The next day, the queen reluctantly authorized an outing into the lower city, "under reinforced escort." Calen insisted on being part of it. It was obvious everyone was skeptical about letting a potential threat stay at the princess's side. But with Calen's protection, nothing should happen to her. And the queen had always had trouble refusing her daughter's whims.
The main street running down from the palace toward the merchant quarters was lined with tall houses whose façades were adorned with wrought-iron balconies. Between the rooftops rose chimneys that spat gray smoke. From time to time, a steam carriage bristling with pipes and pistons rattled past, forcing people to step aside.
Naye took everything in with wide eyes.
"Why is it blowing?" he asked, pointing at a pipe that exhaled a puff of white steam.
"Because some inventors decided we needed to make more noise to move around," Calen answered, a bit dryly.
Eleanor snickered.
Naye seemed fascinated by the strange means of transport. At least on that point, he wasn't any different from other children, Calen thought, amused.
Farther down, the market was an explosion of colors. Rows of stalls sold fruit, vegetables, bread, fabrics, tools, little brass trinkets, supposedly blessed amulets. Small crystal spheres filled with shards of light shone on some counters: miniature street lamps powered by gas and a few simple runes.
Naye stopped in front of a fruit stall. Red apples, golden pears, exotic fruit from the southern coasts formed carefully arranged heaps.
Without thinking, he reached out, picked up an apple, examined it, then bit into it.
The merchant turned around.
"HEY!" he shouted. "You think that's free, kid?!"
Calen felt a knot form in his stomach.
"By all the gods…"
He hurried over. Eleanor, meanwhile, seemed to find the scene highly entertaining.
Naye looked at the merchant, genuinely puzzled.
"There were many," he said, pointing at the pile. "I took one. You still have some. Why are you angry?"
The merchant stammered, thrown off by the question. Calen was hit by a wave of embarrassment watching the exchange.
"Because you have to pay! This is my… my work! You give money, and then you eat!"
Calen laid a hand on the man's shoulder and handed him a few coins.
"I'll pay for him," he said. "He doesn't understand how it works yet."
The merchant calmed down immediately, his eye drawn to the gleam of silver.
"Oh, if it's you, Captain… no trouble then. But teach him quickly, eh?"
Calen sighed.
"I'm working on it."
They walked away. Eleanor wouldn't stop laughing.
"You can't just take whatever you want, Naye!" she told him. "Even if you're right and he still had plenty."
"So… if someone has a lot of things, we can take a little?" Naye asked.
"No," Calen said.
"But—"
"That's how it is," he cut in. "Sometimes the rules are stupid, but if you ignore them, you end up in prison."
Naye seemed to think about that.
When they came back to the palace, the sky was starting to cloud over. Heavy clouds gathered above the towers, and the light turned pale.
In front of the great doors, a small group of guards and servants had assembled. At the center stood a distinct figure.
The servants gathered near the entrance stepped aside almost without realizing it. You didn't cross paths with the Master of Arcana every day—some bowed their heads, others discreetly made a sign of warding, like one does before an altar.
An old man in a violet robe trimmed with golden filigree. His white beard fell in two thin braids held by rings. Faint symbols shimmered on the dark wood of his staff, as if they held back their own light.
The Master of Arcana, Damius Valneor.
Calen straightened at once.
"Master," he greeted, inclining his head.
"Captain," the old man replied. "Her Majesty has told me about… the child."
"Yes. We have a great many things to discuss with the council tonight," Calen answered.
As they entered the palace, Eleanor introduced the stranger with barely contained pride:
"Naye, this is the Master of Arcana. He's the greatest mage in the kingdom. He knows lots of things about history and the world. He also knows tons of spells and promised that one day he'd teach me magic."
"I think I'd like to learn magic too," Naye said thoughtfully.
The small council room was in an older wing of the palace. The woodwork there was darker, the tables more massive, the carpets a bit worn.
The queen was already there, standing by the window, when Calen entered with Damius.
"Well?" she asked bluntly.
The Master of Arcana set his staff against the wall, took the time to smooth a fold from his sleeve, then spoke.
"He is not a child from here, Your Majesty."
His voice was calm.
"Not from here… from the kingdom?" the queen asked.
"Not from here," Damius repeated. "Not from this world."
Silence fell.
The queen folded her arms.
"Is he… dangerous?"
