The Seal of All Circles (7)

Father had to die before I was allowed to see the Seal.

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It was part of my brother's birthright, of course. He demonstrated his primacy by deigning to show it to me at all. The Lanstone had delivered it to him, along with news of Father's death.

An inexplicable ease had come over me, before I even got the news. Some part of me must have known Father was gone, and that I was finally free of him. 

Even with him off in faraway lands, he remained an ominous presence throughout the house, like a stubborn ghost tormenting us all. My brother remained the instrument of Father's will. They were in contact, from time to time. 

I was primarily consumed by my private studies, a necessary step in proving my worth to city mages. This also allowed me reason to keep to myself, to avoid my brother, and any thought of Father. 

A knock on the door. My brother had come to my chambers, obviously distraught, frantic, panicking almost. And I knew. 

"Father is dead." He looked at me for a moment and pulled me into a firm embrace. He sobbed. I did not. I patted his back. My mind swirled. Things had suddenly become possible. My brother loved me in a way that Father never could. My banishment to the Chamber no longer seemed as likely. He'd struggle to take any action against me, even if he ever suspected anything of me. 

He'd be feeling the weight of his new station. Obligations to fulfil in the capital, part of the Curse. And I would have so much freedom, in the house and in the city. I battled to keep my sense of elation inside, but one giddy chuckle escaped me. 

My brother pulled back and looked into my eyes. The surprise of this sudden change was on my face, shocking me out of mirth. I must have looked like I'd choked back a sob.

"We are up to this," he said. "We can do it."

I nodded, mutely. Let him think what was expeditious for him to think. He had said "we".

And that is when he reached into his pocket, retrieving a small golden trinket. At first glance it resembled some trifling locket or gaudy pendant, attached to an iron chain. I felt my eyes widen. The Seal. The Seal of All Circles.

Ornate lines covered its surface, a disc of carved furrows and swirls. I could feel familiar echoes emanating from it. Father had worn it, always. Except for those few times he had expected to go into danger. He would never risk the Seal falling into the wrong hands. He had left it here and died without it. Clever Father.

I reached out to it, like a child reaches to a flame not realizing they are about to get burned. My brother pulled it away from me in an instant. A reflex. This was not for me. It was for him. I could hardly forget. 

He looked confused, conflicted, but pulled himself together after a moment.

"I need to go to Maynar," he said. Of course he did. Politicians to ingratiate himself to. New friends to be made. I was aware enough of our family responsibilities in the capital. I had sometimes envied them or coveted them. In that moment, I simply felt freedom.

And then he said, "I need your help."

"You do?" I hadn't expected this.

"I need you to travel to Agali and find out what happened to Father. The Lanstone could tell me very little. It will tell you all it knows, when you go to it. You need to find out the rest of the story. You need to find who killed him and why. And then you need to enact justice upon them. Do you understand?"

My shock must have been plain. This did not sound like my brother. More like Father. But somehow he also reminded me of Mother. 

Eventually, I nodded. "I understand. We should begin at once."

"Agreed."

He departed. I imagine he farsended within minutes. I took some time just to revel in this new development. To explore the implications of it. Freedom, yes. But more than that. Independence. Agency. Opportunity. Part of me also thrilled at the thought of adventure, but I was still young and my childish enthusiasm would not sit quietly within me.  

Presently, I marched to the central tower, and had an enlightening conversation with the Lanstone.

Continue reading with Part 8 - The Absence of Direction.