Lady of Light and Shadows (36 page)

Bel coughed something that sounded like "Tairen
krekk"
and arched disbelieving brows. "And the ward on the door that made your weave start to fail when you tried to pass through it didn't have anything to do with your decision?”

"Well," Gaelen acknowledged with a wry grin, "there was that."

Inside the cathedral's sacred chamber of meditation and spiritual purification, Ellysetta took stock of her surroundings. The large, circular room was as big as the entire first floor of the Baristani home, and it was constructed entirely of white marble. Scenes of Adelis and the other twelve gods bestowing their gifts upon the peoples of the earth had been etched in gold on the marbled walls. The room's sparse furnishings consisted of a small golden prayer bench positioned before an ornate devotional carved into one wall, and a circle of cushion-topped benches surrounding a raised white marble altar in the center of the room, directly beneath the room's towering domed ceiling. Six marble columns circled the perimeter. Gilded mirrors tiled the dome's interior, reflecting back every ray of light so that the smallest candle could have illuminated the entire Solarus and a full chandelier would have set the room ablaze. As it was, six small golden lamps made the room bright as day.

"Go to the devotional, daughter, and recite the six devotions of Light while I bless the chamber. Once that is done, we may begin your soul's purification.”

With Mama and Selianne beside her, Ellysetta walked across the room to the carved devotional, knelt on the golden bench, and began to recite the devotions she'd learned as a child. Behind her, Greatfather Tivrest slowly circled the room, pausing near each of the columns to murmur a prayer and wave his scepter at the chamber walls.

Ellysetta's skin prickled with a now-familiar tingling sensation, and the words of the devotion caught in her throat.

The archbishop was weaving magic.

"Gaelen vel Serranis has escaped from our custody." Dorian made the announcement with a heavy heart. Around him, the buzz of outrage was already rising to fill the Council Chamber. Any hope of questioning vel Serranis directly was gone, as was the faint hope Dorian had still harbored that he could discover the truth.

He glanced at Annoura, who was watching him with pride and approval. She gave an encouraging nod, urging him to reveal the rest, as they had agreed he must. "In the interest of a fair and open debate," he continued, "I must inform you that Gaelen vel Serranis admitted to slaying Celierian villagers in the north. According to the Fey, he alleged that the ones he killed were Mage-claimed.”

The Lords of the Council burst into noisy debate and accusations. The Bell of Order rang several times, its peals drowned out by the din. After several chimes, when the volume of the shouting began to die down, Dorian granted Lord Sebourne the floor.

Sebourne turned to his fellow lords and Great Lords. "Since their arrival, the Fey have tried to make us doubt our northern neighbors and cast blame upon them for the murders that Gaelen vel Serranis has admitted to committing. They have sought to fill our minds with fears of Mages and threats to our freedom, while all the while their own exiled people were the true threat." He cast a slow, speaking gaze around the chamber. "Everyone knows the Mage Council was destroyed in the scorching of the world. What few Mages have survived were scattered to the winds, and there has been no sign of coordinated Mage activity in Eld ever since”

He waited for the raucous chorus of supportive cries and applause to die down before continuing. "If you still have doubts, then ask yourself this: How is it vel Serranis can allege that his victims were Mage-claimed when everyone knows Mage-claiming leaves no visible sign of its existence?" He let that sink in for a moment, then answered his own rhetorical question. "No, my lords, the victims of vel Serranis's murderous rampage were not Mage-claimed, they were just innocent peasants, simple, uneducated people who had the unhappy misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. These dubious accusations by the Fey are just the latest in a series of attempts to manipulate Celierian opinions and keep us frightened of nonexistent threats from the Eld. I urge you, my fellow lords, do not give in."

He turned to pin first Lord Barrial, then Teleos, with an unwavering look. "And if you find yourself still wanting to believe in the protection of the Fey, remember this: Our crops are failing this year. The late freeze destroyed the spring harvest in the north, while the floods wiped out half the wheat and corn in the south and east. The Fey, for all their vast magic, have done nothing to help us. Across the river, however, Eld has prospered. From our watch towers, we see daily caravans bursting with produce heading to market.

"Even if you don't trust the Eld, even if you cling to the old ways, can we, as responsible lords, turn our back on the opportunity to purchase food for winter? Do you think our starving tenants will care if the only meal on their table comes from Eld rather than Celieria?”

He spread his arms wide. "The Eld of non-Mage families are just people, like Celierian. Simple, mortal folk. They have come to us in peace and offered the hand of friendship. Can we not accept that they simply wish to live and prosper, as we do?”

