“Var Liyal…” breathed Grandfather Athanu. The old man rested in a massive cushioned armchair and watched drops of water falling from the leaves of trees through the iron columns, while Aralim knelt on a floor cushion nearby. “Why would you wish to know of this place?”
Aralim listened to the drizzle on the broad green leaves. “A theory,” he said. He had the time and resources to consider them now, for the first time in a long time. “A friend of mine, Ukanna, told me that people that lived there could become any shape they desired. In Miresh’s second vision, she saw a man and a woman climb a beach and become grey trees.”
“Ukanna must pay keen attention to the rumours of drunk travellers and mad soothsayers,” Athanu murmured. Aralim looked at the old man and sipped the wine he had been offered. Athanu held a large chalice in his hands, a warm mead. He raised it a moment and then lowered it, before turning his deep set eyes to look at the Walker.
Aralim sighed. “So there are no shape changers in Var Liyal?”
Athanu released his cup where it rested between his knees and spread his hands wide. His index fingers and thumbs remained touching, as though he had spent so many days clutching a quill that he had lost control of them. “There may be flying squid, for all we know. No one of note has ever been and returned. The travellers who claim to have been all seem to agree that tribal warriors pick them off from the forest before becoming the forest… But look at Rattar and his great kapok tree.”
“No one goes there?”
“Not since the last few disappeared. Tag’na sent a ship in the dry season of 1252,” Athanu said. “They never came back.”
Aralim took another drink of his wine. “What if that is where Miresh’s Focus resides?”
“What if it does?” Grandfather Athanu sighed and smiled at him. “Not all magicians have the luck of Gravagan or the Seer of Joy. What is Rattar’s Focus? Do you know? I certainly do not.”
“You’re suggesting that it doesn’t matter what Miresh’s focus is.” A gust of warm breeze fluttered rain drops across the floor and almost to Aralim’s sandal clad feet.
“It doesn’t matter unless it does.” Athanu paused for a drink. “Or unless his Ascendance tells you it does.”
Aralim chuckled. “Of course.” Athanu knew what the Emperor had asked Aralim to do.
“You don’t think we lords of the First Court of Rema are clueless do you?” Athanu asked. “Fruit, bread, please.” His sudden call echoed behind them, through the big iron pillars, and a short, heavyset member of the Aura strode out with a wide wooden plate held with both hands. Another, female, Aura followed closely and set out an unfolding steeple to support the platter before their lords.
They ate quietly, while Aralim eyed the shadows where the Aura had appeared. The ever-seeing sight of the Emperor.
“Aralim, if his Ascendance asked you to go to Var Liyal, across the Stormy Sea, would you? Do you believe he is a god?” Niyal Athanu seemed like the most religious member of the First Court.
Aralim considered his response carefully. He’d never been a stranger to the game of words and wit. Quite simply, it did not matter. “I will go wherever I may find enlightenment,” he told the wealthy lord. Var Liyal did sound dangerous. He already knew from passages he had read that the explored portion of the strange land was clothed in a dense rain forest, nothing ‘grey’ to speak of. And Miresh had been clear when she described that imagery to Aralim, Laney, Ukanna and Hayan on the Cliff Road near Maykren.
“I think Ovoe would be most interested if you did. Though, he’d be interested no matter where you travel,” Athanu said with a chuckle. “He’s probably behind that column, listening to us.”
“But so is the Emperor’s Aura,” Aralim pointed out.
“With the way Ovoe acts some days, I wonder if there’s a difference. I’m glad that there is,” Athanu said. He seemed like a gentle old man, and the first aside from Rattar who had voiced opposition to the Keeper. Athanu smiled to him and said, “Despite what you saw when they defended the Palace, the Aura is a very good thing.”
“Hayan, one of my friends, was once a slave,” Aralim said. “He told me slavery was illegal in these lands, but I have seen none of the Aura exert their own will. They act as though one mind controls them. Is it slavery?” He wasn’t asking out of moral concern—quite the contrary. While beings of great power were not expected to involve themselves in the affairs of weaker beings, a king that could rule the minds of his subjects was something far more powerful than just a man who had stopped aging.
Athanu smiled. “This is a question for his Ascendance,” he said, quietly. “It is not as simple as you say.”
Aralim shrugged and took another sip of his wine. He kept Athanu company for another hour before leaving the Iron Palace. The Second Court was in session, but they nodded to Aralim as he passed. They were taking a brief break from their responsibilities and stood in clusters either speaking quietly or enjoying foods and drinks supplied by the Aura.
The rain kept falling as Aralim crossed the wide courtyard. This time, the weather seemed to have little effect on the crowds. Throngs of merchants and citizens blocked his way. It took him ten minutes to reach the Palace gate. Karmawn stood guard as usual, silent but alert. Drips of water fell from his auburn mask or fanned a dark pattern down his thick cape. A sword hunt at his side, and a shield rested on his back, but he stood with his arms at his sides.
Miresh was probably already at home, Aralim thought as he walked. She had succeeded in speeding up the healing process of broken limbs, but only after meeting a third volunteer like Naton. Now Rattar had her practising things she already knew, while he prepared her next task and handled his own business.
When he reached the estate, he found Hayan sitting on the steps in the front yard. “Is everything alright?” he asked, as the guards let him onto the grounds.
“I didn’t get the part of Ghanam,” his friend said. He sighed heavily.
Aralim blinked. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Hayan shook his head. Rain water drizzled out of his dark ringlets. “They gave me the role of Stable Master instead. Stable Master!” He seemed distraught. A moment later, he looked up at Aralim and smiled. “I’m sorry, friend. I don’t know how to accept that I’m not as far along the Path as you and Miresh. I really wanted this to show you two what I’m good at.”
“That’s the first lesson many Walkers of the Path learn. If you stay in your home and hang a lantern, as a follower of the Path, you are more likely to master something. To walk the Path is to search for ever greater things. For as long as I can learn from Miresh or the Emperor, I must resist the urge to be belittled or feel inadequate. Just find how you can contribute, how you can learn to better yourself,” Aralim explained. “Neither Miresh nor I think any more or less of you because of what you can and cannot accomplish right now.”
Hayan was grinning now, listening with his hands folded. He shook his head at a loss for words. “Well, I hope you two will enjoy the play even if I’m not the title role.”
“I’m sure we will,” Aralim said, opening the door for them to go inside. Ko’nagar bowed and took their damp cloaks once they were comfortably within.