The War Gift - part 12

It was the middle of the night and both men were asleep when Cailan’s subconscious made him aware of a presence in the room.  He jerked awake, sitting up suddenly and waking Jarek at his side.  The bigger man, on instinct, pushed Cailan to the bed and rolled atop him protectively.

“Who goes there?” he growled even as he retrieved a dagger hidden under his pillow.

“Calm down, brother.  It’s only me,” Prince Sem answered as he moved into view.  “I had hoped not to disturb you both when I entered, but I see I failed.”

Jarek relaxed enough to slide the knife back under the pillow and out of sight, but his body remained taut with awareness as he rolled off of Cailan.  “Why did you come, Sem?”

“The king has need of you, Jarek.  He sent me to fetch you.”

Jarek didn’t seem surprised by that news.  “I will come at once.”

Cailan immediately turned pleading eyes to Jarek and opened his mouth to speak, but his owner stopped him with a brief shake of his head. 

“No, petling.  You aren’t coming too.  You need to rest your body.  I won’t have you aggravating your injuries.”

“I can rest wherever you are,” Cailan insisted.

“No,” Jarek repeated.  “You will rest here.  We cannot risk the Berring delegation knowing yet that you are returned to me, and it is safer here.” 

“But I can….”

Jarek quickly finished pulling his boots on and sat back down at Cailan’s side, one hand lifting to cover the younger man’s mouth and stop the argument.  “You can do as I say, petling, or you can keep arguing and arrange for yourself a meeting with my stick once you are fully healed.  Is that understood?”

Cailan wilted.  “Yes, my lord.”

“Good lad,” Jarek whispered, and then leaned close enough to sweetly kiss Cailan’s uninjured cheek.  “Jothan is on guard just outside the door if you need him.  Try to go back to sleep, and I will return to you as quickly as I am able.”

Cailan nodded, but willingly accepted the hug Jarek gave him.  Just a minute later the two royal brothers disappeared through the hidden panel and Cailan was left by himself and feeling unable to sleep alone in the unfamiliar room. 

Eventually he fell into a doze that only lasted a couple hours, until the first rays of sun peeked through the closed curtains.  He sat up carefully at that point, wincing at both the painful cut on his side, and the stiffness and swelling on the left side of his face.  Captain Kenton’s healer had been right about that unpleasantness.

Thankfully, not more than a few minutes passed that Jarek finally reentered the room through the panel.  He immediately came to Cailan’s side and pulled the smaller man into a hug, but it was one of the most uncomfortable embraces Cailan had received from his master.

“What’s wrong, my lord?” he asked within the confines of the man’s grasp.

“Nothing, petling.  It has just been a long night…and a long day before that.  How are you feeling?”

“I’ll be alright,” Cailan sidestepped.  “I’m just a bit achy.”

Jarek studied his face like he suspected Cailan wasn’t being entirely truthful, but he didn’t question things further.  “I hope you are well enough for a bit of activity.  The king has need of your presence.”

Cailan was relieved to be leaving the secluded room, but he didn’t say that.  Instead he asked, “What does he need me for?”

New clothes for Cailan had been brought, and Jarek helped him to dress, careful of the prince’s injuries, as he answered.  “After speaking with Sem and several of our best sorcerers, Alaric decided it was necessary to contact your father about the hair spell.”

“You talked to my father?!” Cailan asked, not being able to help the excitement over the secondhand contact with his parent.

“Yes, through a treaty portal.  He was rather suspicious of our motives at first, but we’ve explained the threat of deceit within the Berring kingdom and the need we had of the spell. He has agreed to send Arten’s royal sorcerer to us to help verify the falseness of Comley’s hair; but, the sorcerer informed us that it would be necessary to have you present to prove things one way or the other.”

Cailan was fully dressed by that point, but he was confused.  “Why does he need my presence?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Jarek admitted.  “But he said it took purity to reveal pollution.”

“Ok,” Cailan replied without really understanding what that meant either.  “Are we leaving through the panel?”

“No,” Jarek shook his head.  “Since the sorcerer needs your presence along with Comley’s, I’m not going to continue to hide you.  You will keep your distance from those from Berring though.”

“I promise,” Cailan pledged.

When they left the room, Jothan escorted them to where Jarek explained King Alaric had required everyone to gather.  Cailan sought out the people from Berring as soon as he entered the room with Jarek, wanting to study their reactions to seeing him.  He’d thought there would be surprise, but instead it seemed their expressions were a combination of angry and distrustful.

Once everyone was gathered, the Berring leader took a step away from his group and addressed the king.  “King Alaric, I will state openly that the treatment my compatriots and I have received this morning has been less than hospitable.  Why were we disrupted from our sleep and ordered to this meeting before even a meal was offered?”

Alaric stood regally in royal purple and red attire.  “Sir Maiki, there have been events over the last full day that have caused a threat and we are taking the necessary steps to snuff that threat out.”

The royal family stood with their king, Cailan at Jarek’s side, and a half dozen palace guards with focused attention around them.  A discreet glance around the room revealed another man familiar to Cailan: Ristoph, the Artenian royal sorcerer.  A man Cailan had known his entire life.  The awareness of someone from his home country being nearby was a welcome feeling.

“A threat, your highness?” Sir Maiki asked, responding to the king’s words.  “What is this threat?”

“It is one that has already harmed a member of the palace, and poses a risk to all who dwell within it, including you and your people, if it is not stopped.”

Those words confused Cailan.  He thought the threat was the Berring people, not that there was a threat to them.  He did note that Sir Maiki seemed to grow nervous, although he hid it well.

Cailan watched as King Alaric motioned to Ristoph.  The man approached with almost as much regality in his demeanor as Alaric. 

“If you would bring forth noble Comley, Sir Maiki,” Alaric commanded.  “And Leader Jarek, bring forth Cailan.”

Feeling nervous himself now since he didn’t know what was about to take place, Cailan hesitated for the briefest of moments before allowing Jarek’s hand on his back to guide him to the center of the room to face the other concubine.  At the king’s command, Jarek and Maiki stepped away from the two of them and Ristoph stepped forward.  He held a bowl in his hands, filled with a white cream.

“My lords,” the man addressed both group leaders.  “What I hold in my hands is illuminating cream.  Its purpose is to reveal physical purity.” 

The sorcerer then looked to the two silvers, never revealing in expression or words that he knew Cailan personally.  “Young men, I will not touch the cream so that no one can claim a trick.  Each of you take some on your fingers.”

