Amyu leaned forward, with Iian looking over her shoulder. The drawing was all crisp black lines. Amyu recognized the Council Room. The sword was displayed on the table, and on the wall behind was the tapestry of the airion.
“The Crystal Sword of Xy is one of the two most ancient artifacts of Xy,” Kendrick said. “It was always displayed in the Council Room, set out on the Council table as you see here. The sword is only removed for the High Ceremonies,” He continued. “The Coronation of the Monarch, the Marriage of the Monarch, the Confirmation of the Heir Apparent, and the Funeral of the Monarch.”
“Two ancient pieces?” Iian questioned.
“Yes,” Kendrick turned the page. “The other is the Xyian Ring.”
This drawing was stark in comparison. The ring was a plain band, with a stone set in the center.
“The Xyian Ring was always worn by the Monarch,” Kendrick said. “Originally, the sword was always carried as well, but that practice ended before my time.”
“I had forgotten the Ring,” Iian said.
“Many have.” Kendrick shook his head. “Lara’s father, Xyron, wore it until he sickened. It kept falling off his finger as he grew thinner. I offered the ring to Xymund, but he felt that it was not worthy of him. He wanted something grander. Something that befit a king.” Herald sniffed. “Never mind its history, its age, or significance. He talked of melting it down, having it refashioned, and bid me store it until he had decided on a design.”
He stood, and reached deep into a high shelf, moving scrolls and papers out of the way. “Here it is,” he said, pulling out a small wooden box.
Amyu stared at the ring, a gold band and blue stone that matched the sword. “They are the same color,” she said.
“At every High Ceremony, at some point in the ceremony the monarch holds high the Sword, displays the Ring and recites the Call.” Kendrick turned back to the book and pointed to markings below the picture. “‘Let the protectors of Xy arise to my call.’ In suitable, stirring tones, of course.”
“Of course,” Iian said.
“There have been no changes in the rallying cry.” Kendrick started to thumb through the book, looking for something. “But there have been variations in the gestures over time.”
“Why isn’t Xylara wearing it now?” Iian asked.
“Xylara wore it for her hasty Coronation.” Kendrick frowned. “I made sure of that. But it slid off her finger and she wasn’t going to take it to the Plains. Something about ‘taking nothing from my Warlord.’”
“Take nothing except from the hand of the Warlord,” Amyu corrected.
“Ah,” Kendrick nodded. “A ritual of the Plains, no doubt.” He shrugged. “I have been meaning to speak to Xylara since her return, but with all the ruckus, I hadn’t had a chance.”
Iian looked around the small room. “Do you have apprentices? Assistants?”
“No,” Kendrick sighed. “Othur and I talked of it, but Xymund had no interest beyond his own glory. I haven’t bothered Xylara, but with the birth of the babes.”
Iian frowned. “We must take action to preserve—”
“Could I take it?” Amyu interrupted. She didn’t want to be rude, but they might talk forever. “I have an idea.”
“The ring?” Kendrick’s bushy eyebrows climbed up with horror. “But—”
“On my authority,” Iian said.
Kendrick looked at both of them as if their wits had been taken by the wind. “Let us talk to the Warden of Xy,” he said firmly, closing the ring box with a snap.
Amyu released herhorse into the herd of cows grazing at the foot of the mountain. Kalisa’s family was nowhere to be seen, and the cheese cave was locked up tight. That suited Amyu. She didn’t want to have to answer any more questions.
She’d answered plenty in the last few days, enough that they still rang in her head. She’d been honest in telling Heath and Atira that she’d had an idea about how to summon the airions using the sword. She just hadn’t told them everything.
It had taken time to convince them. Days in fact, but that had been fine. She’d needed time to prepare and gather items for her own ritual.
There’d been arguments against her of course, with everyone pointing out the flaws in her idea. That she didn’t have the Blood of Xy in her veins. That the sword and the rallying cry were for the people of Xy, not some mythical creature. That no sign had been found by Rafe and the others. That this was a foolish idea, and that she’d lose the Ring of Xy in the brush and that was a hell of a way to treat an ancient artifact of the House of Xy.
That last had been from an indignant Kendrick, quivering with worry at the very idea.
In the end, Heath had shrugged. “The skies favor the bold,” he quoted as he gave her permission.
