Silver threads, p.1
Silver Threads, page 1
Silver
Threads
Short companion Stories to the
Sword of Cho Nisi Saga
D.L. Gardner
Table of Contents
Title Page
Silver Threads (Sword of Cho Nisi)
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Further Reading: Rise of the Tobian Princess
Also By D.L. Gardner
About the Author
Silver Threads
Short companion Stories to the
Sword of Cho Nisi Saga
This story is the sole work of
D. L. Gardner.
No portion may be copied or used in any form without the consent of the author except for small portions in a review.
@ 2021 D. L. Gardner
Information may be obtained by contacting
Dianne L Gardner at gardnersart.com
All characters are fictitious and any resemblance to any place or person is purely coincidental.
More works by the author as well as video and audio are listed on the author’s website. https://gardnersart.com
Cover design Mario Teodosio
marioteodosioart.com
Other images fall under the Pixabay license
https://pixabay.com/service/license/
Time and Again
A short story about King Tobias as a young king and father.
Can be read before Rise of the Tobian Princess
TOBIAS CHUCKLED AND scratched his beard after he jumped aside, avoiding his seven-year-old son’s wooden sword. Young Barin had thrown his entire body into the thrust and landed face first in the dirt. Before Tobias could offer words of encouragement or give him a hand, the boy sprung to his feet and bounced back, knocking his club into his father’s shins.
“Whoa there, son,” he laughed.
“You’re down. I got you!” Barin cried out, spitting a dirt clump out of his mouth and wiping the gravel off his cheeks. “A man can’t stand with broken kneecaps!”
“That you did!” Tobias knew better than to ruffle the boy’s locks lest he take offence. “Since you’ve got me down, let’s call it a day. Enough sparring. The sun is near its zenith and we promised your sisters we’d have lunch with them.”
“Another hour?” Barin asked.
“No,” Tobias answered, dusting his clothes with a sweep of his hands, and wiping his receding hairline with a kerchief. “Sylvia’s going to want to wash you up before we dine, and I have words to speak with your mother.”
“You should have at least fallen, Vasil, as an honorable knight!”
“Perhaps as a knight, but as a king I’m required to remain standing.” He gave his son a broad smile. The boy’s lips parted in a grin. He laughed and bowed. Tobias tucked his kerchief in his doublet pocket, returned the bow, took his son’s hand, and the two walked through the grass toward the castle.
What a refreshing spring day, he thought as Barin broke away across the meadow, jumped the creek, and bounced ahead to greet his mother. Diantha and the four-year-old twins, Rhea and Olinda, had come to the rose garden to meet them. Nestled in among the yellow and white blooms, his wife’s contour sent a tingle up his spine. How fortunate he’d been these last ten years to have such a beautiful family, and now yet another child on his way—at least he hoped for another boy. A younger son would enrich his family, give Barin a brother to mentor, and make the Tobian kingdom’s legacy complete. The eldest son a warrior, the youngest a scholar.
Tobias was approaching fifty, yet he hadn’t lost his strength or his energy and considered himself in his prime. After marrying a woman fourteen years younger—a striking red-haired beauty from the horse country of Kolada, he considered himself the luckiest man in the world. Their wedding eleven years ago delighted the whole of Prasa Potama, and the people still celebrated their anniversary with feasts and parades at the port of entry. Her parents had named Diantha well, Flower of the Gods. So perfect was she in her grace and beauty that Tobias once thought to hire an artist to create a statue of her likeness to stand in the halls of the castle with the other marble deities. Diantha refused, and the subject caused friction between the two. Tobias never mentioned it again.
Look at her! He thought even now as he drew closer to the piazza. She is the most beautiful creature on earth. How could she not be immortalized?
She greeted him with open arms, and he kissed her, gently placing a hand on her belly.
“The baby will be here soon,” Diantha said. “I can feel it move into place.”
Tobias frowned, concerned.
“How soon?”
“Maybe tonight, maybe in the morning,”
He wasn’t expecting the birthing for another two weeks. He had summoned accoucheuses from Norbury, a port town similar to Prasa Potama, yet its major trade was education, housing the Academe of Potama, as well as its most notable temples. Physicians and midwives studied there, and when Tobias asked for the best, they promised him only the most educated. Travel from Norbury would take three days there and back. Should he send a runner tonight, they wouldn’t return in time if Diantha went into labor so soon.
“That wasn’t the plan,” he argued. “Can’t you wait, I mean—”
She laughed at him, and her fingers on his cheek gave him chills. Even after ten years, her touch excited him. How many more children would they make? Perhaps the world would know the Tobian kingdom for its countless offspring!
“Tobias, when the baby wants to see us, there will be no delaying his arrival.”
“I will send someone immediately. They’ll take my fastest horse!” He scooped up his twin daughters and carried them to the castle, kissing each one on their cheeks. Their silky blond curls bounced on their shoulders as they wrapped their arms around his neck. “We must make plans for your baby brother!” he whispered to them as he hurried inside and flagged the valet that stood by the door. “I need a rider to Norbury on the fastest steed we have.”