They were both a little wary of doing so, but one at a time they each took a glob of the white concoction from the bowl.

“Now take a section of your hair and rub it in,” Ristoph directed. 

Not sure what to expect, Cailan slowly separated a lock of his hair and smeared the cream into it.  It smelled strange, but nothing unusual happened that he could tell.

Comley moved more slowly, but eventually he touched the cream to his hair and rubbed it in.  Immediately the strands that experienced the cream turned from silver to a dark blonde, and with that revelation there was instant action. 

The half dozen guards Cailan had counted upon entering doubled in number and they surrounded the Berring group.  Joining them were King Alaric and Jarek.  The king had drawn his sword and it was pointed closely and threateningly at Sir Maiki’s head.  Jarek was in a similar pose, his sword just inches from Comley’s now very frightened face.

“You have attempted to deceive me,” Alaric said in a tone dripping with intimidation and ruthlessness.  It was a pure warrior-king who spoke, and it revealed not just his strength, but the strength of his people, his country, and his soldiers.  “That was a foolish choice.  Guards!  Arrest them all and take them to the cells.”

“It is you who is the fool!” Sir Maiki spoke aggressively, making no attempt to deny their trickery.  “You will see!”

Although in the next moment they didn’t see anything.  An explosion shook the room they were in, surrounding everyone in smoke and blackness.

The force of the blast threw Cailan to the floor, sending pain through him as he felt the cut at his side reopen and his head and eardrums pound agonizingly.  There was the sense of chaos and rapid movement all around him, but the thick smoke in the room prevented him seeing what was happening. 

It took several minutes for the air to clear, and Cailan swallowed a lump of fear as he looked at the people sprawled throughout the room.  Some were moving.  Some weren’t.  Jarek’s still form called to him and he moved as quickly as possible to his owner’s side.

“Master!  Master!” he called hoarsely.  He breathed in relief when the bigger man groaned and opened his eyes.  There was no blood that Cailan could see, but there was pain in Jarek’s eyes as he sat up.

“I’m alright,” his owner assured.  “Just bruised.  Are you hurt, petling?!”

Cailan chose to lie about his pains as his eyes looked around the room.  “I’m fine, but others are hurt!”

The king was mobile, but leaning anxiously over Queen Kesla.  Sem was rising to his feet slowly as well; but Princess Sana was not moving at all.  Sem and Cailan hurried to the princess while Jarek moved to Alaric.  

Cailan leaned over the beautiful princess while Sem took his sister’s hand, calling for her to wake up and open her eyes.  Cailan was relieved to see shallow breaths coming from the still figure, but one arm was twisted underneath her, and several small cuts marred her body.

Queen Kesla was also unconscious, and in an even more serious state as it seemed she was not breathing.

“Someone get the palace healer!” Alaric yelled, anger and fear lacing his words. 

The guards that had been in the room with them were also in the throes of recovering from the blast, but Cailan noted one of them—Jothan he recognized with relief—had managed to stand and he stumbled to the door with a salute of acknowledgment and obedience to the king.

“I can help, your majesty,” another familiar voice offered gruffly.  Ristoph! Cailan realized.

The sorcerer was grimacing in pain as a cut bled from his forehead, but it seemed he suffered no worse injuries.

“That blast was from a spell, sire,” Cailan heard him say as he knelt by the queen. 

King Alaric looked anxious and startled at that news.  “How do you know?”

“There is no fire in this room to activate a physical explosion, and there is no leftover scent.  Plus,” he glanced purposefully toward the room’s now open door, “none of the foreign kingdom’s people are injured or even left behind.  I think they had a protective spell covering them and the explosion ready to use in case something went wrong.”

The king spoke words in a language Cailan didn’t recognize.  The tone was angry and vengeful, but his eyes were only on his unconscious wife.

“They will pay,” he finally murmured in a familiar tongue, “but please help Kesla now if you can.  She is more important!”

Ristoph placed an ear against the queen’s chest, listening for breathing, and then placed one hand between her breasts and the other on her forehead.  He closed his eyes and his lips began moving as he spoke silently.  Several minutes went by, but everyone watching felt relief when the queen’s breaths became visible and a small amount of color returned to her face.

“That is all I can do for her,” the sorcerer said wearily.  “She is stable for now, but a healer needs to attend to her injuries quickly, and if you have someone more familiar with potion magic than I, then you need to summon them.  She has been ingesting a weakening potion for awhile from what I can see, and I’ll assume it wasn’t voluntary.”

King Alaric’s eyes burned.  “What?!  She’s been poisoned?”

Ristoph nodded slightly.  Her body is in what we call ‘potion distress’.  It makes her gradually grow weaker because it forces all her systems to work too slowly to sustain themselves long term.  She needs an antidote, but one given as gradually as the poison was given.”

“Do you have any idea how long she’s been consuming it?” Jarek questioned.

“Months,” Ristoph answered.  “Even up to two years judging by what I see, but my expertise is not in potions.”

The palace healer arrived then, running quickly into the room behind Jothan and coming immediately to the king.  A brief explanation was given before the medic took over and Ristoph moved to where Sem and Cailan were still with Princess Sana. 

“She will be alright,” the Artenian sorcerer claimed after a brief but thorough examination.  “The arm is broken and there will be a bad bruise on her temple, but nothing worse than that.  I cannot fix the arm with magic, but I can keep her sleeping comfortably until there is a healer to attend to her.”

More people came into the room over the next several minutes: servants to help, summoned healers, the Cylandrean royal sorcerer, who spoke extensively with Ristoph while bandaging the man’s head, and a growing number of guards.  Everyone who could, including the conscious members of the royal family, assisted the injured and were checked over. 

Cailan almost forgot about his own injuries as he helped until Ristoph gave him a hard look and urged him to a slightly less convoluted area of the room and had him sit down.

“My prince,” the man said respectfully.  “You are bleeding.”

The words activated Cailan’s brain to acknowledge the pain from the reopened cut on his side.  There was definitely blood on his clothing, but the shirt’s black color had disguised it.  He grimaced as Ristoph helped him remove his tunic, and was startled at just how much blood was dripping from the wound.

“This is not from the blast,” the sorcerer said darkly.  “Nor are the bruises on your face or the injuries on your wrists.”

“No,” Cailan acknowledged. 

The older man looked in Cailan’s face.  “From your abduction?”  At Cailan’s surprised look, Ristoph nodded soberly.  “The king and Leader Jarek informed your father of what happened.  It does not seem you are safe here, Prince Cailan.”