"This is the opportunity to counter the influence of Fey magic upon us!" one of Sebourne's followers called out.

Lord Morvel stood up in agreement. "Lord Sebourne is right. Why do we concern ourselves with the memories of some centuries-old feud? The real question is, what is best for Celieria? Even if we did not need food for winter, where's the harm in giving the lords of Celieria an opportunity to profit from the export of our tradegoods to a new market?”

The doors to the Council Chamber burst open. A familiar voice called out, "To the contrary, Lord Morvel, Lord Sebourne could not be more wrong. The Eld are not your friends, and to think of them as anything but an enemy bent on your destruction is deadly delusion.”

The lords shifted in their seats to stare at the newcomer, and a loud murmur of voices-some exultant, some outraged-rose up to fill the chamber.

Rain Tairen Soul had returned.

On mighty wings, the tairen soared through skies set flame by fiery roar;

Below, with bright and deathly grace, fought legions of the shining Fey.

So proud and fulsome fierce their stand ‘gainst demon, Mage and witchly hand

That shei'dalins, in flowing red, wept for the brave immortal dead.

-
"The Battle of Eadmond's Field" from “Rainier's Song" by Avian of Celieria

It took a full ten chimes for Dorian to regain control over the Council Chamber, and when at last the lords took their seats, he turned to Rain, eyes snapping with temper. "My Lord Feyreisen, the guards posted outside the doors of this chamber were expressly ordered not to admit anyone. Yet here you are. Explain yourself, ser.”

"You invited me to address this Council, Your Majesty," Rain reminded him. "I have come to do so.”

"Our invitation to speak was extended before we were aware your people were harboring criminals wanted by the crown. You know Gaelen vel Serranis was captured earlier this morning, in the company of your truemate and the Fey?”

"I was informed of it a few chimes ago, as I approached the city." He could see that the news had shaken Dorian's faith in the Fey. «
I was not here when Dax and Marissya decided to keep Gaelen's presence secret, Dorian, but in all honesty, I probably would have done the same to avoid exactly this distrust and suspicion you now harbor towards us.»

"And were you also aware that the Dark Lord escaped before he could be brought before this Council for questioning?" Annoura interjected. "Did the Fey perhaps have a hand in that?”

"The news does not surprise me. Vel Serranis has spent the last thousand years outwitting enemies far more wily and dangerous than a troop of King's Guards." He didn't even have to wonder where Gaelen would be. A bloodsworn warrior never wandered far from the woman to whom he'd sworn himself.
Unlike a certain unworthy truemate.
Rain grimaced. When this was over and he could go to Ellysetta, he knew he would have a long, hard road to earn back the trust he'd so cravenly thrown away last night.

Dorian was speaking again. Rain forced his attention back to the king and caught the last part of what he was saying. "-so, will you stand in vel Serranis's stead and answer any questions my lords ask of you?”

"I will not stand as a prisoner in
sel'dor
chains, if that is what you mean," Rain answered, "but I will answer the Council's questions as best I am able.”

Dorian nodded. "Fair enough, My Lord Feyreisen.”

"Your Majesty!" Sebourne protested. "You cannot be serious. We can't believe anything he says. The Truthspeaker is not here to confirm his words, and the Fey have already proven their gift for deception.”

Rain glanced at the contentious lord and arched a disbelieving brow. "You wish to Truthspeak me? You spit on the Fey, attack us at every turn, yet still want to reap the benefits of our many gifts?" He laughed without humor. "The Fey have a word for foolish mortals like you.
Dravi’norah.
Maggot food.”

"How dare you!”

"Calling a
rultshart
by its name is the least of what I dare, Lord Sebourne." Rain lifted one corner of his mouth, baring the edges of his teeth, and leaned forward. His pupils lengthened and widened as he sighted his prey. "You know very well the Fey are not half the enemy you claim them to be, else you'd not dare continue to taunt and torment us as you do, but I warn you, tairen are not so tolerant. Push me far enough, mortal, and this tairen will show his fangs." He turned his back on the man, ignoring his furious sputtering. "Ask your questions, King Dorian, then grant me the freedom to speak, as we agreed.”

"Very well." Dorian ignored the furious Sebourne. "As you have reminded me, I did invite you to address this Council. Considering the gravity of the matter before us, we
will
listen to what you have to say, but first, let us address the matter of Gaelen vel Serranis. He admitted to slaying Celierian in the north. That is a fact not in dispute.”