The man saluted. Every servant on staff knew the routine, this being Diantha’s fourth child. They were also aware of the danger, as she had almost died giving birth to the twins.
“Vasil,” Sylvia, his wife’s personal servant, stood by the door with Barin, curtsied, and took Rhea from his arms. “I know of a midwife in Prasa Potama. She’s not as highly educated, but she’s delivered many babies should we have need.”
“Yes. Yes, you have my permission to send for her. Send for as many midwives as you can! Bring them all!”
The petite dark-haired maid smiled and nodded, and when Tobias set Olinda on the floor next to them, the maid exited the hall with the children.
The sound of marching footsteps interrupted them. A group of soldiers swung through the doors and approached, stealing his attention. The odor of horse and dust violated the fragrance of the garden with their entry. Their faces expressed weariness and concern, as if they had traveled a long distance to find him. A wind of urgency preceded them, and Tobias turned sharply to meet them.
“What is this?” he asked, his voice rougher than he had meant it to be. Diantha took his hand. She wore a kind smile but winced once and held her belly. When he drew in an anxious breath and looked at her, she merely shook her head and smiled again. It wasn’t time, not yet.
“Why the interruption?” he asked the soldiers.
“Vasil, a moment of your time? There are people at the northeastern gate asking for entry.”
“People? Who? Where are they from? Why come all the way here to tell me? Why didn’t you just give them entry?”
“They are refugees from Casdamia.”
“Refugees?”
Diantha placed her hand on his arm and whispered in his ear. “I’ll be in our chamber. Take care of this.”
He didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t want her out of his sight. She had had trouble delivering the twins, and though no one expected this to be a multiple birth, he needed to be with her for support. The soldiers bowed, and she nodded to them before she took her exit.
“The emperor Bahldi has been assassinated,” the lead soldier told him as soon as the door closed.
“Bahldi assassinated?” He gasped. The legendary Bahldi, emperor of the richest empire in the world, had ruled with an iron fist for more years than Tobias had been king of Potamia. Their nations wavered between peace and war for centuries. Always alert to the Casdamian’s imperialism, neither Tobias nor his father trusted the man.
“There’s been an insurrection in the empire. These immigrants who have come begging for entry haven’t given us any details, but we have suspicions that they might have been involved. We need your word on the matter.”
“How many people?”
“Our guess is a couple of hundred. There are women and children, Vasil. They claim that they cannot return to their homes.”
“Where else would they go if not here?” Tobias asked.
The soldier shook his head. “They answer very few questions. When we refused them entry, they demanded to speak to you.”
“Are they armed? Are there soldiers with them?”
“There are no soldiers that we know of, but we’ve seen Casdamian military weapons on some individuals.”
Two hundred refugees at his gate and his wife was home giving birth! Were these people immigrating at any other time, their passage would be a simple matter, but with an assassination and an insurrection in a neighboring empire, especially one so powerful as Casdamia, allowing amnesty could cause a war.
“What’s your name, soldier?”
&n bsp; “Blakely from Fairmont, Vasil.”
“Blakely, I’ll ride with you,” he said, hesitantly, flagging another valet. “Tell my wife I will be with her as soon as I return.”
HE RODE ALONGSIDE THE soldiers and the flag bearer, the red and gold banner of Potamia beating with the wind as their horses rumbled over the dirt road at a steady canter. With torn thoughts between the foreigners at the border and his wife’s condition, Tobias weighed the possibilities.
My commitment is to the kingdom but how can I allow my family to suffer? If Diantha has trouble giving birth and I’m not there—. I cannot even imagine not being there!
He regarded the men he rode with, their set jaws, the sweat and dust collecting on their tired bodies, yet they rode with resolve. They have families and still they are loyal servants. As their king, I should be more dedicated than they.
Sylvia would call the midwives from Prasa Potama, and all would be well. He shouldn’t worry so. He’d come home to a baby boy.
The gate lay at the edge of the plains before the eastern hillside of Prasa Potama’s boundary—a wall that tapered into limestone cliffs and jagged ridges impassible by any other way. A long day’s ride from the castle, the road itself was rough with fissures and gullies, hard on horses and carts even at the crest of the buttes. Steep switchbacks hindered their descent, making travel slow.
Twilight fell on them much sooner than Tobias would have liked, and as he rode with his men through the gorge, he thought of his wife, and whispered prayers to his gods that they would watch over her.
Torches had already been lit by the time they reached the portcullis. The sentries who guarded the entry greeted him with the customary two-fisted salute on their chest and a slight bow. He slid off his horse and strolled to the portcullis where he surveyed the scene on the other side of the iron bars. The foreigners had erected a campsite, made fires, and went about their business as if they were nomads accustomed to the way of life of a vagabond. They wore Casdamia garb of wool cloaks and knee-high boots, visiting with one another, preparing meals. There were women and children around the campfires—little boys like Barin and girls like Rhea and Olinda who wore soiled linen tunics and leather sandals wrapped around their feet, rope for belts tied at their waists, their hair askew from playing in the dirt, faces unwashed from lack of water. Others wore finer clothing. One woman he noticed wore the garb of a Casdamian noblewoman, a blue silk cloak, dyed from indigotin, a plant rare in Potamia, for his kingdom lacked the damp climate of the more tropical regions in far eastern Casdamia. Only their nobles would be so fortunate to afford such a hue. This woman must be wealthy. He wondered if there were more of her family here.
