To help with the large cast of characters,
I have put together a spoiler-free Dramatis Personae
It was nearly nightfall before Sen Lí arrived at the Lăsoth estate. He came in a carriage, accompanied by five swords and his own bodyservant, a small man of about sixty.
Sen Lan had spent the hours before sundown pacing across the central room of the residence that Bo Han had given to her and her husband on the occasion of their wedding. Ŏvor watched her drift restlessly back and forth across the tile floor, her hands clasped before her, then clutching the skirts of her golt, then massaging the back of her neck.
Ŏvor did not know his wife’s brother well. He had met Sen Lí several times while working under his father in the north, but he had not seen him since marrying Sen Lan. He had not attended his sister’s wedding as he had been waylaid by a snowstorm in a Lăsoth village along the Kí Len River. She had been grieved by his absence that day. But Ŏvor had noticed that she had also seemed a little relieved, though he never understood why.
Sen Lí shared his sister’s brilliance, a trait that seemed to run in the family, but he did not have her short temper. Where Sen Lan was sharp-tongued, her brother was prone to silence. Where she was inclined to fly into a rage, he was more likely to withdraw into himself. It was said that Sen Lan could not hold her tongue but that Sen Lí always held a grudge. Ŏvor had never had cause to learn if this was true. He knew that his wife cherished her younger brother. He knew, too, that she was nervous about his arrival.
She had tried to shield her brother from Bo Han’s disappointment, but the Housemaster had known that Sen Lí had not misunderstood his orders; he was returning to the capital instead of seeking out the missing prince despite Bo Han’s wishes. Why he was doing so Ŏvor did not know He wondered if Sen Lan did.
Just as he was about to tell her to sit and drink her tea, one of her maids came in and, with a bow, informed her that Sen Lí had at last arrived and was on his way to greet the Housemaster.
Ŏvor watched as Sen Lan touched her chest. Then she thanked the maid and rushed from the room.
Hurrying to catch up with her, Ŏvor followed Sen Lan across the covered porch of their residence until it met the narrow stone path that connected it to the central structure of the Lăsoth estate, where the Housemaster would no doubt be sitting in his study. The dark blue evening shone with a dusting of starlight. Thin clouds caught the silver light of the moon and, in the distance, an owl’s call echoed across the quiet estate.
As they entered through the open door of the main structure they were met by several servants and maids. All were moving in a soundless rhythm of activity, sorting the belongings of Sen Lí and his men, preparing quarters for each of them, readying baths, carrying trays of food.
They all paused when they saw Sen Lan and Ŏvor, offering slight bows before continuing with their work. Bo Han preferred quiet in the hours after the evening meal and so they spoke to each other in whispers and went about their various tasks almost without any sound at all. Sen Lan stood still and watched them for a moment, distracted or perhaps hesitating. Ŏvor could not entirely understand why she was nervous. But then, he didn’t know Sen Lí as she did.
Gently, he touched her back. She flinched and looked up at him, then she smiled and took a deep breath. Turning to one of the maids, she asked, “Where is my brother?”
The girl — who bore a small tray laden with tea for three — bowed and answered softly, “My lord Sen Lí has gone directly to greet Master Bo Han.”
“In his study?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Sen Lan dismissed her and the girl returned to her duties. Then, with a passing glance at Ŏvor, she turned to make her way to her cousin’s study.
This part of the Lăsoth estate was understood to be the public portion, the only structure open to visitors and the one in which Bo Han spent most of his time and did most of his work. The Housemaster’s Hall was in the center while a wing of rooms stretched all around it, like a horseshoe, connected by a narrow, curving corridor.
Bo Han’s study emitted a warm glow in the dimly lit hall. They heard low voices even as they neared it. These grew louder as they approached and Sen Lan quickened her pace.
“Cousin,” the voice of Sen Lí said loudly, “we both know it isn’t as simple as one prince in the wild.”
“What it is or isn’t is not yours to decide.”
“The king’s son is as good as dead and you know it. We need to be consolidating our strength in the capital.”
“To what end?” Bo Han asked sharply. “What do you plan, exactly?”
Before Sen Lí could answer, Sen Lan pushed open the heavy, carved wooden door and said with a glowing smile, “Brother!”
Bo Han’s study was wide with a ceiling almost as tall as the Hall. The walls were covered in simple patterns of mosaic tiles, paths intersecting across the four walls of the large room. Several brass stands covered in candles lit the space and also warmed it, though the majority of the warmth came from a small porcelain stove near the wall which seemed to be connected to the larger stove in the Hall.
The Housemaster sat at his desk, Tova stood just behind him. He had been in the middle of finishing a letter which he was sealing carefully with a large pool of black wax and the Housemaster’s seal on the back of the gíth medallion that dangled from his belt. Ŏvor watched as he blew softly on the wax-heated metal and then let the medallion dangle again from its chain. The gíth caught the candlelight while it swung and shone pink and red. While brother and sister greeted each other, Bo Han handed the sealed letter to Tova and whispered to him at length. The bodysword set his jaw, his eyes flickering while he listened. But then Bo Han reached out and touched his wrist with a reassuring nod.
