The Delegate
985 Words
The Delegate~
Calum Iverach
Iversport, Iverach
“What’s Taw doing here?” Calum frowned. “Did you summon him?”
“Hell, no. He’s the last person I want involved in this venture.”
Calum assessed the game board. Stay mounted, and he kept the advantage of rank. The move his uncle would advise, no doubt, but it smacked of disrespect for Ben. Taw may have set the pieces in play, but Calum saw more moves than one.
He dismounted. Behind him, the squeak of leather and thump of boots affirmed thirty-and-three men followed his unspoken command.
“Your Grace, thank you for coming.”
Pastor Ben Bonner was a balding man with a face lined by laughter and pain, and eyes that always held more hope than despair. Barely as tall as Calum’s chest but stout as an oak, he clasped Calum’s forearm and pulled him into a fatherly embrace.
“You asked,” said Calum. “That was enough.”
“He who has ears…” Ben traced the blessing on Calum’s forehead.
“Let him hear,” he recited the dutiful response.
Calum stepped around Ben and took four marble steps in two long strides. He stopped before the second most powerful man in Iverach. Calum looked down and acknowledged the elegantly dressed politician for the first time.
“Delegate Taw.”
Delegate Stromond Taw served by appointment of the Rhi’Iverach. Tasked with representing Iverach interests in the People’s House in Jorendon, Taw’s long tenure wielded substantial influence in both the House and the royal court, but decades in Jorendon had leeched most of the Rhynn from the man. Calum sometimes wondered whether Taw’s true allegiance belonged to Iverach, Innis, or himself.
Taw tilted back his head to look Calum in the eyes. Amusement twitched on his lips before he bowed.
“At your service, Your Grace, now as always.”
“I am here to see the pastor,” said Calum. “If you and your companion care to wait…”
Calum motioned for them to descend the cathedral steps. Given little choice, Taw and a broad-shouldered man Calum figured for a personal guard joined the crowd gathering in the street. As he left the steps after them, the guard drew his attention.
Nene, but not quite. More bulk. Hair’s light enough, but wears it tied back. Not trying to hide the stripes on his neck.
Odd for a man of Taw’s sensibilities to hire a mixed breed.
“Pastor Ben, you asked me here for a reason,” said Calum.
“Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” Ben beckoned his wife from the crowd.
A plump woman who’d likely been pretty in her youth, Molly Bonner’s thick braid always seemed to be reaching around her shoulder, either to get in her way or to lend an extra hand. She fussed over Calum and his sisters the same as any in her husband’s flock. Today, Mother Molly was balancing a leather satchel on her outstretched hands. She presented it to her husband and stepped back, beaming and bouncing on her heels.
Calum caught her contagious smile and bent to kiss her cheek.
“Mother Molly, what has you dancing in the street?”
“I promised Ben I’d let him show you. But he’d best hurry.”
“Patience is a virtue, my dear.” Ben winked and pulled a thin book from the satchel. “Students in Mother’s care made these for the young lords in Aleron.”
Ben turned the leather-bound volume around for Calum to see. Elegant lettering on its cover read, “The Treasures of Iverach.” Beneath the title, in a well-crafted rendering of Iverach heraldry, a golden stallion reared rampant above three silver waves cresting on a field of sapphire blue.
“The students put great effort into the detail.” Ben turned the pages. “Here’s a sketch of Castle Monaughty. A map with Iverach ships and the routes they sail. A roster of all Clan Iverach’s septs. Even the Bonners.”
“Especially the Bonners,” said Mother Molly.
Calum touched his finger to a page. The calligraphy and painstakingly wrought borders were exquisite. Orphans made this, children no older than he’d been on the day he went searching for his mother and found his dead father instead.
Why such effort? Respect for a rhi they’d never met? Respect is earned. Fear is quicker. Fear was the legacy Dowan left him. The mantle didn’t quite fit, but it did keep a comfortable distance between Calum and those who insisted on looking for more in him.
“Handsome work. When I find men worthy of my sisters, I will gift them these books with pride.”
Calum passed the books to Daor Ranald’s eager hands and returned to his unexpected visitor.
“Delegate Taw, your business here?”
“News of your potential alliance with Aleron reached Jorendon,” said Taw. “Though I received no letter regarding the matter.”
“A personal matter,” said Calum. “I’m traveling to meet men who may or may not be suitable. I do not require assistance in gauging someone’s character.”
“Begging your indulgence, Your Grace, but the matter has drawn King Walter’s notice. An alliance between Iverach and Aleron could have considerable political implications. When I heard, I came straight away to offer my assistance. I understand Delegate Gruder is amongst those awaiting you at Dundarien.”
King Walter taking an interest didn’t surprise him. The confederacy known as Clan Aleron was as unique as it was influential. Centuries ago, after Joren’s Surdisi rebels conquered Rhynn and renamed it Innis, the clans in the mountainous northeast recognized that by banding together, they created a whole stronger than its parts. Extending their loyalty beyond their blood kin brought considerably more power and security than going it alone.
They adopted the Aleron name from the ancient Aurel god of wind and storm, and chose the hawk for their banners. Aleron surnames of Tavish, Callan, Buchanan, Gruder, Gregor, and Shaw commanded respect throughout Innis. The confederacy of Hawks numbered over a hundred thousand families, all sworn to their chosen Chief of Chiefs, Adan Tavish, the Rhi’Aleron. Even betrothals to second sons of Aleron chieftains could bring subtle shifts in allegiances as far away as Jorendon.
Calum clenched his teeth. This venture was gaining a momentum of its own, one that would be hard to stop without giving public insult to the Hawks. If these Alerons were not the men of character Holden believed them to be, Calum would have to move carefully or risk making enemies instead of allies.
But Isobel and Rosalee were more than pawns on the game board.
“Come then,” he told Taw. “If you remember how to follow.”
Chapter 4
- Writer
