by Tam Chronin
"I am sorry, sir." Raev scowled at the audacity of this stranger, accent thick as he spoke from his heart and without deliberation beforehand. "My cousin needs me, and family comes before all."
"You'll be able to help your cousin better if you listen to me right now, Raev Madri. Arlanz is in over his head, and he has no idea how far." The man leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "I want his business to succeed as much as you do, but don't go to Anogrin. It's better for everyone if you're not seen working together."
"How do you know so much about who I am and what my business is? Who are you to tell me what to do with my business and my family?"
"My name's Agruet." As soon as the name was uttered the magic in the vicinity did something odd, gathering and vibrating on the air, then dispersing in a rush. Raev had never felt anything like it before. "The god of secrets."
It was impossible. The gods didn't just appear on the street and talk to ordinary humans. They didn't tell just anyone their names out of the blue.
Did they?
"Build a shop here. Send your cousin what he needs. I will return. Trust me." Agruet extended a hand and took Raev's as if in a handshake. Raev didn't have time to pull away, or to react at all. Power flowed through Raev as soon as their hands touched. Enough power, enough energy, that it nearly brought him to his knees.
"But…my obligations…" The protest was weak, but it sprang to his lips as if of their own accord. His brain, though overwhelmed, could not allow him to simply turn his back on his cousin.
"Raev, my newest friend, I'm a god," Agruet released Raev with a sly smile. "I take care of my own."
It took a few moments, but Raev nodded, accepting the onus of this god.
"I'll be in touch," Agruet said, and he vanished.
The wind picked up again and Raev stood on shaky legs. He needed a drink. "Arlanz, what have you done to get us both into this?"
His mind was reeling with the implications.
A god. A real, honest, all-powerful god. Had just appeared.
And given Raev his name.
The energy that had flowed through him from the moment of contact with Agruet began to shift, integrating into his own. It started to make him jittery and euphoric, and he could feel that his magical abilities had been enhanced. It was as if his eyes were wide open for the first time.
He knew that listening to Agruet was the right thing to do. Something huge was on the horizon. Huge, like the storm that was about to hit the harbor before him.
There was no choice. He would put down roots here.
Arlanz's café was fairly empty in the middle of the week. Krecek had suggested it to Aral as a place they could meet and talk about their progress for just that reason.
They met for lunch most days, spending time getting to know each other.
At first, they'd agreed to meet so they could update each other on any progress. That fell by the wayside over time from a lack of anything new to share. Every night had become routine. Aral would set up a meeting with a high priest of one temple or another, and each time the answer was the same. They would not rescind a pronouncement given by a high priest without good reason.
"Someday I'll find someone who will actually listen," Aral said. "If I have to meet with every high priest, personally, until they're all sick of me, that's what I'll do."
Krecek nodded, gazing out the window.
"What's wrong?"
Her fingers were cool upon his hand, like a splash of water to bring his thoughts back to the present.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have been listening."
"You didn't miss anything. I was cheering myself on and hoping I don't give up over time." She squeezed his hand. "Did something happen?"
Why did she have to be so insightful?
Krecek nodded, pulling his hand away and looking out the window again. "We had a new priest initiated last night. To replace Ervain."
"Ervain? The one that Davri almost killed?" Her tone was lighthearted, amused.
Krecek snorted with derision. "Yes, him. He played it up so much…. They removed him to another temple, somewhere in a small town. I think it was to save his reputation, because no one believed him here. He just insisted more and more that he nearly died." He tapped his fingers on the table. "His replacement seems more even tempered, if naive. I suppose that's how we all start."
The sound of Arlanz clearing a table settled between them while Krecek thought of how to say what had come next.
"At every initiation, the god or goddess they dedicate their service to appears. Not a vague feeling or sensation of having their attention, no. Flesh and bone, so real you can touch them if they let you. You've never seen a god made flesh, I'm sure…it can be anything from ordinary, like the two of us talking now, to utterly overwhelming." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Nalia was there last night. She decided to be overwhelming. I could feel her omnipotence and awareness filling the room and I was certain she would call me out for disobedience, for loss of faith, but she looked at me as she always has. She smiled at me, and that was all. The evening was perfectly normal."
"That was all?" Her brow furrowed. "Nothing's changed?"
"Nothing at all." Krecek slumped back into his chair. "I don't understand it. She has to know, doesn't she? Does that mean that the gods simply don't care? It’s hard, day in and day out, doing everything I did in faith and out of love for the goddess who brought us magic and all things wonderful, and now I wonder why I bother. Every day. What am I doing, Aral?"
Aral finished her drink and set the cup down, playing with it on the table for a bit. "It doesn't make sense, unless she doesn't care, like you said." She pushed the cup aside then. "Last night I had a problem as well."
"I'm sorry," Krecek said. He reached for her hand this time, and she smiled in return. "You were going to tell me, and I wasn't listening."
"No, I understand." She was leaving her hand within his, surprisingly. "The thing I wanted to talk to you about is…the priest I saw last night at the temple of the god of fire…"
"Fotar," Krecek said. "His name is Fotar." He'd been teaching her the names of all of the gods as they came up in conversation, both to help her and because he felt a rebellious thrill by doing so.