Tova took a deep breath, bowed, and then quickly left, closing the heavy door behind him.
Bo Han had removed his usual heavy gray golt and wore only his blue inner golt and a loosely tied coat of dark blue wool. His face was pale and his eyes dark from fatigue. While he watched Tova leave, he took out a handkerchief and coughed into it quietly. Ŏvor observed this with concern. Now was not the time for the Housemaster to fall ill.
Bo Han put away his handkerchief and sipped his tea. Ŏvor couldn’t read him, but still he had the distinct impression that he was angry. Something else, too. When Bo Han turned to look at his cousins, his dark eyes shone in the candle light. Tears, Ŏvor observed, stunned.
Sen Lan laughed as she embraced her brother. It was a musical if slightly nervous sound. The silence that had filled the room as soon as they had entered had been thick and suffocating and this sound alone broke it. Sen Lí said nothing at first, he wrapped his sister in his arms and patted her back with his large hands.
He stood much taller than Sen Lan, despite being younger. They had the same black hair and the same sparkling gray eyes. Sen Lan’s beauty was in her warmth and in the soft pink glow of her full cheeks. But Sen Lí was decidedly colder. His face — darker and without the warm glow that softened Sen Lan — was harshly carved; a sharp brow cast heavy shadows over his narrow eyes, sharp cheekbones gave him a hollow look, and a sharp nose brought his entire countenance to a fine point. When he smiled at his sister, it softened him somewhat. But looking at him in the naked glow of the candlelight, Ŏvor had the impression that Sen Lí almost seemed like a man who had been starved all his life and now glanced greedily about the world for any morsel.
Ŏvor remained near the door while his wife greeted her brother. He watched as she whispered something to him that made him smile and laugh lightly. Then, letting go of her, Sen Lí saw Ŏvor.
“Brother,” he said, greeting him with a bow. Ŏvor returned his bow but said nothing.
“How long will you stay?” Sen Lan asked him. “Before setting out, I mean?”
Bo Han glanced up from his tea and Sen Lí made an effort not to look at him.
“I do not think—”
“I know you will probably want to leave quickly. But you should rest. At least one night.” She clasped her hands before her and took a step back. Ŏvor sensed her unease and moved to stand behind her.
Sen Lí motioned to Bo Han. “I was just discussing with our cousin—”
“Your brother has been wondering if there is any merit in finding the prince.” Bo Han put his tea cup back on his desk. He did not look at them.
Sen Lan’s breath quickened. Ŏvor put his hand on her back.
She said, “I’m sure he means only what you yourself meant, cousin.” Bo Han raised his eyebrows. “That Lăsoth has no business meddling in the politics of the royal House.”
“Sen Lan,” Sen Lí murmured, rubbing his hands nervously with the hem of his gray cloak.
“And I’m sure that he would rather return to the border but will, of course, fulfill the Housemaster’s wishes.”
“Sen Lan,” her brother repeated. “I don’t—”
“Quiet,” she snapped.
Sen Lí stared darkly at her flashing eyes. “The prince is beyond hope,” he said quietly.
Ŏvor felt Sen Lan tense. She glanced at Bo Han who gripped his knee tightly, knuckles white.
“I am needed here,” Sen Lí went on. “Lăsoth is being threatened. Our cousin cannot—”
“Cannot what?” she asked, breathless. “Cannot defend his own House?”
He looked taken aback. “I would never say that. I only wish to aid him, to support him.”
“And you will. The Housemaster has asked you to do a simple thing. Will you stubbornly disobey as you did when we were children?”
Ŏvor slid his hand around his wife’s waist, gripping gently in an effort to signal her to calm herself. It would not do for her reunion with her brother to be marred by harsh words spoken in anger.
Glancing at Sen Lí, Ŏvor watched as a pained look moved over his face. It lessened the shadows around his eyes, softened the sharpness of his cheeks. Ŏvor sensed in Sen Lí a genuine wish to be of service to Bo Han. He might have gone about it in the wrong way, but like many proud young men, he believed resolutely in his own opinions and so had taken it upon himself to convince his Housemaster. But Sen Lan would have no patience for anything short of simple obedience. Neither of them, Ŏvor feared, would budge. He realized then that brother and sister were identical in stubbornness above all else.
“I do not need you here.” Bo Han spoke quietly but the firmness of his tone silenced the quarreling siblings and, Ŏvor observed, made both shrink a little, like children. He wondered if this was at all similar to their upbringing, when their cousin had taken them in after their parents had died. Ŏvor tried to imagine the siblings as children, he tried to imagine Bo Han scolding them as a father would. There was something very natural about this image.
Sen Lí turned and bowed. “My lord, I can be of more use to you here,” he said, a slight shake in his voice. Ŏvor thought this strange as he had never known either Sen Lan or Sen Lí to fear their cousin. “I do not understand why you wish to waste valuable resources looking for a boy who is certainly already dead.”
