The Greater Challenge Beyond (The Southern Continent Series Book 3) (29 page)

“What’s happening?” she blurted out her question as she reached the floor and looked from Grange to the woman, then back to Grange.  A curious expression broke out on her face.

“What happened to your hair now?” she asked.

Geric’s voice called from behind him, making Grange turn again, to see that his servant was now standing in the doorway with the woman who Grange did not know.

“My lord,” Geric said.  “This is my master,” he turned his face towards the woman.  “We’re in his home.

“This is my wife, Cecelia,” Geric told Grange.  “She came here to spend the night with me, as you had suggested.”

“Those lights!” Cecelia spoke, pointing at the energy Grange had called forth.  “What are they?”

“Evidently, our Champion wanted to admire himself in the mirror,” Jenniline said tartly.  “He’s done something to make his hair an even bigger mess than it was already.”

“I went to the temple of Miriam,” Grange turned again to face his counselor, as he thrust his sword back into his scabbard.  “She came to the temple to talk to me, and then she put her mark on me.”

“You had another confrontation with another goddess?” Jenniline asked in astonishment.

“We had only one thing to discuss,” Grange answered, grinning at the expression on Jenniline’s face.

“What was it?  What did she tell you?” Jenniline asked.

“She told me I should help you pick out your wardrobe before you go out in public,” Grange answered.

He heard Geric snort with laughter behind him, then he heard the slap of a hand, and Geric yelped in pain, while Jenniline’s eyes narrowed, after she looked down at the scanty covering she had thrown on in her hast to climb the steps.

“I’m going up to the roof,” Grange felt a slight regret over teasing the woman.  “If you want to throw something on, then come up, we can talk about it more.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he turned and told Cecelia.  “I’m sure you’ll give Geric comfort by being here with us.”  He waved his hand towards the steps, and the floating lights went in that direction, preceding him up the stairs to the roof.

When he sat down on one of the chairs that had remained on the roof, he saw that the sky was cloudy, blocking the view of the stars and the moon.  The clouds made it likely that he would have no conversation with Palmland the following morning, even though he wanted to tell Brieed of his experience with Miriam, to hear the wizard’s thoughts.

Grange asked the power in the light globes to change, to spread out and become a protective roof above the roof that he sat on, so that if rain began to fall, neither he nor his bedding would suffer.  He pulled his wand free and began to play with it, adding more energy to it to increase its capacity, while he listened for Jenniline’s footsteps.  She arrived just a minute later, wearing a robe similar to Cecilia’s.

“I’ll remember that, you know,” she told him peremptorily as she sat down.

“What punishment did the goddess give you?  What did you do?” she asked.

“She didn’t punish me,” Grange said.  “She gave me advice,” he said.

“But I don’t know what it means,” he added in a softer voice.

They sat there quietly, as Jenniline digested his admission.  Raindrops began to splatter on the invisible roof overhead, and on the portion of the stony roof that was unprotected by Grange’s energy.

“What exactly did she say?” Jenniline asked a moment later.

“She said I had two weapons that could defeat the demons, and that after my wand was ready, I’d be able to recreate the strengths I have,” he told her.  “I know my sword is one strength – she gave it to me herself, and it can kill demons.  But I don’t know the other strength, and I don’t know how to use the wand to do what she says.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Jenniline told him.  “I know you will,” she said confidently.  “And it isn’t much longer to that full moon you’re waiting on for your wand ceremony, is it?” she asked.

“I have a virgin in mind for you,” she said before he even asked.

He looked at her with interest.  “You do?  Good!  Who?”

“It’s me,” she said.  “I’m extremely confident that I’ll meet your requirements.”  She stood up.  “I’ll go back to bed now, and see you in the morning,” she told him, then walked back down the stairs, leaving him alone with the sound of the rainfall.

He undressed and lay down on his bed, thinking about the upcoming ceremony to establish his wand.  He was glad to know that he would perform it with Jenniline; he would be able to trust her through anything that might happen, though he didn’t expect anything like what had happened in Kilau to disrupt the activity.

