Lord Amar Padara’s study was one of the most cluttered places Felitïa had ever seen. The shelves lining the walls were stuffed past capacity with books, many lying on top of, or in front of others. Even more books lay stacked on the floor all around the room. In the spaces where there weren’t books, there were crates or chests, some closed, some open with their contents spilling out. Small sculptures, full-sized statues, and wooden carvings stood or lay in other spots, some with fine fabrics or tapestries draped over them. A small desk, cluttered with papers, paper weights, ink jars, and feather pens was crammed against part of the bookshelves on one wall, and the chair behind it held yet another stack of books. There were a couple other chairs in the room as well, also buried under piles of books and other objects. There was a single window, but the curtains were drawn and, given the number of books piled in front of, and against the curtains, Felitïa suspected no one had opened them in a very long time. Only a small amount of space remained on the carpeted floor for walking.

Just inside the room, near the door, an elderly, white-haired woman sat in a wheelchair, eyes closed and head lolled to the side. Drool dribbled down her mottled chin as she snored gently. She didn’t stir as Felitïa, Corvinian, and Harrick edged past.

Lord Padara himself stood on a ladder along the shelves to the left of the desk, pulling books out, looking at the titles, then stuffing them back. Harrick cleared his throat, and Lord Padara dropped the book he was holding, which clattered as it knocked over one of the piles on the floor.

The old woman snorted and her eyes flicked open for a moment before fluttering closed again, and she returned to her snoring.

Lord Padara looked down at the books on the floor, then over at Felitïa and the others. “Oh my. Oh yes, of course! My apologies. One moment.” His thin arms and legs shook as he took slow careful steps down the ladder. Harrick hurried over, but the elder Padara tutted him away. When he got to the bottom, he reached for a nearby cane, then turned to face them.

Amar Padara would not have been a tall man at full height, but his back had a pronounced hunch, cutting several inches off his height. His pale, mottled head was entirely bald, but he had a long, grey beard that hung lower than his stomach. He looked at Felitïa for a moment, then bowed his head. “Your Highness, forgive me for not bowing lower, but at my age, I would not be able to get back up again.”

Felitïa.

Felitïa ignored the Staff and approached Lord Padara. “There’s nothing to forgive. I’m not one for all the formalities.”

Lord Padara smirked. “Like your half-sister in that regard. She hates the bowing and scraping. I don’t blame her. Never cared much for it myself.”

“Can I help you to a seat?” Felitïa asked. “Corvinian, clear one of those chairs for—”

“Oh no. I prefer to stand. It takes much too long to sit down and later get back up again. Wastes precious time, and at my age, I can never be certain how much time I have left.” He smiled at her. “So what brings the banished princess to Dorg?” He wasn’t emanating much emotion—or perhaps her telepathy was going through a lull at the moment; it didn’t do that often these days, but it still happened on occasion—but what little came from him was mostly curiosity.

“It’s just a stop on the way, I’m afraid,” Felitïa said. “We’ve been held up a bit.”

“Yes, I heard about that. Your friend is recovering?”

Felitïa nodded. “Yes, the physician on Harrick’s ship says she’s doing much better. He expects her to make a full recovery.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“We also owe thanks to Harrick. If your grandson hadn’t been nearby to help, I’m not sure I could have gotten her to a physician in time.”

Lord Padara nodded. “Harrick’s a good lad that way. Always one to help another in need.”

“I do my best,” Harrick said. “No more than could be expected of anybody.”

Amar Padara patted Harrick on the arm. “And he’s a bit naïve.” Padara chuckled, then smiled. “He’s engaged to your half-sister, you know?”

“Yes, I know.”

“About bloody time, I say.”

The woman in the wheelchair coughed and spluttered.

“Excuse me a moment.” Padara hobbled towards the woman, his cane wobbling as the walked.

Felitïa moved aside as best she could in the cluttered room, and motioned Corvinian to make room as well. The boy fumbled with the heavy Staff, but managed to make space.

Felitïa.

“Have you noticed,” Padara said as he crossed the room, “that people are marrying and having children much later these days? Your half-brother Cerus is, what, thirty-five, thirty-six now? He’s still unmarried. Garet’s not much younger. Good to hear he’s finally settling down. Gabriella now, too.”

Garet.

Felitïa hadn’t thought much about him the last few weeks. She’d deliberately put him out of her mind. She hadn’t wanted to deal with the complex thoughts there.

Should she tell Lord Padara of Garet’s death?

No.

That would just create more questions she didn’t want to answer right now, and there were going to be enough of those as it was. Padara was likely to bring up the war soon. Besides, if she told Padara about Garet now, word would reach Arnor City well before Quilla did, and Quilla deserved the right to deliver the news herself. Felitïa owed her that much.

“And yes, I know all about Gabriella,” Padara went on. “It doesn’t make any difference. She and Harrick have made a good match in each other. They can fulfil their familial obligations and still maintain their lives.”

