Into the Fold

by Chase Blackwood

  “I think there are grey areas to morality,” Dan tapped at his lip before continuing, “If I did something wrong, I would be judged differently depending what part of Verold I was in. For example, stealing in Chur is a day in the pillory with a sign over your head, in Q’Bala you’d lose a hand, whereas in Sawol it is a short trial before a magistrate, and in Gemynd it’s two days in the dungeons.”

  Aeden was nodding his head, mostly to be polite. It didn’t answer his question.

  “The A’sh,” Garit spoke out, “Not Q’Bala.”

  “What?” Dan asked.

  “It’s in the A’sh they cut your hand,” there was a hint of anger in Garit’s words, which somehow seemed out of character.

  Adel glanced from Garit to Dan to Aeden. “That’s applied ethics,” Adel stated, playing an eight of swords, to ensure the game was still played, and to dispel the moment of disquiet.

  “I think what Aeden’s talking about is not applied ethics but justifications versus absolutes. For example, is stealing ever morally right, not simply justified,” Thea said, her studious glance slipping from Aeden to look across the table. “Or is it okay to steal if it saves one life, two, or a thousand?”

  Aeden was nodding now.

  “I think,” Laurent said, “this is about Caine, and him getting away with the destruction of the University of Galdor,” Laurent wore the expression of someone who thought himself particularly clever.

  Aeden frowned slightly.

  Laurent continued undeterred, “How’s it that he’s not been held culpable? It was Caine who told his cousin, Tirrell or whatever, where Aeden was? It’s not like Caine didn’t know there wouldn’t be repercussions.”

  “Nice double negative,” Dan whispered with a smile.

  Laurent smirked back.

  “But not those kinds of repercussions,” Adel said quietly, strangely defending Caine. “Who could have guessed that?”

  Now Aeden looked down at his cards, as if studying them carefully. Part of him felt that he could have guessed it. Aeden could have known. He should have known. It was why the white priest had sent him away from the archduchess. It was why the archduchess had feared him as much as she had desired him.

  What had the priestess told him? “We believe it’s best that you travel far from here, far from Heorte.” Aeden was suddenly transported back into the Monastery of the Cave, the strange ringing of the star-shaped bell pierced his mind as the spiced fragrance of incense played its own subtle game.

  What else had the white priest said? “For proper tutelage, and for the safety of Verold.”

  Garit was talking. The images of the past fell away like broken shards of glass, cutting him as they fell to the floor, each nick a reminder of his failure. A reminder of his unfulfilled promise, of his need to protect those he loved, and his need to avenge those who had died.

  “The Inquisition is interesting,” Garit said, playing a card. “They fall under the control of the emperor, yet they seemed to have sacked Willow Hill and even Berkshire with high levels of autonomy. Where’s the morality in that? I say morality’s made up. Something the powerful agree upon to control the weak.”

  At mention of the Inquisition several eyes fell on Garit.

  Aeden didn’t know Garit well, despite having shared numerous classes with him at the University of Galdor. The kirpan at his hip marked Garit from Q’Bala. He often took things literally, and thereby rarely understood sarcasm. But what made Garit truly unique, was his endless fascination with the Inquisition.

  But it wasn’t his oddness that Aeden focused on. It was his words. It was Garit’s mention of the Inquisition and the towns of Berkshire and Willow Hill.

  “Did you say Berkshire?” Adel asked, lowering his cards for the first time that day, stating aloud what Aeden had been thinking.

  Memories began to unfold before Aeden the way a carpet unfolds before Gemynd royalty. He closed his eyes and was transported back two years, to the pilgrimage he undertook with his former brothers from the Holy Order of Sancire, Bodig.

  Thomas was still alive and complaining about spending a night in a brothel. Odilo was alive, and placating Thomas. Neri made some sarcastic comment as Bosco wiped at his nose with his robes.

  The memories blurred together. Now they were on the great North South road, entering the town of Berkshire. Lazy guards stood watch and told them they would find no shelter there. One guard prompted the other to ask them a question: “You from the Holy Order of Bodig or Willow Hill Monastery?” the soldier had asked.

