Chapter Twenty-Two

Katanes, Baron's Palace

Three Months Later

The sound of clashing swords echoed through the training hall as Arta and Karani sparred. Tomorrow, they would be leaving for Carann, the New Year's festivities, and the tournament, and both sisters fully intended to be at their best. Dueling had always been an important part of their education – it could hardly have been otherwise, when it was considered a vital skill for any noble, and dueling for sport or for honor was an inescapable hobby among the aristocracy for both men and women – but this would be about far more than that. The fate of the entire Kingdom would turn on the outcome.

Arta ducked a sweeping stroke from Karani's sword and darted backwards, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. The practice swords were faintly energized with a field that dulled their edges but would still give a nasty shock if they made contact. Warily, now, the sisters circled each other, blades held at the ready, and then Karani lunged forward with a series of quick strikes, trying to use her superior height and strength to force Arta back and keep her on the defensive.

It was a strategy that Arta had familiarized herself with long ago, though; planting herself firmly on her feet, she caught Karani's blade on her own in front of her face and held it there in a tight lock. She could feel the strain as Karani pushed forward, trusting the fact that this close she'd be able to overpower Arta without much effort; the younger girl knew that she was right, and that she didn't have much time. Fortunately, she didn't need it. Suddenly she disengaged and dropped low, letting Karani stumble forward as she overbalanced. Arta spun behind her, and as Karani turned to face her, she caught her sword with her own blade and gave a sharp twist. Karani's sword went flying and, her balance knocked off-center, she fell backwards and landed flat on the padded floor, Arta's sword pointed directly at her face.

Karani held up her hands in surrender, then reached up to pull off her helmet as Arta withdrew her sword. "You beat me," she said in a stunned tone, her mind clearly still trying to process what had happened.

Arta deactivated and sheathed her sword, then pulled off her own helmet. "I guess I did," she said, trying to sound confident even though inside she felt about as surprised as Karani looked.

Her foster-sister shook her head. "You didn't use… you-know-what, did you?" she asked.

Arta smirked. "That was all skill, big sister," she said proudly.

Karani scrambled to her feet and wrapped her arms tightly around Arta's shoulders. "Little sister's all grown up," she said, grinning. "I'm so proud. I'd be prouder if you'd managed to do it without me bruising my back, of course, but it's a start."

"Stop it, you'll be fine," Arta said, slipping out of Karani's hug and trying to hide the faint blush that was creeping over her cheeks. She was tired, and surprised… and yes, proud. She'd beaten Karani, without her Adept's tricks; nothing but pure skill and nerve. She'd never done that before.

Karani threw back her arms and stretched, yawning loudly. "Well, I'm going to the showers, and then to bed," she said. "It's late, and tomorrow's the big day. You should do the same."

"That's probably a good idea," Arta agreed, shaking her head to try and clear some of the stiffness from her neck.

A short time later she left the changing room, dressed in a light green evening robe with the bag containing her gear slung over one shoulder. She made her way down the hallway and stopped at the lift, where she keyed in the residential level and waited. A few moments later, the door opened, and Arta's eyes widened when she saw that Shiran was inside.

She'd still been having sessions with the Professor since Tantos, but he'd been significantly more distant than he'd been before, as if he was distracted by something – though Karani thought he was feeling guilty after he'd lead them into a riot. Still, he smiled when he saw Arta, and gestured for her to come in.

The door closed behind her and the lift began to rise, it's two occupants standing silently beside one another. Arta frowned as she looked at Shiran, thinking back to that night – not the riot, but to a conversation she hadn't told anyone about since it had happened. Finally, she decided that she needed answers, and took a deep breath. "Professor," she said, "do you know a woman named Midaia? Like the old princess?"

Shiran, fortunately, didn't seem angry at the question; neither did he seem surprised. Just weary. "Yes, I knew her," he said. "I taught her when she was very young – younger than you. She was an Adept, one of the strongest I've ever known. My methods… didn't do her much good, so I recommended that she study with the Holy Sisters instead. They know as much as anyone about Adeptitude, which they consider a gift from the Lord and the exclusive province of the Church. But the Sisters couldn't help her any more than I could; she was cast out of the convent and excommunicated before she turned twenty." He turned to look at Arta, eyes penetrating. "You've met her, haven't you?"

"I have," Arta said quietly. "How did you know?"

"I've spoken to her recently," Shiran said. "After I took the job for your father. She took an interest in you."

"She said she was my half-sister," Arta whispered. "Shiran, you knew my mother. I know you did. Is she telling the truth?"

The Professor sighed heavily. "She is," he said; the lift pinged as it reached its destination, and Shiran stepped out into the hallway, gesturing for Arta to follow him. "And I did know your mother. I was never her teacher, but I was her counselor, and her friend."