“It was not the fault of my…Jarek.”  He almost said “master”, but wasn’t sure how Ristoph would respond to that.  “Or the fault of the royal family.  I was in secured rooms and there had been no sign of a threat until I was taken.”

“They have a traitor among them then,” the sorcerer deduced as he procured medicinal cloths to try and staunch the blood seeping from the wound. 

“They fear there might be,” Cailan attested. 

“Then you are not safe,” Ristoph repeated.  “Abductions, explosions, a treacherous delegation, and a poisoned queen.”

“They are all similar threats I faced as a son of the king in Arten.  Being a royal and living among royals make us a target more than those born to the common folk.  You know this, Ristoph.  Besides which, being a silver-born in Arten brought me revulsion from others that could have easily brought violence as well.  I know there were threats to me.”

The older man sighed.  “You are vulnerable, but King Saxon protected you in Arten.  I do know there are risks, but your father expects more from these people, even if you are a concubine,” he said with disgust.

“Those I belong to have treated me better than any servant, slave, or concubine has ever been treated in Arten,” Cailan told him, feeling defensive of Jarek and Cylandrea’s royal family.  “Please do not worry my father about anything.  He has already been given too much to stress over.  It will do neither him nor me any good.  Things are as they are and cannot be changed.”  He flinched as Ristoph made him shift slightly and prepared to re-stitch the cut.  “Tell me of my family…particularly Doron.  How is my little brother?”

The sorcerer’s eyes revealed subtle affection as well as understanding that Cailan wanted distraction from his pain.  “He is active.  The nanny has requested help in keeping him in his bed at night because he has….”

The man’s voice trailed off, like he realized he shouldn’t finish his sentence.

“He has what, Ristoph?” Cailan asked persuasively.

The man’s demeanor changed subtly.  “He has taken to going to your room.  There has been talk that he is looking for you.”

Cailan’s eyes stung and his chest tightened.  “He is the sweetest child.  I miss him,” he whispered.

“The palace staff speaks well of you, highness.  They say it was selfless of you to come here in his stead, even if you are a….”

“A silver-born,” Cailan finished knowingly.  “Thank you for passing along the praise, Ristoph, but we both know my hair comes before any other thing I do or am.”

“Yes, my prince,” Ristoph agreed without malice.  “It is unfortunate you were born with the weakness, but it has not prevented you from being a good man.”

Cailan silently watched the sorcerer finish stitching and patching his wound, his emotions in turmoil.  He was warmed to know that he was thought well of at home, but it still hurt that any goodness or praise would always be secondary to his silver hair.  At least it wasn’t like that in Arten.

Instinctively, his eyes sought out Jarek, and the man appeared to have been looking for him as well because as soon as their eyes met the bigger man strode to where Cailan was being tended to by Ristoph.

“Petling, are you alright?” he asked with obvious concern.  He sat carefully at Cailan’s side to not disturb what the sorcerer was doing.  He put a warm arm around the smaller man’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to Cailan’s temple.

Ristoph was just finishing placing the bandage and he appeared surprised at Jarek’s open affection to Cailan.

“I’m fine.  My cut was reopened, but it is not serious.  Ristoph has taken care of it.”

“Thank you,” Jarek said sincerely to the Artenian.

The man nodded courteously.  “I’ve done what I can, but infection is a concern.  We’ll need to keep it clean and have fresh bandages each day until the skin has patched itself sufficiently.”

There was something odd in the way Ristoph said that, almost like he’d be participating in the wound’s care after this, but Cailan knew the man would be returning to Arten soon, so he guessed it was a slip of the tongue from someone not used to Cailan no longer being a presence in the Artenian palace.

“How is everyone else?” Cailan asked Jarek, who seemed oddly sad for a moment.

“Most are going to be fine, but will require a few days’ rest and care.  Kesla is the most serious, and knowing she has suffered prolonged exposure to a poison is beyond worrisome.  It’s also been confirmed that not only was the explosion spell work, but the Berring group has disappeared completely from the palace.  We’re guessing a mini-portal was opened just after the blast.  It wouldn’t have been able to take them far, probably no more than just beyond the castle walls, but that means they are free to escape or cause more harm.  They need to be caught.”

“What of the traitor within the palace walls?” Ristoph asked boldly, earning a look of surprise as well as a firm glare from Jarek.

“What do you know of that?”

“Only what I have deduced.  Prince Cailan’s abduction from within the security of the palace, the queen’s potion distress, even the explosion—none of the Berring group performed that because I was facing all their members and I know what it looks like when such a spell is about to be performed.  Someone within the room did it when he or she realized it was necessary, but they would have been easily disregarded as a threat and known how to keep themselves from being watched.”

Jarek’s eyes were serious and clearly thinking hard.  “If it is one person who is guilty of all of that, then they’d have to have access to the private areas of the palace, to the kitchen or at least the food, and a knowledge of magic or potions—that part is the hardest to place on anyone because it takes years of study and training to even adequately use magic.”

Ristoph nodded his agreement.

“Doesn’t anyone fit that description?” Cailan asked.

Jarek shook his head.  “Everyone working within the palace walls has been here for years and gone through extensive screening and training.  We’re especially careful about the magic users we bring inside.  That’s too potent an ability to take lightly.”

Cailan thought hard because something was niggling at his brain but staying just out of reach.  Try as he might though, the thought would not materialize.

“We will find who it is,” Jarek assured.  “And the king is already setting into motion higher level safety precautions.

“What now?” Cailan questioned.

“Now I am taking you back to our quarters.  Everyone who needs it is being attended to, and a room is being prepared for Sorcerer Ristoph.”

Cailan was surprised and he looked to his fellow Artenian.  “You’re staying?”

“Just for today and the night, your highness.  I’ve offered my assistance to King Alaric, and have been given the opportunity to talk to his royal sorcerer as well.”  The man then looked to Jarek.  “Is there a time I may meet with you and Prince Cailan tomorrow, sire?”

Jarek seemed to straighten cynically at the question.  “Mid-morning will be fine.  There will be someone sent to escort you.”

“As you wish, your highness,” Ristoph agreed.

The sorcerer turned and disappeared into the crowd still moving and assisting the injured.  Cailan looked curiously to Jarek as the man helped him rise.  “Are you alright?  You seem disturbed.”

Jarek sighed.  “This day’s events have been disturbing…and it’s not even mid-day.”  He looked closely into Cailan’s eyes.  “And it looks to me like your head pains you as much as mine pains me.  Let’s seek out our rest, little love.  We both need it.”

