The Seal of Falaurin Chapter 1

                                          Chapter One: The Taint of Chattismar

                                                                      2

Maviance was silent, mulling over Gattore’s words. He had lived long, and knew the gong of truth when it rang. Despite Gattore's revelation he did not feel his allegiance to Jyslan decay. He was by no means a seer, yet deep down he felt strangely that she must somehow be exempt from this defilement. Was that merely wishful thinking? She hurried down the stairs ten minutes later and into the pantry, magnetizing the hard gazes of both men as she passed.

          Outside, the sounds of the raid were dwindling, replaced by an ocean of silence. The cries of victims had long since disappeared, and the chime of steel against steel was now gone. He feared however that this was nothing more than the calm before another, more powerful storm, one that would turn the tide.

          Jyslan soon appeared again, her pack bulging with food and clothes. She had changed into a knee-length white dress and breeches, draping herself in a long woollen cloak. She had washed her face and tied back her long hair, though her radiance was diminished by a sullen frown.

          “I’m ready,” she said to his feet.

          “Watch them,” Maviance gestured toward the five living soldiers, then glided up the stairs at a pace that defied his age. She glared after him and found a corner as far away from the soldiers as there was.

          “We don’t want to harm you,” Gattore said. She did not respond. Who is he trying to fool? she wondered, shuddering at the memory of Gattore’s fierce eyes as he bore down on her.

          “My wife is pregnant as well,” Gattore confessed. Jyslan summoned the courage to look at him, bound and helpless on the floor, managing for all he could on that rigid soldier’s face an expression of earnest pleading. It appealed to her better nature. But her better nature had been as much cause of trouble as it had of happiness.

          “If that was true, you wouldn’t be here now,” she argued, although already he had sewed horrible seeds of doubt in her heart. Perhaps he was acting on honourable grounds—but for what reason? There was nothing wrong with her.

          “I… have my duty to the Council,” Gattore said, his face marked by his internal struggle. Understanding washed over her like the dawn. He wishes that he didn’t have to do this—but he did! Once the rage would not have hit her so hard, but that was before her belly had began to grow large. He had betrayed his wife, his unborn child—

          “You are filth,” she spat.

          “You don’t understand,” he said weakly. He seemed not to realize he had not divulged the truth to her. “Your children—all the unborn children in Chattismar—are a danger. I have a duty to my superiors, to society. The duty to keep them safe. Doesn’t that transcend personal love?”

          What? she blinked. Now he was claiming that her child was a danger? For a moment she only stared at him, unable to draw any rational thought from amidst the mire of confusion her mind was bogged in. Her hands plastered the curve of her belly protectively.

          “There is nothing wrong with my baby,” Jyslan said. She looked hopefully toward the stairs. A tight ball of fear had thickened in her stomach. In spite of things she thought Maviance would dispel it.

          “It’s foolish to think you will escape unnoticed. We are looking for you,” Gattore insisted. Jyslan cringed, but her lips were sealed. With his appeal now falling on deaf ears, his compassion was trampled.

          “Nor will we be merciful, woman. Even if Maviance aids your escape, I will give chase. And you will not enjoy yourself when I find you.”

          Jyslan managed to meet his gaze. His slow nod spoke volumes of malice. “Wherever you go.”

Three ponderous knells boomed through the night from the nearby clock tower.

          Presently, Maviance joined them in the foyer. A rich crimson cloak embroidered with his sigil—a burning flute—draped his back, and with it his usual aspect of venerability. His long white robes almost touched the floor. All suggestion of his previous exhaustion had been erased. If he carried anything with him it was disguised beneath the robes.

          “I will accompany you as far as the gate. We will be even then,” Maviance announced. So this is the sort of man he is, Jyslan thought, though not entirely with surprise. He was so unlike Hedretti. She could not understand how they got along with one another.

          “That is treason, paragon,” Gattore said.

          Maviance wore a small smile. “I think my standing with the Council will absolve me of this one small crime.”

          He and Jyslan walked to the door together, though Jyslan shied from his hand as she would a leper’s. The street was quiet and dark, and looking from end to end Maviance did not sight any unwanted activity. Satisfied, he turned back to the prostrate Gattore.

          “When this is done I will come back and free you, and we will discuss this matter with the Adjudicator.” The tone of his words held the strength of prophecy. Gattore grunted and tested his bonds as the door thudded shut.

          Wan yellow light poured from the street lamps lining the road, umbrellas against the dark. The road here was narrow, packed in with houses and small businesses. Dark windows stared down at them as they walked, some of them recently shattered. Their glass was strewn haphazardly across the cobblestones. Chattismar was sleeping at this hour, though they caught the appetizing aroma of baking bread on the cool wind. A lonely dog barked in the distance.

          Their solitude broke a mental dam in Maviance’s head.

