Episode 230: Mel Chat (Konrad)

He welcomed Meldrick into the dungeon, this time into his office. Away from prying eyes and listening ears. He’d sent Corban out to tend a pair of drunks and took advantage of his absence now to question Meldrick.

“More questions?” Meldrick asked. He stumbled over the word more in his mind, regretting that he hadn’t said additional in its place.

“Just a few, and then some news,” he assured him. He clicked the door closed and, for the second time that day pushed the button which sealed the door lock into place. “Will you tell me who Maisie is?”

“Yes,” Mel said automatically. Almost as though he’d taken truth serum, but Konrad didn’t believe that was what was the matter with Meldrick tonight. Meldrick’s mind grazed the name, caressed it, and then swiveled around to Giana.

His eyes settled on Konrad’s face.

“Alright,” Konrad pressed. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Meldrick replied, again as he might if he’d been given truth serum. Konrad became further convinced that it wasn’t serum when Meldrick realized silently that Maisie was someone he’d once loved, as he now loved Giana.

As far as Meldrick had ever known before today, Aadya was his first love.

“Has Titania ever wiped anyone’s memory besides Aadya’s?”

“Fenton’s,” Meldrick replied automatically.

“Alright.”

Meldrick really had no idea. Konrad might have pitied him, except he wasn’t prone to pity and he doubted Meldrick would appreciate the gesture. Action and support were far better than words, for him.

Konrad passed a clarity potion to Meldrick, who drank it and then sat for some time, in apparent deep study of his own hands. Eventually he looked up. “Maisie,” he croaked. Then, more clearly: “Maisie was my wife. Long ago. Masaiala Alandrial.”

Yes, Konrad could feel her there in Meldrick’s memories. “She was.”

He sat and let Meldrick’s memories settle like autumn leaves, layered in the grass. So many of them, lost, and Meldrick struggling to make cohesive sense of any of it.

Presently, when Meldrick seemed lost down an avenue of memory which involved Drey and a boy identical to young Meldrick, and a tidal pool, Konrad leaned back in his chair. “I’m retiring,” he announced.

Drey was Meldrick’s father.

It explained nothing, though it certainly raised questions. Drey could remember all the way back to his childhood. Memories of Drey’s regard for Meldrick rarely extended past consternation, and any affection he’d shown toward Meldrick – sparse as it was – could easily have been brotherhood.

Fatherhood. It was such a different, unexpected turn.

He knew immediately that Nell had known. It was another of his secrets which he held tight, in the little bundle of protected emotions that surrounded his feelings for Drey.

“Something has happened to you, long into your past,” he told Meldrick.

“I see that,” Meldrick agreed. His thoughts raced down a dozen paths of memory and settled on the fact of Maisie’s identity. “Why are you retiring?”

So many reasons. Nell and Enny, their encounter that afternoon. That was a personal reason. Professional reasons were plenty, but he knew none of them was of the same calibre as his desire for something different for his budding marriages.

“Corban is ready,” he said, as though that were answer enough. It was time to change the subject. “I did manage to find Giana.”

Hope flared in Meldrick’s mind, dampening the concern over his newfound memories and his recent confusion. “Where is she?”

“Glavnaya, the lake of the Detlene.”

Dancing, from what he could tell when he transported quickly in and out of the place to confirm her presence there. He might have transported with her then, but she seemed in no danger and he thought Meldrick might prefer to retrieve her himself.

“Yes,” Meldrick said.

“What do you remember?” Konrad asked.

“Of what?” Meldrick said, in a tone which Konrad suspected was meant to irk him for the sake of it. “My argument with Giana, or something else?

“Any of it. Xander said someone at the dinner took an interest in you; I suspect that was the source of your troubles.” Xander ought to have better security at his dinners. Failing that, he ought to let Konrad send his own security with Meldrick, Spence, Acheron, and anyone else, to prevent this sort of thing.

“My lemon water tasted off,” Meldrick confirmed. “I spoke to some men, two. One pulled glasses off a passing tray and gave me one. He must have altered it.”

