A loud knock on the door and Lord Penbarin lets us know the time has arrived. Ethan leaves the room and I change into the tunic, trying to put that disconcerting idea of death out of my mind. Isabel helps me adjust the sash, then the matching cloak, pulling the hood right over the top of my head.
‘Look,’ she says. ‘Don’t worry about what Ethan said. That stuff about martyrdom, he could be wrong. He often is.’
A smile tries to form, and I relax a little, but only a little. The prospect of dying for whatever cause is hard to shake from my thoughts.
‘Ethan thought he was my soul-mate once,’ Isabel goes on. ‘When all the time it was Arkarian.’
‘Yeah? So how do you know who your soul-mate is?’
She shrugs. ‘All I know is that Arkarian said we all meet our soul-mates at least once in our lives. It’s up to us to recognise each other, or else miss out on true love.’
What a melancholy idea. But even this thought takes second place when we open the door and find Ethan arguing with Lord Penbarin.
‘But who picked it out?’ Ethan demands to know.
‘That’s something I can’t –’
They notice us and stop in mid-sentence. Lord Penbarin bows his head in recognition, while Ethan simply stares at me with his mouth hanging open. ‘You look amazing.’
‘Here, here,’ Lord Penbarin mumbles. ‘Now that you’re ready, my dear, I’ll let the Tribunal know.’ He turns, gives Ethan a hard stare, then hurries off, taking Isabel with him.
‘Arkarian will be sorry he missed this,’ Ethan says.
I want to bring up the reason for his argument with Lord Penbarin, but my nerves are feeling the pressure of the coming Initiation. I decide I’d rather not know. Ethan’s words make the Initiation sound like a momentous event and my hands begin to shake. I double-check that my gloves are on, then slip my hands into two side slits in the long cloak.
A few minutes later we arrive at the Tribunal Chambers, and Ethan takes a deep breath. ‘Are you ready?’
‘No way,’ I reply honestly. ‘I’m not prepared. I don’t know what to expect. I’ve got a sick feeling of dread inside. And I think I’m going to throw up.’
He tries to reassure me. ‘You’ll be fine. They’re going to welcome you in there.’
‘I’m a traitor, Ethan. I was a member of the Order and I turned on my own kind.’
A look of outrage fills his face, his eyes widening, the blue turning cold and hard. ‘The Order is not your kind! It never was, OK?’
‘Of course it wasn’t! I didn’t mean that.’ He watches me quietly. ‘It’s just, there’s a stigma attached to what I did and I can’t get rid of it. I see it in people’s eyes. Everyone here knows my history. And because of that fact, they don’t trust me.’
‘It’s just your nervousness, Rochelle. You’re imagining it.’
‘I’m a Truthseer, Ethan.’
He glances away to the ceiling for a moment. ‘Arkarian trusts you. And, well, I’ve already told you I do too.’
His words are comforting. He has no idea how much. I watch his face as his eyes turn from the ceiling towards me. They lock with mine, and for the world I can’t look away. Something passes between us, something I can’t name, but is as real as my hand or my heart.
Behind us the doors swing open, making us aware that we’re not alone any more. Ethan puts his hand under my elbow and I follow his lead as he takes me to the centre of the room.
‘My lords and ladies,’ he announces, then turns to bow directly to our own King Richard, sitting to the right of Lord Penbarin, ‘and kings and queens, allow me to introduce the eighth Initiate of the Named. Her name is Rochelle Thallimar.’
A round of applause follows. There are others in the room. Isabel is one, and a collection of strange faces sitting on stalls to one side. A stool appears behind me and I sit on it, as Ethan walks from the circle to go and sit beside Isabel. He grips her hand as if he’s suddenly become nervous. I try not to think why; I have enough of my own nerves to contend with.
Lorian stands and everyone’s eyes zoom to him. He raises his hands towards me, then motions them to the surrounding circle of ten.
‘In a moment all the good lords and ladies will honour you with a special gift, welcoming you to the Guard. Before they do so, I am going to bestow my gift upon you.’
