Caris wakes with tears falling down his face, and a heavy sense of regret. At first, he can only sob, attempting to be quiet about it. His heart hurts with a formless grief that’s both confusing and disorienting. As is the sense of overwhelming failure and disaster.

  “Forgive me, I have wasted your gift.”

  Caris shudders, feeling cold all over. In the dream, the voice had been his, and he had been dying. He had not been able to fight, he had barely been able to approach…something. It had been monstrous--a creature so immense he could barely comprehend its form. The details of the dream were fading, except for that vast rotting yet undying shape, and those horrible, despairing words.

  Once awake, he can’t go back to sleep. It is both too quiet and too loud, his thoughts too busy. He and Teren had both read this myth. The Nameless Warrior failing to defeat the Plague Demon due to the caprice of the spirits the Joa worshipped. The next few myths in the cycle were mostly about Nemar Jhan in the underworld, and how the Joa survived in the mountains.

  Why was he dreaming about those myths?

  He got out of bed, made use of the water closet, and then washed his face. It was early--the darkness was only just beginning to lighten-- and his duties for the day were studying and maintaining the work logs, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to get any sleep. He dressed on his own, missing the presence of Brenan, his valet. The hallways were dim, with only occasional candle-lamps to illuminate them, but he knew his way by now. He headed down the hall to the clerical offices, which were just off of where the servant quarters were located.

  He was greeted immediately by Xiun, the clerk who handled overnight couriers and deliveries. “Your Highness, it’s very early, is everything all right?”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Caris says. “I wasn’t able to sleep, and thought I’d get some work done, before breakfast.”

  Xiun nods. “Ah, don’t forget to record your hours, your highness,” she says with a smile. “It’s important to keep track, even if you don’t draw wages.”

  “I will,” Caris says.

  The Lord Warden’s household he had noticed was kept to a stringent schedule. Work shifts were recorded and began and ended at regular times. Time worked was calculated. Rest breaks were at regular intervals. In some ways it seemed much stricter than households in Sewen, in others much more informal. (How would Teren have reacted to the apparent boldness of the servants, who were admirably efficient but also outspoken and barely polite by Seweni standards?) Caris wasn’t certain if this was standard, or unique to his lord’s household.

  He worked on the housekeeping schedule, signing approvals for switched shifts and leaving notes for follow ups concerning servants needing sick and emergency leave. The Lord Warden liked to ensure that his serving staff was well cared for, and had access to physicians or other assistance. It was painfully easy to see why his servants were so loyal to him. An hour into his work Xiun comes to his desk, asking if she could get him tea, or other refreshments. “Yes, thank you,” he says in response. Xiun smiles, and goes to make tea.

  Caris thought he was starting to get used to Lord Nemar’s household. The management and serving staffs had been cold toward him at first, but had warmed. (Possibly due to the disapproval of the Steward and the Head Housekeeper, both of whom had been kind and not unsympathetic.) Caris found himself thinking that Teren would have liked them both.

  Xiun had been the first of the clerks to made friendly overtures. From there, she had introduced him--in a social sense--to the rest of the management staff. Xiun’s friends had been a little distant--or shy? He thought shyness might suit as well as anything--but had warmed to him as he proved he wasn’t going to slack on his duties.

  Xiun returned with tea and steamed buns. “You do like the bean filled ones, right?” Xiun asks, putting down the tray with its small pot and delicate cups that lacked handles. This set was painted with hens and chicks, with a rooster on the pot itself.

  “I do.” The bean buns had taken some getting used to--they were unexpectedly sweet--but the taste had grown on him. (The meat-filled ones at least reminded him of similar pastries back home.) He picked one up nibbled it as Xiun poured him a cup, and then one for herself.

  “Some good news Your Highness. The wardens have finished investigating your household, and they will be arriving soon,” Xiun says. “The information crossed my desk just at the beginning of my shift.”

  Caris’ spine straightens from its tired slump. “Really? I was afraid they wouldn’t be able to come.” The servants here were efficient, but it would be good to have familiar faces.

  “Midday,” Xiun says. “Something to look forward to?” she asks.

  Caris nods. “I have had the same people serving me since I started my household,” he says. “They are all very reliable people.”

  They talk for a while, just long enough to finish a cup of tea and a bun each. They talk about the weather, about his staff and how they might fit in with the Lord Warden’s servants. When they’ve finished their snack, Xiun gathers the plates and the tea tray and carries it away. After about two hours of working on the schedule, his eyes begin to grow heavy. He puts aside his work, and returns to his own living quarters to sleep.

  Jhan would be meeting the prince’s household today. He would be leaving that household in his home, along with the prince when he left for Sewen. Jhan had gone over every scrap of information that could be dug up on the prince’s staff, and had them subjected to long, detailed interrogations. He had read transcripts of those interrogations, and was reasonably sure they were clean--for a household that had undoubtedly known the twins had switched themselves.