His mind slowly swirled as he closed his eyes and thought of the ceremony in Kilau, and the sight of poor Shaylee lying still, knocked unconscious by the discharge of the wand’s powers.  His eyes blinked open, as he realized that there was something about that scene that was a clue to what Miriam had told him.  Some chord chimed in the recesses of his mind, telling him that at least part of the answer he sought was within reach, if only he could figure out what it was.

He fell asleep minutes later, lulled by the sound of the rain.

And he awoke in the morning, as dawn broke over the rainy clouds, when his energy shield finally petered out and rain began to fall on him directly.  He sat up in a flash, took moments to understand what was happening, then reinstated the shield above his head.  There was no sign of the moon, and no way to contact Brieed that morning.  With the moon changing its phases, it made sense to try to switch to sunset and early evening conversations in any event, he concluded.

He went downstairs and cleaned up, then went to the dining hall, one of the first to brave the weather to start the day.  As he sat down and was served his platter of food, a stream of others who he had met at meals or at weaponry practice, or even at his musical engagements, began to come speak to him.

Prince Inge came and sat down at his table as Grange was finishing his meal, and the two talked about the music at the tavern they had visited.

“I’ve been told to invite you to an audience with my father,” Inge said, after the musical conversation died down, and just as Jenniline entered the hall.

“Did our dear father himself propose this?” she asked as she took a seat at their table, wedging herself into a narrow space next to Grange.

“He did – late last night, following a messenger from the temple of Miriam, incidentally.  And also based in part on the recommendation of our brother Halsten,” Inge replied.

“Halsten and father?” Jenniline looked puzzled.

“Father wants to know when this strange visitor is going to do something, such as choose a bride or go make peace with the Bloomingians, as he is supposed to,” Inge told the two of them, and the others who were at the table, listening closely.

“I will complete the ceremony to bind my wand to me in another three days,” Grange said.  “After that I will plan my trip to the Bloomingians.”

“And when will you choose your mate?” Inge asked.

“I haven’t interviewed all the princesses yet,” Grange equivocated.

“My understanding is that you’ve talked to every one of them but Hope, and you already know her just as well as you know any of the others, everyone believes,” the prince pressed him.

“After my wand is finished,” Grange told Inge, “if all goes well, I’ll return to the wilderness and approach the outcasts.”

“And when will you announce your chosen mate?” Inge pressed.  “Not that you need to tell me right now,” he added.  “But father will want to know.

“I’ll let you pronounce your plans to father yourself,” he said.

Grange nodded silently in acknowledgement.  He had already made up his mind, barring something unexpected in his formal interview with Hope, but he still dreamed of miraculously escaping Acton’s requirement that he marry a member of the royal family.  And so he simply pushed the decision off into the future.

“You say Halsten told father to allow Grange to address him?” Jenniline asked, changing the topic.

“He did,” Inge replied.  “He seems to have come to terms with the fact that this is all being dictated by a god – it’s apparent this isn’t Grange’s plan or desire, after all.  And he seems to have seen enough and heard enough of your companion to suspend his disbelief.”

Jenniline sat back, silent with her evident skepticism.

“Please tell the king that I will appear before him and the court after the full moon,” Grange said.  “I think I’ll know more then, and be able to begin to plan how to proceed.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go think about the messages Miriam gave me last night,” he stood up.  “And perhaps I’ll see you at the tavern tonight?” he asked Inge with a smile.

“Undoubtedly,” the prince agreed.

“But I haven’t even eaten my breakfast yet!” Jenniline protested as she sat with her plate of food in front of her.  “You’re going upstairs already?”

“Just come up whenever you want,” Grange told her.  “I’ll be there.”

He left the dining hall and walked through the rain to the entrance to his tower.  When he arrived, he found a folded parchment pinned to the door, with his name scrawled across the front; he took it and carried it upstairs, then opened it up and found a bundle of letters inside, a half dozen or more.