Perhaps Konrad ought to offer a course in avoiding outside threats.

“I was mad at Giana,” Meldrick added. “Uncertain of why I had left Aadya.” He pressed his lips together, all of his consternation apparent in that one action. Konrad could feel it in his mind, the angst, the understanding of the cause of his departure from his marriage to Aadya.

“Sonora is Tsinganoi,” Meldrick observed. “I was supposed to be her husband. And…” Here, Meldrick struggled. “Cato is the name I was born to.”

“Cato. Why did she change your name?”

Memories flashed through his mind, of two childhoods that could not possibly both have passed in the same window of time. In one, he and an identical brother grew up under the careful guidance of a much younger Drey and his twin Drella. In the other, he grew up alone, listening to Titania’s missives and never quite avoiding her ire.

The contrast between the memories that clearly belonged to Cato, the memories of Meldrick, was vindicating. Those memories alone would have been enough to inspire Konrad to depose Titania and Ched. Never mind the slavery and starvation throughout the Lower Dell under their rule.

“I won’t share that with anyone,” Konrad assured him.

A wave of unsettled anxiety washed over Meldrick, when his mind traversed from childhood to Giana, from past to present and future and how he intended to raise any further children he had. Beneath that sentiment, on the swell of the anxiety, rested a subtle memory of Rhoda, though he had no context for it.

“We shouldn’t go after Giana,” Meldrick concluded.

That line of thought could prove disastrous for Meldrick, as well as for Niels. “If Rhoda had a wife for you, she likely has a husband in mind for Giana,” Konrad warned him.

Whatever Meldrick had said to her during their discussion before her disappearance, it left him with disquiet over the idea of another man; a feeling that she might choose him over her.

He faced it down with steely resolve. “I understand.”

Konrad disliked it. Grief to Meldrick and Niels aside, it would destabilize the precarious balance which the family had established in recent days.

“What would you like me to do?” he asked Meldrick.

“Wait. Until after the attack.”

Alright. “Anything else?”

“Do you have to retire?” he asked. He had deep concerns about the timing of Konrad’s retirement, with relation to the oncoming attack.

It was precisely why Konrad knew he ought to retire; Corban was the better, more alert candidate for ensuring the safety of the family and kingdom.

“I do not,” he lied. It was not a lie of hostility or concealment, but a means of buying himself time to bring Meldrick to the conclusion Konrad had already reached, that he ought to step aside and let more competent persons take charge.

“Then why are you?”

“Someone needs to find your twin, your former wife and whatever descendants there were. And someone needs to deal more directly with Titania.”

Meldrick nodded his head.

For a moment, neither of them said a thing. Meldrick’s thoughts were blank, exhausted. Konrad wondered whether he ought to have Zero make him some sort of concoction – a sleeping draught, perhaps – but decided Meldrick would prefer to make his own way through the night.

“Would you rather I wait to retire?”

Meldrick considered Corban’s competency before backtracking into uncertainty over whether Konrad would choose Spence or Corban to replace him. He didn’t seem optimistic that Spence was prepared.

He was not. Neither was Corban.

Neither had Konrad been, for his first few encounters where lives were on the line. The field necessitated trial by fire, rather than easing persons into the role. Konrad’s job was prepare them to face the fire, not pull them through it; that was on them.

“No,” Meldrick decided. “If it’s time…I would like to help you. Aadya and I may be retiring.”

“Yes,” Konrad agreed. “I suspect we all will.” Perhaps not Nell, though Konrad hoped he would be more involved with animal procurements and breeding, than with their upkeep. Lonan and Auberon and Oren handled that well enough between them.

It amused Konrad, that it would likely take two to replace him, that it took three to replace Nell.

“I meant more directly helping,” Meldrick pushed. Konrad could sense the undercurrent hunger for adventure as it coursed through Meldrick’s mind. Meldrick cleared it away hastily. “Is there anything else you need to discuss tonight?”