"Agreed. I was mistaken about that. Gaelen swore under
shei'dalin
touch that
dahl'reisen,
not the Eld, are indeed to blame for the dead villagers ... but he also swore the ones he killed were Mage-claimed.”

"As Lord Sebourne pointed out earlier," Annoura interrupted, "Mage-claiming is known to be undetectable. How can Gaelen vel Serranis be certain the ones he killed were, in fact, Mage-claimed?”

"Until last night, I believed as you do. No one-not mortal, Fey, Elf, or Danae-has ever known who is Mage-claimed until they act. But the
dahl'reisen
have discovered a way to do what we cannot. Gaelen says the ones he slew were in the service of the Mages. He swore it, under
shei'dalin
touch. I believe him, as should you.”

Behind Annoura, Rain saw one of her little lapdog lordling's eyes go wide with fear. A similar but more somber concern was reflected in the faces of some of the lords who held land along the border. Unfortunately, those few were outnumbered by the many showing open doubt.

"There is more," Rain added. "Gaelen also warned us that Eld troops were gathering along the border.”

"Oh, for the gods' sake," Sebourne exclaimed. "Must we listen to this propaganda? Gaelen vel Serranis-an admitted murderer-now claims he can detect the undetectable and see invisible Eld troops gathering across the Heras River. Your Majesties, this is an utter fabrication, and not even a credible one at that!”

"Is it?" Rain countered. "I, too, wanted to reject what Gaelen said. I wanted to hide from the truth, as Celieria has long been doing, but the tairen convinced me I could not. They reminded me that I have a duty, no matter how unpleasant or frightening it may seem, to defend the Fey and protect the world from Mage evil. They reminded me that I have a duty to my mate, and to her kin, and to the Fey-kin among you." He glanced at Dorian, Barrial, and Teleos, and said, "Tairen do not abandon their kin. Tairen defend the pride.”

He turned back to Sebourne and pinned the man with a hard gaze. "I flew to the Eld border last night, Lord Sebourne. I crossed the Heras and scouted five miles deep into Eld, and what I saw confirmed Gaelen's claims. Those caravans bursting with produce you say you've watched pass by every day? They've been carrying more than vegetables. The Eld have been smuggling troops and armaments along the border, right under your noses. The villages have all been trenched and fortified. The Eld are preparing for war.”

Several of the other border lords sat up a little straighter. How many of them, Rain wondered, had also watched the caravans from their own keeps and thought nothing of them?

Sebourne would not be swayed. "If the Eld have strengthened their defenses along the border, Worldscorcher, it's most likely because they learned that you"-he jabbed a finger at Rain-"are no longer safely locked away behind the Faering Mists!”

"That is a possibility," Rain agreed. "But can you afford to take the chance?”

Several seats down from Sebourne, Lord Darramon, one of the moderates of the Twenty, rose to his feet. "Even assuming the Mages have regrouped-and that is an unsubstantiated assumption-and even assuming the Eld have built up their troop strength along the border, why would they attack us now? Celieria has shown no aggression towards the Eld in centuries. What cause have we given them for war?”

Before Rain could answer, Teleos surged to his feet. "Why have the Eld ever attacked?" he called out. "For conquest. For power. For the glory of the real Dark Lord, Seledorn, God of Shadows.”

"To destroy you and your defenses," Rain stated baldly. "Because Celieria is all that stands between them and the Fading Lands."

"Why have you ceased your devotions, daughter?”

"I-" Ellysetta stopped herself before she asked the archbishop why he was weaving magic. "What kind of blessing is that, Father?" she asked instead.

He frowned in annoyance. "It is the traditional blessing of the Solarus required before the initiation of the Bright Bell. Now direct your attentions to your devotions, and allow me to continue. We cannot begin the Bright Bell until the chamber is blessed.”

Ellysetta turned back to the altar and bowed her head. The familiar words fell from her lips by rote, but her attention remained focused on the archbishop as he circled the chamber.

She realized her mistake almost immediately. The archbishop wasn't weaving magic. It was the scepter in his hand. Just as the Fey had long ago cast a Fire-spell on the lamps of the city and a cleansing-spell on the waters of the Velpin, the archbishop's gold and crystal scepter-passed down through generation after generation of priests-contained magic. And the traditional "blessing" invoked the scepter's magic.

«Bel. Gaelen.»
She wanted to tell them what she'd discovered, to ask if they could sense the weave, too.

Only silence answered.