Felitïa wasn’t sure what Padara was talking about. She glanced at Harrick, who was standing straight and still. He made no reaction to his grandfather’s comments. No emotion flowed from him.

Lord Padara reached the old woman, pulled a cloth from his jerkin, and began to wipe the drool from her face. The old woman had gone back to her snoring again. “Forgive me, but I should have introduced you. This is my wife, Delayus.” He patted her cheek. “My dear, we have visitors. Princess Felitïa is here. You remember her? Cerus and Garet’s half-sister? Annai Friaz’s second daughter?”

The old woman sputtered again and her eyes drifted open. “Cerus is here?” A wave of expectation flooded from her.

Padara shook his head. “No, Cerus’s half-sister, Felitïa. Remember her? The one who ran away?”

The wave of expectation vanished, replaced by a brief surge of disgust. “No one then.” Delayus Padara’s head lolled to the side again and her eyes drifted back closed.

Amar Padara ran his hand through his wife’s hair, then turned to face Felitïa again. He took careful steps towards her. “I’m afraid she doesn’t do much more than sleep these days, and she’s not very lucid when she wakes.” He sighed and shook his head. “She had a brilliant mind once. She hasn’t really been the same since our daughter, Delayus, died.”

Their daughter had been Felitïa’s father’s first wife. She’d died giving birth to Garet.

“Grandfather, that was over thirty years ago,” Harrick said.

“I know, I know. Doesn’t change the fact that your grandmother has never gotten over it.” He hobbled past Corvinian and back to Felitïa. “I suppose we should discuss the elephant in the room, shouldn’t we?”

Felitïa took a deep breath. “Yes, I suppose we should.”

Annoyance surged in him, but Felitïa got the impression it wasn’t so much directed at her as it was that the topic even existed. “I’ve read the official declaration from the Royal Palace. I’d like to hear your version. Tell me of this war we’re supposed to be in.”

“That could be a long story, your Lordship.”

His annoyance increased. Perhaps it was with her, after all. Or he just didn’t like her response. A hint of disappointment filtered in with it. “Then give me the edited highlights. Are you responsible?”

It had a been a stupid answer. She should have just answered him straight. “I—”

Felitïa.

Not now!

Felitïa.

That damn Staff.

“I haven’t read the story from the Palace, your Lordship, so I don’t know exactly what it claims. However, I can say that I did sneak into the Volg apartments on Scovese. While there, I was caught and killed a Volg general in self-defence. The Volgs used that as an excuse to declare a war they were set on declaring anyway.”

Padara’s annoyance faded a little, and his disappointment vanished. He hobbled a short distance away from her, stopped, and looked back. “Why?”

Felitïa.

“Sometime earlier, the Volgs had kidnapped Corvinian here. I was…”

Felitïa.

“I was looking for information that might lead me to him.”

Felitïa. Felitïa.

Padara looked at Corvinian, surprise flooding from him. “This boy? What would the Volgs want with your page?”

“He’s not my page. He...uh…”

Felitïa Felitïa Felitïa Felitïa Felitïa Felitïa…

Shut up! She reached out to steady herself on a pile of books. The pressure on her hand sent pain through her fingers.

“He has unusual abilities that...the...uh...the Volgs…”

Felitïa Felitïa Felitïa Felitïa Felitïa…

“Are you all right?” Harrick asked, leaning in towards her.

She nodded. “Just a bit dizzy. It’ll pass. Uh, the Volgs. Right, the Volgs. They...uh..they wanted to tap into Corvinian’s powers somehow.”

“And you found him in the end, I see,” Lord Padara said. He walked slowly towards Corvinian. “Tell me, what are these unusual abilities and how do they work?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Corvinian said.

“Your Lordship,” Felitïa corrected him. Her head was pounding. The Staff wouldn’t shut up.

“Sorry. I don’t know, your Lordship,” Corvinian stammered. “They just work on their own.”

Felitïa tried to focus. “I’m...uh...I’m taking him to Quorge in the hope we can learn more there.”

Padara reached Corvinian. “What an exquisite staff.” He peered closely at it.

Corvinian pulled the Staff in closer to himself.

FelitïaFelitïaFelitïaFelitïaFelitïaFelitïa…

“Where did you get it? The serpent design looks Ninifin, but the wood is not of a kind found in Ninifin. I’m a collector of exotic oddities, you know.” Padara ran his free hand along the Staff.

FELITÏA!

Bright blue, crackling energy spread across her vision, and Felitïa scrunched her eyes closed. The Room in her head shook from the volume of the Staff. The walls fell. So did Felitïa. The books she was leaning against gave way and she stumbled over. Corvinian cried out, and Harrick called to his grandfather. The rats squealed and one ran across her face.

“It burned me!” Corvinian cried.

“What the hell was that?” Harrick called.

Felitïa opened her eyes.

The blue energy around Corvinian had faded, and the boy was clutching his hands. Harrick was helping his grandfather to his feet. The old man looked shaken, but unharmed.

