Forging Divinity (26 page)

“There can’t be a connection,” Vorain muttered. “Why are you here?”

“Mostly to investigate the missing Rethri,” he replied, gritting his teeth. “And I really wish you’d stop doing that.”

The so-called goddess scowled. “I underestimated you again, but I need these answers. I don’t like doing this to you, but it’s the only way I can make sure you’re telling the truth. I’m sorry. Who do you work for?”

“Vaelien,” he replied simply. Vorain blinked, giving him an instant of control.
Blindness
, he thought, twitching a finger toward his face to target himself. Directly touching something was generally a more effective way of ensuring his spells functioned properly, but casting a spell on himself didn’t strictly require anything other than concentration.

His vision went black - and Vorain’s control faded immediately. He took no move to make this change evident to her, however. He simply kept his eyes open, sightless, and awaited her remaining questions.

“You work directly for Vaelien?” she asked, seeming taken aback.

“No,” he replied, “I normally work for the Order of Vaelien as a scribe. I was employed temporarily for this assignment because I’m not actually a member, and the officer who hired me believed that someone from high up in the order might be working with Edon.”

“What is the name of the officer gave you the order to come here and investigate the Rethri?” she asked.

“Edmon Burke,” he replied, making up a name.

“Were you sent here alone, or with others?” she inquired.

“Alone,” he replied. That was truthful, at least.
I hope she doesn’t move too much – if she does, my blindness will quickly become obvious. I’ll need to turn my sight back on if I sense her shift too much.

“Do you have any contacts within the city?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied simply.

“Who are they?”

“I don’t have his name. I just send him letters through the mirror. We aren’t supposed to know who the other is.” Jonan’s hand slipped down to his waist, inching its way toward his left pocket and the vial inside. He couldn’t tell how obvious it was, since he couldn’t even see himself, but he was getting progressively more nervous that he was quickly exhausting his usefulness to the indigo-eyed sorceress.

Vorain went silent. Jonan hesitated, taking a breath.
Is she just trying to think of more questions? Did she move her head?

Resh it. Vision return.

Vorain was looking away from him, but she didn’t seem to notice that his eyes hadn’t followed hers. With luck, she had already cancelled her spell.

“You didn’t have to do that. I would have answered you honestly,” he said, trying to sound even more annoyed than he actually felt.

She shifted her gaze back over to him, but he didn’t feel the twinge of her sorcery this time. “I have no way of knowing that for certain. And I needed to know the truth. I’m going to force you to answer one more question, and then you’re free to go.”

He gripped the vial in his pocket, but his movement was too slow – her eyes had seized him again.
Resh, should have acted while I had a window. I’m always too soft.

“What did you think he was doing with the Rethri he was taking?” Vorain asked.

“Sacrificing them to extend his life span,” Jonan replied.

Vorain gasped audibly, standing and beginning to take a step back. Her control over Jonan faded as her head moved away. Jonan caught her wrist with his right hand, his left hand still sitting in his pocket, ready to strike.

“Now you answer a question for me. How long ago did Edon start gathering up those unbonded children?” Jonan demanded.

Vorain shook her wrist, breaking Jonan’s grip. “Seven months ago,” she said quietly. “It was my idea. More people to research, to help my brother – and others like him.”

“And I take it you went with him to Selyr and helped him find these children? Maybe even helped convince the parents to send the children along with you?” Jonan guessed.

“He’s trying to help them,” she insisted, “You’re wrong about him. He couldn’t be using Rethri for that.”

Jonan shrugged. “I didn’t know about the unbonded when I came here. I doubt the people in the Order of Vaelien who sent me did, either. They just told me the most likely hypothesis they could come up with. Edon looks too young to be a human of his age, and Rethri have ways of slowing down their aging process. It seemed like a logical conclusion.”

“Rethri coming of age rituals don’t work on humans,” Vorain insisted in a whisper. “It’s been tried. Variations have been attempted for centuries.”

“Sure. And I assume the ‘coming of age’ rituals don’t work properly on unbonded Rethri, either. Making them more like humans.” Jonann pushed himself into a more stable position on the table, musing.

“I admit he could have discovered a ritual that works on humans while trying to cure the unbonded,” Vorain said hesitantly, stepping slowly away from Jonan. “That’s not wrong. He needs time for his research. Using himself as a test subject for a life-saving ritual is no crime.”

“No,” Jonan remarked, “But what about the Rethri that disappeared from Keldris, nearly twenty years ago? They could not have been involved in this research. As you said yourself, you only suggested it five years ago.”