  The memory faded.

  “I don’t think people should be held accountable for the unknown consequences of their actions,” Adel stated, his eyes briefly on Aeden.

  “Even if it destroys an entire city?” Thea asked in a dark tone.

  Thea had stopped rubbing Aeden’s arm. A shadow fell across Aeden’s heart, hinting at the cold fingers of loneliness that’d drive him further from the light.

  “Well,” Adel looked about as if for support.

  “The Inquisition has destroyed cities,” Garit offered.

  “There is no forgiveness,” Thea uttered quietly, almost desperately, yet only Aeden heard.

  Laurent ignored her, “Morality is an interesting dilemma, as is the idea of blame. Let’s take the love of two people…”

  “Not Lady Elle and Prince Mazin again…” Dan said with annoyance in his voice.

  “Yes,” Laurent replied curtly, “Two people’s relationship sent Mende and Winter’s Bind into a Thousand Year War. They should have known that would occur and they should have been stopped and punished before it ever happened.”

  “Really?” Dan replied rhetorically, “Two people were solely responsible for a thousand years of war? No one else had a hand in perpetrating that war? Fighting in that war? Passing down the anger and hatred that fueled the war?”

  “Well, there was Doran of Mende…”

  Dan couldn’t help himself, “Three people were responsible for a thousand years of war!?”

  “Of course they were,” Thea said forcefully.

  “See,” Laurent replied, smiling, missing Thea’s tone altogether, “she agrees.”

  Thea stood and simply glared at Dan for a moment before walking away from the table.

  “Where are you going?” Aeden asked.

  “I’m getting more ale.”

  Thea slipped away from view, past the fire and toward the rear of the inn.

  “Great,” Dan said, “You’ve upset Thea.”

  “That’s not hard,” Laurent whispered, “Plus, I’m pretty sure you were the one who upset her.”

  Adel glanced at the two of them, struggling with empathy and the dynamic between Laurent and Daniel. He smiled in spite of himself

  “Don’t let her hear you say that,” Aeden said quietly, the faint hint of a smile shadowed his lips.

  The smile quickly fell away as he fell into a pattern of thought. Aeden looked out the same window as Garit, wondering if Garit was thinking about the Inquisition again.

  The weight of Thea’s anger and Aeden’s persistent thoughts, finally befell the table.

  A lull fell over the group, as if they’d said all they’d wanted to say. Thea had returned with her spiced ale and took her seat next to Aeden. Her face was a mask of forced indifference.

  “Are we going to play now?” Adel questioned, breaking the temporary silence.

  Aeden laughed aloud, it was a forced laugh, “Of course,” he replied, picking up his cards.

  And so, the group resumed their game of kayles, whittling away the hours until the late afternoon. The weighty topic of morality was slowly forgotten as more mundane chatter dominated the table.

  The group passed the time, waiting for eventide, when news from Verold would be presented. Unwittingly, they waited for news that would ultimately drive them apart.

  Chapter 32

  “History is cyclical and yet, somehow we are constantly surprised by it.” Grandmaster Berinon – Bryn Yawr

/>   As the sun made its way through the sky, the town of Andir prepared for gloaming. Villagers moved unhurriedly about the town, matching the slow pace of the darkening sky. They began to close their shops and shutter their doors. They finished their dinners, cleaned their dishes, and readied candles.

  At the Stairway Inn, the server girl busied herself with her own nightly preparations. She set some wood by the fireplace and placed a pot of water to boil, while the owner, her father, swept the corners and killed the spiders. She cleaned the dishes and hummed to herself, capturing Adel’s attention in the process.

  Aeden, Thea, Adel, Garit, Dan and Laurent remained at the table within the inn. They too began their own routine of sorts.

  Adel cast one last glance at the serving girl, bashfully turning red when she had smiled at him. He looked away and busied himself by tucking away his playing cards, readying them for another day.

  Thea swept some loose hair behind an ear as she contemplated the remainder of the night. Garit gazed out the window, thinking on Verold, and contemplating the nature and purpose of the Inquisition.

  “Tonight’s news night,” Thea whispered.