She smiled, nodding her thanks. "I was setting up an appointment, and the priest I was talking to demanded that I tell him where I was hiding Naran."
"It's a good thing that you don't know," Krecek shrugged and grimaced in sympathy. "Fotar's followers generally tend to be rash and impulsive, and more than a bit temperamental. It might be better to not pursue a pardon from them."
"I'm too afraid to miss an appointment with anyone. What if they're the one who would have helped? Or, worse still, what if they spread word against me?" Now she pulled away from him, twining her fingers in her own hair and tugging to emphasize her frustration. "So far, the questions they've asked have been ones I can honestly deny, but I'm scared. One of these days I'm going to have to lie."
"Use magic," Krecek said, shrugging. "You're a better mage than nearly any priest. Your parents taught you more than you seem to realize. When you cast your spell, invoke Agruet and use his power over deception and secrets to aid you. Don't ask, just take."
"You keep doing that." Aral laughed nervously. "You keep telling me the names of the gods, teaching me as if it's nothing. I thought that wasn't allowed?"
"Strictly speaking, as a priest, it's not," he conceded. "As an elf, however…the names of the gods are what makes elven magic so powerful and lasting. I'm not teaching you as a priest to an outsider. I'm teaching you as an elf, to a fellow mage.
"That's not forbidden?"
"No, but it is...rare." He took a deep breath. "It's a matter of power. Knowing a god's name gives anyone a certain amount of power. To keep people from using that power, it's kept from outsiders, either by decree or by sheer arrogance. The gods themselves don't care. Apparently, they care less than I realized before."
They paused while Arlanz clea
red the table and left them with a bowl of fruit and some water. A simple and sweet end to a light meal. They probably would have become regular customers of this café even if Davri hadn't suggested it to them, or had mentioned that they'd do well to befriend Arlanz.
"The first time we met," Krecek said when Arlanz left, "do you remember when you tried to cast a spell to stop me, and it had no effect? Your spell was rendered harmless and my spell ignored your defenses."
Aral nodded, picking out an apple from the bowl.
"Set up a shield around your apple." He waited until she set it down and there was a slight shimmer in the air around the apple. "Now, if I only use my own magic, we're about equal in power." He silently cast an attack, and the shield around the apple glowed momentarily red. The apple itself was untouched. "Hm. A touch more powerful than I thought. So, not equal."
Aral smiled. "Stop flattering me. That wasn't your full power."
"Guilty as accused," he said, echoing her smile. "Now, if I use supplication in my spell, it changes the nature of the spell." He took a deep breath, then spread his hands wide. "Oh, Nalia, goddess of magic, please grant me a portion of your power that I may touch this apple, so adeptly protected." He raised his eyebrows and cast the spell again. The apple rolled a bit, hitting the dome-shaped shield, but the shield itself hadn't so much as rippled.
"Oh, I see! Your spell completely ignored the shield!"
Krecek shook his head a bit. "Not quite. Some of the energy of the attack was still absorbed by your shield. It just did so invisibly. You didn’t feel it at all, because most of the energy was used up in keeping you from feedback. However, if I just take the magic without supplication or care for consequence—"
Aral jumped and let out a yelp of pain. Her hands flew up to shield her face.
The shield was gone, and there were pieces of apple everywhere. A moment later Krecek had reformed the apple with magic and picked it up casually. Aral stared at him, jaw slack, as he began to eat it.
"No sense in wasting good food," he said simply, shrugging.
"You hurt me!"
Krecek set the apple down. "Only enough to demonstrate the power, and the risks, of what I’m teaching you. If you'd been showing off touch more and had your shield too strong, I could have killed you. I turned your power back on itself, so technically you hurt yourself."
"The intent was yours, not mine,” Aral pointed out. “Therefore, you hurt me. You also stole my apple."
"Payment for making you more powerful." He took another bite. "I’ll get you a list of all of the gods tomorrow. For now, remember Agruet, Nalia, and Garatara."
Aral paused.
Krecek could tell the exact second that she remembered where she'd heard the final name before. Her back went straight and her eyes narrowed
Damn it. He wanted to apologize for the reminder of their setback in her home town.
"Aral," was all he could get out before she stood up abruptly and turned away.
Elves, even half elves, were quick and nimble compared to humans. He jumped up and placed his hand on her shoulder before she could run away.
"He wasn't. No true priest of Garatara would have done what he did. When you need healing, Garatara's power will help you. He's gentle. I swear it."
"Then how do his high priests, the ones I've seen here, justify turning me away and continuing this nightmare? How do they allow this travesty to continue in his name?"
There was no answer he could give to that.
Aral left.
"Be patient," Arlanz said from across the room. "She is hurting. She will come around."
It startled Krecek a bit, reminding him that they had not quite been alone. How much had the proprietor overheard? Enough, apparently.
Chapter Five –
Minor Impositions
Krecek looked over at Arlanz, wary and unsure how to proceed. He hadn't said anything to implicate either of them in harboring Naran or Davri, but he'd shared dangerous names. Sharing the names of gods with Aral was one thing.
