Chapter XV

The castle of Muri. Khol had only heard stories about his grandmother's homestead, until now. Now he found himself protected by its thick walls and many towers. The stream running through it provided a constant source of fresh water. The soldiers there were some of the best-trained in Arx, next to the royal family's bodyguards and the paladins of Caelum. It was no wonder such a place, situated on the border between Arx and Nihilus, had never been taken in a siege.

“The only time the enemy managed to harm anyone within these walls was when General Lorna successfully turned the people inside against each other,” Tamas said as he helped Khol settle into his guest room. “What lesson can we take from that?”

“That Castle Muri is invincible?” asked Khol, unpacking his bags.

“Well, that too,” said Tamas. “More importantly, though, that the greatest enemy lies within. A house, a castle, a fortress, it represents one's self. The enemies outside may be dangerous if they tear down the walls, but the enemies within? They are far more dangerous. You have no greater enemy than that which lies within your own soul.”

“Wow, Pa...that's truly...”

“Wise? Profound?”

“...I'm going to say...trite.”

Tamas rolled his eyes. “You are your mother's son, you know that?”

“Thank you.”

Both of them turned their attention to the door when knuckles rapped the wood three times. A deep voice with a thick Saburan accent spoke through the door, “Your majesty, it is I, Lord Reon.”

Tamas opened the door to reveal the dark-skinned man standing on the other side. “Marquis. Good to see you again.”

The marquis smiled widely, his teeth white as ivory in contrast to his ebony skin. “It is good to see you too, sire.”

“Did you come just to visit?” Tamas asked.

“Actually, I was hoping I might introduce the young prince to my daughter, Yamin. There are not many children her age in the castle, so it would be good for her to make a friend.”

Khol smiled and nodded. “I'd love to meet her.”

Tamas chuckled. “Eager, are we? You might have some of your father in you too.”

Khol gave Tamas a puzzled look. “I don't get it...”

Tamas shrugged. “Nevermind.”

“Are you ready, sire?” Reon asked.

“Certainly,” said Khol.

Khol followed Reon to the gardens in the castle courtyard. There was an elaborate marble fountain flowing with water from the stream running through the castle. Surrounding the fountain were forsythias, azaleas, caladiums, nightshade, pink and red rosebushes, anemones, calla lilies, wisteria trees, carnations, peonies, and hydrangeas. The variety of vibrant colors and the powerful aroma was overwhelming to Khol, and he stood at the garden's entrance for a long while before Reon's hand on his shoulder eased him back to reality.

“Sire,” said Reon. “There she is.” Reon pointed to a girl about ten years of age with skin the color of caramel and long, black hair. She held in her hands an arrangement of flowers she'd picked from the garden, likely a gift for someone.

Khol approached and knelt beside his second-cousin. She glanced up at him, gave a friendly smile, but then returned to arranging her flowers. Khol sat in silence for a while, surprised at her apathy. Did she not know who he was? That he was both the prince and her cousin? Either of those seemed like they should be reason for some kind of reaction from her. He looked back at Reon. Reon watched intently, as if silently praying that something would happen.

“Who are the flowers for?” Khol asked.

“Sir Beresh,” said Yamin in a flat voice.

“Who is Sir Beresh?”

“A knight.”

“Ah. Hence the title 'Sir,'” said Khol with a small laugh. Yamin said nothing. “Why are you giving him flowers?”

“As a gift.”

Khol was beginning to get irritated, and wanted to get up and leave. Reon had said this girl did not have many friends because there were no other children her age in the castle. Khol found it far more likely that everyone who tried to strike up a conversation with her simply found themselves dealing with her awful manners. He looked back to Reon again, who still seemed to be anticipating that the two of them would talk and be friends. For his uncle he would attempt conversation with her once again.

“My name is Khol.”

Yamin said nothing in return and did not look at him. All the more infuriating, but Khol kept his temper.

“Can you tell me yours?” Khol asked.

“I can,” said Yamin.

“Will you?”

“No.”

Khol grunted in exasperation. “Why not?”

“You probably already know it. What's the point?”

Khol opened his mouth to speak but found that he could think of no counter to her words. She had effectively cut off his final attempt at starting a conversation. “You're right,” he said, with a hint of anger in his voice. “What's the point in trying to talk with someone who refuses to be sociable?” He was not proud of how much aggression was obvious in his voice, but he couldn't hold it in any longer.

Khol stood and stormed off, kicking the tulips on his way. Vexatious girl! A part of him felt guilty about giving up, given that she was family and all, but he couldn't think of anything he could have done differently there.

