otherwise,” said Owain.
Jon’s eyes darted to each man. The young one
kept his gaze averted, as if he didn’t particularly like doing this, but the
other two might as well have been made of stone. For Jon the rest of the world
ceased to exist; he no longer heard the sounds from the common room or the
outside world. He was not even sure anymore what time of day it was outside.
For him there were only the three men across from him, and a dire need to
convince them that what they sought was not to be found here. He spoke in the
voice of a man whose pride has been severely wounded. “Where does King Aeiron
get the gall to say such a thing? I’m an honest, loyal citizen! I pay my taxes
and have committed no crime!”
The faces watching him remained impassive, stone
eyes trained onto his, as though picking apart his thoughts. “I think he has
known for a long time, him and his seer,” Hamar answered. “But only now, when
the need is the greatest, did he trust the information unto others.”
“That’s preposterous!” Jon bellowed. “The
Ascillians, they’re all dead! Everyone knows that!”
“Perhaps,” Owain said in an even tone that
infuriated Jon. “But there is one here.”
Silence descended upon the room once more. Jon’s
eyes searched the faces of all three men helplessly. After all that, this is
what it comes down to? “There are no Ascillians here,” he said, but it was
an empty statement, for his voice had lost all its earlier conviction.
Hamar stared back with dark eyes. Jon knew that
those eyes had been witness to more than he would ever see. “The boy, how long
has he been in your care for?”
Jon looked to the closed door, but in his heart
he knew there was no escape from these men. He took a deep breath, and when he
let it out all his resolve went with it, replaced with an odd sense that this
was all inevitable. “Adrian? He’s been with us since he was a babe.”
“What of his birth parents?” Owain asked.
“They’re dead, suffered the same fate as all
Ascillians,” Jon whispered. He stared at his cradled hands in his lap, feeling
helpless. This cannot be happening.
“We need him,” Hamar said after a time. “That
is, I believe we may all need him.”
“What do you mean?” Jon asked. He was barely
able to hold his tears back and fought to suppress the hopelessness he felt. After
all that, Jared, this is what it comes to?
3
Connor stared at his cousin as if seeing him for
the first time. Adrian stared up at the window. When at last he turned to look
at Connor his eyes were wide and stunned. And filled with something else, as
well. Understanding, thought Connor.
Connor’s mouth hung open and felt as dry as sand
as he tried to get out words, but the frightening realization of what they had
just heard proved to be more than he could handle. Thoughts coalesced and broke
in his mind, and he suddenly felt nervous. He can’t be an Ascillian. I’ve
... I’ve known him all my life. We’ve grown up together. It ... it’s not true.
He can’t be one!
The look in Adrian’s eyes told him that the same
thoughts were racing through his mind. Connor opened his mouth to say
something, to perhaps ask him if he was truly a filthy Ascillian, but Adrian
turned his face away. Connor could only look at him, already seeing him as
someone other than the boy he had grown up with.
“You ... you ....” You’re an Ascillian? He
wanted to ask, to demand it, but found his voice choked and heavy.
In miserable silence they listened as the voices
continued in the other room.
4
“Why?” Jon asked. “Why would the King want him?
He’s a good boy, he’s never done anybody any harm. Not once!”
Hamar met his gaze, and Jon thought he caught a
hint of sympathy in the other man’s face. “It is odd,” said Hamar with a sigh,
“how a few people can decide the fate of an entire people. The Ascillians, as
you may know, were a race of odd wonders. No one quite knows what the
Jon’s eyes darted to each man. The young one
kept his gaze averted, as if he didn’t particularly like doing this, but the
other two might as well have been made of stone. For Jon the rest of the world
ceased to exist; he no longer heard the sounds from the common room or the
outside world. He was not even sure anymore what time of day it was outside.
For him there were only the three men across from him, and a dire need to
convince them that what they sought was not to be found here. He spoke in the
voice of a man whose pride has been severely wounded. “Where does King Aeiron
get the gall to say such a thing? I’m an honest, loyal citizen! I pay my taxes
and have committed no crime!”
The faces watching him remained impassive, stone
eyes trained onto his, as though picking apart his thoughts. “I think he has
known for a long time, him and his seer,” Hamar answered. “But only now, when
the need is the greatest, did he trust the information unto others.”
“That’s preposterous!” Jon bellowed. “The
Ascillians, they’re all dead! Everyone knows that!”
“Perhaps,” Owain said in an even tone that
infuriated Jon. “But there is one here.”
Silence descended upon the room once more. Jon’s
eyes searched the faces of all three men helplessly. After all that, this is
what it comes down to? “There are no Ascillians here,” he said, but it was
an empty statement, for his voice had lost all its earlier conviction.
Hamar stared back with dark eyes. Jon knew that
those eyes had been witness to more than he would ever see. “The boy, how long
has he been in your care for?”
Jon looked to the closed door, but in his heart
he knew there was no escape from these men. He took a deep breath, and when he
let it out all his resolve went with it, replaced with an odd sense that this
was all inevitable. “Adrian? He’s been with us since he was a babe.”
“What of his birth parents?” Owain asked.
“They’re dead, suffered the same fate as all
Ascillians,” Jon whispered. He stared at his cradled hands in his lap, feeling
helpless. This cannot be happening.
“We need him,” Hamar said after a time. “That
is, I believe we may all need him.”
“What do you mean?” Jon asked. He was barely
able to hold his tears back and fought to suppress the hopelessness he felt. After
all that, Jared, this is what it comes to?
3
Connor stared at his cousin as if seeing him for
the first time. Adrian stared up at the window. When at last he turned to look
at Connor his eyes were wide and stunned. And filled with something else, as
well. Understanding, thought Connor.
Connor’s mouth hung open and felt as dry as sand
as he tried to get out words, but the frightening realization of what they had
just heard proved to be more than he could handle. Thoughts coalesced and broke
in his mind, and he suddenly felt nervous. He can’t be an Ascillian. I’ve
... I’ve known him all my life. We’ve grown up together. It ... it’s not true.
He can’t be one!
The look in Adrian’s eyes told him that the same
thoughts were racing through his mind. Connor opened his mouth to say
something, to perhaps ask him if he was truly a filthy Ascillian, but Adrian
turned his face away. Connor could only look at him, already seeing him as
someone other than the boy he had grown up with.
“You ... you ....” You’re an Ascillian? He
wanted to ask, to demand it, but found his voice choked and heavy.
In miserable silence they listened as the voices
continued in the other room.
4
“Why?” Jon asked. “Why would the King want him?
He’s a good boy, he’s never done anybody any harm. Not once!”
Hamar met his gaze, and Jon thought he caught a
hint of sympathy in the other man’s face. “It is odd,” said Hamar with a sigh,
“how a few people can decide the fate of an entire people. The Ascillians, as
you may know, were a race of odd wonders. No one quite knows what the
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