Vorain folded her arms, looking down at the floor. “You’re just trying to trick me. You’re an illusionist, I should have suspected this.”

“You’re the one with the thought sorcery – neat trick, by the way. You can just ask me again with the spell, I’ll tell you the same things. I won’t resist.” It was a gamble – if she asked him certain questions again, it wouldn’t end well.

“You’re wrong about him,” she insisted. “Maybe he recruited some Rethri to help him in the early days, before he ascended. I wouldn’t be surprised. As for his apparent age, that could easily be an illusion, like one of yours. Or, of course, he has divine powers now. None of the gods are supposed to age.”

That last argument was hard to debate. If she was operating under the idea that Edon was an actual deity, and that deities had a way to stop themselves from aging, he had no way of disputing that premise. He had to undermine one section or the other, or he couldn’t make any progress. “You said yourself that different gods have different levels of power. Even if Edon is a god, there’s no guarantee that stopping his aging process is one of his abilities.”

“I should have considered this before,” Vorain mumbled. “I just assumed... Rethri adults don’t visibly age, so it didn’t seem strange to me.”

“Help me find out the truth,” Jonan offered. “If he’s just trying to help your brother, that’s great. I would be pleased to report that back to the Order of Vaelien, in fact, if you would let me.”
Should I push further...? Yes, now is the time.
“Even if I leave,” he risked, “Other members of the Order of Vaelien will come to investigate. If you can help me prove his innocence, I can prevent that.”

Vorain turned away from him, presenting a perfect target. He itched to strike, but his hand slipped out of his pocket instead. “Please,” he pleaded. “Between the two of us, we can verify the truth behind his claims. And,” Jonan risked, “If he is hurting Rethri for his own gains, we can stop him.”

Vorain spun on her heels, turning to face him again, her jaw tense with anger. “I may have made a mistake in bringing you here.”

Jonan stood up, his expression calm. “No, Rialla. You chose to learn. That is never the wrong choice.”

“If this gets my brother killed, you’ll be wrong about that,” Vorain said. “And you’ll be dead.”

Chapter X – The Value of a Promise

Never,
Taelien told himself,
ever cauterize a wound with flame sorcery again.

Each of his wounds ached, but the salve that the medics had put on his injuries – including the gashes from the Esharen on his leg that had perplexed the healers – had eased the pain from most of them. It had done nothing for his self-inflicted burn.

His concern that the wounds inflicted by the Heartlance would refuse to heal seemed unfounded. The medics had claimed that the salve was blessed by Myros, and that was what stopped the bleeding.

Blessed salves, sure, that sounds convincing.

Still, he was in a pretty good mood, in spite of the pain. He limped alongside Landen and Lydia toward the high palace, a place he had heard of but never visited. A half-dozen guards trailed behind them. Veruden had gone on ahead, claiming he had pressing business of his own to attend to.

“We’re heading to Edon’s own home,” Lydia explained as they walked. “It’s a rare honor to be invited there. He used to be more active in the kingdom, but he gradually grew more reclusive as more gods ascended.”

“Isn’t the palace where the rulers of the city should live?” Taelien asked, leaning heavily on a walking staff as he tried to keep pace with the others.

“Oh, sure, the queen regent is there, too,” Lydia added. “I see her out in public more, though, so it’s not quite as big of a deal.”

“Must be nice to have the queen’s ear,” Landen remarked.

Taelien quirked a brow at the brown-haired swordsman. “Aren’t you one of the Queensguard?”

Landen shrugged. “Sure. Ostensibly, we’d be her bodyguards. Thing is, she’s a goddess. She doesn’t need guards. If she ever did, she’s got Myros. A few of us are always assigned to Byron. The rest of us are mostly just for show.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Taelien replied.

“Oh, it’s not so bad. I mean, it certainly makes it easy to be successful at my job, since I don’t actually have to do it.” He chuckled. “Sometimes it’d be nice to feel necessary, though. Or to have a way to prove myself.”

“Is that why you fight in the arena so frequently?” Lydia asked.

“Yeah, more or less.” Landen cracked his knuckles as the continued to walk.

“I can understand that. I used to do the same thing. I was a kovasi fighter for years,” Taelien explained.

Landen glanced over at him. “Kovasi? Isn’t that a Rethri thing?”

“Yes, primarily. I grew up outside of Selyr. Kovasi was the local sport. It’s a little different than the type of fight we just had, but many of the same tactics applied.”

