Inker and Crown

Chapter 15

15

Adrial

“We need to be more careful with you.” Lord Gareth’s wrinkled face reddened in concern. “You are my heir. The Guilds cannot afford to lose you.”

“There was an attack.” Adrial kept his tone steady even as sweat glistened on Lord Gareth’s brow. “I wasn’t the only one who was hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Gareth’s tea trembled as he raised the mug to his lips.

“I’m better now than I was before the attack,” Adrial said. “I promise you that.”

Morning had passed before the sorcerers finally let him out of their tower. An entire day and night of poking, prodding, spells, and healing. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience, but at least the pain had been worth it. The damage from the explosion was entirely gone, and his shoulder felt better than it had in years.

The man who had spent a full day working on him looked at Adrial’s leg as well, but there was nothing to be done. No way to mend bone out of the shape into which it had grown.

The old disappointment had only stung Adrial’s heart for a few minutes.

After the exhausting affair, all Adrial had wanted was to sleep. To slip into his bed and rest without anyone hovering over him. But as soon as the sorcerers’ carriage reached the front of the shop, Taddy ran out, nearly knocking Adrial over in his glee, and passed him a letter from Ena.

Meet me at the top of the Map Master’s cliff an hour before sundown if you’re still alive.

And before he could wonder why Ena would want to meet him near the Map Master’s Palace, Lord Gareth’s carriage had arrived. Gareth had shooed the others away and escorted Adrial to his workroom for tea and a thorough talking to.

Adrial’s head began to ache as Lord Gareth talked himself around in circles for the fourth time.

“The world is a dark and dangerous place, Adrial.” Lord Gareth set his cup down on the tea tray and tented both wrinkled hands under his chin. “We who keep the records of the best and worst of this world understand that better than most. And you, who have suffered so much, understand it better than I.

“The tide is changing in Ilbrea. It’s natural, just like the sea. Darkness and light sweeping over us all. I am lucky. I have lived my life in one of the greatest times of brilliant light Ilbrea has ever seen. And as my twilight comes, the darkness creeps back around.”

“Sir―”

“But you cannot forget the good one good man can do. Adrial Ayres, you came from the worst of all places and have become the best of men. There are those in the Guilds who don’t understand that there are people who live without the privileges and protections of the Guilds.

“The Guilds are leaning further and further toward forgetting that our purpose has always been to serve, not ourselves, but the people of Ilbrea. If someone like Travers took the Lordship, the scales would tip so far toward those who care only for power, it would take at least a generation for sanity to return to the cathedral floor, if it found its way back at all.”

Gareth paused for a moment, sweating as though he’d just walked a long way.

“Sir,” Adrial began, “I know the place you’ve given me is important. But are things really that desperate in the Guilds? The commoners are upset about unguilded soldiers―”

“If you think that is where the root of the problem began, you have more to learn than I thought.” Gareth worried his lips together so they disappeared. “You’re going to have to move back to the library. Natalia can run the shop, and you can work on the vellum from within the great room. You’ll be more comfortable there anyway.”

Adrial’s stomach shattered.

I’ll never see her again.

Even if Ena were willing to brave the gates of the library, the scribes’ guards would never let her in. They would take her ink and pay her on the street. She would never be allowed to enter the sanctity of the library or to disturb the head scribe as he worked at the King’s command.

You would work faster without her distraction.

Adrial pictured her waiting at the top of the Map Master’s cliffs for him, her rainbow hair fluttering in the breeze. Would she be disappointed if he never came? Angry maybe? Or perhaps relieved she would never have to see the Guilded Cripple again? Then she could earn her coin in peace.

Adrial tightened his grip on his mug. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t. The duty of the head scribe is to run the scribes’ shop. If I leave, it will only allow for more questioning of my ascension as Lord Scribe than I am already bound to receive.”

“There can be no questioning. You are my heir.”

“An heir everyone believes is too young and inexperienced for the position. I can’t give up the running of the scribes’ shop. It will sew too much doubt. You want me to lead the Guild in the right direction, but what good is being a leader if no one believes in you enough to follow?”

Gareth gave a coughing laugh. “Lord Karron did well with you. That’s the problem with surrounding yourself with smart people―you can’t always win against them.”

“Thank you, sir.” Adrial gave a little bow.

