Duty-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book II ]

6

Out of breath from his panic and from his flight, Koreti turned down the hall that would take him to the Archmage's Tower. His progress was arrested abruptly when he collided with a person walking the other way.

"Goddess's name," said Master Eovin. "Your Highness, what is the matter?"

Prince Koreti had been raised to be a sovereign. He was thirteen, on the brink of manhood; indeed, he fancied himself a man already. But when he looked up and saw the lorekeeper's expression of shock and concern, the tenuous hold he had on his emotions broke. He fell against Eovin with a sob.

Eovin folded his arms around Koreti's shoulders and cradled the back of his head as Esaria would have, holding Koreti tightly to his chest. "My prince, what can I do?"

"I don't know," Koreti stammered through his tears, clutching Eovin's jacket. "I don't know."

"Has something happened?"

Giving voice to what had happened was too painful. Another shuddering cry racked Koreti's body, cutting off any hope he had of replying.

"Come." Eovin took Koreti by the arm. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but it is not princely to be seen weeping in your nightshirt in the middle of the hall. We will go up to the tower, and you can tell me there."

Koreti allowed Eovin to lead him up to the Archmage's Tower. As soon as he stepped into that circular room filled with the stories and spirits of centuries, the young prince felt slightly more in control of himself; the lorekeeper's domain was a place of timeless order, a place where everything made sense. He stood in the center of the threadbare carpet, scrubbing his cheeks with his sleeve.

A warm weight fell over his shoulders. Koreti grasped the blanket with both hands, hugging it to himself, and looked up to see Eovin's expression of tender concern. "Can you tell me now, Prince Koreti?"

"I'm to leave the palace and never return," whispered Koreti. Saying the words aloud brought more tears to his eyes. He felt weak under the burden of so much sorrow and pain. He felt like a child—the child he no longer was.

Eovin's face in the moonlight was white as a snowblossom's petal, perfectly still. After a moment he spoke. "You must tell me precisely what has happened this night." Glancing past Koreti, he narrowed his eyes. In a few quick strides, he reached the door of the chamber, which already stood closed; he locked it, and then he took something out of his pocket and touched it to the center of the door itself. A gentle blue glow suffused the panel of wood. Koreti, who was well past shock, noted this with numb curiosity and nothing more.

"Sit, Koreti," Eovin said. His voice was tired. As Koreti moved silently to obey him, choosing one of the two seats at the table near the window, Eovin produced a decanter of wine and a goblet. He sat down before Koreti and filled the goblet halfway. Then, to Koreti's surprise, he set the wine before the prince instead of taking it for himself. When Koreti looked up at the lorekeeper in question, Eovin said, "Drink it slowly, but drink it. It will settle your nerves."

Koreti had never had unwatered wine before. He took a sip, and warmth crept down his throat and into his belly.

"I do not mean to press you," said Master Eovin, his tone gentle, "but I must."

"Father was angry. He came into my room. He..." Koreti touched his cheek, which was sore from his father's punishing strike. "He struck me. I was so scared, Master Eovin—I c-couldn't help it—"

"Help what, Koreti?"

"There was a light." Koreti put down the goblet of wine, barely tasted. He looked down at his hands, shaken by the memory. "I felt something come out of me. Something powerful. Something...bad."