*****

They both slept for a couple hours when they returned to their quarters, and when Cailan awoke he was wrapped securely in Jarek’s arms and his head sharing Jarek’s pillow.  It was the safest he’d felt in two days and a welcome feeling.  He shifted closer to the bigger man and his master’s arms tightened their embrace.

“Awake already, petling?  Are you in pain?” Jarek asked as he slowly opened his eyes.

“Just a bit achy,” Cailan answered.  “How do you feel?”

“Achy too,” Jarek admitted.

Cailan was surprised when tears unexpectedly filled his eyes and the memory of Jarek’s still form after the explosion came to mind.  “For a second I thought you were….”  He swallowed the lump in his throat.  “You weren’t moving.”

“My love,” Jarek murmured and pulled Cailan even tighter against him.  “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Cailan told him.  “If I could get my hands on anyone from the Berring group….”

“I know,” Jarek said with empathy.  “I feel the same.”

“What do you think they were trying to do?” Cailan asked.

“It could be any number of things, petling.  Only they know the true reasons, but when we catch them, we will make them tell us.”

He didn’t sound like he doubted his people’s ability to apprehend the criminals.  In fact, he sat up and started to leave the bed.

“What are you doing?!” Cailan asked, grabbing for him to keep him from leaving.

“I am leader of Cylandrea’s military and there has been a threat to our safety.  I’m moving forward to capture those responsible.”

“Jarek…master,” Cailan pleaded.  “Please let me come with you.”

Jarek paused and then held a hand out to him.  “I wouldn’t think of leaving you behind, my prince.  I want to keep you with me as much as possible.”

Relieved, Cailan accepted Jarek’s hand and got out of the bed, ignoring the discomfort of the movement on his injuries.  They both dressed in heavier attire than usual; clothes made to withstand fights and battles because they both knew the possibility of engaging in either was very real so long as the Berring group was at large.

Cailan was surprised though when Jarek approached him with a battle belt.  A sword and knife were both attached in their scabbards, and Jarek resolutely fastened the belt around Cailan’s middle.

“I want you able to defend yourself,” he said ardently.  “I will not be so foolish as to leave you vulnerable again.”

It was a significant trust he was being given, Cailan knew.  A concubine was never given a weapon.  “I will not betray your trust,” he swore, devotion in his voice.

“I know,” Jarek replied without hesitation, and then grasped Cailan’s hand and led the way out of the room.

In short order Jarek was meeting with his two brothers in a sitting area that connected the king and queen’s suite of rooms with those quarters Princess Sana lived in.  The princess’s broken arm had been set and she had woken long enough to assure her brothers she would be alright.  She’d fallen into a needed sleep afterward and Sem had remained with her until Jarek insisted on his presence in the adjacent room.  The youngest prince had reluctantly left his sister with her personal maid—a young woman who adored her mistress—and obeyed Jarek’s summoning.

The king was just as loath to leave his wife.  Kesla had not awoken and she had both the palace sorcerer and royal healer keeping a close eye on her while a professional potion maker was carefully monitoring the antidote she gave to the queen.  Alaric knew he had to see to the good of his people though, and he was just as anxious as Jarek to catch the criminals.

Being the military leader, Jarek led a good part of their meeting, but Alaric and Sem were just as powerful in their presence, power, and ideas.

“Sem, have you found any information about the caves the Berring ship might be concealed in?” Jarek asked.

Sem nodded.  “I’ve already taken steps to hunt them down,” he stated.  “I discovered in my research of our ancient maps that there was once a trading route originating from Twyla Island.  Sailors believed it to be a lucky route because there is a coral reef about fifty feet below the surface that runs for almost a hundred miles on the ocean floor.  It wasn’t actually a very good trade route, but superstition kept them following it until about a hundred years ago.  Anyway, the reef was nicknamed Caribbie reef, a play on an ancient sailing term that meant “luck”.  There are also three caves within ten miles of the reef and Twyla Island.  I think those might be what Prince Cailan heard Killian refer to.”

“Ten miles,” Jarek considered, his eyebrows drawn down in calculating thought.  “That’s three to four hours sail time in good weather.”

“Yes,” Sem agreed.  “I had sent word to Captain Kenton just before we met with the Berring group this morning.  I was going to tell you but then…well, everything happened.  In any case, he’s headed his vessel towards the caves to see if he can locate the ship.”

“Then that’s the most we can do until we hear from him,” Jarek decided.  “And I’m waiting to hear from the soldiers I sent out searching for the Berring group.  With Palace City being as large as it is, they are going to be difficult to locate, especially if they’ve split up.”

“Or disguised themselves,” Cailan added.

The royal brothers all nodded.

“I fear endangering our people either through panic or someone trying to play the hero if I make a public announcement that these men are at large,” the king put in.  “I want no other Cylandrean hurt.”

“I agree, and they aren’t likely to escape.  Every gatekeeper and ship in the city has been alerted to be on guard and given a description of the men,” Jarek reminded.  “The bigger focus until we hear from our men is to seek out the traitor within the palace.  Sem, keep note and write out the names of those we can eliminate as suspects.”

The youngest brother immediately withdrew paper and pencil.  “All of us,” Sem stated quickly. 

“Yes,” the king agreed.  “None within our family, including Prince Cailan,” he pointed out.

Cailan jerked his head up to look at the king, surprised at the surety of the man’s statement.  The king looked at him kindly.  “I trust you, prince.  I doubt you planned your abduction or injuries, you weren’t here long enough to be a threat to my wife, and the purity cream proved your integrity over Comley’s and the Berring group.”

Cailan was humbled.  “Thank you, sire.”

The king gave his shoulder a kindly squeeze and then they all went back to eliminating suspects. 

“I am certain of the royal sorcerer’s innocence,” the king assured.  “He does not live within the palace walls and is not in contact with us frequently enough to have endangered Kesla.”

“What of the royal healer?” Sem questioned.  “She has private quarters in the castle.”

Jarek shook his head.  “I am certain of her loyalty.  She was father’s healer for fifteen years before Alaric came to the throne, and she has saved our lives more than once.  If she sought to harm us, she would have succeeded before now.”

“And she wasn’t in the room when the blast occurred,” Cailan reminded.  “She couldn’t be the one to have done that.”

“True.  Who was in the room?” Sem asked.  “It might be easier to narrow down our suspects if we can ascertain who would have been able to carry out the explosion.”  He looked frustrated.  “If we hadn’t been dealing with so many injured and the escape of those from Berring, it would have been wise to prevent anyone else from leaving.”