Murmurs ripple around the room. Apparently this is not the normal procedure. Lorian quietens everyone with one stern look. When all is still and silent, he comes over to me and raises his hands over my head.
‘Rochelle Thallimar, do you swear fealty to the Guard and its cause?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘My gift to you is the entwining of your powers of Truthseeing and touch, so that from this moment on you will not only be able to hear the thoughts of others, but, through your hands, know their loyalties as well.’
The murmurs grow louder and Ethan runs back into the circle. ‘My lord! A word, please.’
Lorian’s hands lower and he sighs as if half expecting Ethan’s reaction, yet dreading it at the same time. ‘You may speak.’
‘The gift is very generous but … also dangerous.’
‘Perhaps, but we are all in danger now, Ethan. A skill such as this –’
‘– is a death sentence.’
Lorian remains silent. Ethan continues. ‘We all know there is a traitor among us. With this gift you are empowering Rochelle with the ability to identify him or her. If the traitor is in this room, Rochelle will be killed before she leaves this palace, and you know it. My lord –’
‘Ah, but if the traitor is identified in this room, right now at this gathering –’
‘This is preposterous!’ Lord Penbarin and Lord Samartyne call out together. Queen Brystianne is next, gliding off her seat, followed by Lord Alexandon, looking just as outraged.
King Richard comes right into the circle. ‘My lord, is it correct to assume you suspect one of the Tribunal members to be this traitor?’
‘I wish it were not so,’ Lorian replies in a weary tone.
As I think about what Lorian wants me to do, I see his point. The traitor has to be found, and if Lorian can do this through me, then I don’t see how I – or anyone – can say no.
‘There is one serious flaw to your plan, my lord.’
All heads turn to the back of the circle. Sir Syford steps off his stool and comes towards me. ‘Should Ms Thallimar name one of us, it will be one traitor’s word against another.’
The murmuring starts again. Ethan spins around, staring hard at the Tribunal members agreeing the loudest. I shake my head at Isabel, and she tugs Ethan back into his seat.
But no one is as outraged as Lorian. His eyes turn from a deep purple to darkest blue, while his skin takes on a stunning golden glow. He raises his hands and everyone takes a deep breath. It’s as if everything in the room suddenly shrinks, including the air. Lorian holds his hands up a moment longer, heightening the tension.
‘Has not one of you read the Prophecy?’ He quotes, ‘Suspicion will cause disharmony!’
‘I will do it.’ I say the words softly, but in the silence they’re heard clearly around the room. ‘I know the risks, and I do this willingly.’
‘Rochelle!’ Ethan calls out. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’
I turn my head to speak directly to him. Everyone is listening, but that can’t be helped. ‘I have to.’
‘Why, for heaven’s sake?’
‘You heard them, they don’t trust me. This is an opportunity for me to earn that trust. If I can reveal the traitor, how much better off will the Guard be? Everyone will see that I’m not aligned with the Goddess or Marduke any more.’
‘But it’s too risky.’
‘I’m used to risk.’ I turn and look at Lorian, and for the first time find it possible to meet his gaze. His eyes seem to pour through me and the feeling is welcoming. He brings his hands over my head, not touching, but so close that my hair stirs. ‘Close your eyes.’<
br />
For a second I feel a moment of doubt, but quickly shove it aside. This is the right thing. Marduke was wrong about me.
A light pours down from Lorian’s hands, forming a golden glow. I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly to settle my nerves. As I do this I feel the air around me rise to a higher temperature. I breathe in this strange warm air. It soaks into my skin through thirsty pores.
When it’s over I open my eyes to find Lorian staring straight at me. ‘The gift is complete.’
Ethan sighs, a deflated and troubled sound. I have a flash of misgiving. Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now.
Lorian explains what’s going to happen, ‘The lords and ladies will each bestow you with a gift. After they have done this, they will kneel before you –’
Murmurs of discontent make Lorian momentarily pause and look up. When he takes up the explanation again he addresses the Circle in a commanding voice. ‘And then Rochelle will lay her hand on the top of your head. You will remain still until Rochelle indicates otherwise.’
It’s so quiet now I would be able to hear a pin drop down the hall.