“I may need your help as well,” Konrad said. “Perhaps an exchange? I’ve recently discovered a member of the original Dragon line and I’ll need to see her freed from her situation.”

If he freed Cecily, he was confident both of them would be happier. If she felt like family to Nell, they could remain friends. Friendship was healthier than this mutual parasitism they’d established for themselves.

“I will do my best.” He seemed curious, hopeful that Giana would want to go with them.

“Alright,” Konrad said. He hoped Giana had more sense than emotions in the coming hours and days. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

“I will. You as well. There are changes coming, but I think our children will be facing them.” His mind, for some reason, grazed the images of Konrad’s older sons Jarl and Callum.

“What of them?” Konrad demanded.

“That their lives matter. Somewhere else in the realm, possibly. Or another race like theirs in a nearby realm.”

Of course their lives mattered. They were both independent thinkers with strong wills, not the sort to go about the world without changing it through action and recourse.

He and Nell had adopted them around four years ago, give or take. Jarl, at just twelve, was already exiled to the Stilts, the portion of the Gancanagh island designated for those who preferred the intimacy of other men. Konrad never asked what had prompted the exile, and Jarl had never offered an explanation. Callum lived in the main village but had the temper of ten angry bears. It had improved, with time and training.

“Like my race, you mean?” Konrad asked, amused. “And what of Aadya? Does your luck say what became of her?”

Meldrick closed his eyes and used his luck magic, which he was only half aware he possessed, to determine Aadya’s fate. Through Meldrick’s mind, Konrad could sense her. Elsewhere, somewhere inherently other, with Rhyss. Healing from injuries much worse than the surgery to remove the babies, as well as from emotional scarring and damage to her bond.

“Does she have a means of getting home?” Konrad asked. “Or will we have to break through her protections?”

“She’ll have to find her own way,” Meldrick said. Something about the situation amused him, although it wasn’t apparent in his thoughts. The source of the amusement remained shrouded.

“How soon should we expect her?”

“Tomorrow, I think.”

“Alright.” Konrad stood. “We’ll see what comes of tomorrow.”

After today, Konrad had the unsettling notion that anything was possible.

“Thank you for the potion, the clarity,” Meldrick said softly. His intentions were laced with a deeper sense of appreciation. He swallowed and met Konrad’s eyes. “It has been…we’ve both appreciated your help, your guidance

No doubt Drey appreciated his guidance too.

Konrad pushed the thought away. Casualties included, the war had been worthwhile.

“It has been a good run,” he agreed. “You’ve given Talise and Niels a stable, healthy kingdom to inherit.”

“As have you,” Meldrick said. He stood as well. “I should get some rest, once Sonora…” he hesitated, as his luck indicated that Rhoda intended that they should have children between them, one way or another. He flicked the thought away. “Once Sonora is back home. Nell has their twins?”

“Yes. I’m going home to them now.” He’d given Nell space alone to process the reality of the babies, his children, alive and in the world.

“If either of you needs a break, I’d be happy to sit with them or keep the younger four happy,” he offered.

Konrad intended, whatever it took, to ensure that Meldrick remained in the lives of the children Konrad shared with Aadya. He had proved an excellent father to them, despite that they were not his own, and Konrad had no interest in separating them.

“Alright. Thank you. The other four are asleep now but we’ll need help in the morning. Aadya usually takes care of them.”

“I’ll see to it that they’re entertained,” Meldrick promised. “Who is taking your place?”

Once said aloud, it would be official. Still, Konrad felt the rightness of the decision. “Corban, though I suspect he’ll ask Spence to partner with him.”

Mel and his luck shared that suspicion. “They’ll make an effective team.”

“They may be better than I’ve been,” Konrad conceded. “Especially in recent years.”

And Konrad, for his part, had priorities that lay outside the kingdom. He traced them with his mind: Nell, in the shadowlight of their apartment singing to a child he loved more than Konrad would have ever guessed it was possible to love another; Enny, in the hammock of her treehouse, dreaming of them both.

The future beckoned.

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