“The priority was caring for the injured, Sem,” the king insisted. 

“Yes, but Sem has a good idea to focus first on who was in the room with us.  The Berring members were there of course, but Sorcerer Ristoph is certain that even though they are guilty of many things, including planning the explosion, none of them were in a position to secretly execute it,” Jarek determined.  “Which again points to a traitor.”

“It couldn’t be Ristoph,” Cailan put in.  “He was standing right there with Comley and me, and he has never been to Cylandrea before today.”

“True,” Alaric agreed.  “What of our palace guards?  There were twelve assigned to be in the room with us.”

The three brothers named, one by one, each guard and discussed the possibility of each man being a threat.  For good reason, all but two of the guards were completely dismissed.  The two remaining seemed unlikely, but would still be questioned; one because his younger sister was training in sorcery, and the other because his typical assigned post while on duty was the kitchens and the areas adjacent to them, giving him access to the food served to the queen.

“What about the servants in the room?” Cailan asked.

“There were only three,” Alaric stated.  “Teague, who works directly with Sem,” he explained to Cailan.  “He is the recorder of events in the palace, such as our meeting with the Berring group, and keeper of our historical documents.  He was there to document the events.”

“And I know it can’t be him,” Sem guaranteed.  “The man writes and researches more than he does anything else, including eat and sleep.  You’ll remember, Al, that the whole reason I insisted on providing a page boy to him a few years ago was so someone was there to make sure the man remembered to care for his bodily needs.  He has not set foot in the kitchens in years, nor has access to any of our private quarters.  I will admit that he likely has more knowledge than we can imagine about magic and sorcery, but it is mind knowledge, not information he would have taken the time to practice.”

“I agree,” the king and Jarek said simultaneously.

“Who are the other two servants then that were in the room?” Cailan questioned.  “It’s all hazy to me after the explosion.”

“My armor bearer was there,” the king answered.  “I have been allowing him attendance on certain occasions because he will be moving into military training eventually, but I cannot believe he is guilty.  He is only fourteen, has had no magic involvement, and an explosion spell takes up to six years to perfect anyway according to both our royal sorcerer and Sorcerer Ristoph.  Besides which, the boy suffered a bad burn from the blast.  I doubt he’d involve himself in something he couldn’t control.”

“The only other servant present was Senior Charon, since he escorted the Berring group from their chambers to the meeting room,” Sem noted.  “But the man has been with us for more than forty years.  I can’t believe his loyalty would change so drastically.”

Cailan felt a stone in his gut as small coincidences clicked.  “Wait, sires, I’m…not accusing,” he said carefully, “but may I verbalize some thoughts?”

The men looked to him peculiarly, but the king nodded after a moment.  “Go ahead, Cailan.”

Cailan swallowed and tried to follow the path his thoughts were going in.  “I realize Senior Charon has served for decades, but he was present in the room.  He also has access to the majority of the palace, does he not?  Including the kitchens and all of your private quarters?”

The men nodded, looking grave.

“I am also assuming that he…attended…to the Berring delegation more than that one time throughout their stay?”

Again head nods confirmed his thoughts.

“I have no idea if he is knowledgeable of magic use, but if he has access to the royal library and has been here for so long, then the information was at least available to him.  Charon was also the one who delivered my meal to me before I was abducted.  I cannot prove that it was he who drugged my food, but he did have contact with it.  Plus, there is one other thing about him that is…different…but I don’t know that it is important.”

Jarek was looking infuriated while the other two brothers wore expression of angry shock.  Cailan wasn’t entirely sure if those expressions were meant for him or Charon, so he hesitated to continue. 

“What is ‘different’ about him, Cailan?” Jarek questioned even as his jaw clenched.

Cailan licked his lips nervously.  “It’s something that’s only just occurred to me.  Um, you remember that I’ve said that I can see colors in a Cylandrean’s hair, and a shimmer as well in that of the royal family’s?”

“Yes,” the king encouraged despite the dark look in his eyes.

“Charon doesn’t have a secondary color in his hair.  It is just black.  He’s not the only one though that I saw that in though.  There was one other.”

“Who was the other?” Sem asked anxiously.

Cailan had to think back to who it was and where exactly he’d seen the lack of color once before.  “I don’t know who he is,” he admitted.  “And I only saw him once.  It was one of the men you brought to meet with my father the day…the day the alliance was signed and I came with you to Cylandrea,” he finished soberly.

The king’s eyes burned, and there was a matching heat in Jarek and Sem’s faces. 

“The men I brought with me to that meeting were all personal advisors and military men,” Alaric said darkly.

Cailan felt the blood drain from his face.  “I am sorry, your majesty.  I do not mean to accuse….”

“You have not,” Alaric interrupted, “but if what you have shared is as significant as I sense it to be, then the treachery goes much deeper and further back than I would have dreamed.” 

The king straightened to his full height, looking intimidating.  “I will call my advisors to me but reveal nothing of why I beckon them, but I want you to join me, Cailan, so you can pick out the one without color.  Sem, once they have gathered with me, summon Charon to join us.  Make up a task for him to attend to so he suspects nothing.  If he is innocent, I do not want him to feel accused, but if he is guilty we cannot reveal our knowledge just yet.”

“Wasn’t he injured in the explosion like the rest?” Cailan questioned.

“A handful of those present managed to get away with only some minor scrapes and bruises, Charon among them,” Jarek told him.  “He went back to his normal duties once the injured were taken to beds and attended to.”

Cailan bit his lip as the three very powerful men he was with seemed to be sending out waves of intimidation.  Everything he’d told them was conjecture and he had no desire to falsely accuse anyone.  He spoke quickly before the men made any more decisions.

“Please remember I have no proof of anything!”

The men paused and Jarek came close to him and gripped Cailan’s hands, his look foreboding but patient.  “No rash decisions will be made, my prince, but you have spoken of some significant facts that we must pursue.”

Cailan nodded, suddenly thinking that as difficult and burdening as being a prince and a silver-born had at times seemed to him, he was grateful to not bear the responsibility that men like his father, King Alaric, and Jarek faced on a daily basis.

Jarek squeezed his hands.  “Come, we will check on and stand as sentry over the queen while Sem guards Sana.  It will allow Alaric to gather his advisors privately for now.”