  It was something of a puzzle. Jhan had the impression that both households were extremely loyal to their employers. Yet it seemed like they should have gone to some effort to dissuade the prince and princess from their decision. (This was of course one of the main reasons that Jhan thought there was some conspiracy.) His Wardens hadn’t found anything specific enough to be evidence. Well, that is one of the reasons why we’re going to Sewen, Jhan thought wryly.

  As if his consideration had summoned him, Prince Caris made an appearance. “My lord,” he says by way of greeting, and bows slightly.

  “Highness,” Jhan says. And says nothing else, lifted brows conveying a silent, “why are you here?”

  Prince Caris bows again. “If I may, I’d like to meet my household with you. It might--I thought it might reassure them. That I’m all right.”

  Jhan nods. “And you are all right?” he asks. “I know that the situation has been a challenge for you.”

  The prince shrugs, and sits in a chair adjacent to the couch Jhan is seated at. “It has been an adjustment,” he says. “I’m glad for the opportunity.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Is Tuan so novel an experience?” Jhan asks with a slight smile. “You would have had many skilled tutors growing up, yes?”

  “I did,” Prince Caris confirms. “But not much in the way of opportunities to talk about what I was learning--not to students my own age, except for Teren.”

  Jhan might have pursued the subject of how Caris was adjusting to school -- or perhaps ask why it seemed as if the twins had been so isolated. However, a servant arrived to inform him that the prince’s household had arrived. “Have their luggage sent to the prince’s quarters, then bring them here,” he says. The servant acknowledges his words with a nod, then hurries off.

  It is not a very long wait before the prince’s household make their appearance. In the forefront is the secretary, Master Jerand Gradin. He is followed by the prince’s spiritual conductor, Revered Solda, last was the prince’s personal servants; five young men whose ages ranged from the prince’s age, to about fourteen. The prince’s household all looked some variation of wary, worried, and fearful, particularly the personal servants. They relax somewhat when they see their prince, but not by very much.

  “Lord Warden,” the secretary says in strongly accented Tosa. He bows. “We present ourselves for your approval.” This causes a slight flush, and a not-very-well concealed scowl from the priest, but he bows only a brief beat after the secretary. The personal servants bow much more deeply, looking apprehensive.

  Jhan stands up, followed by the prince. “You have it, or you wouldn’t be here,” he says in Dosai. “My husband has missed his household,” he says. The prince gives him a flustered look. As if he hadn’t realized Jhan would notice--or care--how uncomfortable the prince was with the servants assigned to him.

  “My lord,” the prince protests, because of course he can’t look weak in front of his people.

  “You have though,” Jhan says with a smile. The prince huffs, turning his face away. He makes a gesture indicating ‘go ahead then. I won’t stop you.’

  It’s Jhan’s turn to huff. “Do your other servants speak Tosa?” he asks. “Ah, they will have to learn then,” Jhan says when the prince shakes his head.

  “Your loyalty to your prince is commendable,” he continues in Dosai. “This household follows other traditions than your own, and it may be difficult to adjust. However, there is a Sarmateon temple in the city, and I have set aside an old classroom for chapel space, pending the approval of Revered Solda.” The priest looks startled at that, despite there having been a section of the marriage contract set aside for just that.

  Master Gradin, you will in part be reporting to my Steward, as Steward of my husband’s household. He and my husband will instruct you on how the larger household is managed. Is that amenable to you?”

  “Of course, Lord Warden,” Master Gradin says with another bow.

  Jhan nods in return, and launches into a lecture on the rules of his household. He goes over expected behavior toward other servants, toward guests, and the parts of the staff that oversaw the Calamity Archive and the Unknown Morgue.

  “Finally, there are my mage students,” he says. “They are very intelligent children and will have many questions, and may also have many things they want to share. They may not be particularly polite about the questions they ask or the answers they get, but they are overall good children. I request that you be particularly patient with them.” He pauses for a moment before saying, “Husband, can you introduce your household to the steward?”

  The prince rises to his feet, and nods. “Of course, my lord,” he says and goes to guide his servants.”

  Jhan times it to just as the priest has turned his back before saying, “Revered Solda, please stay behind.” This causes some congestion in the doorway as everyone tries not to bump into their prince. The priest looks startled as he turns, and Caris is up ahead--ah, looking worried?

  “Husband?” Prince Caris asks. Jhan feels a confusing sort of warmth that’s also surprise at that.

  “My thoughts are like a great flock of birds, they all look as if they are flying with perfect coordination, but if you look closer, many of them are colliding with each other.” Jhan remembers the words, but not who spoke them. At the moment, they fit what’s going on inside his head perfectly. It seems like Prince Caris wants to show a united front, which is surprising but also reassuring in a way. “I wish to speak to Revered Solda, and show him the room I’ve set aside,” he says.

