In the Shadows of Dragons, Part 6: How Alliances are Forged
Paving stones long worn from travel gave way to hard packed dirt. A plain lacquered coach made the transition the best it could, it's driver well experienced, but wheels still met the occasional rock and the ground was not flat. Padded velvet cushions kept the sudden lurches and bumps bearable to the men who rode inside the coach where silence ruled.
The quiet suited Nishal. He expected no conversation from his father, and that was almost a relief compared to past trips. In other days, he would have to endure the long journey home with Tulia and Timri, and he wouldn't have been able to indulge himself in his dark and sad thoughts. Sitting with most of his weight on his right hip, Nishal laid his head against the frame of the coach's little window, staring out. His useless arm rested against him, hidden by the sky blue robe's sleeve, but the other played idly with the new necklace that hung from his neck. It was a chain of gold sporting a golden hand clutching a blue stone that turned white, or speckled like clouds, or gray as it was moved, a gift from Layli. Nishal swallowed a small pang. Though everything was said that could be said, it would probably be years before he saw her again, and who knew what would happen in the mean. And he had a place to find for himself. He tried to turn his thoughts to that.
Nishal was left in his silent reverie for a couple more miles before his father cleared his throat. The sound turned Nishal's head to the other man. Bertram lay a book to the side. The two looked at each other for a long moment. “So,” Bertram started, much like he was still searching for what to say, “you passed everything well.”
“Except weapons.” Nishal smirked at his father. “They couldn't find a way to pass me there.”
Bertram shrugged. “Still, well done.” He shifted a bit in his seat.
“Thank you.” Silence fell again. Nishal's eyes drifted back to watching the countryside roll by.
Bertram broke it again. “I sent word ahead to have new rooms set up for you in the south wing. I'm told you like them.”
Regarding his father with an arched brow, Nishal repressed another dry smirk. “The guest rooms catch good breezes in the Fire months.” He thought, perhaps, that Bertram wanted him away from the family, but Layli had said that Nishal might be able to put some trust in his father. His voice was flat with trying to keep suspicion and speculation from it.
“They also have attached rooms for personal servants. You should have a selection to choose from once we get home.” Bertram seemed to be a bit stiff. “I…could also write some letters, get you on where ever you want.”
“I'll think about it.” Nishal could not deny that his father seemed to be making a true effort. Cocking his head to one side, Nishal regarded Bertram with open speculation. The son had a card to play yet, and though he was holding it for now, it might be that he'd play it early if he could keep this up. “What will Tulia say?” He'd resolved never to call that woman 'mother' again unless in public.
Bertram scowled softly. “She won't say anything.”
“I doubt that, highly, despite my new…ally.” Nishal had not actually seen the spirit since it attacked Tulia, but there were times he swore he was being watched, even when he was alone. He had no illusions that the spirit was gone.
“She's with child again, Nishal. Tulia may play loose with herself, but it's desperately important to her and her family that she produce a Dragon Blooded child, and she won't risk that.” Bertram seemed to be studying Nishal right back.
Nishal snorted. “Splendid. The last one turned out so well.”
Bertram scraped his hand through his hair, sighing. “About that…”
“I have Timri to thank for my current state, I know. Layli told me, thinking I would eventually discover the truth.” Nishal paused briefly, enough to cleanse the bitterness from his voice. “I appreciate, though, that you too would tell me the truth.” Next move to Bertram.
“I've decided that my wife needs more work to do, enough that she has no time to raise the child herself.” One corner of Bertram's mouth curled up ruefully. “I learn from my mistakes.”
“Careful, Father. That sounded dangerously close to an apology.” Nishal couldn't resist a bit of needling.
“Take it how you want. I don't see any monks around to lecture.” Before Nishal could press the advantage, Bertram continued. “How would you like to be the main tutor? Would that suit you?”
Both of Nishal's eyebrows shot up in real surprise. “Me? Oh, I doubt Tulia would allow you to go that far. Besides the fact that I just left school, she hates me.”
Shrugging, Bertram replied, “Perhaps, perhaps not. But I'll put it out there, and if she refuses, she'll be more amenable to future tutors I might select. It's really too bad that Helidah died. Timri might have been better.” Nishal heard an implication that caused him to physically start. Helidah had been his own tutor. Forcing himself to settle back, he let it pass without comment, in case he read too much. What game was his father playing?
Nishal searched for his own next move, deciding it was not yet time to show all of his cards. Instead, he found himself smirking at the odd question that came to mind. “I wonder…how is it that you can possibly stand to bed that woman?”
“A soldier does what he has to in the name of duty to the Empire.” The tone of Bertram's voice made Nishal start laughing, and it wasn't long before his father joined him.
As the laughing softened to a chuckle, Nishal made his decision. No, he wouldn't wait until later. He had to play it now. Killing the last of his humor, Nishal dropped his voice, not having to feign hesitancy. “Father, I have something to tell you. I have a very good memory for just about everything, and I was there the day Lada gave birth to her child. I may have been very young, but there is no doubt that I saw her and the child both very much alive, and have my suspicions one or both might still be. Tulia and Helidah lied to you.”
For the first time in Nishal's life, he suddenly had the full and completely undivided attention of his father.