Pawn of the Planewalker by Ron Collins

Author:Ron Collins
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Sword & Sorcery, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Horror, Coming of Age, Epic, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
ISBN: 0692354417
Publisher: Skyfox Publishing
Published: 2015-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“With all due respect, Lord Ellesadil,” Darien said. “Garrick has gone missing and you’re seriously considering the idea of granting a conference to the High Superior of the Koradictine order?”

Ellesadil, Lord of Dorfort, looked up from his desk with his quill in mid-air. The letter he had been composing—a response to the Koradictine proposal received earlier that morning—was unfinished on the desk top. A large opal gleamed from one finger, and a gold ring with the seal of the city embossed upon it glittered from another. Ellesadil was just past the midpoint of his life, yet his body was still trim, his hair just now streaking gray, and his eyes still full of youthful energy. He wore a white silk shirt from the southern marshlands that made his skin appear even more hale.

“How is your father, Darien?”

“Sir?”

Ellesadil put the quill down.

“Your father. I asked how he’s doing.”

Darien paused. “He won’t eat. I fear we’re seeing his last, Lord. The physician is with him daily, though.”

“I’ll stop by to see him.”

“I’m sure he would honored, sir.”

Ellesadil nodded.

“Again, though, Lord. You can’t think that the appearance of the Koradictine request coming at this most inopportune of moments is pure coincidence.”

“You suspect they are linked?”

Darien knit his brow and leaned forward, both palms on Ellesadil’s desk. “Ettril Dor-Entfar is our enemy. Certainly the timing of this smells of deceit. I can’t believe the two are mere coincidence.”

“And, yet, I see no reason to believe they are linked. Garrick is not known for his stability, after all,” Ellesadil said in an even voice. “I have every reason to believe he left of his own accord. And, let’s be clear of one more thing. The Koradictine order is an enemy of the Torean Freeborn, not the people of Dorfort. We fought alongside you because it was the right thing to do, but now that your skirmish has been settled, I have no specific qualm with Ettril, nor do I consider what’s left of the Koradictine order to be a threat.”

“I understand your position, Lord,” Darien said. “But I think you’re being too simplistic. Many of our families lost members during the mage war. Meeting with Ettril will provide them the wrong message.”

“That depends on what is said.”

Darien straightened with a bit too much flash. Papers flew from the desk in his wake as he turned toward the window.

“What are you trying to accomplish?” he said.

“Before I answer that, Darien, I suggest you take a moment to calm yourself.”

Darien flushed, glancing out the window and down to the city. He remembered when the manor was built—a time when he was just a boy. Ellesadil had ordered the designers to change the direction of the window away from a view of the bay, as they had originally designed, and into a view of the city.

“Better to understand the people than the lake,” the lord had said at the time.

Darien had admired that about Ellesadil.

Even Ellesadil’s simplistic naming of his manor as the government center spoke of his role as a manager rather than a king, or other maker of absolute law.

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