face gleamed with pride of his handiworks.
The women needed no further enticement; they picked up the confections and consumed them without restraint.
* * *
A s the years elapsed, Gilvius had become an infrequent visitor to the library, but one of his sons replaced his indifference with an equally passionate interest, so it would have drawn little notice from anyone when Gervest walked to the library doors and pushed them open. Penlaris was perched high on the second level and held a thick book in his hand. He placed the book between others on the shelf in front of him and proceeded to the stairway. Gervest watched without emotion while Penlaris descended the curved staircase.
“I’m curious,” said Penlaris. “Had you decided on your reading material before you entered this room?”
“I was under the impression that was your prerogative,” Gervest replied.
Penlaris came to a stop at the far end of the table.
“Perhaps, but the question remains,” said Penlaris. “What did you hope to learn today?”
Gervest slowly paced the room and brought his hand to the back of his neck. He rubbed lightly as he considered his answer. Penlaris had taught him much over the years, and one of the skills he was to master was deception. The question was a test—would he be able direct Penlaris to choose the subject matter Gervest most desired?
“I trust in your sound judgment in this matter,” said Gervest. “I’m sure I will learn more by respecting your guidance than if I just blundered through the material unfocused.”
“Disingenuous flattery is but a single tool,” began Penlaris. “It fails when used improperly or when attempted with the wrong subject. You knew I was aware of your desire to learn more about the blackened stones; however, you failed to assess that vanity is not among my vulnerabilities. You must first look deep inside yourself and relish in your own weaknesses and desires before you can manipulate others.”
Gervest cringed at the words Penlaris spoke and turned away, feigning interest in the rows of books. His reaction caused Penlaris to reach under his cloak and withdraw a black stone, marked with green and red veining. He placed his thumb into the indentation of the stone, and as with all the blackened stones, a small raised point in the center drew blood—causing the veining of the stone to glow, ever so faintly.
“Do you feel the power flowing through you when you use your most base desires?”
“Yes,” snarled Gervest.
With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath and birthed a satisfied look of confidence on his face on reopening them—having not noticed how close Penlaris now stood. Penlaris hid the stone once again under his cloak and approached Gervest from his side; he placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You will make an excellent sovereign someday.”
“Someday soon,” said Gervest. He spoke with great sureness, still intoxicated with the feeling of power that Penlaris had implanted into him.
Penlaris crossed behind Gervest and swept his hand across his back. On reaching his other side, he leaned in closer.
“Patience . . . you have much to learn yet, and the people are not near ready to accept a new sovereign,” said Penlaris. “When your time arrives, our rule will be unquestioned, and unchallenged.”
Chapter Six
SECRETS REVEALED
––––––––
Four months—‘till present day
––––––––
T HE SERENITY OF AVILEEN FOREST was shattered when three horses, riding close together, hurtled along a wide path that ran beside a slow moving river. The animals’ hooves ripped into the well-worn trail, and the riders’ cloaks flapped behind them. The lead was maintained by two skillful horsemen, who snatched rapid glances behind them—while they worked together to deny the third rider, Loran, any opportunity to pass them. Rolam and Gervest laughed with each unsuccessful attempt by Loran to squeeze by.
Loran slowed, broke off from their heading, and
The women needed no further enticement; they picked up the confections and consumed them without restraint.
* * *
A s the years elapsed, Gilvius had become an infrequent visitor to the library, but one of his sons replaced his indifference with an equally passionate interest, so it would have drawn little notice from anyone when Gervest walked to the library doors and pushed them open. Penlaris was perched high on the second level and held a thick book in his hand. He placed the book between others on the shelf in front of him and proceeded to the stairway. Gervest watched without emotion while Penlaris descended the curved staircase.
“I’m curious,” said Penlaris. “Had you decided on your reading material before you entered this room?”
“I was under the impression that was your prerogative,” Gervest replied.
Penlaris came to a stop at the far end of the table.
“Perhaps, but the question remains,” said Penlaris. “What did you hope to learn today?”
Gervest slowly paced the room and brought his hand to the back of his neck. He rubbed lightly as he considered his answer. Penlaris had taught him much over the years, and one of the skills he was to master was deception. The question was a test—would he be able direct Penlaris to choose the subject matter Gervest most desired?
“I trust in your sound judgment in this matter,” said Gervest. “I’m sure I will learn more by respecting your guidance than if I just blundered through the material unfocused.”
“Disingenuous flattery is but a single tool,” began Penlaris. “It fails when used improperly or when attempted with the wrong subject. You knew I was aware of your desire to learn more about the blackened stones; however, you failed to assess that vanity is not among my vulnerabilities. You must first look deep inside yourself and relish in your own weaknesses and desires before you can manipulate others.”
Gervest cringed at the words Penlaris spoke and turned away, feigning interest in the rows of books. His reaction caused Penlaris to reach under his cloak and withdraw a black stone, marked with green and red veining. He placed his thumb into the indentation of the stone, and as with all the blackened stones, a small raised point in the center drew blood—causing the veining of the stone to glow, ever so faintly.
“Do you feel the power flowing through you when you use your most base desires?”
“Yes,” snarled Gervest.
With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath and birthed a satisfied look of confidence on his face on reopening them—having not noticed how close Penlaris now stood. Penlaris hid the stone once again under his cloak and approached Gervest from his side; he placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You will make an excellent sovereign someday.”
“Someday soon,” said Gervest. He spoke with great sureness, still intoxicated with the feeling of power that Penlaris had implanted into him.
Penlaris crossed behind Gervest and swept his hand across his back. On reaching his other side, he leaned in closer.
“Patience . . . you have much to learn yet, and the people are not near ready to accept a new sovereign,” said Penlaris. “When your time arrives, our rule will be unquestioned, and unchallenged.”
Chapter Six
SECRETS REVEALED
––––––––
Four months—‘till present day
––––––––
T HE SERENITY OF AVILEEN FOREST was shattered when three horses, riding close together, hurtled along a wide path that ran beside a slow moving river. The animals’ hooves ripped into the well-worn trail, and the riders’ cloaks flapped behind them. The lead was maintained by two skillful horsemen, who snatched rapid glances behind them—while they worked together to deny the third rider, Loran, any opportunity to pass them. Rolam and Gervest laughed with each unsuccessful attempt by Loran to squeeze by.
Loran slowed, broke off from their heading, and
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