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Chapter 2

2

NIKO

Light shone through the stained glass windows, sending dazzling colors glinting off the golden, seven-pointed star inlayed in the center of the white marble floor. Fresh, cool air swept through the cathedral, making the space far more bearable than it had been at the summer council Niko had been dragged to. The stuffy heat of that afternoon had been as tiring as Lord Gareth droning on for three hours about how the other Guilds needed to be more responsible in providing records to the Scribes’ Hall.

“Welcome Lords, Ladies, and proud members of the Guilds.” The King’s voice rang around the cathedral. With nothing in the room but people to stifle the sound, the force of the King’s voice boomed loudly enough to ensure even the eldest present would be able to hear. “We have come together to celebrate Winter’s End and to plan for Ilbrea’s great future.”

Applause followed the King’s words. Nothing like the raucous cheering of the crowd in the square. Such a rowdy display could never have been allowed inside the cathedral.

Of course, there were times when the grand place was empty. Late at night when the cathedral could be snuck into.

“This great day marks the 775

th

anniversary of my family’s reign over Ilbrea.”

Niko shook away daydreams of nights filled with meaningless promises and passionate kisses as the King held out his hand and his sister dutifully stepped forward to join him.

Each of the seven Guilds stood on the same level ground in the cathedral, each at the point of the star that represented their place in Ilbrea. The King’s and royals’ place was at the tip of the star beneath the largest and grandest of the stained glass windows. The sun streamed through the image of a beautiful woman. Standing below her grandeur, the Princess looked like a child, far younger than anyone who should be allowed in the Guilds’ enclave.

“The 777

th

anniversary is rapidly approaching. An auspicious year for all of Ilbrea and the year my sister will come of age,” the King continued. “While we have eternally striven for the protection of Ilbrea and progress for all her people, the time has come to move forward more quickly.”

A faint murmur fluttered around the space.

Niko stared at the back of Lord Karron’s head, wishing he could read the Lord Map Maker’s thoughts.

“Two years from this day, Princess Illia will marry Prince Dagon of Wyrain.”

The princess swayed, her pale face pinking for a moment as those staring at her applauded.

Niko clapped with the rest, resisting the urge to run forward, ready to catch the Princess should she faint from nerves.

Mara stood next to him, a smile plastered on her face.

If Niko hadn’t known her so well, he might not have noticed the pink flushing Mara’s pale skin to a shade closer to the vivid red of her hair.

“A marriage to Wyrain will bring our two great kingdoms closer together, opening paths of commerce that will ensure prosperity for the people of Ilbrea!”

The loudest round of applause yet came from the Guilded.

If the King was seeking new trade routes through the eastern mountains, that would mean work for the map makers.

Niko rocked on his toes, the scroll at his hip near burning in its want to be filled with places yet to be seen.

“I have given each of the Guilds a task as we prepare Ilbrea and her people for the royal wedding and the future of our great country.” The King bowed and took a step back, looking to Lady Gwell of the Sorcerers Guild.

Niko let out a silent sigh, resigning himself to the torture of listening to the sorcerer talk.

“The King, in his great wisdom, has assigned these tasks.” Lady Gwell’s voice grated Niko’s ears. It wasn’t even the pitch of it, just the sanctimonious air of the woman behind the words. “It is the will of the King that the Soldiers Guild build up their forces. The trouble in the south must be calmed to ensure the safety and ease of the wedding.”

The Lord Soldier nodded.

“To do so, the King wishes to swell the soldiers’ ranks by accepting unguilded men…”

Niko closed his eyes, letting the hum in his mind drown out Lady Gwell’s words. Adding unguilded soldiers would be a disaster. A complete and utter disaster. For every common man the soldiers gained, they would lose a Guilded warrior to displeasure with the Guilds and the King.

A wide valley, that’s where he should be, far away from kings and royal weddings and politics.