The question that hung unspoken on the air seemed to burn at Arta's throat, and for a moment she almost asked it. Midaia hadn't told her who their mother was, but Shiran knew. He would tell her, surely… but at the same time, something in her subconscious rebelled, whispering that when she learned that knowledge her life would change, and that she couldn't be simply Arta ast Katanes, but someone else. Artakane, Midaia had called her. Artakane of what house? Another part, hidden even deeper, seemed to whisper of what that house must be, but… no. Arta forced it down. She had the pieces, but it was all so huge her mind rebelled at the thought of fitting it together.

"Midaia said you were old," she said instead. "That you'd been a counselor to heads of state. Was she telling the truth there, too?"

Shiran was silent for a long moment, then he nodded. "She was," he said. "Adepts can live a very long time, if you know the right techniques. I don't recommend it. It's a cold, lonely path."

"Then why did you take it?" Arta demanded. "And why come here? Why not work for, I don't know, the regent, or Duke Hiram, or someone important?"

Shiran chuckled. "I don't think Hiram would much appreciate what I would have to tell him," he said. "As for why… I told you that once, a long time ago, I had a vision of the future. I made a very great mistake because of it, and I've been trying to atone for that ever since. As for why that's brought me here – I'll tell you everything, but not yet. This tournament has me filled with dread, Arta, and I learned some very disturbing things from an old friend on Tantos Station who specializes in knowledge. The assassins who killed Queen Aestera are still out there, and I don't know what they're planning. I'll breathe easier once the tournament is over, whatever happens. And then I'll tell you everything, I promise, in the Lord's name."

Arta believed him; whether by an Adept's instinct or just something in his tone, she didn't know. "I guess I can wait a few days, then," she said. "Good night, Professor."

"Good night, Arta." They nodded to one another and then turned towards their respective rooms, leaving the feel of words that had been said – and unsaid – hanging in the hallway behind them.

/

Arta knew she should get some sleep, but no matter how hard she tried it wouldn't come; she didn't know how long she lay on her bed, facing the ceiling with her hands behind her head, trying to still her thoughts. It wasn't long before she heard Karani enter her own room next door, then her footsteps as she busied herself with stowing her gear and changing clothes before she dropped onto her own bed. Still, sleep wouldn't come. Finally, Arta sighed and sat up, wrapping her robe more tightly around herself as she left her room and hurried over to her foster-sister's.

Karani's lights were off and she was rolled up tightly in her sheets, facing away from the door. Still, there was something about her breathing that seemed, perhaps, a bit too regular, and Arta frowned. Walking over, she sat down on the edge of her sister's bed. "Karani, are you awake?" she asked quietly.

Karani heaved a great yawn and sat up. "Couldn't sleep either?" she asked. "Figures. I'm tired, but with everything going on, I just can't fall asleep. Sounds like you're the same."

"Yes," Arta said, though that was only part of what was troubling her. "Do you mind if I stay here for a little bit?"

"Of course not," Karani said, though she shot her a strange look as she did so. Leaning back in her bed, she reached out a hand and clicked a button on the small clock on her nightstand; a holoimage flickered into existence across the ceiling, depicting the stars as they were at this very moment, seen from Katanes's sky. Karani looked over at Arta. "I remember you always used to like this thing when we still shared a room."

"I still do," Arta said, leaning back herself. For a long time, the two sisters stared up at the stars without speaking; finally, Arta sighed. "What will you do if you win the tournament?" she finally asked.

Karani shrugged. "Well, like you said, Father will be king, so that would make us princesses." She shot Arta a grin. "Doesn't sound so bad to me. And I guess I'll be famous for winning, of course, and everyone in the Kingdom knowing my name would be nice. Do you think they have a trophy? I guess not; the crown's probably the trophy. And then I'd get to be queen some day and you could be my knight and we could go off and have adventures, finding new worlds and rescuing handsome princes and leaving all the boring stuff to Danash and Shiran." She laughed quietly. "Who am I kidding? Neither of us is going to win anything, not with the whole Kingdom competing. But it's nice to dream, isn't it? What about you?"

"I don't know," Arta whispered. Karani shot her that curious look again.

"What's gotten into you, anyway?" she asked. "You were always the one who was so determined to make a name for yourself, right?"

Arta turned to look at her, expression serious. "Karani," she said, "I just want you to know that whatever happens, you're my sister and I love you."

"Now I'm really worried," Karani said. "Come on, Arta – what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said. "I just wanted you to know."

Karani still looked concerned but didn't press her any further. They resumed staring up at the stars in silence and at long last they both fell asleep.

/

Arta was still yawning the next morning when she and Karani walked into the entrance hall, bags slung over their shoulders. Their father was already there, talking quietly with Danash, who was to be left in charge while they were gone; when the Baron heard his daughters approaching, he turned and smiled. He also had a slender bag under one arm, and Arta wondered what could be in it. It looked too small to be his travelling things, and she thought he'd already had those loaded onto the shuttle last night.