Reon looked at Khol with a clearly sunken heart. Khol apologized to him with his eyes, but continued on his way back to the guest-room. He'd been excited to visit family members on the way to Nihilus, but apparently this visit was not meant to go well. With an anti-social cousin as the only kid his own age, and the fact that he barely knew anyone else in this castle, he already hoped the visit would be over soon.

Stewing in his frustration carried Khol all the way to dinner. Everyone in the castle gathered in the grand dining hall, where plates of venison and boiled cabbage were set out before them. Servants poured cups of wine for the adults, and water for the children. Khol and Yamin were not the only children at the table, but all others were far younger than they.

At the head of the table sat the Marquise. Khol had seen his Aunt Nerissa on only one occasion before, so he barely recognized her, until she joined hands with Marquis Reon.

A young man, about fifteen years of age, clad in chain-mail armor entered the dining hall, and no sooner had he walked in than Yamin stood from her chair and ran over to him, holding up her bouquet of flowers. The young man, apparently Sir Beresh, graciously accepted the gift and patted her on the head, which caused her smile to disappear. As far as Khol could tell Sir Beresh must have just been knighted. Certainly Khol had not seen him at the tournaments yet, or even heard of him attending any.

Marquise Nerissa raised her hands to quiet everyone, and all present took their seats. Everyone at the table bowed their heads and closed their eyes as Nerissa said, “Oh, God of Erets, we thank you for bringing us together, for delivering us from our enemies, and for bringing food and wine to this table for us all to share.”

All present said, “Amen,” and started to eat.

From where Khol sat he could hear Yamin whispering to Sir Beresh, but he could not hear a word of it. Yamin seemed far more sociable now, smiling and laughing. She was even making eye contact with others at the table, and not just Sir Beresh.

The conversation, the laughter, and the drinking went on around Khol. He found himself barely able to keep up with the adult conversations. They spoke of everything from politics to humorous anecdotes from their past to theology. All the while, Khol could see his father getting increasingly uncomfortable. Every time an older paladin at the table would talk of his previous battles, every time an initiate would speak of her training as a priestess, every time a courtier spoke of the current state of the empire at large, Tamas got visibly nervous.

Khol couldn't help but wonder why these things bothered his father. Tamas was himself an Agamlite, so the fact that he was an Aeon born in Nihilus shouldn't matter to the paladin, or to the young initiate. Why was he so afraid? Why were his hands shaking? Why was his face turning red? Why was his face now turning purple?

Tamas fell backwards out of his chair and crashed on the floor, a strange clicking noise coming from the back of his throat. The servants and Khol rushed to Tamas' side immediately.

“He's choking!” Nerissa cried. “Someone get the physician! Tell them he's choking!”

Khol knelt next to his father and stared at his face. His father reached out to him with his right hand and grabbed the front of his tunic. He couldn't speak, but he was clearly trying to tell Khol something.

“Sitri...what's he trying to tell me?” Khol said in his head. As usual, Sitri provided him with the answers he sought. “He's not choking!” Khol shouted, just as the physician entered the room. “He's been poisoned! He's not choking!”

“Poison?” Reon repeated.

The physician pushed past Nerissa and two of the knights. “Poisoned?” he repeated as he looked at Tamas. “I think the young prince may be right!”

“Do something!” Khol shouted.

“I need to know what he's been poisoned with,” said the physican as he pulled open Tamas' eye-lids to get a better look at his eyes and forced open his mouth to look at his tongue.

“A combination of nightshade and scathesnake venom,” Khol said. Everyone stared at him as if waiting for him to explain his guess. Now was not the time to tell them that Sitri had told him. “Trust me! Try the antidote for that!” Khol commanded.

“Young sire...” the physician said. “If you've guessed wrong and we apply the wrong antidote he will die. How can you be so certain that you know what poison was used?”

“I am his heir, which means that when he is unable to lead I am in charge,” Khol blurted out. He pointed a finger at the physician. “I order you to give him the antidote for nightshade and scathesnake venom! Now! Hurry!”

“...Yes, sire,” said the physician. He reached into his coat and produced two vials of clear liquids, marked with alchemical symbols. The physician mixed the two together and poured them both down Tamas throat. “His life is in your hands.”

Khol watched as his father stopped shaking. For a moment he wasn't sure if this was a good sign or a bad sign. Then the color in Tamas face returned to normal. Finally, the clicking sound in the back of his throat stopped, and his breathing returned to normal.

Khol smiled widely and gave his father a tight hug. All in the room let out sighs and gasps of relief.

The physician patted Khol on the shoulder. “You'll obviously be a fine emperor some day, but, for what it's worth, I think you'd make a great physician too.”

“Thank you,” said Khol, though he did not take his eyes off of his father for a second.

All he could think about was what his Pa had said to him the other day, “Imagine if you lost someone you loved.” That simple, though terrifying, idea had just become more real to him than he ever imagined it would be.