“But there is no rule saying the head scribe must live above the shop. It’s a convenience, not a necessity. You’ll move back to the safety of the library and be brought to the shop by carriage each day.”

“Is that really necessary, sir?” Adrial’s room above the scribes’ shop was simple―nothing compared to the marble floors and wide windows of the library―but it was quieter here. Only the scribes from the shop were allowed to live in town. The housing at the library constantly buzzed with people. Meals were eaten surrounded by people.

No peace to breathe.

“Having you unguarded would be a terrible mistake. If people with dark deeds in mind wish to cause fires, a wooden building filled with paper, and the head scribe asleep in his bed, would be too easy a target.”

Adrial opened his mouth to argue, but Gareth was right.

“What about the others?” Adrial asked. “If I need to change my residence to the library, then surely they do, too.”

“They’ll be safer here without you.” Gareth pushed himself to his feet. His face paled from the effort. “I’ll send guards to defend the others. They can take your room. If things go as I fear they may, it won’t be long before the shop shuts down and all scribes retreat to the library.”

“Sir”―Adrial took Gareth’s arm, helping him to the door―“do you really think this is necessary?”

“Absolutely.” There was no fear in Gareth’s eyes. Only terrifying resignation.

“Are the other Guilds doing the same?” Adrial asked. “Are they gathering their people?”

“Not yet.” Gareth gave a sad smile, which added another decade to his face. “They do not cherish history as we scribes do. They don’t breathe it through the books every day as we do. And they don’t recognize it when the patterns begin again. I’ll see you at the library tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gareth patted Adrial’s hand and opened the door. Two white-clad scribes waited to escort him back to his carriage.

Adrial watched their slow progress through the shop. All the scribes stood as their Lord passed. Gareth nodded to each of them, the movement of his head seeming to cost him more than it should. Then the trio passed through the shop doors and were out of sight.

A familiar dread swooped through Adrial’s stomach.

I am not ready to lead.

Adrial shut his eyes tightly. He didn’t have the luxury of time to contemplate his failings. Not now.

“Taddy,” Adrial called the apprentice over.

Taddy’s pudgy face creased in worry as he trotted to Adrial.

“Everything all right, Taddy?” Adrial asked, bowing the boy into his workroom.

“Yes, sir,” Taddy said a bit too quickly, but Adrial hadn’t time to pry.

“I need you to go to my room and pack up all my personal belongings.” Adrial held up a hand as Taddy opened his mouth to speak. “People from the library are coming to collect me at the end of the day. It’s the Lord Scribe’s desire that I take up residence at the library.”

“But you’re still going to be in charge here?” Taddy’s brow grew more wrinkled still.

“Yes. Now, when they come in the carriage to collect me, I need you to tell them I was called away on urgent business and will meet them at the library. Give them my things and tell them not to worry, I’ve arranged for my safety.”

“You’ve arranged for your safety to meet Ena at the cliffs?” Taddy’s eyes widened in fear as soon as the words left his mouth.

Adrial bit the inside of his cheeks to hide his grin. That look of mischievous terror was too familiar to rouse any anger in Adrial. “If you tell them where I’ve gone, I’ll have to ask how you know where I’m going, Taddy.”

Taddy hung his head in appropriate shame.

“Close up your desk in the shop, then see to my room.” Adrial moved toward the back door of his workroom. He would need to change his clothes if he wanted to reach the cliffs without being stopped, and he would have to move quickly to make it there in time to meet Ena.

“Are you really going to be safe?” Taddy asked. “I mean, that part is true?”

“Or course it is, Taddy.” Adrial smiled. “Now run along.”

Adrial was up the narrow stairs to his room in a minute. The sparse space had been his home for two years, but there wasn’t time to reminisce about the white wood walls or the worn gray chair. It only took him a few moments to put on the one set of ordinary clothes he owned.

Lord Gareth’s insistence on his keeping a set of common clothes on hand had never made sense to Adrial before. His hands froze on the buttons of his plain shirt. What whispers from history had warned Lord Gareth that scribe white could be a danger?

Carefully folding his white robes, he slipped them into a bag and tossed it over his good shoulder. He would have to find a place to change back into his whites before arriving at the library. There would be too many questions to be tolerated if he didn’t.