*****

Queen Kesla did not look much better in Cailan’s opinion than she had just after the explosion.  She was breathing on her own though, and constant monitoring by the attendants in her room was revealing that the poison causing her potion distress was slowly being diluted by the antidote.

Jarek gently took her limp wrist and checked her heart rate instead of asking the healer any questions.  “Slow but steady,” he murmured quietly to Cailan.

“How long will it take the antidote to fully rid the poison from her body?” Cailan asked.

Jarek didn’t know, but the potionist who had been called to work with the royal healer and sorcerer answered.  “It will take quite a while.  From what I can tell by her body’s function, she has been slowly being given the poison for approximately fourteen months.”

Cailan gasped, shocked that the queen had been in danger for so long.  The potionist nodded soberly.

“Yes, it is quite appalling, and considering that the king and queen have been married less than two years, it seems the attack on her began shortly after their marriage.  Someone did not want her around.”

A frisson of fear trickled down Cailan’s back.  Every new discovery seemed to reveal a bigger and deeper threat to the royal family. 

“As you all can see,” the potionist continued.  “I have attached a line into her veins to have a continual flow of antidote—although with a small percentage of strength in it—moving directly into her body.”

“Why must it be at a low strength?” Jarek asked.

“Because she is too weak to handle larger amounts.  I’m estimating that she will need a week of the antidote being given this way and at this level.  If she improves enough during that time, then I might be able to administer the antidote in oral form at a stronger dosage.  Still, it will probably take up to two months to completely rid the poison, and several months more of exceptional care for her majesty to return to full health.”

That made Cailan feel both saddened and hopeful.  At least those attending to the queen believed she could make a full recovery. 

Several minutes later, King Alaric entered the room.  He ignored everyone else at first as he came to his wife’s side and gazed tenderly down at her unconscious form.  His hands then lightly felt her forehead and face before taking her wrist as Jarek had done, although even more gently, and checked her pulse.

“She has not declined, your highness,” the healer monitoring the queen alongside the potionist assured.

The king simply nodded before tucking his wife’s hand underneath the blankets.  “Jarek…Cailan, I need to speak with you for a few minutes,” he said quietly.  “Please come with me.”

The three of them reentered the sitting room they’d been in earlier.  None of them sat before the king started speaking.

“My advisors will be meeting with me within the hour.  I’ve written out several questions to ask them about the current situation without giving away more than I’m willing to right now.  They have probably been expecting me to beckon them anyway.”  He ran a hand through his hair, making it shimmer the way Cailan had seen Jarek’s do.  “Sem will be present, and I want both of you there as well.  The problem is, I know my advisors will find it odd, maybe even suspicious, to have Cailan’s presence.”

“Not if we handle it right,” Jarek said with certainty.  “It is common knowledge that I favor him.  If you remind the men of Cailan’s abduction, and emphasize that he was injured during the blast, then I will add in that I am not entrusting him with anyone other than myself at this time.  That will make sense to them, even if it is unusual, and the bruises Cailan has will likely prove the explanation.”

Jarek turned his gaze to Cailan.  “It is important that you do not speak while the advisors are gathered,” he said seriously.  “Even Sem and I do not participate verbally in these meetings unless Alaric has addressed us or asked us to.  These men are highly intelligent and are not easily fooled.”

“Yes,” Alaric agreed.  “And while I am going to be careful of what we discuss, I must insist that nothing you hear while present is ever repeated to anyone but Jarek, Sem, or myself.”

“I swear, sire,” Cailan promised.

The king and Jarek took him seriously and accepted his word, and the three of them then left the sitting room and walked down several long hallways to an expensively decorated meeting area.

Sem joined them shortly and soon thereafter the men began to arrive.  Jarek had settled Cailan on a cushion at his feet and persuaded the younger man to rest his head on his leg.  He had encouraged Cailan to appear sleepy and almost childishly attached to his side, saying the men would find the visual and demeanor unthreatening.  Cailan realized that it wasn’t much of an act to portray those emotions, since both felt very close to the truth.  He received several curious looks thrown his way, but no one questioned the king on his presence. 

He rested his head comfortably on Jarek’s thigh and let his eyes droop to half closed, promoting the sleepy look while still able to observe the men coming into the room.  He remained still, but his heart rate quickened when he saw the man with pure black hair enter the area with his peers.  He was tempted to alert Jarek and the king in some way, but then remembered that just before the men arrived, the king had requested that he not try to reveal whose hair was different.  Alaric thought it best to have all his advisors on an even playing field during their meeting, and also admitted that he did not want his words or actions biased while they were present.  He would question Cailan about what he observed after the men were dismissed.

The room they were meeting in had been clearly made just for the purpose of the king assembling with his advisors.  The walls were thickly reinforced with stone and wood to prevent sound from leaking out, and the only furniture within the space was a long, carved table of dark wood with ornate chairs around it.  The king sat at the head of the table, Jarek and Sem were at the opposite end, and the advisors took well-known seats between them.  Cailan tried to hide his discomfort when the man he was suspicious of took the seat closest to him.

“Gentlemen,” the king began without prologue.  “There are significant and dangerous events happening that I’m seeking your wisdom on.  I will explain the situations and then I want to hear each of your individual thoughts before we discuss them as a group.  Please speak freely and do not be disturbed by the presence of Leader Jarek’s concubine.  Recent events have caused him injury, and we fear that since he has already been targeted and is also a prince in his own right that it is the wisest choice to keep him at my brother’s side.  He has been informed of the penalty of speaking out of turn or revealing anything outside these walls, and we fully trust his integrity.”

The king had been standing as he spoke, but now took his seat and addressed the men at the table.  He explained the events of Cailan’s abduction but left out any suspicions of a traitor within the palace.  He told of the young prince’s escape and rescue, and the skepticism of the Berring group’s trustworthiness—although again leaving out Cailan’s ability to notice hair color—which led to the happenings that morning with bringing in Sorcerer Ristoph and the spell explosion.

Then, one by one, he addressed each man by name and asked his thoughts on all he’d shared.  Several of the advisors reluctantly suggested the prospect of treachery within the palace walls, especially since Cailan was kidnapped from Jarek’s private quarters.  More than one expressed uncertainty over having a foreign sorcerer in the country, but were even more concerned about the Berring group’s knowledge of magic that was not known in Cylandrea.

Cailan noted that the black haired man and just one other advisor were resolute in their belief that there was no one within the palace who would betray the king.

