Seeker (The Source Chronicles Book 1) (42 page)

Only Cam and Varlock-Sharron remained.  The King turned to the Sorcerer.

“Whatever the outcome of the next week or so, I owe you a tremendous debt.  You have prevented here a terrible tragedy.”

Cam shuffled his feet, unusually embarrassed.  He had never known this sort of camaraderie, nor respect before.  “I’ve really done very little here, your Majesty.”

Varlock-Sharron snorted in response.  “No, you are mistaken, Cam Murtallan.  You have single-handedly repaired the rift that grew within my lands.  You have also given me back my last daughter.  Because of you, I again have real hope.  You have helped us to see things that we could not.”

He paused then, a concerned look crossing his face.  “I nearly killed you.  I tortured you brutally.  I scarred you, hurt you, almost destroyed you utterly.  Can you forgive me for all that I put you through?”

“I already have, Varlock-Sharron.  I will not forget it, but the lesson it taught me is of more importance than you would know.  You serve a higher purpose, as do I.  In time, perhaps, that purpose will reveal itself to us both.”

The King looked relieved.  “It is time to go, Cam Murtallan.  This is your last chance…are you certain you wish to travel with me still?”

“I am,” Cam replied without hesitation.  “I know without a single doubt that from this moment til we meet the Army of Medaelia, our paths are one in the same.”

Chapter 32

Sir Tulock Oran was surreptitiously avoiding his office.

Upon his desk was nearly triple the regular amount of paperwork.  Since being named Regent, his duties had increased exponentially.  Claiming he needed to find something in Varlock-Sharron’s study, Tulock had used one of the King’s secret passages to go into hiding, wandering about the lesser traveled sections of the castle.

The King had been gone for nearly three days, now.  Tulock was not accustomed to being unaware of the King’s whereabouts, and this made him nervous.  But Varlock-Sharron had insisted that this was the only way, and he trusted in Cam Murtallan, the mysterious Sorcerer, to not lead him astray.

Tulock, of course, had his doubts.  But he knew better than to question his friend at such a time as this.  He accepted the situation...but he didn’t have to like it.

He checked around a corner, and found the hallway before him deserted.  Tulock was presently wandering the servants’ sleeping quarters…which, given the time of day, would be empty.  He crossed the hall, coming to a doorway.  Before him was a spiral staircase that would go up to the archer’s slots of the outer wall, or down to the smithy.  He paused to consider which way to go, again thinking about his present predicament.

Regent.  He did not want to even remotely ponder the concept of being the King of Sharron.  It was not a position he had ever craved, or even aspired to.  Probably just the reason Varlock-Sharron had chosen him for it.

So now they addressed him as Regent, like it or not.  Wherever he went, he had guards posted to him.   People and business seemed to need his attention every waking hour.  Thus Tulock found himself relying more and more on his chief deputy, Lord Norvil Rivarr. 

Who just happened to be standing in the doorway.

“How did you find me?” queried Tulock softly.

“Begging your pardon, Regent, but you cannot escape your duties all day,” responded the Deputy Seneschal.  “We surmised that you would go where you could be alone for a while…and Lady Ara thought the time to yourself might do you some good.”

“I never really got away at all, did I?”

“I am afraid not, Sir Tulock.”

“One could hope.  So what is it, Norvil?” asked Tulock, resigned to his fate.

“Regent, there has been a request or two delayed for several days now that require your attention.  Normally, they are the direct purview of the King, but as he is not here, and you stand in his stead...”

Tulock sighed discontentedly.  “Which?”

Lord Norvil took up a scroll, and unrolled it, reading quickly.  “Baroness Aeria Val-Cara wants a formal decree of divorce from her husband, Baron Tilroan.  She wants it from the King, however, so she may lay claim on the Barony therein.  She also wants to make it known that she is in complete disapproval of her husband’s activities, and wishes to disclose information as such.  She also wants Royal Protection following said disclosure.”

Tulock rubbed his temples, walking past his Deputy and down the hall.  “How long ago was this request made?”

Lord Norvil perused the scroll further.  “Uh...the day after Royal Commission was formally Invoked.”

Tulock grunted.  “Might’ve saved us some trouble if we’d heard her out beforehand.  Is she here?”

Lord Norvil nodded his head.

“Fine.  Tomorrow.  Early afternoon.  In the throne room, but we make it private.  You get the staff, by the way.”