Puzzled about what the purpose of the letters were, he began to read the first one, then immediately stopped.  It was a love note from a man, and it was addressed to Jenniline, he saw.

He stopped reading and lowered the bundle of papers to his lap, as he let his reactions conflict with one another.  He had no real right to read the notes – it would be an intrusion on Jenniline’s private life.  He had no right to do that.  She had not tried to pry into his past life, setting an example of proper behavior towards a colleague, or perhaps a friend.

Yet someone had deliberately delivered the letters to him.  Someone had a belief that he ought to know something about her.  And he needed to know that he could trust her; when the time came to hold the procedure to convert his wand into a finished instrument of power, he would have to rely upon her, he told himself.

He looked down at the letters in his lap.  The one on top was open, and without even meaning to, he could read it clearly.  The words sent a chill through him, as he glanced at them; “Last night our time together was a wonderful moment that lasted forever.  When you gave yourself to me, I knew that you loved me.”

Grange averted his eyes, and wrinkled the letter fiercely as he clenched it in his fingers that closed into a fist.

He didn’t know if he was angry, or confused, or concerned.

Jenniline had been cold and aloof when they had met in the wilderness, but she had helped rescue him from imprisonment and torture, and since he had chosen her as his counsel – an impulsive decision on his part – she had been hard-working, loyal, and invaluable to a fault.

Yet the words of the letter implied that she had misled him on the question of her suitability to assist him with his wand.  She had to be a virgin, and the letter suggested she wasn’t.

He held the letters as he stood up, and resolved to return to the meal hall to ask her to explain the truth.

Chapter 22

Grange held the bundle of letters as he strode rapidly across the palace grounds, back to the meal hall, where he expected to find Jenniline, although a small part of him hoped that she would be gone, and the potential confrontation could be avoided for at least a little while more.

He entered the hall and saw her sitting alone at the table he had left her at, while a knot of men, including the detestable Brady – the man he had plastered to the ceiling once – were seated on the opposite side of the hall.

“Jenniline,” he spoke in a serious voice as he walked over and sat down beside her.  “When I got to the tower, there was a folded parchment with my name on it, attached to the door,” he told her as he sat down.  She stared at him, trying to understand the unusual strain in his voice.

“When I looked inside, I found these letters – letters addressed to you,” he spread the letters out in front of her on the table.

She dropped the piece of ham she had been eating and snatched up the pile of papers.  “These are the letters that were taken from my room, right after you named me as your counselor!” she exclaimed.  “Why would someone try to give them to you?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Did you read them?” there was a note of hardness in her voice, as she moved past her surprise.

“Only a little; just a couple of sentences on the top page,” he explained.  “Not intending to steal your privacy,” he added.

“But,” he decided to plunge ahead, “whoever wrote this, they made it sound as if you were in love, or had made love, and I have to ask if you truly are a virgin?” he wished he hadn’t asked the question even as the words came out of his mouth.

He saw the pain in her eyes, and then the hardening anger.

Jenniline stood up.  “I told you the truth,” she hissed.  “I had someone I thought I loved, and I pledged my heart to them, and the promise of everything else to come on our wedding night, as he led me to believe we would have.

“But then I found out he was dishonest and dishonorable, and I ended the relationship.  And I’m severely disappointed in you for reading these private letters that you have no right to,” she told him.

As soon as she said it, a man’s voice somewhere shouted, “Now!” and there was the twang of several bowstrings all being released simultaneously.

Grange and Jenniline both looked around in surprise.  Grange began to call upon the energy instantly, but before he could, a powerful force struck him painfully in the back of his shoulder, driving him forward, so that his face smacked hard against the table’s surface.

A second arrow struck the table just inches from his face, sending a shower of splinters into his forehead and scalp, while a third arrow whizzed just barely above his head and struck the wall nearby.

“Shoot again!  Shoot to kill!” the man’s voice shouted, and the bow strings snapped again.