Moving as quickly as he dared, Adrial snuck down the stairs and to the back door of the shop. He’d hardly ever used the door, but he knew the street that lay beyond. Shops for wealthy merchants to sell their wares to each other. Chamb, fine clothes, pastries―all respectable businesses.

Still, he froze with his hand on the door.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was an adult. A high-ranking member of the Guilds. He had every right to walk about the streets whenever he liked.

The thumping of his heart told a different story. He was a child escaping into the night, breaking the most sacred of rules. Sneaking around like a thief.

“Don’t be a getch, Adrial.” Steeling himself, he swung open the door and walked out onto the street.

He didn’t dare walk too fast, not with soldiers patrolling. He was too easily recognized. Who in Ilara hadn’t heard of the Guilded Cripple?

But none of the soldiers gave him a second glance. The only ones who seemed to notice him at all were small children and a few old women who gave him sympathetic smiles.

The air blowing in from the sea carried the promise of rain in its scent. Adrial let the fresh air fill his lungs, and pain didn’t throb through his shoulder in protest.

The walk through town was brief, and even the ache in his leg didn’t drain the joy of his anonymity.

Nobody bowed. Nobody whispered.

A merchant in a finely carved carriage drove right past him and didn’t pause.

No one wanted to bend his ear or beg him to ask Lord Gareth to change his opinions on the business of the Guilds Council.

The wind whipped up the cliffside. Adrial swallowed the whoop of joy that soared into his throat. Sweat beaded on his brow at the effort of the climb, but even as his leg trembled and begged him to stop, he pushed on. Pass after pass, scaling the cliff with nothing but his own two feet to carry him.

It wasn’t until he reached the top of the cliff that he saw Ena perched high in a tree, staring out toward the Arion Sea.

Adrial swallowed, willing his words to come out strong. “Nice view from up there?”

Ena looked down at him, her gaze sliding from his shoes to his plain coat. “Traveling in disguise, scribe?”

With a leap that sent Adrial’s heart soaring into his throat, Ena jumped out of the tree. As she fell, the layers of her skirt fluttered around her, as though she had become an exquisite bird. She landed two feet from Adrial without even a stumble.

“I was hoping you’d be in your scribe white.” Ena tipped her head to the side. “But you lived with Lord Karron for a long time, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but what has that got to do with wearing white?”

Ena looped her arm through Adrial’s, leading him toward the gates of Lord Karron’s palace. “I want to get in there.” She pointed to the wide stand of trees with weeping branches pressed up against the cliff on the far side of the gates. “I need those pretty pink petals, and you’re going to get me into the Lord Map Maker’s grounds. It’s either that or I walk two days out of the city to get them and you wait another two weeks for your pale pink ink.”

Adrial didn’t know what to say. Didn’t even know if he wanted to say anything. He looked toward the storm darkening the sky over the Arion Sea. Soon it would hit the shore and pour rain upon them.

“They will recognize you at the gates, won’t they?” A frown curled the sides of Ena’s mouth.

“I’m sure they will.”

“Then what’s the matter?” Ena poked him in the ribs. She hadn’t brought her basket with her. There was nothing to indicate they were doing anything other than going for an evening stroll.

“Allora,” Adrial said when they neared the gates. “She’ll be furious I haven’t come to see her, and I doubt she’ll be too pleased to see the girl who climbed onto the balcony she arranged so well for her party on Winter’s End.”

“Allora’s the possessive blond? We just won’t tell her we’re here.”

“These are her father’s grounds.” Adrial shrugged. His right shoulder moved with his left. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to keep her from knowing.”

“So it’s true then.” Ena glanced at Adrial’s shoulder before turning her face away. “They did take you to the Sorcerers Tower.”

“Yes,” Adrial said, trying to catch a glimpse of Ena’s face as she hid behind her bright blue and violet hair. “The sorcerers took me in after the attack. While they were healing me, they did a bit of work on my shoulder.”

“And it’s better?” Ena asked as they approached the gates.

“For the first time in years, it doesn’t hurt.” Adrial couldn’t keep the smile from his lips.

“But nothing for your leg?”

“Same answer as before,” Adrial said as a line of guards in green-trimmed uniforms stepped in front of the gates. “Too much damage to be fixed by magic.”

“So, the sorcerers won’t save the Guilded Cripple.” Ena pulled Adrial to stop ten feet shy of the high gates. “For the glory of the Guilds.”