‘Who will be first?’ Lorian’s voice vibrates throughout the entire chambers.
King Richard stands. ‘I will.’ He looks reluctant. Where is his jovial manner now? ‘Firstly, my dear, a warm welcome to the Kingdom of Veridian.’ King Richard lifts both hands and rests them over my head. ‘My gift to you is the ability to see the truth … in oneself.’ After a quiet moment, he kneels before me and his eyes drift to mine. ‘It is your turn now. Don’t be afraid.’
My hands are shaking. I take off my gloves, inhale deeply and lift one hand to hover over the top of King Richard’s forehead. I have a sudden fear of burning him.
‘Go ahead,’ Lorian calls out.
I lower my hand and close my eyes. Instantly I see a glowing light. It’s as if this light is coming from King Richard’s centre. It swells like a flame for a second before forming a funnel at its core. I focus into this core and find myself suddenly swamped with a sense of faith, gratitude and trust that I know is true.
I lift my hand and King Richard withdraws, returning to his seat.
The others follow. Lady Devine, with her long, blood-red hair, kneels before me with hands clasped tightly together, while Lord Alexandon’s thumping footfalls let everyone know his displeasure. Lord Meridian, the smallest of the Tribunal members, wears a look of outrage. Queen Brystianne is next, with tightly-pursed lips, while Sir Syford’s stride is filled with arrogance and disgust. One by one they bestow their gifts on me, but if I were asked what these gifts were, I swear I couldn’t answer.
It takes an age but finally we are down to the last two – Lady Arabella and Lord Penbarin. As if she doesn’t realise she is next, Lady Arabella sits unmoving.
Lord Penbarin tilts his head in her direction. ‘After you, my lady.’
She sends him a hard stare. Lorian notices. ‘Arabella, do you hesitate?’
She gets up, straightening her shoulders sharply. ‘Not at all, my lord. But I do protest.’
‘Noted,’ he replies. ‘Along with everyone else’s.’
From beneath her floor-length gown, blue satin slippers can be seen as Lady Arabella walks right around me, stopping only when she is directly at my back. She raises her hand to my head, where she lets it hover close but not quite touching.
‘My gift is that of control,’ she says, emphasising this last word. I don’t understand her sharp tone, though it’s obvious she’s referring to the power in my hands, flickering away on my lap. I get a sense of her gaze going straight over me and my eyes follow. Ahead, Lorian is staring back. It’s as if the two of them are the only ones in the room – in the universe! The connection is so strong, so overpowering, that it throws my thoughts into confusion. What’s going on? Do they have feelings for each other? I don’t think so. I mean, Lorian chooses to be neither male nor female, everyone knows that.
Finally she comes around and kneels before me, her head bowed. I close my eyes, lift my hand to her forehead, and try to focus on what I’m supposed to be doing. Finally I see the familiar flame burning inside. It surges quickly into a raging fire, swirling and hissing and edged bright red. I focus on the flame, looking for the funnel to form, but it keeps moulding and changing shape. I get a sense of something unidentifiable, definitely not the clarity I received from most of the others. Doubts begin to form in my head, when suddenly the flame holds still and forms into the shape of a burning heart.
With a sigh of relief I withdraw my hand, releasing her. It is only love I see. A powerful and deep love, but one that also burns with remorse and sadness.
Lady Arabella returns to her seat. I glance at Lorian and notice his eyes following Lady Arabella. They linger on her for long moments after she has settled in her chair. Only when his attention returns to me does Lord Penbarin give a loud groan and come over.
‘Many welcomes, my dear, from the House of Samartyne. I have given this gift much thought. It is not the one I originally intended.’ He straightens, lifting his hands over the top of me. ‘I endow you with the gift of forgiveness.’ Then he adds, ‘Forgiveness of all who misjudge you.’
Taking care with his gown, Lord Penbarin kneels before me. My touch instantly reveals a flame burning clear, pure and true. Releasing him, he takes his seat and everyone starts murmuring. Lorian hushes them with just a look.
‘What have you found?’
‘I found many things, my lord, but nothing that would condemn any member of this Tribunal.’