When the king opened the discussion up as a group is when the conversation got more interesting.  Clearly King Alaric knew that just having “yes-men” as advisors was unwise.  The men debated and argued amongst themselves over the best courses of action to take, but they also listened and genuinely considered the different options and points of view being offered.  Cailan had to admit that he was impressed with the assembly overall. 

He also tended to agree with the two men who sat closest to the king. They appeared to be the oldest in the room, their words were always well thought out and carefully said, and their recommendations were sound.  Those two men encouraged the king to speak with Teague, who worked so closely in research with Prince Sem.  The man’s vast knowledge and ability for quick and thorough research might be able to provide a better background on the country and individuals from Berring, as well as broaden their own country’s understanding of magic and their ability to grow in sorcery.

They also wanted to employ someone privately—possibly a trusted soldier—to go undercover within the palace and try to seek out the traitor if there was one.  Cailan thought that a smart idea, although he was struggling to trust anyone within the palace now besides the royal family, and perhaps the guard Jothan.

“Your majesty,” one of the advisors spoke up from one of the table’s middle seats.  “I know it is highly unusual, but may I suggest that the royal family picks and prepares their own food until we can expose the one who poisoned the queen?  I fear the entire family is at risk until that time.”

Alaric nodded.  “It is unusual, but it is sound advice and something I was already considering.  Leader Jarek…Prince Sem, what are your thoughts on that?”

Jarek spoke first, and Cailan listened closely.  “I agree that is the wisest choice to make right now, although preparing meals is not always something we have time for,” he reminded.  “Especially with recent events and adding in that neither Queen Kesla nor Princess Sana will be able to do the chore for themselves at this time.”

“I am willing to take on the responsibility of meals for the family as a whole, my lord,” Prince Sem offered.  My soldier company can be temporarily managed by my second-in-command, and I can work with Teague while taking care of the food and protecting the family.”

Alaric’s eyes were proud.  “Thank you, my brother.  I think that may be the best solution to our problem.”

Discussion continued for another hour that, while Cailan was definitely interested in what was being said, the day’s events and the growing ache of his injuries as he continued to reside on the floor were making him weary.  A headache was growing as well and he was getting very thirsty.  That last problem did at least have a solution.  Water pitchers and glasses were at each seat at the table, although most of the men were too involved in the discussion to think about taking a drink.  Cailan hoped he could silently alert Jarek to his need, and for the moment was frustrated at his position of submission and lack of permission to serve himself or speak.  Lifting his head slightly from Jarek’s thigh, he moved subtly enough to tap a finger on his master’s foot.

Jarek’s hand absently moved down to cup his neck and lightly massage, but the man’s attention never moved from the table’s conversation.

Cailan, hoping to avoid trouble but really needing a drink, tapped Jarek’s foot again.  This time his owner flicked his eyes down to him questioningly and Cailan looked quickly to the nearest water pitcher and back to Jarek.  The man’s gaze softened and he squeezed Cailan’s neck one more time before reaching for the pitcher and a glass.  He filled it and then carefully handed it to the younger man. 

Cailan drank thirstily, but felt much better when the glass was empty.  Handing the cup back to his owner, he tried to stretch cramping and aching muscles without drawing attention to himself.  Jarek’s hand returned to his neck and gently urged Cailan to put his head back down.  The young prince did so with a sigh and closed his eyes, unwillingly falling into a light doze while wishing he could stretch out in bed and relieve his aching muscles.

“Petling?”

The soft tone pulled Cailan away from the light slumber he’d fallen into and made him aware of the scrape of chairs and movement.

“The meeting’s over,” Jarek said in the same quiet tone.  “Once the advisors are gone, you may sit in one of the chairs.  You did well during the meeting.”

Cailan blushed slightly at the praise and was grateful that Jarek recognized the discomfort of prolonged sitting on the floor. As soon as the last advisor left, Jarek gave him a hand up and Cailan appreciatively sat in one of the ornate chairs.

While he took a seat, the king left his place at the head of the table and joined the rest of them on the other end.  Cailan thought the man looked rather weary too, and he couldn’t blame him.  It had been a trying day for all of them.  Despite the weariness, his sharp gaze was still penetrating when he looked to Cailan.

“Prince, so we can know from the start, which of my advisors had no color in his hair?”

“The one sitting right next to Leader Jarek and me,” he answered immediately.

“Ricero,” Sem murmured as all three brothers shared a look.

“Was he the only one?” Alaric pressed.

“Yes, your majesty, but I still do not know if it has an importance to anything.”

The king sighed.  “Neither do I, but it brings a lot of questions to mind.  It also reminds me that Ricero and Kreb were the only two advisors when we met with King Saxon who were not wholly on board with accepting you as an alternative to Prince Doron.”

That riled Cailan a little as he thought of his little brother being forced to leave his family.  He was cautious though and didn’t dwell on what had—thankfully—been avoided.  “May I ask a question?” he did query.  The king motioned with his hand to go ahead.  “Wasn’t Senior Charon supposed to come in at some point?”

The king shook his head.  “I changed my mind on that.  It would have been suspicious.  I’ve never had him enter during one of my meetings and I didn’t want to do anything out of the norm now.”

“Where does this leave us?” Sem questioned.  “We’ve not yet heard from Captain Kenton, which bothers me.  We seem no closer to discovering the traitor among our own, and the Berring group is still at large.”

A pounding on the door prevented Sem’s questions from being answered.  Alaric rose quickly to answer the frantic knocking.  “Ricero?”

Cailan’s stomach jumped at the unexpected presence of the man they were trying to decide if they had reason to be suspicious of.

“Sire!  Two members of the Bering group have been apprehended!” the man exclaimed.

That brought the rest of them to their feet and they quickly followed the advisor out of the room and down a flight of stairs

In a foyer near the palace’s main entrance, Cailan recognized Comley and the other Berring man with him, although he didn’t know that man’s name.  Two guards and two soldiers stood dauntingly around the captured men.

“They were apprehended in the water district, your majesty,” the soldier, whose uniform revealed him to be the higher ranking one, told the king.  “They appeared to be trying to open a mini-portal, although they refuse to say where that would have taken them to if they succeeded.”

“I can take a guess,” Prince Sem said surreptitiously.  He then leaned in toward his oldest brother and whispered something private.  The king nodded in agreement of whatever was said and Sem strode purposefully out of the room.

Alaric’s gaze landed on the two captives and his eyes narrowed.  “You have a chance to speak now and receive a small bit of leniency.  Where were you going and where are the rest of your people?”