Covered carts encircled their encampment, and the sound of lyre mixed with the crackling of the fires.
“They seem to be well-prepared for their trip,” Tobias whispered to a soldier. “As if they knew they were going to be fleeing.”
“It appears so.”
“What’s your name, soldier?”
“Captain Murphy, Vasil, from Norbury.”
“From Norbury, is it? An officer. Are you educated?”
“In a respect, I attended the academy for a short while.”
“So, you are a critical thinker, I would presume.”
The man smiled. He had dark eyes, a firm jawline, and wore his uniform proudly.
“One must weigh all evidence in order to come up with a reasonable conclusion, sir, if that’s what you mean.”
“It is. So, tell me, you’ve been here all day. What do you make of these people?”
The captain inhaled and hesitated. “I don’t wish to condemn them, Vasil. But considering the distance they’ve traveled, and the healthy condition they all seem to be in, it seems to me they knew they were going to be on the road a long time and they’re thus prepared.”
“My thoughts, exactly,” Tobias agreed. “Do they have a leader?”
“They do. There are three men that speak for the company.”
“Bring them to the gate.”
Murphy bowed and nodded for two soldiers to accompany him into the refugee’s camp. They slipped through the gate, creating a strong military entrance among the people, their armor flashing the red of firelight, their capes tucked behind their sheaths as their hands rested on the hilt of their swords. Tobias watched them walk to a tent lit by lantern light. Three men met them. To Tobias’ surprise, one man wore black Casdamian spaulder besides his heavy wool gambeson. He wore belts across his shoulder and around his waist hung the same weapons Tobias had seen on Casdamian soldiers. After speaking briefly, the men followed Murphy back to the gate.
For safety, Tobias remained behind the iron bars of the portcullis, surprised that the men bowed when they addressed him.
“King Tobias.” The man with the weapons spoke. “What a joy to meet you at last.”
“Who am I speaking with?” Tobias asked, his voice quiet.
“Elwin, nephew of the late emperor,” the man said. When light from Murphy’s torch shone on his face, Tobias saw Elwin was ten years his elder, at least. A curly silver beard decked his chin and hid his mouth, wrinkles clawed at his dark eyes and creviced his brow, but he had a sparkle that spoke of deviance and it worried Tobias.
Nephew, eh?
“And this is my son, and his friend.” Elwin did not give their names, and Tobias didn’t ask. They bowed. Two zealous youth in Tobias’ eyes.
“And why have all these people come to Prasa Potama?”
“We seek refuge. There’s been an insurrection in our homeland, and the empire has fallen into chaos. Our emperor is dead.”
“I’ve been told. How did he die?”
“Murdered. Rebels breached his palace and slew him.”
Tobias raised his chin and studied the men. They were strong, all of them, even the older one—broad chested and well built. “And why are you not fighting for the emperor’s family?”
“We worry for our own families.” Elwin’s son said. “The rebels are tearing the city apart and killing those who claim support of the emperor.”
“And you want me to offer my kingdom as your sanctuary?” Tobias asked. “How do I know you’re not part of the rebellion?”
The man spread open his arms and turned to the campsite behind him. “Look at us! Why would we cause you harm and risk the safety of our families?” He turned back to him, smiling. But to Tobias, the smile seemed insincere. If the man were lying, it would not be the first time warriors had hidden behind the innocent. “You have our word. We only seek to live a quiet life within your borders.”
“And where would you go if I refuse?”
Elwin’s eyes grew wide, and he looked at his son and their companion as if the notion had never crossed his mind. He bowed again to Tobias.
“Surely a great king like yourself wouldn’t turn a humble company of refugees away. We would be worthy of your kingdom, Vasil. All of us are tradespeople, workers. We’d be an asset for you.”
Tobias grunted, turned his back on them, and walked away, nodding for Murphy to follow him up the stony trail that led through his own soldier’s camp. Torches burned in among the boulders where the Potamian guard had their own tents pitched. He passed them and walked up the slate pathway until he had a bird’s-eye view of the foreign encampment and sat on a rock overlooking them, hidden in the shadows. Captain Murphy sat next to him.
“I don’t like it,” he told Murphy. “I’m suspicious of them.”
The captain fixed his eyes on the people below.
“You’ll be casting them away?” the soldier asked.
Tobias shrugged and shifted his weight.
“I think they are hiding something. I sense they are lying to us.” Tobias said. “That Elwin is Bahldi’s nephew alarms me. That he wears Casdamian black and has military weapons means he fought alongside the slain emperor.”
“My thoughts as well,” the captain agreed.
“With the power of the Casdamian’s military force, the emperor’s murderers couldn’t have been a band of rebels attacking from the outside. No. Bahldi’s army would have stopped them before they reached the gates of his castle, and they would have immediately executed the leaders. Who would be the most likely to have a successful coup with such a military force?”