          “Jyslan, I wish that I could help you further. I simply can’t. I did not come to Chattismar simply to visit you and Hedretti. I have tasks and responsibilities to attend, now among them this most recent incident. I owe you nothing more.” All of this he spoke in monotone, casting a dire stare. Jyslan examined him with disbelief then sighed.

          “People should help one another out of kindness, Maviance!” she said.

          Maviance barked a harsh gale of laughter. “In circles of power, kindness does not exist. And it is the powerful who govern the world.” His piercing blue eye beckoned her to challenge him. She had no retort for his cruel logic.

          For a short time they walked along with no further word, following one of the wide garden-lined promenades that ran through the wealthier part of Chattismar. The silence served to erode the conviction Maviance held in his own words. He watched her sidelong. The hope and spirit that had always reminded him of his own daughter had departed and left a forlorn shell. The sight of her almost disarmed him, but as ever his pride intervened. With a force of will he wrenched his gaze away and did not look back.

          Ahead of them the Sunset Gate appeared between the trees, an arched structure built between two slender guard towers. It blazed red in the illumination of a series of torches. Iron ‘sunbeams’ protruded from along the top. A broad courtyard stood at its base, where in the daylight hours and early evening peddlers gathered and harried the passers-by. It was now empty save for several guards.

          As they approached a pair of soldiers defined themselves against the oppressing grey wall extending from either side of the gate, exchanging banter. They were armoured in conical helmets and chain mail, and wearing the caps and insignia of the city guard. The city guard was made up of a rotation of soldiers from within the city’s army.

          One of them roared laughter then fell abruptly silent when he noticed Maviance and Jyslan approaching. The camaraderie between them dissipated like fog, revealing them as the hard-faced soldiers they had been trained to be. When only several feet separated them soldier ordered them to halt. They complied.

          “Are you residents?” he asked, eyeing them both. Jyslan’s cloak was wrapped around her, disguising her figure.

          “I am, but Maviance is not,” she said, purposely using his name. The guard blinked, wearing the same astonished facial array that most common folk adorned when seeing a famous paragon face-to-face.

          He managed to gather his wits. “Hand me your papers.” They did so.

          The guardsman examined them momentarily then walked over to a small hut at the bottom of one of the guard towers, leaving them in the watchful care of his colleague. The former made a brief exchange with another soldier sitting in the hut, who then handed him a bundle of documents that he pored over. Jyslan was not assured by his expression when he returned.

          “You are listed as being a quarantine subject,” he said. “Lord Maviance, she must be arrested and taken to the Council Ganglion.”

          Maviance shook his head. His wispy eyebrows arched, asking if that was all.

          The young soldier adjusted his helmet, staring agape at the paragon. His first instinct to reach for his sword was checked, and in the end it appeared that his self-preservation prevailed. Seeing that neither guard was interested in delaying him, Maviance took Jyslan by the arm—who allowed it—and escorted her past.

          A small door was set into the gate, which was currently closed. Maviance focused and by shaping he forced open the lock from afar. The door creaked ajar and he led Jyslan through. Several more guards appeared on the other side, but did not realize they were illegitimate. Maviance smiled and they walked away.

          A ramshackle village had developed outside the Sunset Gate over the years, made by peasants who could not afford to live within the walls or could not fit. They were poorly made, scattered about carelessly, surrounded by wild gardens and useless junk. Jyslan had passed then numerous times in her life but was still stricken deeply by their poverty. In the past she had given them money and food, though Hedretti had chided her each time. The memory even of his disapproval stirred longing inside her.

          Once they had passed the outskirts of the village she walked a little further before noticing that Maviance had come to a halt.

          “Now I must leave you,” he said.

          “Maviance,” she pleaded. Her face was twisted in a perfect portrait of grief, and like before it speared Maviance straight through the heart.

          “I already explained my position to you,” he said nonetheless. Then, as an afterthought, he added: “I have a reputation to uphold.”

          “Maviance,” she said again, more potent this time. “They wanted to imprison me! And for what? It isn’t right!”

          He sighed. The feeling that nothing could be wrong with her surfaced again, illogical as he knew it must be. But he was convinced. If there was something amiss, wouldn’t he sense it? Wouldn’t she?

          I must be getting too old, Maviance thought as he felt his resistance crumble in the face of her distress. Too soft. But wouldn’t it be worth it to see her beam? To do her justice? Maviance looked up at the stars as if searching for an answer amongst the heavens. Eventually he reached a decision.

          “Go to the city of Attevo. The way is safe.” A dead look surfaced on her face.

          Then he added: “I will meet you there in five days when my work here is done.” As if by sorcery her expression transformed; a smile broke out brighter than any sunburst. Maviance felt relieved—it was worth it.

          Centuries have passed and I still haven’t mastered myself, he thought.

          “Thank you, Maviance,” she said, moist-eyed.

          “Go!” he snapped.

          “Will you speak to Hedretti for me?” she asked.

          “Yes,” Maviance said impatiently, shooing her. She looked at him, hesitated, then turned and started off down the road into the night.

          He hoped he could buy her enough time.