“Ah, well, I feel a little better knowing it wasn’t your first bout,” Landen said with a grin. “How’s kovasi different?”

“Well, its team based,” Taelien explained. “And different kovasi bouts use different territories. There is no clear arena. Essentially, two to four teams of six are sent to different places in the forest, given rough maps and non-lethal weapons, and told to hide a sigil from the opposing teams. To win, one team must gather the sigils of all of the other teams, while retaining their own. Matches would sometimes last several days.”

“Wow. Several days out in the Forest of Blades? Isn’t that dangerous?” Landen asked.

“Of course,” Taelien replied. “That is part of the charm.”

“How do spectators watch such a large area?” Lydia asked.

“They don’t,” Taelien explained. “Judges accompany each of the teams to observe and record. Once the match is completed, the teams reenact key moments in a performance for audiences.”

“Like, you play-act things you already did?” Landen asked.

Taelien nodded. “Yes. It is not as difficult as it sounds. Rethri culture places a strong emphasis on honest communication and humility, thus you rarely see anyone wishing to distort the events that occurred.”

“Humility, eh? Guess you didn’t pick up all the aspects of Rethri culture,” Lydia said, nudging him lightly. He winced – even the light tough briefly reignited the pain in his right shoulder.

“Indeed,” Taelien muttered, attempting to ignore the pain. “I’ve always been better at winning.”

“Hey, that’s it up there,” Landen pointed. Taelien’s eyes followed his gesture, widening as he traced it to a broad spire piercing high above the city.

Taelien squinted, noticing tiny windows in the structure for the first time. From a longer distance, he had previously assumed it to be a mountain. “People live in there? It looks to be wrought for giants.”

“When humans took over Orlyn, they wanted to prove that they could make something more impressive than what they had been forced to build as slaves. Thus, the high palace was built to replace the low palace – which had been the seat of the Xixian prince that ruled here,” Lydia explained.

“Huh,” Landen said. “I heard Edon made it.”

Lydia shook her head vehemently. “No, the high palace long predates Edon’s coming to this city. It was made through hard work, not sorcery. That is part of what makes it so impressive.”

The trio walked in silence for the next few minutes as they approached the palace grounds. Taelien marveled at the pristine garden they passed through on the way, the cultivated flowers accompanied by statues of each of the four local gods and champions of the days of old. As they finished the journey through the garden, the cobblestone path met with a marble walkway lined with silver-etched stone columns. As Taelien glanced at each of the columns, he could see that the silver was some sort of tiny script, but it was unreadable from the center of the path where he walked.
Such wealth,
Taelien considered.
How many men and women could be fed for what these marvels cost?

Four soldiers clad in polished mail saluted firmly as the trio approached. They stepped aside as the gate swung open, apparently controlled by some sort of internal mechanism. Lydia took the lead, apparently familiar with the location, while Landen and Taelien trailed behind.

“You come here often?” Landen asked toward Lydia.

“I used to work here,” Lydia replied. “When I was first hired as a court sorceress, I stayed here for two months before being reassigned to the lower palace when one of my predecessors retired.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Landen replied. “You’re lucky, I’d love to have spent that much time here.”

Lydia shrugged. “It’s not the same when you’re working.”

The Queensguard gave an understanding nod.

I really need to isolate Lydia so we can discuss a plan,
Taelien thought. His injured leg was starting to itch, but he resisted the urge to reach down and scratch at it.
This has gone far beyond what we previously discussed.

Another group of four guards approached their group moments after they stepped onto the purple carpet of the palace. Their leader wore a gold-etched breastplate, and Landen brought his right hand to his left shoulder in a salute as the man approached.

“Captain,” Landen said, freezing in his step.

The leader lazily returned Landen’s salute, and then raised his other hand to wipe the sweat off his brow.

“Congratulations,” he said, not sounding very congratulatory. “The bunch of you get to come with me. Edon is waiting this way.”

Taelien shot Lydia a questioning look, but she only shrugged at him, falling into step behind the new group of guards.

Taelien glanced behind him, noting that not only were the six guards from the arena following them, so were the four that had been positioned at the palace door.

Ten behind us,
Taelien considered.
Four in front. And Landen within striking range.

They passed three more pairs of guards as they marched down softly carpeted halls, but these additional guards didn’t join the procession. Taelien wasn’t sure if he should be comforted by that fact or not.

