Ever since arriving in Norterra, Shadri had been eager to talk about everything she had learned in her travels. She pestered everyone from the firewood boy Pokle to Queen Tafira herself with anecdotes and with whatever questions popped into her mind.
Lasis opened the door of the remembrance shrine, and Shadri peered inside. This was one of her favorite places. She had read dozens of volumes and scrolls, studying names and the associated lives, talents, tales, treasures, and descendants. Her eyes were shining when she looked at Tafira. “So many people left so many different stories!”
“Pay attention to the living ones as well, dear girl,” Tafira said as they entered the building. “A person’s legacy should be experienced, not just remembered.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. The books and scrolls around her had a wonderful smell.
Lasis pulled the door closed behind them, and Shadri caught a glimpse of the long scar across his neck. He had told her the story—only because she asked him repeatedly—of how the frostwreth queen had slashed his throat when she grew bored with him as a captive lover, but his Brava magic had kept him alive. Shadri wrote down that story and logged the document into the remembrance shrine.
The young scholar strutted forward, looking at the tables and shelves of books, wondering where she should start today. Once they entered the foyer, Legacier Thooma came to greet them. Upon seeing Shadri, the matronly legacier showed a wary, put-upon expression, as if she had suffered a multitude of the girl’s questions, but she gave a warm and respectful welcome to the queen.
Tafira rested a hand on Shadri’s shoulder. “My personal legacier has done great work chronicling the story of the recent attack on Lake Bakal. She has acknowledged the generous assistance your people gave her.”
Legacier Thooma responded with a pinched smile. “Of course, my queen. I tasked two of my junior legaciers with fetching any documents she requests.” She sighed. “It must be quite an exhaustive history she is writing.”
“It’s our legacy.” Shadri felt defensive. “We need to share it, fill the archives with details and supporting documentation on all the vassal lords, the soldiers, and their families. Everyone in the Commonwealth has to remember the people who fought at Lake Bakal, and the people who died there.”
Lasis stiffened. “They deserve to be remembered.”
The queen’s expression fell. “Often I come here by myself so I can reflect on my life and the legacy I leave. I consider the turmoil I’ve endured and the love I have experienced to counterbalance the pain.”
Shadri’s words came out in a rush. “Can I write more of your story, my lady? Everything you remember about your home village, the local godling, and what happened when the Commonwealth army came?” She imagined telling a romantic tale. “And how your beloved Kollanan swept you away?”
A fleeting smile touched the corners of Tafira’s lips, before her expression shifted. “It was not an entirely joyous tale, dear girl. Perhaps not all of the details need to be remembered.”
Sunlight streamed through the many-paned windows, illuminating the main reading room beyond the first line of shelves. Tables were covered with old volumes, some open for reading, others stacked. Shelves along the walls held books organized by family name and by year. Helpful legaciers moved about assisting patrons who came to remember lost loved ones, history students, solicitors researching property disputes, young couples studying their genealogy in preparation for marriage.
As they followed Thooma into the reading room, they saw the group of Commonwealth escort soldiers at one table, still wearing their capes and doublets with the open hand of the Commonwealth. Thick leather-bound books were spread out on the table, but Shadri doubted the men had been researching long-lost uncles.
When Captain Rondo looked up and saw the queen, his expression tightened. He offered a stiff nod, the briefest gesture of respect. “Queen Tafira.”
“I did not know history was one of your interests, Captain.”
“As the people say, each day brings a new surprise. My men had a surprise today, as well. King Kollanan asked us to remain in Norterra, even though the konag has been murdered and the three kingdoms must prepare for war.”
“The king asked you to remain behind while he traveled south to Suderra to meet King Adan,” Tafira said. “We are glad for your added strength to help protect Norterra, if anything should happen while my husband is gone.”
The guard captain looked away, frowning.
Shadri spoke up. “Scouts say that many roads are impassable due to the eruption of Mount Vada.”
“And yet, the courier made it through, with his news of Conndur’s murder.” Rondo reached across the table and pulled a large volume toward him, which displayed a map of the Commonwealth. “The high route should still be open, far north of Mount Vada, although the snows will close it soon.” He closed the book. “But we will stay, as King Kollanan commanded. I hope he is not gone too long.” Resentment roughened his voice. “While my men and I wait, we intend to gather information that may help the Commonwealth. We will add it to the report the king sends to Convera.” Two of his soldiers perfunctorily looked down at the books in front of them.
Shadri took quick interest. “And what information is that? Can I help?”
Rondo looked at her and did not seem to know who she was. “We search for evidence of any other Isharans who might be in this land. They could be spies or saboteurs. The konag must know.” He looked down at the book in front of him. “Norterra is safe and far from Ishara, and thus it would be a good place for the enemy to hide. There may be spies.”
“Oh, I doubt you’d find Isharans here,” Shadri said, matter-of-fact. “I haven’t seen any.”
Other soldiers distractedly traced the patterns on the pages, avoiding Tafira’s gaze. The queen remained proud, her eyes bright. Her long dark hair was bound in distinctive, colorful scarves that made her stand out, made her look foreign.
Rondo said, “I can’t even sleep at night, knowing what the Isharan animals did to our beloved Conndur. Cutting him to pieces!”
“His bonded Brava should have protected him,” Lasis interjected, as if to shift the focus of their ire. “Utho failed in his most important duty.”
Shadri knew the terrible things Utho had done to Elliel, as did Lasis. But the soldiers were not distracted by the Brava’s comments. Shadri sensed anger and unease rippling from the Commonwealth soldiers like heated air from a stoked fireplace.
Rondo said, “Even a Brava can’t defend against outright betrayal. Konag Conndur was wrong to trust any Isharan.”
One of the other soldiers, Sergeant Headan, muttered, “Isharans aren’t human like the rest of us. They don’t understand the same pain or the same loyalty.”
It was clear even to Shadri, who often didn’t notice such things, that his sharp tone was directed toward Queen Tafira, whose exotic garb, dusky skin, and large brown eyes were distinctly Isharan.
Bristling at the comment, Lasis placed a hand on the pommel of his sword and tossed back his black cape to give him more freedom of movement. The Commonwealth soldiers shifted and several stood, ready to assume fighting positions.
But Tafira raised her hand. “What you say may be true about some Isharans, Captain.” She looked at him until he turned away. “When I was just a girl, my stepmother hated me, because my father had gotten a farm girl pregnant. He accepted me and loved me as his daughter, but she cast me out of the house the day after he died.