Silence answered him.  The man Cailan didn’t know looked stubborn and rebellious.  Comley, however, gave off vibes of fear and helplessness.  He remained silent, but his eyes kept darting almost pleadingly to his companion.

The king let a full minute pass before he spoke again.  “Lock them up, guards, in separate cells.  We will give them some time to consider how wise it is to keep anymore secrets from me.”  He then addressed the prisoners a second time.  “The next time I speak with you, I expect to be told where the portal would have taken you, where your comrades are, and why your country has made the move to deceive and threaten my people.”

As soon as he was done speaking, the men were taken firmly in hand and marched away.  Cailan watched, wondering what the future would hold for those men and Cylandrea.  The king had anger burning in his eyes and Jarek looked just as intimidating, but he stood in silent support and patience as Alaric gave orders to the rest of his people in the room and everyone hustled off to do his bidding.

When they were alone, Jarek then stepped forward.  “What do you wish of me, brother?”

“Come,” Alaric responded curtly.  “We will meet up with Sem.  He has gone to procure our sorcerer and open up a communication gate with Captain Kenton.”

Jarek nodded and in a move that was surprisingly natural, took Cailan’s hand as he fell in step with the king. 

The three of them moved quickly through a part of the palace Cailan was only mildly familiar with until reaching a room that looked like a small study.  He saw Sem and the palace sorcerer leaning over a desk in the room, speaking into what looked to be a framed mirror.  However, once he drew closer, he saw the visage of Captain Kenton within the frame.  The man immediately saluted to the king when Alaric moved into view.

“My liege,” Kenton offered deferentially.  “I have just informed Prince Sem of our location and activities.”

“Now tell me,” Alaric replied immediately.

“Yes, sire.  We did come upon the Berring vessel near the caves at Twyla Island.  We’ve kept the flags of a patrolling ship up to hopefully hide our military status and prevent additional suspicion while discreetly keeping up with their travel.  The other vessel has been moving slowly toward the far end of water district and is still about eight nautical miles away.  However, my eagle nest lookouts have spotted unusual flashes of light happening aboard the ship three times in the last two hours.”

“My lord, I am suspicious that the flashes were momentary portal openings,” the sorcerer put in.  “It’s quite a distance for a mini-portal to send someone, but it is possible, especially if those from Berring are transporting only one or two at a time from land to the ship.”

The king nodded and turned his attention back to Captain Kenton.  “What else do you know?”

“Only that there is clear caution being taken by those on the ship.  They are in no way acting as a threat, but they have changed their sails—surprisingly quickly from my experience.  The colors of Berring have been replaced with the simple sails of a fishing vessel.  The only reason I am certain it is the same ship Leader Jarek’s concubine escaped from is because I’ve seen for myself that the figurehead on it is the same, although it has been repainted.”

“Have you any idea how many are on the ship?” the king asked.

“Only an educated guess, my liege.  A ship of its size requires eight sailors ideally, four minimally.  Based on what I’ve seen and the flashes that could be portals, I’d say that right now there are at least ten people on board, but very possibly double that number or more.”

“If necessary, are your men prepared to attack?”

“My men are always prepared,” the captain assured, “but back-up from at least two other vessels would be a wise move on our part.”

Alaric considered the request for only a moment.  “I will send word that two ships are to be heading your way at once.  Has Prince Sem informed you of the capture of two of those from Berring?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Good.”

Before any more discussion could take place, the image of Captain Kenton became distorted, and then was replaced by a face Cailan had no desire to see again: Prince Killian.

Cailan gasped and the king’s surprise into silence at the unexpected disturbance left room for Jarek to take note of Cailan’s reaction and look angrily into the communication gate.  “Who are you?” he demanded to know.

The man smirked.  “Your silver-haired beauty knows me, although not as intimately as I had hoped.  I am Prince Killian and I will not answer questions as to how I can interrupt your communication connection or anything else.”  His smirk turned into a powerful glare.  “You have my men and you will release them, as well as call off your pathetic excuse of a battleship following me.”

The king found his voice and took over.  “I will do no such thing.  If you want your men released, you will have to negotiate terms that will end this deception you’ve started.”

Killian tsked.  “Too bad, although it’s not like I didn’t expect that response.  That’s why I’ve already seen to it that one life you value has already been taken, and there will be more for each day you delay my men’s release.”

The connection immediately went black and all the men in the room stood in stunned silence for a moment, but then Prince Sem’s voice shook as he repeated, “Someone’s life has already been taken?”

In a split second the names “Kesla!  Sana!” were shouted, and the men were out the door in a shot. 

Cailan was in the same mindset as the brothers, military training kicked in along with a shot of adrenalin that urged his speedy feet to move even faster.  Going on instinct and brief memory, he shot ahead of the men and headed for the private quarters of the queen and Princess Sana.  It felt like the sprint took forever, but it was less than a minute before he burst through to the shared sitting room and then to the queen’s bedroom, choosing hers only because it was the closest. 

The door to her room slammed opened, imbedding itself in the wall as he charged through and saw what he feared.  The royal healer and potionist both lay lifelessly on the floor; and Charon, the traitor, held a knife just over the comatose queen’s throat.

“No!” Cailan shouted.

The man had already jumped a mile at Cailan’s loud entrance, but now he desperately tried to finish what he’d come to the room to do.  Cailan tackled him before he could lower the weapon an inch, and they hit the floor hard.

The head servant was no lightweight though.  He fought with Cailan ruthlessly and they rolled around the floor, Cailan trying desperately to pin the other man down while Charon, with every tiny opening, slashed at Cailan with the knife. 

There was no concept of how long they battled, but just as Charon managed to roll atop Cailan and claim the upper hand, muscular arms grabbed him and threw him mercilessly against the wall, quickly dislodging his grip on the knife, and then knocking the man out cold with a single brutal punch. 

It was Jarek.  Jarek had pulled Charon off, and was now tightly binding the unconscious man.  The king on the other side of the room was anxiously examining his wife.

           Cailan, with adrenalin still coursing through his veins and remembering the other potential victims in the room, tried to stand.  However, as soon as he rose, one leg collapsed under him and he tumbled back down.  In shock he finally noticed the blood flowing profusely down his right leg, as well as the red seeping through several places on his tunic.  He couldn’t even feel the cuts the knife had apparently made, and his mind blanched in him when he tried to figure out what to do about it.  His vision started to dim as well, but he saw Sem run into the room shouting that Sana was alright.  He looked at Cailan then, and just before Cailan’s eyes went completely dark, Sem yelled Jarek’s name while rushing toward the young concubine.