As they passed a pair of intersections, Lydia’s expression shifted into a slight grimace. Taelien noted a long, spiral staircase on their right side just past the second intersection, which Lydia glanced at as well. Landen’s expression seemed cheerful, as if nothing was amiss. That probably meant that either he was unaware of any pending treachery, or he was simply pleased to be a part of it. Neither thought was particularly reassuring.

What are the odds that they know Lydia is working for the Paladins of Tae’os?
Taelien considered.
I really shouldn’t have accepted Landen’s idea to bring her along. Granted, having an extra sword would be handy in my current condition, but I wouldn’t want Jonan to have to rescue both of us later. Assuming there would be anything left to rescue.

The guard captain with the gold-trimmed breastplate led the group to a third intersection, at which point he led the group to the left. Lydia slowed her pace, moving to a position directly at Taelien’s right. The others didn’t seem to notice.

The front guards paused at a rose-colored door, taking positions to either side of it. “This way,” the captain said, knocking twice on the door and stepping to the side of it.

The door opened from within, a tall blonde-haired man standing within, the Heartlance resting comfortably in his left hand. He was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt and gray trousers.

“Ah, please, come in!” he said, sounding jovial, almost boyish.

“Thank you, Lord Myros,” Landen said, raising his right hand to his left shoulder and bowing at the waist. Lydia made the same gesture, surprising Taelien for a moment.

Should I do the same? Probably.

He chose not to.

“Thanks,” Taelien replied, stepping inside the open door. He gaped at the display of food within – half a dozen chefs bustled around a table set for ten, laying out steaming platters of a dozen exotic dishes. Even from the entrance, Taelien could smell garlic, onion, and the distinct aromas of cooked beef and chicken.

A single figure sat at the head of the table – the one who had stood on the dais above the arena, shouting downward.
Edon.
He somehow managed to look just as tall while seated as he had while looming over the arena – but it was a trick of presence, not of light. Edon seemed to emanate an almost palpable sense of confidence.

The god of ascension motioned for Taelien to come forward, a crystal-inlaid ring on Edon’s right hand sparkling brightly, and Taelien approached without hesitation.

“Where should I sit?” Taelien asked, gesturing at the empty chairs surrounding the table.

“You’re our guest, sit wherever you’d like,” Edon replied.

Taelien walked past another pair of guards that stood on the inside of the doors – noting that these guards were wearing full plate, including helms – and took the seat to Edon’s left. It was a position of challenge in Rethri culture – it meant that he could draw his sword directly into an attack. He wasn’t sure if Edon caught the meaning behind it; the local culture likely had different standards.

Edon only smiled benevolently, waving for the others to approach. “Please, Landen, Sorceress Lydia, Myros, come join us.”

Taelien glanced around, looking for the other combatants, but he could see no sign of them. “Will the other Queensguard be attending?”

“No,” Edon replied, “I only invited those who impressed me in the match. And the young sorceress seems to have invited herself,” he pointed out. Lydia tilted her head to the side quizzically. “Which also impresses me. You are welcome to stay,” he quickly added.

Lydia nodded. “Thank you, Ascended,” she replied, bowing and saluting as she had with Myros. Taelien hadn’t heard her use that term for Edon before, but he assumed it was probably the man’s formal courtly title.

The man with the Heartlance took a seat at Edon’s right, directly across from Taelien, just as Taelien had hoped. As Taelien nodded to the blonde man, he noted an oddity when he saw the inside of the spear-bearer’s exposed right elbow.

No wound, not even a scar. Even a life sorcerer couldn’t heal something so perfectly so fast. Maybe the Heartlance helps him heal faster... But he’s a hint too tall, too, even if he’s slouching to cover it. This isn’t the same Myros I fought in the arena. Still, I’d better act like he is.

Landen sat down next to Taelien, and Lydia next to “Myros”. That was mildly awkward – he would have felt better with Lydia at his side – but he admitted it was a good tactic on Lydia’s part. If the new Myros took any violent action, Lydia would be close enough to interfere.

“Please,” Edon said, “Help yourself to the food. There will be plenty of time to discuss business after we’ve eaten our fill.

Taelien nodded gratefully, slipping a plate of beef toward him without hesitation. If they wanted to kill him, poisoning the ointment they put on his wounds would have been much more efficient than trying to poison the food for a table with several others.

Seeing Taelien take the lead, the others quickly began to pick at other plates. Chefs came around and left glasses of deep red wine for each guest.
These,
Taelien considered,
would be much more practical to poison. But I don’t think they’re going to try to off me so soon – it would look too suspicious.