The murmurs turn into relieved mutterings. Lorian raises a hand, knowing I haven’t finished yet. The room falls silent.
‘I did find loyalty, my lord. An abundance of it.’
‘What else?’
‘Concern, gratitude, fear … and love, my lord.’
Lorian looks contemplative for a moment. ‘Love and hate are two sides of a coin. How can you be sure that what you saw was true?’
I recall the intense emotion that swept through me along with the sense of overwhelming love that Lady Arabella projected. And I recall the love I felt that passed from Lorian to her, whether he’s aware of it or not. ‘The love I felt was true, my lord. I am sure of it.’
A relieved murmer ripples around the room. The Tribunal are off the hook. Not one of them is the traitor, as Lorian feared.
Suddenly Lorian stands and I think at last this ordeal is over. But Lorian’s skin has started to glow again, his eyes sparkling like glittering jewels. To me he says, ‘You are mistaken.’
There is loud protest. Lorian raises a hand and a sweep of cold chilling air fills the room. I rub my arms through the cloak to warm them.
‘Either your gift is not yet developed sufficiently, or you have been tricked. Somehow I sense the latter.’
Lord Penbarin shakes his head. ‘Do you have proof, my lord? Is that why you are so sure the traitor is one of us?’
From within his cloak, Lorian pulls out a crystal that sits neatly on the inside of his palm, a pyramid shape within a base of an octagon. As it glistens and shimmers under the lights, gasps and murmurs fly around the room; and I realise I am staring at the key – the same key we were sent to find!
‘This is the proof!’ he bellows, the chamber becoming chillier with every angry breath. ‘Yes, look at it carefully. It is the key to the treasury of weapons.’
And then he does the most unbelievable thing. He comes over and holds it out in front of me. ‘Are you wearing your gloves, Rochelle?’
Quickly I put them on, making sure not one scrap of skin is left exposed. ‘Ah … yes, my lord.’
He nods. ‘Then take this key and deliver it to one who will keep it safe.’
Sir Syford calls out from behind me, ‘My lord, where did you find it?’
‘When Rochelle, Ethan and Isabel came to see me last night, I discovered that they were sent here to look for the key. At first I was aghast and outraged at the very idea of such treachery in my own palace. But then I
went looking for it. As you can see I found it – hidden in a safe box in a secret chamber buried in the courtyard garden.’
Lorian’s eyebrows lift as he surveys the Circle. ‘Under our very own feet, but undetectable. A clever place – accessible by all, yet untraceable to any. But one of you put it there. And before you start laying suspicion on your soldiers or staff members, only the rank of a Tribunal member or higher would have the power to prepare the impermeable box I found it in!’
Lorian lowers the key into my hands. My eyes become glued to its shimmering facets. From above me Lorian’s voice continues to chill the air. ‘And because my plan to reveal the traitor this day has failed, I must protect the innocent child before me, for as her powers grow, she will find herself immersed in more danger.’
He lowers his gaze to me, while both of his hands hover on either side of my head. In a loud voice that forms an echo in the chamber, Lorian announces:
‘Whosoever shall harm this child and cause her death, shall they themself turn to stone and die before the sun sets.’
Oh, hell! The Immortal has just laid a curse on the person who takes it into their head to kill me!
Ethan runs into the circle, his arms open wide. ‘My lord …!’
Lorian sees him coming and groans under his breath. ‘I have protected her, Ethan. What have you to complain about now?’
Ethan takes a deep breath. ‘Who is to stop the real murderer from hiring an assassin?’
Ethan’s right. My life is still in danger. Lorian gives an odd, almost regretful, acknowledging nod.
‘It is the best I can do.’
Chapter Seventeen
Matt
They have the key. Dartemis told me I would know when it was close. And I feel it now. I’m standing with Dillon and Arkarian in one of the rooms leading off Arkarian’s main chamber. We’re going through our last-minute preparations before our journey to an area around the top of Mount Olympus. Lathenia’s palace is at the place where Mount Olympus stands today, but in a time that belongs to the ancient world of legends. She has created a virtual realm of her own.
The Key Page 16
