State of Sorrow (Untitled #1)(33)

Charon’s tone was icy as he said, “You detained the Rhannish ambassador so she could not attend the memorial?”

“Let’s not get into that now.” Sorrow’s eyes pleaded with Charon’s and he grudgingly nodded. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell us as soon as you were sure,” she said to Vespus.

“Many reasons,” Vespus said. “In the first, the practicality of it. What were we to say – we’ve found a boy who barely understands a word of Rhannish, who’s never had a haircut or worn a pair of shoes in his life, but we believe he’s the chancellor’s lost son, can you prepare a suite of rooms? He couldn’t read, had had no formal education, no experience of people; simply being in a room with Beliss, Aphora and I was enough to make him shake when we first found him. Then there was the situation with your father… Was it wise to expose Mael to your father, given his … ah, difficulties?”

Sorrow didn’t like the pause he’d left there. Didn’t like the way it was exactly the right size to imply he knew precisely what those difficulties were.

“You didn’t have to contact my father. You could have contacted my grandmother, while she lived. Or Lord Day. Or even me.”

“I didn’t want it.” Mael spoke up suddenly, drawing their attention back to him. “When they told me who I was, I decided I didn’t want to be Mael of Rhannon.”

Sorrow took a breath. “Then who did you want to be? What was your name? To the woman, Beliss. She must have called you something.”

“Ir bishi. She called me Ir bishi.”

“It means ‘he who was discovered’. Basically, ‘foundling boy’,” Rasmus said, his voice icy. “It’s not a name.”

“I didn’t know that,” Mael snapped, his eyes clouding. “It was a name to me, until they told me otherwise.”

Rasmus made no reply.

“I know how you feel –” Mael focused on Sorrow once more “– because it’s how I felt two years ago. My whole world turned upside down; everything I believed I knew to be real was gone. I was angry and I didn’t want it to be true either.”

She stared back at him. “What’s different now?” she asked softly. For a moment it felt as though the others in the room had vanished, not a breath or a murmur from any of them. Sorrow waited, her heart pounding fiercely without her knowing why, for his answer.

“I want to know where I come from. Who I am.” Mael laid his hands on the table, palms up, the universal gesture of openness, and leant towards her. “I want to know my history and my family, if they’ll allow it. If you’ll allow it. I want to know the truth of who I am.”

Without meaning to, Sorrow found herself leaning towards him too, nodding. With a start she realized she recognized him. Though she’d been born after her brother died, Sorrow was consumed by an unmistakable sense of knowing as Mael’s eyes locked on to hers. He was familiar. She forgot where she was, forgot everyone else there, save for Mael.

“I want to come home,” he said.





The Chessboard

Rasmus coughed loudly, and at the same time Charon rolled his chair away from the table and said, “I think we’ve heard enough for now.”

It was enough to shake Sorrow from the reverie she’d fallen into at Mael’s words. She blinked and sat back in her chair, her thoughts thick and syrupy.

“We’re leaving?” she asked.

“We need to bring the rest of the council up to speed, and prepare for your father. I believe we know everything we need to.” When Sorrow continued to stare at him, her confusion clear on her face, Charon spoke again. “Miss Ventaxis, we need to make our way to the Summer Palace. Now.”

“It might not be safe to go,” Mael said, and Sorrow looked back to him. “There might still be a crowd.”

The sense of recognition was gone, and Sorrow found herself frowning at Mael, an uneasy feeling tickling her spine as he stared back at her, his own expression puzzled, as though he felt it too.

“Allow me to send someone to the bridge to be sure it’s clear for us.” Vespus stood smoothly, planting both hands on the table.

“Us?” Charon said.

“Of course. We’re coming with you. We agreed that.”

As Charon sucked in a deep breath, Sorrow stood, suddenly filled with the need to be outside, away from these people, and the inevitable argument that was about to happen. Charon could handle it. She needed space to think.

“I’m going to get some air.”

“I’ll come with you,” Rasmus and Mael chorused.

“I’d prefer to be alone,” Sorrow said, not looking at either of them.

“Is that wise?” Vespus said. “Mael will go with you. You should have a chance to speak to one another privately. I imagine the next few days will present demands on both of your time.”

“I’m not sure…” Charon began, but Sorrow shook her head, impatient to be gone.

“It’s fine. We won’t go far.”

She didn’t give him a chance to say anything more, instead marching from the table. Footsteps behind her told her Mael had followed, but she didn’t slow for him, or acknowledge him at all.

The door to the inn opened, as though Melakis, still stationed outside, had expected her to leave. The sunlight was harsh after the dimness of the inn, and she had to stop to blink, and allow her eyes to adjust.