The valley south of Ilara where the river cut a deep swatch of land away every year when it surged over its banks. He’d mapped that valley twice already, making sure the width of the river was properly recorded.

A faint tickle in the back of Niko’s mind was the only sign the sorcerer-made scroll at his hip had begun to draw. It had taken him years to even notice the tiny sensation―the magic that connected map to mind.

He pictured the details of the rocks caught within the flow of the river but still resisting its pounding force, holding steady in their fight against the current.

And flowers.

Bright flowers always flourished on the field in spring. Tiny, golden blooms and great bushes of vivid violet.

Far to the north, the white mountains peeked up, claiming the sky. Their jagged outline marking the northern border of Ilbrea and the end of civilization.

And a beautiful girl sitting beside the river, holding fresh spring flowers to her nose. The girl hadn’t been there with him in more than a year, but as long as he thought it convincingly enough, the scroll would sketch her as perfectly as it did each tall blade of wild summer grass.

Perhaps he could give the picture to the beautiful girl later.

A sharp pain in his ankle yanked Niko from his daydream.

Mara glared at him before looking to Lady Gwell.

“The exploration of the southern islands has been beneficial to Ilbrea,” Lady Gwell said.

Lord Karron gave a nod, acknowledging her praise.

“While their exploration cannot be halted, the map makers must also turn their efforts closer to home,” Lady Gwell pressed on. “The white mountains must be properly charted. For too long we have taken for granted that no person could survive the deadly northern snows. We cannot enter into an alliance with the east without knowing if our northern border leads to unknown foes.”

A shiver ran up Niko’s spine, not in fear of the mountains to the north, but in dread of the constant snow and ice such exploration would bring.

“The eastern mountains must be mapped as well. As a wedding gift to Princess Illia, the King of Wyrain has agreed to allow our map makers to explore new paths that might lead to his country’s borders. If we are to grow with Wyrain, access between the two countries cannot be limited to one trade road. It is the King’s wish that you find new paths to bring commerce and harmony with our eastern neighbor.”

Lord Karron bowed.

The King stepped forward again. “It is my wish that the Sorcerers Guild ensures the progress of each command. Helping to forge new arms for the soldiers of Ilbrea, creating new medicines for the healers, and rendering aid to any other Guild that should require assistance from our magical brethren.”

Lady Gwell bowed deeply.

It was revulsion rather than surprise that twisted in Niko’s gut. The sorcerers dug their talons into every facet of the other Guilds, no matter how unwanted their interference might be. Why should the King’s plans be immune? But the faint smile on Lady Gwell’s lips as the King acknowledged each of the other Guilds was worse than her placing a crown on her own head.

Another sharp kick from Mara reminded Niko to relax his jaw and look pleasant. At least there was a chance he would be sent to map the eastern mountains. It would be better than endless snow.

“Tonight, we celebrate with the people of Ilbrea. The people each of us toils to serve and protect. By the will of Dudia and the grace of the saints, may we all meet here at next Winter’s End with joyful news of bountiful progress to share with the people of this great land.” The King turned his back on the Guilds to gaze up at the massive, stained glass window of Morelan, the Patron Saint of the royal family.

The rest of the Guilds turned to face the window at their points of the star. Aximander, Saint of the map makers, towered over the cluster of green-clad Guilded.

Aximander’s depiction in the glass was much the same as everywhere else. Dark-haired, proud-faced, standing on top of a high mountain. He’d been the first of the Ilbrean map makers, finding a path through the southern mountains to the kingless territories, and sailing west to the Barrens when no other dared risk crossing the Arion Sea.

Niko reverently bowed his head and closed his eyes.

Aximander, watch over us on this year’s journeys. Bring the map makers home safely with new wonders to share with the Guilds and Ilbrea. Help us each to journey with a steadfast heart and a mind to our task.

Niko opened his eyes and looked back up at the saint.

And if you could see to it I get sent east instead of to the white mountains, I’d be very grateful. May the will of Dudia be done.