  Laurent and Dan had been chatting. They had been debating the merits of wearing clothing. They hardly noticed Thea’s verbalized thoughts.

  Thea’s expression changed slightly. The smile about her eyes tightened and fell away. It was as if a gossamer curtain, woven of silken apprehension, caressed her cheeks. It was the first glimmer of the Sight, the hidden threads of the arkein linking events across the spectrum of time.

  She nudged Aeden lightly.

  Aeden tore his gaze from the table, where he’d been casually listening to Laurent and Dan, where he’d been watching Adel and Garit. Aeden saw the subtle change in her eye. He knew what she’d been thinking and more importantly, he knew what she’d wanted.

  “Let’s see what’s Verold’s been up to in our absence,” Aeden said, just loud enough to cut through Dan and Laurent’s conversation.

  Aeden pushed his seat back from the table and stretched his legs.

  Slowly Dan and Laurent’s discussion came to a close. They too stood. Adel looked away from the window as if in a daze, watching Garit and Thea move toward the door.

  “I’ll catch up,” Adel said, half in thought.

  Aeden looked at him for a moment, quizzically.

  “Is everything okay?” Aeden questioned seriously.

  “I’m fine,” Adel replied, risking a quick and nervous glance to the serving girl.

  Aeden followed his gaze and saw her smiling at Adel. Aeden nodded once to himself. He clapped his friend warmly on the shoulder.

  “Good luck,” Aeden whispered, “and don’t be late!”

  Adel merely nodded as a look of grim determination rolled over his face.

  Laurent and Dan walked out. Laurent had a goofy grin and made an obscene gesture. Dan waved as he exited.

  Aeden glanced one last time at his friend before slipping out, into the late afternoon air.

  Their quiet corner of Andir was still as a painting. The Stairway Inn rested in silence along a small and relatively hidden stairway. The steps ran up the hill, disappearing into shadow. Flowering plants grew over the side of a partial wall, as if the creator of this scene had realized there was too little color.

  Dan and Laurent had already disappeared around the corner, their voices trailing them like half-forgotten memories.

  “You know what I miss most about Galdor,” Laurent stated rhetorically.

  “What?” Dan questioned dutifully.

  Aeden smiled as he listened, rounding the corner onto the main thoroughfare. It was a marked contrast to their quiet slice of Andir. A few stores were open, some showing their wares in bright displays of enticement. People were ambling about in the slow, relaxed gait of Andir. It was a pace Aeden hadn’t become accustomed to.

  “I miss the howling monkeys at night,” Laurent continued, “I can’t sleep without them.”

  “Yet you complain about my whistling!” Dan said.

  Aeden moved toward Thea, who appeared to be leading the group.

  “Whistling’s bad luck,” Laurent exclaimed, “monkey howls are not.”

  Garit was trailing the twosome, but seemed to be lost in his own world. He looked up as Aeden approached.

  “What’d you think they’ll announce,” Garit asked.

  Garit was strange. Aeden had only interacted with one other person from Q’Bala, and that had been Captain Nawfel Murad Q’Bala. They were almost nothing alike. Where Nawfel had been focused and attentive aboard the Seventh Sage, Garit was a daydreamer.

  Garit’s excess daydreaming briefly reminded Aeden of his time as Kirin, before he’d taken his new name, before he’d left the village of S’Vothe. The memory carried the weight of obligation.

  Aeden shook his head, “I don’t know,” he replied with a heavy breath, “I hope it’s something positive for once.”

  “Yeah,” Garit said, looking down at the intricate stonework as they walked, “It seems there’s rarely good news. It’s always about what town was sacked, who was killed… what rebellion was started.”

  Aeden nodded his head but didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.

  “Maybe there’ll be word of the Inquisition,” Garit whispered, slipping back into his walking revere.

  Aeden didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. Instead, he moved past Dan and Laurent toward Thea. His own thoughts slipped away as he watched her. Aeden observed as her hair swayed in rhythm with her gait. He smiled at her slender form.

  “Hello beautiful,” Aeden said as he approached.