Lord Norvil smirked.  “You don’t want to stand beside the throne for this one?”

Tulock gave his deputy a harsh look.  “Norvil, I’m not amused at all here.  I have done everything I can to avoid the throne, and everything this new position implies.”

Lord Norvil shrugged.  “Duty is duty, Regent.”

Tulock shook his head.  “Of course.  Anything else I need attend to?”

Lord Norvil rolled up the scroll again.  “Uh, no, aside from a call for Court.  That, you are aware, is at your discretion.”

Tulock rolled his eyes.  “You want to pester me about that, too?”

Lord Norvil shook his head.  “No, Regent.  I don’t blame you for avoiding a call to court.  Too formal.  You wish to perform your duties away from the public eye, and I certainly understand that.”

“How would you handle this in my position?” queried Tulock.

Lord Norvil considered his answer a moment.  “I come from a lower noble house, that has been a part of Sharron’s civil services for almost two-hundred years.  My father served one of the Council, as did his father before him.  We have not risen to a higher position now since the time of Gara-Loros Anduin.  But we are content to serve as we do.”

“Truly?” asked Tulock, taken aback at his deputy’s candor.

Lord Norvil grinned.  “Once, my family aspired to take a Barony.  We were edged out by the Kall family.  We are not in such a place because we do not play by their rules.  We don’t commit backstabbing, or attempt to topple our peers, to better our place.  We have served well and quietly for a long time now.  We hold title, some excellent land in Tilroan’s Barony, and respect.  That is enough.  Of course we aspire for more, but who does not?  I had wanted the best for my daughters, and my son...”

They reached a fork in the hallway, and Lord Norvil stopped a moment, his eyes going distant.  “My son.  I’ve heard he has likely joined the accursed Falcon Raiders.  I had such high hopes for him, and…well, that’s all for that.”

Tulock observed without comment as Lord Norvil paused, changing his thought.  “Oh, in answer to your question - I believe I’d handle the situation as you are.  My Father once told me, ‘Great men are not those who believe themselves great, but those others see as such.  Never fool yourself, for there are others who will know you true.’  You are such a one, Regent.”

“I thank you, Lord Norvil,” Tulock responded.  “That means much, coming from a great man like yourself.”

Lord Norvil bowed, and went off down the left fork.

Tulock went down to the right, and was immediately greeted by a saluting pair of guards.

They headed towards Tulock’s office.  He had strayed long enough, his head was clear, it was time to return to work.

Lady Ara was standing in the doorframe, looking unusually pleased.

“What can I do for you, Lady Ara?” asked Tulock, stopping before her, trying not to sound at all put out.

“A messenger has just arrived from the King,” remarked Lady Ara.  “I think you shall find his news interesting.  I took the liberty of calling the Council.”

Tulock eyed her.  “You’re wearing the same sly look Sir Garvol is so fond of.  What’s going on?”

Lady Ara’s face broke into a bemused grin.  “Come with me.  You are going to love this.”

They walked through the halls, and came upon Lady Marna and Constable drey-Sharron, waiting outside the Council chambers. 

“Lady Ara told the guards to keep us out until the Regent arrived,” said Lady Marna with obvious curiosity.

Tulock rolled his eyes.  “Is that so?” 

He gestured, and the guards admitted everyone into the room.

Seated facing out the window, four guards around him, was the messenger.

“What news of the King?” asked Sir Tulock.

The messenger stood, and turned to face them.

“Baron Dovan?” questioned Tulock with surprise.

He appeared ragged and tired, his eyes drawn.  His hair was a mess, and his clothes travel-stained.  But Baron Ren Tir-Laras Dovan was unmistakable.

“Regent,” he intoned, bowing deeply.  “I come directly from the King, as he requested.  I bear many messages.”

“Prove it,” commanded Sir Tulock.

The Baron inclined his head towards scrolls laid out on the table.  “These were signed by King Varlock-Sharron, and imprinted with his signet ring.”

Tulock looked, and saw a number in the top corner of each.  He lifted the first and noted the wax seal, imprinted with the King’s signet ring.  Sir Tulock broke the seal, unrolled the scroll, and read.

“From his Majesty, King Varlock-Sharron Anduin, etc. etc...

Tulock,

I am, as you will be pleased to note, alive and well.