Felitïa plucked Lon off her face and used her other hand to help herself into a sitting position. “Corvinian’s abilities.” The Staff had fallen silent again. “They usually activate in his defence.” She placed Lon in her hood and stood up. “Are you all right, your Lordship?”

The old man nodded, though his hands gripped Harrick tight, his knuckles pure white.

“I’m sorry this happened.” Felitïa bent over and picked up the Staff where it lay near Corvinian’s feet. “That Staff did something. It has unusual abilities too. It was screaming at me. Corvinian’s abilities must have thought it was attacking him.”

“It got really hot,” Corvinian said. “I couldn’t hold onto it. Sorry.”

Felitïa smiled at the boy. “It’s not your fault. It must have felt like the Staff was attacking you.”

“And these abilities just attack everything around him?” Harrick said. Anger flowed from him, but it was supported mostly by fear.

“There doesn’t seem to be any control to them. They activate blindly. I probably should have kept hold of the Staff myself, not had Corvinian carry it. It’s just, it’s so…” She sighed and looked to Amar Padara. “I apologise for this incident, your Lordship.”

Padara nodded, his arms and legs trembling. “I’m ninety-two years old. You don’t reach my age without being made of stern stuff. Besides, while the display may have been dramatic, it has certainly helped convince me what you say is true.” He let go of Harrick with one hand and motioned to his cane. Harrick picked it up for him and he took hold of it. After a moment to steady himself, he let go of Harrick with his other hand. “If I may ask, why Quorge? As you can see, I have acquired a large collection of knowledge. Perhaps there is something here that can help you.”

“I’m sure you have a lot,” Felitïa said, “and I wouldn’t mind getting a look at it before I move on. But Quorge has magical resources like the Hall of Knowledge. Plus, I grew up there and have friends and contacts there.”

Lord Padara smiled. “So that’s where you ran off to.”

“Yes, your Lordship. In fact, you and I have had correspondence in the past, though you would not have known it was me.”

His eyes widened. “Are you Asa? Elderaan’s assistant?’

“I was his apprentice actually, but yes, I’m Asa.”

“Well, I’ll be. All those years and I never suspected. Harrick, I used to have regular dealings with her Highness’s teacher. He ran a shop that was invaluable to me. I was very sad to hear of his passing.”

“We never understood why you needed so many Singean prayer beads, though,” Felitïa said.

Padara chuckled. “That would actually be a long story, but I would be happy to tell it if you remain long enough to hear it.”

“Well, we have to stay at least until Nin-Akna recovers. If you’ll allow me use of your library…”

“That blue light from the boy won’t burn the books, will it?”

Felitïa shook her head. “It shouldn’t. I’ll carry the Staff myself. That should keep it calm.”

“In that case,” Padara said, “I’m happy to let you use whatever knowledge I have. You realise word will likely get back to Arnor City?”

“Will that be a problem?” Felitïa asked.

Amar Padara harrumphed and shook his head. “You were banished from Arnor City. Nothing in the declaration prevents you from coming here and receiving shelter. I was more concerned for you. Are you all right with that?”

“I think so.”

He hobbled over to the desk. “Harrick, would you pick up that coffer for me? It’s a little too low for me to bend.”

Harrick did as asked and placed the indicated coffer on the desk in front of his grandfather. Amar Padara opened it, and began sorting through its contents. Felitïa caught glimpses of beads made from all kinds of coloured gems—Singean prayer beads, though the coffer was not nearly big enough to hold all the beads Lord Padara had purchased from Elderaan over the years.

After a few moments, Padara pulled a necklace of beads from the box. He motioned Felitïa over to him. As she approached, he held out the necklace to her. The beads were all purple, though of varying shades. One bead was larger than the others and had a white tassel attached to it. There would be a hundred and eight of the smaller beads, Felitïa knew.

Lord Padara pressed the beads into Felitïa’s hand. “Amethyst. Said to calm the nerves and give peace of mind. You look as though you could use that. The cord and tassel are of silk.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Felitïa said, “but I couldn’t just—”

“Nonsense. One reason I buy them is to give them to people who need them. Take it.”

Felitïa closed her hand around the beads. They could be useful in her meditations. “Thank you.”

“Now then,” Lord Padara said, “Harrick here will show you to a room where you can stay while you’re here. Once your friend who was poisoned is able to leaver her sick bed, I’ll provide a room for her too. Would you like a room for the boy?”

Corvinian nodded, a broad smile across his face, and Lord Padara chuckled.

“I suppose he wants some privacy,” Felitïa said. “If you have the space, then he can have his own room, but it should be near me or Nin-Akna. We also don’t want to impose. If you don’t have the space, he can stay with me or Nin-Akna.”

“I think we can arrange something,” Harrick said. “This isn’t the Royal Palace, but we’re not entirely lacking space.”

“I’ll let you get settled,” Lord Padara said. “You must join me and my wife tonight at dinner.”

“I look forward to it,” Felitïa said.

Harrick motioned towards the door. “Shall we?”

As he showed them from the room, Lady Padara opened her eyes and looked at Felitïa. “No one.”