“How did you know what antidote to use?” asked Nerissa, kneeling next to Khol. “Even the physician couldn't tell what poison Tamas had swallowed.”

Now seemed an alright time to tell them the truth. “Sitri told me,” said Khol.

“Sitri?” Nerissa repeated. Everyone around the dining room exchanged confused glances.

“My Familiar,” said Khol.

“You have a Familiar?” the old paladin at the table asked, his hand clutching the hilt of his sword.

Khol glanced back at his father, who was gesturing for him to be quiet. No. once Khol explained himself everything would be fine. Surely these people would understand that Sitri was a helpful daemon. “Oh, don't worry, he's not like the daemons the Nihilites worshiped in the old days. He doesn't want the destruction of Erets, he just wants to protect and advise me.”

“Advise you to do what?” the paladin asked.

Everyone stared at Khol in silence. Khol shrugged. “Whatever I need. Like right now, he helped me save my Pa's life.”

“Does he speak to you all the time?” Marquise Nerissa asked, stepping away from the boy. “Is he still speaking to you now?”

“Not right now,” said Khol, climbing to his feet. “But often. He's my friend.” When Khol looked at his father again it looked like Tamas had been poisoned all over again. His hands were shaking and he was sweating, as before. Though, thankfully, his face was not turning purple. “Pa?”

“We need to go,” said Tamas. “Back to the room, grab your things.”

“You're leaving?” Nerissa asked.

“Yes. Apparently there is an assassin in your castle, and he means to kill me,” said Tamas. “Specifically me, which is why only my food and drink were poisoned. Either I'll be safe if I leave...or you will when I lure the assassin away.”

“Won't you be more vulnerable to the assassin out in the open?” asked Nerissa. “In here we can protect you.”

“Apparently not. He waited until I was in here, at the table with you, to strike at me.”

“Let me at least send some warriors with you when you leave,” said Reon. “If the assassin has accomplices...”

“I'd rather not risk your warriors,” said Tamas. “Keep them. Protect your family.”

Tamas grabbed Khol by the arm and hurried out of the dining hall with him. He dragged him the whole way back to their guest room, where he began stuffing their belongings back in their bags.

Shamira sat in the room, reading from the sacred scriptures. When they arrived she closed the book and stood from her chair.

“What's going on?” she asked.

“We're getting out of the castle,” said Tamas. “Quick, grab your things.”

“Pa!” Khol protested. “Why are we leaving? Won't we be safer here than on the road?”

“No, Khol! We're not safe here, that much should be obvious.”

“Why would we be better off out in the open?” Khol asked.

Tamas exchanged looks with Khol and Shamira. The look of confusion on the paladin's face told Tamas that she was just as confused about this as Khol was.

“Close the door,” Tamas said.

“Pardon?” Shamira said.

“Close the damn door!”

“Aye, sire!” Shamira closed the door to the bedroom.

Khol pulled on his father's sleeve. “Now will you explain what's going on?”

“The assassin was an Arxian,” said Tamas in a whisper. “An Agalmite, I'm sure of it.”

“Assassin?” Shamira asked, placing a hand on the hilt of her sword. “What assassin?”

“What makes you so sure?” Khol asked.

“Think about the two assassination attempts so far,” Tamas said. “One was directed at you and the other at me. Devout Agalmites have every reason to want us dead. I have the body of a man but the soul of a daemon, and you are my son.”

“But we're Agalmites ourselves,” Khol protested.

“Surely they won't fault you both for the way you were born,” Shamira said.

“Some can't look past the fact that I'm a daemon and Khol is a Nihilite by birth,” said Tamas. “You both know the history between our peoples as well as I do. Probably better. The Nihilites and Arxians have been at war off and on for so long...I've no doubt many Arxians have a hard time trusting a Nihilite as their emperor.”

“Alright...so the Arxians have motive...so what?” said Khol. “What about the Unchained? Or Nihilite fanatics who think this peace is an abomination?”

“They'd want to spill my blood,” said Tamas. “And they would have targeted your mother too. No, the assassin wanted to kill me without spilling my blood, which means that he didn't want daemons coming through the Firmament. A Nihilite would want legions from the Void coming here. Furthermore, a Nihilite assassin would have targeted the Marquise and Marquis.”

Khol dropped the crumpled up ball of clothing in his hand. “Then...the reason why you said you didn't want any of the Marquis' warriors was because...you suspect them?”

“Aye,” said Tamas. “Anyone in this castle could be the poisoner, Khol. Any of the knights, any of the soldiers, any of the servants, even the Marquise and Marquis themselves. That's why we have to leave immediately. Pick up those clothes! Pack your belongings.”