The situation has changed.  We have come to a resolution that will be beneficial to myself, Sharron, and the Falcon Raiders.  The following scrolls contain important orders, as well as information as to the new status of Princess Lyrra-Sharron and the Falcon Raiders.  Carry these out as soon as possible, as the fate of the Kingdom may be riding upon them.  Also note, Baron Dovan is now at your direct disposal.  Time is short.  Move swiftly.

                                                        Regards,

                                                        Varlock-Sharron”

The lack of formality, as well as the signature so familiar, and the wax imprint of the signet ring was enough to convince Tulock of the authenticity of the message.

“Intriguing.  Baron Dovan, what happened?”

Baron Dovan appeared nervous.  “It should be explained in the scrolls.”

Tulock crossed his arms.  “I’m sure it is.  Now tell me what you saw.”

The Baron launched into a detailed account of the interruption of the final meeting of the Falcon Raiders by Varlock-Sharron and the Sorcerer.  He explained the orders given to both him and Baron Foltupp.

              Dovan concluded his exposition.  “I rode here as fast as I could, almost killed my horse.  The King...he spared us, for now.  I am, as I have stated, at your disposal, Sir Regent.  Do with me as you will.”

Tulock gave it a moment’s thought.  “You will remain under house arrest, in the palace.  You’ll be fed, and given a chance to bathe.  Guards, see to this.  Then find him a room in the ambassadorial wing.  Keep him under constant surveillance.  When he is needed, he’ll be sent for.”

              The guards saluted, and escorted the slumping Baron from the chambers.

Tulock was seated, and took up the next scroll.  Lady Ara was examining the first.

“Definitely the hand of Varlock-Sharron,” she commented, passing the scroll to Constable drey-Sharron.

“Undoubtedly.  Where’s Captain-General Callan?” question Tulock.

“Here, Regent.  I was meeting with my command staff,” said Ov Callan, entering the Chambers.

Tulock passed the second scroll to him.  “Orders from His Majesty.  As many as you can spare, best speed, to meet him en route to the battle field.”

Ov Callan took the scroll, and read it over.  “He has nearly three-hundred Baronial Guardsmen?  What happened?”

Tulock was going over the third scroll, so Lady Ara filled the Captain-General of the Guardsmen in.

“Amazing,” Ov Callan responded.  “So what are the Falcon Raiders doing?  Disbanding?”

Tulock’s eyes went wide, and he appeared to re-read the third scroll.  He sat back, shaking his head.

“Unbelievable,” he commented.  “That’s quite a plan!”

“What is it?” queried Ov Callan.

Tulock passed him the note, saying nothing further.

Ov Callan read over the scroll, then began to chuckle.  “I’ll be damned.  When she changes sides, she does not mess around.  More like her father the older she gets…”  He passed the scroll to Lady Ara.

“The Falcon Raiders are on our side now?” asked Lady Marna, still obviously stunned by the change.

“So it seems,” remarked Lady Ara, still reading.

“What of the Common?” asked Constable drey-Sharron.

Tulock was shaking his head, reading another scroll.  “They will be informed of what’s transpired.  This plot is getting thicker all the time.”  He passed the letter to Constable drey-Sharron.

Tulock read the final scroll.  “So now we know what’s coming next.  Captain-General Callan, you have soldiers to deploy.”

              Ov Callan sat back in his chair.  “Regent, request permission to lead them myself?”

“Denied,” replied Tulock.  “I can’t have the entire Council out and about.”

“I can’t argue with that, Regent,” continued Captain-General Callan.  “But normally, I would lead the King’s Personal Guardsman.  That is my duty.”

Sir Tulock looked to the others, took a deep breath, let it out slowly.  “Who stands on Council, and in the palace, in your place?”

“Captain Quinn Milvora, Regent.  He’s my best second.”

“Recently promoted, from the training camp?  I don’t know him, but I trust your judgment.  Permission granted.  Go now.”

Captain-General Callan stood, bowed to Tulock, and left.

“Who has gone to Admiral Trem-Sharron?” asked Lady Ara.

“He only just arrived here this morning,” remarked Constable drey-Sharron.  “He’s resting.  A guard will be sent to him now.  You want him sent to your office, Regent?”

“No,” remarked Sir Tulock.  “I have a message to deliver to Lord Norvil Rivarr.  I want time to take care of that.  Lady Ara, Lady Marna, would you please see to the Admiral?”

“Yes, Regent,” responded Lady Ara.

“We have work to do.  We’ll meet again tonight, after supper.  Until then, you’re dismissed.”