The Sianian Wolf by Y. K. Willemse

Author:Y. K. Willemse [Willemse, Y. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Non-Fiction
Publisher: Burnett Young Books
Published: 2017-12-01T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

The

Mystery of Talmon

“My son is sick,” Talmon said. “He has taken a blow to the head. Sit, Francisco. The physician is coming. Do not be troubled.”

Rafen slumped in the wooden chair and glanced around the banquet hall. It had changed greatly from the times he had shared meals with the Selsons. The Selsons’ table had been removed, likely because the Lashki found its rune carvings offensive. The large black table before Rafen now replaced it. Around him, little square tables with two chairs each substituted the long benches King Robert had used for banquets. Obviously, Talmon and Frankston didn’t entertain much. The windows that once opened onto the gardens now had great, purple curtains drawn over them. The meager sunshine that filtered through created a violet twilight. This, and the unexpected warmth of indoors and beginning spring, made Rafen sleepy. As Rafen had expected, Talmon’s five dogs were grouped in the left corner of the hall. The biggest pit bull, which Talmon called Rikka, was gnawing a blood-stained bone.

Rafen had ridden to the palace with Talmon in silence and growing panic. He had been waiting for Alexander two months, and now he was going to miss him. Talmon had returned his horse to a palace stable and escorted Rafen to the inner wall, where he had commanded a servant to bathe Rafen and help him change immediately. In horror, Rafen begged to be left alone while he bathed and changed. He was terrified the servant would see his lash wounds or his phoenix feather. Talmon complied unwillingly, and after Rafen had dressed himself in fine Tarhian attire, he brought him to the banquet hall.

Anxious over Rafen’s current muteness, Talmon breathed quickly and looked pale. The Tarhian king’s pacing movements before the table were nervous flickers in the purple gloom while he awaited the philosopher.

Rafen didn’t know how to escape this. Erasmus had given him no tutelage that would help in this area. What was Sherwin going to say the next time they met? Rafen could hear his voice already.

“’ey, I thought yer said yer wouldn’t leave me.”

Sherwin knew little about the Woods. He wouldn’t manage without Rafen. Worse still, he had a princeling to care for. Francisco would be very unimpressed at waking up in a tunnel under a tree with no food.

Rafen couldn’t help them dead though. Right now, he had to be the best Francisco he could.

“Where did Asiel take you this afternoon?” Talmon asked, halting. He leaned across the large table.

Rafen tried to look concussed, and prayed to Zion he was convincing. “Out… I don’t remember.”

“What do you mean, you do not remember? Where did he take you?”

“My head hurts,” Rafen moaned in Tarhian, in a perfect imitation of Francisco.

Talmon twitched. “It is all right, my son. The physician is coming.” In an undertone, Talmon added, “I will kill that man. He is late.”

The threat was probably not an idle one. Shaking, Rafen lay back in his chair, thinking about water. Talmon might at least have had the presence of mind to get him that.

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