"There my girls are," he said warmly. "Are you ready to get going?"

"Ready to knock spoiled princelings on their backsides, you mean?" Karani asked, laughing.

The Baron chuckled, but then his expression became more serious. "Remember that this tournament is about more than proving how good a swordswoman you are," he said. "The fate of the Kingdom could turn on the outcome. This isn't a game, no matter how much it may seem like it."

"We'll make you proud," Arta said. "I promise."

"I never wanted to be a king," the Baron said, "but I know you will. Which reminds me." He set his thin bag on the ground and opened it; inside were a pair of gleaming, slightly curved swords – Karani's eyes sparkled at the sight, and even Arta felt her breath catch.

"These are for you," the Baron said, picking up both blades and handing one of each of his daughters. "These are real dueling swords, not toys or practice swords. I had them commissioned especially for you after the tournament was announced. It's traditional to give a noble their first real sword when he or she comes of age, but, well… I think we can afford to be a little early. There's a switch on the hilt that lets you control the power setting – at the lowest level, they function just like your practice swords, and that's the level you'll be using at the tournament. This is a test of skill, not an excuse to run around maiming people."

If Karani heard that last part, she gave no sign; she drew her new sword from its sheath and held it up in front of her eyes before she flipped the power switch and let currents of energy arc along the blade. For a moment she stood, mesmerized by the sight, then threw back her head and laughed loudly, doubtless already imagining how she'd look with the blade slung at her hip.

Arta didn't bother to draw it; instead, she just rushed forward and wrapped her foster-father in a hug. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You've earned it," the Baron said, patting her back. "Now, Karani, turn that off and let's get going. It's a long ride to Carann, and we certainly don't want to be late.

/

Seen from space, Carann seemed to glitter.

Arta had never been to the capital before, but she'd read enough and heard enough from previous tutors that she'd known what to expect. Much of the planet was taken up by cities; it housed a larger population than any other world in the Kingdom, more than some entire duchies if the census was correct. Arta had expected to see the large swathes of light that covered most of some continents as they swept lower, but the sheer scale of it, the countless spacecraft in the air, the lights… all of that was more than she could have imagined, and it took her breath away.

"Wow," Karani said from beside her, her own face pressed against the viewport just as Arta's was. "Just… wow." Arta said nothing, but privately agreed with the sentiment.

Under direction from traffic controllers, the Twilight Dagger descended through Carann's atmosphere and emerged from a cloud bank over the capital city itself. Once again, Arta felt her breath catch. The city that stretched out below them was far larger than Tannen, and far more beautiful than Tantos City; it seemed like a great field of gleaming silvery spires that filled the entirety of the immense valley beneath them. And there, built upon a low ridge on the far eastern end, was a structure that Arta had never seen but that every child of the Dozen Stars would recognize – the Royal Palace itself. A cluster of almost crystalline towers that the city seemed to wear like a crown, it was surrounded by a halo of small ships as the competitors for the great tournament arrived.

"Never fails to impress, does it?" Shiran asked suddenly from behind them; he'd been so quiet on this trip that Arta had almost forgotten he was there. "It's been a long time since I've seen it, but it doesn't lose its majesty. Artax the Founder had many talents, but one that's often overlooked is his skill at hiring architects." He looked from Arta to Karani and smiled. "There's a lesson in that, I think. Even a king can't do everything – but a great king, or queen, knows how to find people who can do things they can't."

"Have you been here before, Professor?" Karani asked, unable to keep the faintly suspicious edge from her voice. "I didn't know that."

"I worked here for a time, before you were born," Shiran said noncommittally. "It's been years since I've been back."

Before Karani could question him further, the Baron emerged from the cockpit, where he'd been conferring with the driver. "We'll be landing soon," he said. "When we do, we'll be shown to our rooms. When we do, change into your armor and meet me in the hallway outside – the opening ceremony of the tournament is tonight, and all the contenders will be presented. I want you both looking like serious, dedicated knights – so Karani, don't you dare wear that hat you bought in Tannen, all right?"

Karani looked crestfallen, and Arta, who knew for a fact that her foster-sister had brought the hat stashed in the bottom of her bag, covered her face with her hand to hide a giggle. "What happens after that?" she asked when it had subsided.

"Tomorrow is the new year," the Baron said. "The Royal Palace holds an annual dance in celebration, and this year all competitors have been invited to attend." Karani's face broke out into a broad grin at that. "The day after that… the tournament begins."

/

Arta tried to avoid tugging at the collar of her armor as she waited in line behind Karani outside of a set of double doors that led to the tournament hall. She and her sister both wore armor without their helmets, with cloaks over their shoulders and dueling swords at their waists; around them waited the other competitors from Tantos Duchy. Some of them were as young as the sisters, but most looked to be in their twenties at least. All looked like they could handle themselves with a blade, and none were the titled heads of their houses, but otherwise they were a diverse group of young men and women, around ten in all. The only sound in the hall was that of nervous breathing.

