Is war your first decision? Or would you seek peace?”

  “Someone once told me that holding a sword to the throat of my enemy is not the same as peace,” Leo said.

  Ean started in surprise. Leo’s eyes slid over to him, and he gave a wry smile. Cirocco caught the exchange and his head tipped to the side. His gaze lingered on Ean longer than he was comfortable with.

  Leo turned back to the Philosopher. “No, I would not seek war. But wiser men have ruled before me, and they have been unable to treat with Westenvale. I do not assume to succeed where they have failed, and so my only recourse would be to use the sword as a threat, to stay my enemy’s hand as long as possible.”

  “The trouble with an all-powerful weapon is that it can change hands,” Cirocco said.

  Leo shrugged helplessly. “We know where the sword is, so will Westenvale shortly—if they don’t already. Maybe there is another place to hide it, but that would only delay the inevitable. And the sword cannot be destroyed, so,” he stopped, shrugged again, and said, “you see how my options are limited.”

  Cirocco inclined his head. It wasn’t a nod of agreement; it was an agreement to disagree. “You have journeyed far. We will speak more of this tomorrow. Until then, we will shelter you so that you might rest.”

  “You have my gratitude.”

  Cirocco stood and escorted them to their rooms for the night, a guest suite located in the opposite wing of the temple. The others were already inside, gathered around a table of food.

  “An attendant will be outside, if you need anything else,” Cirocco said. He bowed and left the room.

  “Well?” Chadwick asked around of mouthful of meat pie.

  “We’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” Leo claimed a seat at the table, his mouth twisting in frustration at the delay. But then he sighed and slumped back in relief. “But we’re here. The sword is here.”

  Asali poured him a cup of wine and pushed it over.

  Flora raised her own. “To the sword.”

  The four of them toasted, but Ean didn’t join the celebration. Instead, he inspected their accommodations. Three bedrooms branched off the main room, each holding two beds. The windows were paned with glass and locked from the inside. The latch was sturdy enough to ease his paranoia. The door out to the hall also locked. Ean glanced out to check on the attendant. It was a young man, missing a leg, seated on a bench with a pair of crutches beside him. He offered no real threat, and Ean wondered if he had been chosen for that very reason, allowing them to rest easier. He still locked the door and then hung his short swords on the handle before joining the others at the table. Asali rolled her eyes at his wariness, but Ean ignored her. The last time they’d had been given rooms, they’d nearly been murdered in their beds. He was going to take every precaution he could.