His silent prayer was over before the rest of the map makers’, whose heads were still solemnly bowed. Niko had never been particularly taken with the saints of the Guilds or Dudia, the god the Guilds preferred. Even as Lord Karron’s apprentice, he’d never been pushed away from the common gods of his childhood. None of the Lord’s wards had. Niko was grateful, though it did make long silences for prayer rather boring.

He glanced over to the cluster of blue uniforms.

Kai had stopped praying, too, and stood fidgeting in the midst of the sailors. He winked when Niko caught his eye and gave a smile before nodding toward Adrial at the front of the pack of scribes.

Adrial stood by Lord Gareth’s side, looking appropriately somber as he prayed.

They should’ve both been given chairs. A fellow with a bad leg and a man who’d reached his sixth decade shouldn’t have been made to stand for hours while Lady Gwell prattled on.

Niko clenched his hands and took a deep breath, looking back up to Aximander.

Grant me the patience to work alongside the sorcerers for the good of Ilbrea.

“It is time to deliver the news of our great endeavors.” The King’s voice rang out, breaking the solemn silence.

The royals led the way back out of the cathedral, each of the Guilds filing in as the party before them passed. Sorcerers, soldiers, map makers, sailors, healers, and scribes, all in clumps of matching colors with their Lords in the lead.

The golden doors flew open at a nod from the King, and a wave of noise crashed into the cathedral.

The commoners hadn’t wasted the time the Guilds had been locked away―dancing and music filled the square.

The chaos of it, the clashing of sounds and twirling of colors, filled Niko with a kind of excitement nothing inside the council had managed. He peered over the people in front of him, trying to catch sight of the nearest barrel of frie.

“Patience,” Mara hushed in his ear. “You can frolic soon enough.”

“I don’t frolic,” Niko whispered. “I revel.”

The horns high on the cathedral walls cut over the tumult, silencing the crowd with their first note.

“People of Ilbrea!” the King called to the square. “I bring great news of wondrous things to come. Today, we begin preparations for an alliance with Wyrain. Two years from today, Princess Illia will wed―”

The cheers of the crowd swallowed the rest of his words. The King didn’t try to silence them. There were too many details to be shouted from the steps, and some orders were best left to the commoners’ imaginations. The unguilded would find out what the King wanted them to know when he wanted them to know it, if they even cared to listen.

After a full minute of bellowing approval, the King finally raised a hand.

“A Happy Winter’s End to you all!”

The doors of the golden carriage swung open, waiting for the royals to escape the hordes.

Lord Karron turned to his map makers. “I expect all of you in the hall early tomorrow. I don’t want to hear about any of you getting into trouble.” He fixed his gaze on Niko before looking to Mara.

Mara’s bright red eyebrows shot up, and Niko laughed.

Lord Karron gave him a clap on the shoulder.

“Happy Winter’s End.” Lord Karron strode down into the crowd, following in the wake of the golden carriage with the other Guild Lords. They would walk together to the palace for the true meeting of the Guilds, where fighting and negotiating would accomplish the real work of the day.

“You two children keep safe,” Head Map Maker Seamus said in a mocking, mothering tone, twisting his already lined face into worried wrinkles. “We wouldn’t want you to get trampled underfoot.”

“We’ll be fine,” Mara said.

“As long as you’re sure.” Seamus held up his weathered hands in surrender and backed away.

“Come on.” Mara seized Niko’s sleeve and dragged him down the steps to where Adrial stood close to Lord Gareth.

“I’m quite sure, Adrial”―Lord Gareth waved a hand to quiet Adrial―“and I won’t hear another word about it. I am, after all, the Lord Scribe.”

“Yes, sir.” Adrial nodded.

“Now, away with you.” Lord Gareth shooed as Kai joined their group. “I’m too old to manage Karron’s flock. Go enjoy Winter’s End. Who knows what chaos will come before there is music to be heard again?”

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