  Prince Caris nods, and turns to his priest. “Revered Solda?” he asks.

  The priest hesitates, looking uncertain but bows. “Of course, Your Highness, Lord Warden.” He moves out of the doorway while the prince guides his staff down the hall. The priest is very obviously trying not to look toward the door and potential escape.

  Jhan waits until he can no longer hear the prince or the rest of his household before speaking. “The classroom is on the east side of the building.”

  The priest looks startled, even though an area set aside for a shrine was in the marriage contract.

  “I've compiled a timetable of where the sun's path lies throughout the year,” Jhan continues. “I will leave further calculations to you. Before I show you the room, I have some questions.”

  “I...am at the Lord Warden's disposal,” the priest says with a nervous bow.

  “You will have been asked if you knew anything about the twins’ plans,” Jhan asks in an older dialect of Dosai–their Temple language. “But did you truly not suspect them?”

  “I did not, Lord Warden,” the priest said evenly. At the same time, he looked uneasy--and angry-- over the use of the Temple language. “My prince did not confide his plans to me.”

  “I didn’t ask if he confided in you, I asked if you suspected them.”

  “I did not,” Revered Solda says. “Who would? The prince and princess had their misgivings about the marriage alliance, that was well known. But I would not have suspected them of planning something so…so unwise.”

  “They are--and I can’t stress this enough--fraternal twins. How could you miss that your charge was the wrong twin?”

  “I have already answered these questions, Lord Warden. Your interrogators were very thorough,” Revered Solda says, trying for cold dignity, but also sounding defensive. “Surely you have the transcripts.”

  “I do,” admits Jhan. “I have read them, and yet, I must still question. How did no one at all realize how desperate they were? Explain to me how you did not know that someone who was supposed to be in your care was attempting to end the alliance via either diplomatic incident or outright assassination? Was there no one who listened to their concerns?”

  The priest is startled again--with an additional flash of guilt. “I was under the impression that they were limiting their objections to minor protests. Their Majesties didn’t seem to regard their protests as anything to worry about--”

  “Revered Solda,” Jhan bites out. “You are the spiritual conductor for his highness, not his parents. Are you the prince’s confidant, or his parents’ spy?”

  Solda drew himself up in offense. “Who are you to scold me as if I were a junior priest or you, my mentor?” he asked angrily. “I am not in any way under your authority.”

  “You’re under my roof,” Jhan says. “And you are attached to my husband’s household, which I have taken in. I have that much authority. Also, I am your Senior, technically.”

  “You are no priest of Solun!” Solda says, his voice not quite a shout. He glared at Jhan. “And no one truly recognizes this farce of a marriage.”

  “No, not of Solun,” Jhan agrees. “Nor am I a servant in any sense of your moon god, for all the attempts of your branch of the Sarmateon faith--”

  “--How dare you denigrate--” The priest’s mouth abruptly snaps shut. His hands fly to his mouth, and he makes a futile attempt to pry his mouth open. When he realizes the spell has quite firmly shut his mouth, he glares at Jhan.

  “Be still,” Jhan says, this time in the modern dialect of Seweni Dosai. “I have every right to my anger, and you should know that. Right now, I am very angry that my husband apparently could not trust his priest. And probably was right not to.”

  The priest flushes and glares. He points to his still shut mouth, a clear demand to be allowed to speak. Jhan cancels the spell. “I doubt you consider yourself bound in marriage to my prince,” the priest says stiffly. “I also doubt your concern for his spiritual well-being.”

  “Well, you are wrong on both counts,” Jhan says. “Of course, the entire situation is very complicated, and I intend to have a long conversation with Their Majesties when I go to Sewen.” He takes a breath, regretting his loss of temper. “Revered, I am concerned about certain implications and misunderstandings.” Jhan nods to the door, indicating that the priest should proceed him. Revered Solda does so, though warily.

  Jhan continues after a few steps down the hall. “His Highness has not confided very much to me. Only enough to hint that the prince and princess were…more sheltered than is usual even for the children of royalty. The envoy, who is kinsman to the queen alluded to some difference in their behavior. Do you know anything about this, Revered?” Jhan asks.

  “I cannot speak to that, Lord Warden,” Solda says. “Counsel and spiritual unburdening is between the priest-conductor and the one they advise. To break the confidential nature of such counsel is a sin.”

  “A good answer.” Jhan says, and is not surprised by the glare as Solda realized he was being tested. “But what of Their Majesties?”

  “I am not the spy of Their Majesties,” Solda says stiffly. “I do not spy on my prince, and I do not spy on you for anyone.”

  “Another good answer,” Jhan says. “Perhaps we will get along after all.”