The Darkling Child

When the Prime Minister finally arrived, he was smiling broadly and anxious to reassure them that his tardiness was the result of another meeting and in no way intended to suggest this meeting was any less important.

“No one wants to feel as if they are being dismissed prematurely,” he added, reaching down to shake their hands warmly. “So I had to exercise some caution in ending the previous meeting. How are you? Did you sleep well? Were your quarters comfortable?”

He was a slight man, taller than average and rather spindly in appearance. He was probably in his late sixties or early seventies, and there was a somewhat worn look to his expressive face. His grip was strong, though, and he seemed to have abundant energy in spite of his age and the toll his position as leader of the Federation might have taken on him. Glancing at the glare off his desk, he asked them to sit with him off to one side where there was a small grouping of couches and easy chairs, all padded and pillowed and comfortably drawn in for private conversation.

Before joining them, he stuck his head back out the door and asked that tea and ale be brought. While waiting for that, he kept the conversation limited to small talk—how were things in Paranor, was Isaturin settling in as Ard Rhys, was the order continuing to add new members to its roster?—all of it accomplished with a smoothness and ope

When the beverages arrived, he asked the bearer to advise the staff not to disturb him until he was finished with his visitors.

“Now then,” he began, as the other departed, pulling the door closed tightly behind him, “where to begin.”

He rocked back slightly, considering. “I am faced with a difficult and potentially embarrassing situation. It all revolves around Arca

He sipped his tea. “All questions I could only answer as Prime Minister and not as philosopher to my conscience. In any case, a new wrinkle developed shortly afterward. Unfortunately for the Federation, the pirates were sheltering Arca

“Odd that he used the name of the village and not his own,” Avelene noted.

“Arca

Both Avelene and Paxon nodded. “Herbal,” the Highlander said. “A mix of mulkeet, basil brew, and lavender.”

The Prime Minister raised an eyebrow. “Very good.”

“My mother used to make it. She gathered the ingredients and mixed them in proportions I have forgotten. But I remember their taste.”

They all sipped silently for a moment before the Prime Minister continued.

“So. Defying my expectations, Usurient decided on a different approach to the problem of Arca

He paused. “And the men he took with him on this outing were released from the Federation prisons in Sterne. One is a killer who was supposedly locked away for life; the other is one of the keepers. I do not deceive myself. Either is capable of committing unconscionable acts without the burden of thinking on it afterward. All three will present a test even for someone as versatile and creative as Arca

“So they have been sent to kill Arca

The Prime Minister nodded, as if wondering himself. “I care nothing for Arca

“But you asked for us specifically,” Paxon pointed out.

“Yes, what is it exactly that you want us to do about all this?” Avelene added quickly.

“Nothing that you wouldn’t do anyway.” The Prime Minister finished his tea and set the cup down carefully. “Go to Arbrox, assess the situation, and do whatever you feel is appropriate. If Usurient’s creatures are successful, then Arca

“Which you do not think Usurient will do?”

“Which I do not think Usurient will do.”

“Again,” Paxon said quietly, “why did you ask for us specifically?”

“For you, in point of fact, young man. So that I might speak to you directly. You know Arca