  Thea glanced up and smiled. Her smile was like a thousand stars lighting up an otherwise dark sky. It warmed his heart and caused him to temporarily forget about his obligations and his failings. He somehow felt right with her. She felt right.

  “I wonder what they’ll say of Gemynd,” her voice was soft.

  Aeden wouldn’t have heard, had he not been so attuned to the sound of her voice. It was like a siren call on a stormy night, anchoring him to the present and drawing him in like a ship lost at sea.

  Her words caused a flood of memory to accost him in a wave of expressed emotion.

  The last time Aeden had been in the capital of Gemynd, the Blue City, it had been surrounded by a discontent populace, brandishing weapons and torches. They had been roused to anger by the mystics, and in no small part, from the words of a white-haired, pilgrimaging monk who had defied an Inquisitor.

  The city had burned as a small band of pilgrimaging monks had escaped on the frigid waters of Lake Stevol to the relative safety of Petra’s Landing. The escape had come at the cost of a life. That life had been Lord Bristol’s. He had been Thea’s father.

  “What’re you thinking?” Thea asked softly, as if intuiting his thoughts.

  Aeden blinked and looked up.

  “Nothing,” it was a lie.

  Thea slowed down to look at Aeden more carefully.

  Luckily Laurent and Dan were speaking loudly enough to drown their thoughts. Aeden looked up as they approached.

  “What’d you think Oria will be wearing?” Laurent asked Dan, passing Aeden, Garit and Thea.

  Laurent’s voice brought Aeden back to the present.

  “Maybe her red top?” Dan mused.

  “I’d bet five drams she doesn’t,” Laurent replied. “I think she’s still in mourning.”

  “I’ll take that bet.”

  Thea gave them a dirty look. Aeden watched Dan and Laurent a moment longer before returning his attention to her.

  A strange sensation of longing and fear welled up inside of him. His stomach opened up and fell out from within, dropping to the unknown depths of loss and desperation. His thoughts crystallized into a singular point.

  What if he lost her? What if she left?

  He attempted to shake the thought lose, but it was like a grain of sand in his eye, uncomfortably persistent.

  Aeden scooped up Thea’s hand in
his oversized one, interlacing his fingers with hers. It was more a gesture of desperation, of wanting to keep her from leaving, than of innocence and love.

  She gave him a gentle squeeze as a semblance of a smile passed across her lips like a cloud before the sun. Aeden squeezed back and felt his thoughts once again dissipate under the warmth of her proximity.

  And so, they passed through the town of Andir, walking past the shops and taverns and through the main square, under the shadow of the Tower of the Arkein. They skirted the great building and entered through a stone archway into a courtyard of sorts, under the slender Bellas Tower.

  “No atrium stairs?” Laurent joked aloud.

  Adel wasn’t there to hear it.

  The group had become accustomed to skipping the wall-encased stairs within the atrium of the Tower of the Arkein, in favor of the more confined and far less terrifying, stairway of Bellas Tower.

  A few students were gathered about, Faro and Janto, the twins, were near Kallon and Sakhira. They were standing about one of the firepits that lined the base of the edifice and whose flickering light highlighted the smaller tower at night.

  Aeden hardly noticed the vine-covered walls, the mosaic of patterns in the stonework, or the quiet hum of conversation. Faro had caught his eye.

  Aeden nodded a subtle greeting. Faro was the smarter of the twins and somehow more handsome and charismatic. Where Janto was funny, and full of energy, hyper even, Faro was smooth and confident.

  Garit waved as he passed. Laurent made some passing comment, and before Aeden realized, they were within Bellas Tower. The light softened and the soft pastels of mosaic tilework encompassed them.

  They made their way up the tower and crossed the bridge linking Bellas Tower and the Tower of the Arkein.

  “I just love this view,” Laurent commented, as he leaned over the side.

  Dan stopped whistling and paused to look out.

  “I never get tired of it,” he replied.

  Once on the other side, Thea smoothed back her hair, tucking away any stray strands that had managed to come loose.

  “Let’s go see what’s new,” Laurent huffed with excitement as they passed through a short corridor, then an open door, and into the Chamber of Light.