"Potentially, yes. But not right now. He is… broken. Or unfinished. His memory is a field of ruins. His essence… barely holds together. He has neither the knowledge nor the reflexes to be a conscious threat."
He paused, searching for the right words.
"But what he is, Your Majesty, has nothing to do with our mages, our priests, nor even those above."
Calen felt a shiver run up his spine.
The queen closed her eyes for a moment.
"So we have a child who is not truly a child, born of a somewhere else even the gods do not claim, and he sleeps a few corridors away from my daughter," she summed up.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Damius said. "But he is also the being who saved her life. And for now… she is the only fixed point he seems to have."
Calen spoke up.
"So what do we do?" he asked. "Keep him? Hand him over to the temples? Send him away?"
The queen hesitated. To Calen, it was madness to leave a potential threat at his princess's side. But on the other hand, this boy had saved her life, and Eleanor already seemed attached to him.
"We keep him," the queen replied after several moments of reflection. "Here. Under watch. And we say nothing for now. To the rest of the kingdom, he is just an orphan with no memories. If he becomes a threat, we'll decide then."
She turned to Calen.
"You continue to watch over Eleanor. Over him as well, now. I want to know what he becomes. And if he changes."
Calen inclined his head.
"As you command, Your Majesty."
Now that this problem was resolved for the moment, the queen addressed the great mage:
"Damius, what is the situation on the northern front?"
"Not good, Your Majesty," he said. "Kaldoran has the support of the Temples of Auréon and Calyth. We are struggling to contain their advance, and the High Pontiff of Solarys still refuses to grant us his support or that of the DawnBound."
The queen seemed to ponder this. Lacking the temple's support dealt a huge blow to the kingdom's position. After the declaration of war, it was the only cult that had not deserted the country to swear allegiance to Kaldoran or to flee elsewhere. And yet it still remained neutral.
"Take a battalion of guard mages with you. You'll form an elite unit to deploy on the fronts where the situation is most desperate, to hold back the enemy advance."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
"That's not a problem for you, Calen?" the queen asked.
"No, Your Majesty. I have more than enough men with me to defend the capital," Calen assured her.
In the room he'd been given, Naye was sitting on the edge of the bed, feet not reaching the floor. Eleanor sat cross-legged beside him, a plate between them.
They were picking at a tray of pastries brought up from the kitchens. Well… Eleanor was picking. Naye, on the other hand, looked at each pastry as if he were evaluating an experiment.
"That one looks sad," he said, pointing at a squashed little biscuit on the edge of the plate.
"It's just because they messed it up," Eleanor answered. "You can eat it anyway."
He took it, brought it to his mouth, and chewed slowly.
"It's… sweet," he observed.
"That's the point."
They ate in silence for a while. Then Eleanor spoke, her mouth still half full.
"You know, soon, I might be able to go to the Academy."
"The Academy?" Naye repeated.
"Yes. The place where you learn lots of things. Magic, sciences, steam stuff, everything. Father wanted me to wait a little longer, but now that he's at the front… Mother prefers that I be far from the tensions of the capital."
She shrugged with a pragmatism surprisingly mature for her age.
"And you?" she asked. "Would you like to learn things?"
Naye stared at an invisible point in front of him.
"I've already forgotten everything," he said. "So… learning is… all that's left, isn't it?"
She thought about that sentence longer than she would have expected.
"If I go, would you want to come?" she asked.
He turned toward her with a look that, for once, held something simple.
"If you go, I'll go too," he replied. "Otherwise… I wouldn't know where to go."
She smiled, satisfied with that answer.
"Then it's decided," she said. "One day, we'll go to the Academy together. And we'll see who learns the fastest."
"Probably me," Naye said, very confident in this declaration.
"We'll see," she shot back, stung.
Out in the corridor, leaning against the wall near the half-open door, Calen was listening.
The children's voices slipped through the gap. He didn't understand everything they said, but the tone was enough. Laughter. Dreams about things too big for them, described with words too small.
He folded his arms, his gaze lost on the carpet.
A child who wasn't really one. A princess already growing attached to him, without knowing. Gods turning away, or watching in silence. And him, stuck in the middle, with only that old promise he had made to himself:
To protect.
Whatever they were.Whatever it cost.
He straightened eventually, cast one last glance at the door, then walked away down the corridor, while behind him, Eleanor's laughter and Naye's quiet voice continued to fill the room.