When Bo Han flinched at these words Ŏvor suddenly remembered that the prince who was missing, the crown prince of Láokoth and the king’s son, was also the last living child of Bo Han’s sister. He was, in point of fact, Bo Han’s nephew. Ŏvor was surprised once again to find how easy it was to forget the Housemaster’s connection to the royal family, or what was left of it.
Sen Lan opened her mouth to speak, taking a sudden step forward, but Ŏvor held her fast. Turning, she looked up at him, simmering anger on her confused face.
“It is not often,” Bo Han answered, massaging his temples with the tips of his fingers, “that I take it upon myself to explain the orders I have given and which are being disregarded. But as you are my cousin, I will make an exception.”
Standing, he walked across the room to the little stove. With his back to them he opened the stove door and stared into the orange flames. Then he tossed a small square of folded paper into the fire and again closed the door. With his hands behind his back and his eyes still on the fire’s contained glow, he went on, “Very soon rumors will begin to whisper through the most powerful Houses in Láokoth about the boy who is being hunted by mercenaries and the fire that ravaged the Palace grounds. Many will try to learn who he is. Some will succeed. All who do will try to claim him. Any House who possesses the prince will be able to wield significant power over the king and his court. The very foundations of Láokoth will be compromised. Some of these Houses might be trustworthy. But perhaps none of them will be able to resist the temptation to use the prince. As it is, that boy is the most powerful living thing on this entire peninsula. But powerful only if he is in someone’s possession. He is nothing if he is dead.”
He paused and again turned his back. His hands, still clasped behind him, shook slightly.
“And because they cannot be trusted,” Sen Lí ventured carefully, “you will do what they want to do, in order to stop them from doing it?”
Bo Han turned. “Yes,” he said simply.
Sen Lan relaxed a little and so Ŏvor loosened his grip, though he still let his hand rest against her back. She had leaned against him and so he understood that this seemed to have given her a sense of comfort.
“If I find him,” Sen Lí said, “what if we—”
“No.” Bo Han’s voice struck the walls and ceiling of the room in a way that startled them. He took a step closer to Sen Lí and repeated, “No. He is to be brought back to the Palace.”
“But, cousin,” Sen Lan said carefully. “If the Palace is really as dangerous as you say…”
Bo Han turned his gaze on her and she quieted. Then he looked over her shoulder at Ŏvor.
“What do you think?” Bo Han asked him.
Sen Lan tensed again. Ŏvor was not sure how to answer. His wife had made a good point. More than once he had seen for himself the strange, hostile air of the Palace. And, indeed, had not the Palace House orchestrated the attack on the four little princes? Would the king’s son really be safe if he was returned to the Palace?
Finally, Ŏvor said, “They are separate matters. Protecting the prince needs to happen regardless of the situation in the Palace.”
Sen Lí turned sharply and looked at him, his eyes almost entirely obscured by shadow. “And how do you propose we handle the situation in the Palace?”
Ŏvor bowed and said, “That is not for me to decide.”
Sen Lí opened his mouth to answer but Bo Han stopped him.
“Ŏvor is right, they are indeed separate matters. And regardless of what happens with the Palace, the prince must be protected.”
Walking back to his desk, he sat and drew his coat tighter, tucking his arms into the wide sleeves. “You will leave tomorrow to find him,” he said to Sen Lí.
“And if he is already dead?”
But Bo Han didn’t answer.
Standing in the corridor outside Bo Han’s study, Sen Lan took her brother’s hands.
“You should rest. Tomorrow we will have breakfast together before you go.”
He smiled warmly. “I would like that. It feels like many years since last I saw you.” He touched her cheek. “And you have greatly changed.”
“Nonsense.” She swatted his hand away. “Now go, before I have the maids come and lock you in your bed like when you were young.”
Sen Lí laughed quietly, his face suddenly dulled by the gray pallor of fatigue and disquiet. Then he bowed to both of them and disappeared in the darkness of the dim hallway.
Sen Lan turned and looked at Ŏvor. “You see,” she said with a tired smile. “I can hold my tongue.”
He nearly laughed. But instead he kissed her. When he did, he was surprised to find her cold lips trembling.
“What is it?” he asked her, touching the crease of tension between her eyebrows.
But she shook her head, gazing into his eyes, her own darkened by the strain of some weight he could not see. Perhaps it was worry for her brother that had so changed her usual bright countenance. Or perhaps it was the sight of her brother and her cousin at odds with eachother. But whatever the cause, the sudden alteration to her face grieved him; she looked at her husband as if she feared she would never see him again. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tightly.
She said, “I worry sometimes.”
“What do you worry about?”
“I worry that Sen Lí doesn’t like you.” She dropped her eyes and pulled away from him. “I worry because Bo Han does like you.”
This made Ŏvor laugh all the more. He kissed her again, holding her fair face.
“Come,” he said in a soothing whisper. “Let’s go to bed.”
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I always want to wail when a chapter isn't following So Ga and Min La, but then, when I take the time to read it, it's always very interesting!
"But looking at him in the naked glow of the candlelight, Ŏvor had the impression that Sen Lí almost seemed like a man who had been starved all his life and now glanced greedily about the world for any morsel." Beautifully crafted description.
Wonderful chapter Hilary.