Being overheard by another party, however...
"My apologies," Arlanz bowed. "It is hard to run a business such as mine in a city of such wonders without overhearing many things. Your secrets are safe with me, priest, but I have a room where the two of you can be alone and undisturbed in the future."
"A room?" Krecek blinked a few times in confusion.
"It is where our friend Davri was hidden, before he left. It is a place where one may speak freely." He hesitated, and his voice was rough when he added, "Even blasphemies."
"Why are you telling me?"
Arlanz didn't reply with words. Instead, he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. It was carefully folded, and it took only a moment for Krecek to realize he recognized the writing upon it.
It was from Davri.
"They're still safe," Krecek breathed in relief. He skimmed the letter quickly before handing it back. "Thank you."
"I received it days ago, but there was always someone else here when you were." He looked sorrowfully toward the door. "I wanted to hand this to the both of you, but…is she the boy's sister? He used no names, in case it was intercepted."
"Yes, Aral is Naran's sister. Thank you. I'll let her know the next time we meet."
Arlanz looked like he wasn't sure he had done the right thing, still.
To that, Krecek couldn't blame him. If someone found the letter, even without names, it could bring suspicion to the café. Especially if they also found some secret room.
Finally, Arlanz nodded as if coming to a decision or conclusion. "I have trusted Davri for some time. If he asks me to extend that to you, I can trust that he knows something that I do not."
Krecek thought a moment. "That's a lot to ask of you. Blind trust, based on the word of a mutual friend?"
"I have had more asked of me, with less potential for reward," Arlanz bowed his head, touching his forehead with two fingers of his right hand.
A memory. Such a gesture wasn't as common in a big city like this, but Krecek still recognized it. He was honoring the memory of someone he had loved.
The gesture would usually be followed by hands brought together to honor the gods, but Arlanz did not follow through.
Krecek understood too well.
Another murder given the name of sacrifice, ignored by the gods.
"I will not betray your trust," Krecek said. "I swear on my father's tree." He couldn't swear by the gods. Not now. Not after that realization. "We should talk and know each other better, so that our mutual trust does not feel so forced."
"Yes." Arlanz looked up and smiled. "I would like that."
Behind a locked door, over many cups of coffee, the two spent the rest of the day getting to know each other very well. From then on, when Aral and Krecek came together to talk, Arlanz joined them, commiserating, offering suggestions, and passing along letters smuggled in from Davri and Naran.
Naran had gotten used to traveling.
Any given morning could be an adventure.
When they traveled closer to any town, they ran the risk of some random priest just happening upon them. In their travels, it happened once. A priestess had come upon them and asked Davri if he knew that Naran had been marked. Davri had bluffed their way out of it like a master.
When they traveled too far into the wilderness, they ran the risk of being stalked by wild animals or criminals. They'd fought their way through those sorts of threats several times. With Davri's magic, such encounters seemed trivial.
Of the two, Naran would take the wilderness. It seemed to be a more honest threat, where they knew to be on their guard at all times.
It seemed that Davri agreed, and they hid in the wilderness far more often than civilization. It would have been more dangerous if Naran had been alone, or if he traveled with someone who had no magic. Most outlaws they ran into weren't mages. The few who were had been more likely to talk to Davri a while than to try to rob them. It seemed even immoral and desperate mages
craved knowledge above all else.
On most days, Naran collected firewood when the sun got low on the horizon. Davri set up camp and lured a small animal in with a spell to be their supper. Naran didn't like being there for the killing and the butchering of the animals. It reminded him of the fate he had dangling over him, if they were caught. He felt like a giant baby, hiding in the woods while their food was caught.
Davri didn't seem to mind, though. They never talked about it. After a year, it simply became the way of things.
It was the reason why, even when he'd had an uneasy feeling all day, Naran took his time to gather more than enough wood. He jumped at every sound. Every shift in the breeze had him on edge as he picked his way across the terrain.
The woods felt darker than they should, but he ignored the dread. He had to bide his time until he'd given Davri enough time to finish.
When he couldn't stand to be alone with his fears another moment, he returned with his arms full.
"I hope this is enough," Naran said. There was a patch of sky visible through the tree branches above them. It was so dark, much darker than he'd expected. Had he been gone so long?
"It's fine," Davri said. He was sitting on a large root beneath the tree they'd decided to call their home for the night. "No meat tonight. I don't know what's scared the animals off. Be on your guard. We'll want the fire for light, not for cooking."
That meant digging into their precious jerky and cereal cakes. They didn't have to do it often, thankfully. Still, it was disheartening.
"It feels like something's wrong." Naran sat down and opened his pack. "All day, I've been worried. Like, something's wrong with Aral."
Davri looked at him, looked down. "I've felt it, too. Next chance we get, we'll send a letter."
"Thank you," Naran said. "I mean, it's not exactly comforting that we both feel it. But if there's something wrong, I'd rather know. I'd rather you tell me, than make me think I'm just getting paranoid."
Davri nodded. He grabbed a medium sized stick from the bunch Naran had gathered. He pulled out his knife and impressed the usual markings on it.
