Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(86)

Iian’s frown deepened. “True,” he said. He tilted his head to the side. “There are other, older people. Have you talked to Kendrick?”

“The Herald?” Amyu straightened. “Is he as old as Kalisa?”

“Maybe older,” Iian stood. “Let’s go ask.”




Kendrick chuckled at their question. “I am not that old. But I have served four monarchs in my life time. Xyvon, Xyron, Xymund,” a shadow passed over his face. “Othur was an old friend.” His eyes looked sad and distant, but when he focused back on Amyu it was with a gentle smile. “And now Xylara is Queen, may the God of the Sun bless and keep her.”

“So you don’t know the old ceremonies?” Amyu tried not to let her disappointment show.

“Of course I know the ceremonies,” Kendrick lifted his chin. “That is my charge.” He gestured to the shelves around the walls of his office, filled with books and scrolls. “All of the Crown ceremonies, rituals and the bloodlines of the noble houses. All here.”

Even Iian seemed stunned. The Herald’s office was lined with shelves and all the shelves were crammed with books and scrolls and loose papers. Dust floated in the sunlight that streamed through the windows.

“Could you tell me of them?” Amyu asked. “Of the rituals that surround the crystal sword?”

“Rare for one so young to care,” Kendrick said with a broad smile. “But I would be pleased to share my knowledge.” He rose slowly, and tottered over to a shelf. “This is the most recent copy of the Regalia of the House of Xy.”

The book was brown, its pages faded and curled with age. Kendrick brought it over and settled on a stool. “This was drawn by my predecessor,” he said, leafing through the book. “Here.” He put the book down, and pointed.

Amyu leaned forward, with Iian looking over her shoulder. The drawing was all crisp black lines. Amyu recognized the Council Room. The sword was displayed on the table, and on the wall behind was the tapestry of the airion.

“The Crystal Sword of Xy is one of the two most ancient artifacts of Xy,” Kendrick said. “It was always displayed in the Council Room, set out on the Council table as you see here. The sword is only removed for the High Ceremonies,” He continued. “The Coronation of the Monarch, the Marriage of the Monarch, the Confirmation of the Heir Apparent, and the Funeral of the Monarch.”

“Two ancient pieces?” Iian questioned.

“Yes,” Kendrick turned the page. “The other is the Xyian Ring.”

This drawing was stark in comparison. The ring was a plain band, with a stone set in the center.

“The Xyian Ring was always worn by the Monarch,” Kendrick said. “Originally, the sword was always carried as well, but that practice ended before my time.”

“I had forgotten the Ring,” Iian said.

“Many have.” Kendrick shook his head. “Lara’s father, Xyron, wore it until he sickened. It kept falling off his finger as he grew thinner. I offered the ring to Xymund, but he felt that it was not worthy of him. He wanted something grander. Something that befit a king.” Herald sniffed. “Never mind its history, its age, or significance. He talked of melting it down, having it refashioned, and bid me store it until he had decided on a design.”

He stood, and reached deep into a high shelf, moving scrolls and papers out of the way. “Here it is,” he said, pulling out a small wooden box.

Amyu stared at the ring, a gold band and blue stone that matched the sword. “They are the same color,” she said.

“At every High Ceremony, at some point in the ceremony the monarch holds high the Sword, displays the Ring and recites the Call.” Kendrick turned back to the book and pointed to markings below the picture. “‘Let the protectors of Xy arise to my call.’ In suitable, stirring tones, of course.”

“Of course,” Iian said.

“There have been no changes in the rallying cry.” Kendrick started to thumb through the book, looking for something. “But there have been variations in the gestures over time.”

“Why isn’t Xylara wearing it now?” Iian asked.

“Xylara wore it for her hasty Coronation.” Kendrick frowned. “I made sure of that. But it slid off her finger and she wasn’t going to take it to the Plains. Something about ‘taking nothing from my Warlord.’”

“Take nothing except from the hand of the Warlord,” Amyu corrected.

“Ah,” Kendrick nodded. “A ritual of the Plains, no doubt.” He shrugged. “I have been meaning to speak to Xylara since her return, but with all the ruckus, I hadn’t had a chance.”

Iian looked around the small room. “Do you have apprentices? Assistants?”

“No,” Kendrick sighed. “Othur and I talked of it, but Xymund had no interest beyond his own glory. I haven’t bothered Xylara, but with the birth of the babes.”

Iian frowned. “We must take action to preserve—”

“Could I take it?” Amyu interrupted. She didn’t want to be rude, but they might talk forever. “I have an idea.”

“The ring?” Kendrick’s bushy eyebrows climbed up with horror. “But—”

“On my authority,” Iian said.