Karani kicked Arta's shin. "When do you think they're going to get on with it?" she asked.

"Sssshhh!" Arta hissed, but no sooner had she done so that the doors slowly opened. The contestants straightened themselves and then filed out onto the dueling floor where they joined the ranks of competitors from other duchies; they arranged themselves as they'd been instructed, facing the platform where the dukes sat. The distinguished-looking man in front must be the regent, Arta thought; she saw Duke Hiram's round face not far away. Other dukes she recognized as well – the thin young man in a military uniform and a cold scowl must be Duke Respen, and the older, mustached man who had a cane leaning against his chair had to be Naudar, but her heart was hammering so hard that she couldn't place the faces of the other, less powerful dukes and duchesses.

The stands that rose up around them were mostly empty, containing only a few clergy, guildsmen, and the noble sponsors who'd come with their houses' competitors, their father among them, but Arta knew that in a few days' time this place would be packed, and the camera mechs that now hovered around the edges would be broadcasting the event across the Kingdom. Arta suddenly felt very nervous and very uncomfortably small.

Once all the competitors were in position, the regent got to his feet and stepped forward. "It has been years since this hall has been host to a true tournament," Mardoban said, "and never before has it seen such a gathering of talented young men and women as I see before me today. As you're all no doubt sick of hearing, this is no mere game that we prepare to play – the stakes are much higher than that. Before we begin, you should remember that the fate of our Kingdom and its crown turns upon what will happen here in the next few days. Tomorrow is the New Year; the day after that, we will begin. I know that all of you represent the cream of your houses and your guilds; I know that in the days to come, win or lose you will show us your skills and make your homeworlds proud. It is my honor to welcome you all to this tournament, and may the Lord watch over you." He gestured to an older man in clerical robes who walked to his side. "Now, then, I shall call your names in turn, and when I do, you shall come forward and receive my acknowledgment and, if you wish, the high prelate's blessing. Then you will officially be a competitor at this tournament, and once we are finished here, the tournament will officially begin!"

Despite his optimistic words, Arta thought there was something cautious in Mardoban's eyes; still, he began to call out names, beginning with his own Orlanes Duchy – going first must be a privilege of being regent. The first competitor onto the platform was a slender young man who looked somewhat ill-at-ease in his armor; he bowed and received the blessings of both the regent and the high prelate, and when he stood, Arta noticed that though he was younger and slimmer, he bore a noticeable resemblance to Mardoban. Pakorus had been his name; Arta knew the regent had a son about her age and thought that this must be him. He really was quite handsome, a part of her idly noticed.

Mardoban continued with his recitation, calling the remaining names from Orlanes Duchy and moving on to Sakran Duchy. The first onto the platform was a handsome young man who looked far more comfortable in his armor than Pakorus had been; he shot the regent a cocky smile as he bowed to him, and his name was announced as Darius. Karani didn't bother to hide the interest in her eyes or the fact that she whistled softly when she saw him, but Arta only felt a cold feeling creep into her chest. Darius ast Sakran was Duke Naudar's eldest son, and even on Katanes she'd heard he was already a famous duelist. If anyone was liable to win this tournament, it was him. His sister and brother followed shortly after, and Arta knew that neither of them was supposed to be any slouch with the blade either. By luck of genetics or training, Naudar certainly seemed to have stacked the deck in his favor.

The remaining duchies became a blur; Arta watched as, one by one, the sleekly militaristic competitors from Aurann came to the platform, followed by the competitors from Tashir, who were decked in elegant finery but looked like they had a quiet confidence nonetheless, and more duchies besides. Finally, it was Tantos Duchy's turn. Names Arta was vaguely familiar with were called, and then "Karani ast Katanes" took the stage, bowing flamboyantly as she received the regent's and the high prelate's blessings. Arta breathed heavily; she was next.

Sure enough, "Arta ast Katanes!" was called and Arta slowly walked forward, head held high, and mounted the steps to the platform. She bowed to the regent, heard the high prelate murmuring his blessing over her, then raised her eyes. The regent looked at her, and then inhaled sharply, taking a step back.

"Are you all right, my lord?" she asked carefully; the other dukes and duchesses regarded Mardoban with expressions of concern, of varying sincerity, on their faces.

"Something in my throat," Mardoban said, and waved Arta on. "Nothing to worry about, I'm fine to continue." As the called the next name, Arta hurried down the steps and made her way back to Karani's side, still certain that the regent's eyes were following her all the way.

"What was that about?" Karani hissed when Arta rejoined her.

"I have no idea," Arta whispered back; inside, she wondered.