She opened her senses, forcing down her own natural barriers in an attempt to examine the scepter's weave. What she found sent a chill down her spine.

Five-fold. The archbishop had enveloped the Solarus in a five-fold weave.

She was imprisoned in a cage of magic.

loin me in the center of the room, daughter, so we may begin the Bright Bell of meditation and purification.”

"Remove the blessing from the room, Greatfather.”

The archbishop seemed genuinely surprised by the request. "I cannot unbless the chamber. And we cannot leave the Solarus until the Bright Bell is concluded. Now come, join me in the center of the room and prostrate yourself upon the Altar of Light.”

She stood and faced him. "Not until you remove the fivefold weave you just constructed around this room”

Behind her, Lauriana gasped. "Ellysetta! Mind your tongue!”

The archbishop's face darkened. "I? Weave magic in this sacred chamber? How dare you accuse me of such blasphemy.”

Her stomach clenched in a sick, terrible knot, but she stood firm. "Whether you intended to do so or not, Greatfather, you just wove a five-fold weave with that scepter. And I must insist that you undo it. Or give me the scepter, and I'll undo it for you.”

He jerked the scepter back, well out of her reach. "You go too far, woman. Get yourself to the altar and beg the Bright Lord for forgiveness." One steely hand clamped around her wrist and he yanked her towards the altar.

The touch of his skin on hers bombarded her senses with the fury of thoughts he was projecting. Ellysetta didn't stop to think, she just plunged into his mind. Flinging open her senses, forging determination into an arrow of power, she forced past his deliberate barrage of thoughts and laid bare his mind.

Thoughts and memories assaulted her. Mama weeping, begging the archbishop for help to save her daughter's soul. His determination, his certainty that magic was evil and must be destroyed. His burning zeal to forge the young Fey queen into a beacon of Light for the Fading Lands. But first, he must strip her soul of the Dark Lord's magic. He must exorcise the demons from her soul.

A scraping groan of marble shifting on old, hidden tracks made Ellysetta's heart clutch. She spun to face the altar as its massive white bulk rolled backwards and slid into a deep pocket behind the marble wall to reveal a small, dark chamber at the top of a secret stair.

Greatfather Tivrest grabbed her in a tight, unyielding grip as three men in the hooded scarlet robes of exorcists stepped from the darkness into the white light of the Solarus.

"No!" She fought to escape the archbishop's surprisingly powerful grip.
«Bel, Gaelen, help me!»
Her Spirit weave dashed against the barriers enveloping the room and dissolved. She struggled furiously. Around the room, the flames in the sconces roared to life, leaping high, licking with angry, useless hunger at the marbled walls and ceiling.

The archbishop cried out, "She's burning me!”

One of the exorcists leapt forward and threw a dark rope round her shoulders. She cried out in pain as the hot rush of her magic curdled into agony.
Sel'dor.
The rope was threaded with it. She struggled, trying to free herself from the archbishop and the rope.

The second exorcist threw back his hood, revealing a stern face. "That's enough, girl," he commanded. "I am Father Lucial Bellamy, head of the Order of Adelis. We're not here to harm you. We're here to save your soul. But we can't have you endangering us all with your demonic powers." He pulled a pair of black metal cuffs from one pocket and approached.

"Mama!" Ellysetta cast a frantic, pleading look over her shoulder. "Mama, get help!”

But instead of looking shocked, her mother stood weeping, hands clasped tightly together.

"Mama?" Realization dawned too late.

"Don't fight them, kitling, please. Let them save your soul." Ellysetta turned desperate eyes to her best friend. "Selianne?”

"I-" Selianne glanced at Lauriana, who shook her head frantically and grabbed Selianne's arm as if to stop her. When Selianne turned back, her face was set in a grim, fatalistic expression. "I'm sorry, Ellie. The Fey have bewitched you. This is for the best.”

The exorcist snapped the
sel'dor
around Ellysetta's wrists. Pain drove her to her knees.

"The Mages no doubt still remember how an alliance of Fey and Celierians once defeated them," Rain continued in the lull of silence, "and they will not want to make the same mistake twice. Why do you think they sent their ambassador to you with his offer?" He cast
a
long, sober
glance
around the chamber. "If they can convince you, our allies, that Fey magic and Fey might, which have always been used for good, are somehow more evil and threatening than the Eld; if they can convince you to accept their lies and false friendship and throw open your borders, you will soon find yourselves worshiping Seledorn and surrendering the souls of your children to the service of the Mages. They won't have to raze a single village to conquer you.”