“Assuming you’d be interested, hypothetically, Hope could continue down my planned path for her. My experiment could result in a substantial change in the world, and in this city which we so despise, right? Right?” Furore chuckled.
Venviel wished to punch her. “Why do you want her to a have child? And why should I help you? I don’t care about your problems. Hope is the one that’s special to me, not you.”
“You shouldn’t help me then,” Furore said, turned transparent, and began to fade. “You should help Hope. Even if you fall in love, shower her with the affection she deserves, she’ll always be an outcast in a world devoid of people like her.”
Furore left Venviel to think. She listened to the plaza and the constant haggling between different merchants and their customers. The wind carried the smell of fresh bread across the rooftop.
Even if Venviel had become an outcast, a threat to the temple, she was still an elf. She could blend in. But there was only one woman like Hope. Only one in the entire world. She’d not considered the implications that might have for someone like the inquisitor. Hope would live and die as an anomaly, unless someone sacrificed for her sake.
Venviel could be the woman that saved Lho Allanar’s greatest pariah. She didn’t hate the idea. She could see herself by Hope’s side, through thick and thin, for centuries to come. Ever since they’d danced around each other as master and servant, Venviel hadn’t stood a chance. She’d been charmed.
Alone
Hope awaited another encounter with Venviel, while she gathered evidence about Orchid Brave. Since she already knew the truth, however, she didn’t put much effort into her search. She asked questions here and there, pursued leads, and questioned women and men which swore they’d met the masked elf.
If what some of them said about Orchid Brave was true, it painted a picture of a sordid past. Hope didn’t want to acknowledge the inkling that she might be no more than another night of sex to Venviel. Yet with each day that passed in solitude, her doubts grew. What if Venviel told every woman the same things she’d told Hope? What if she only cared until she got a taste? What if she’d lied when she’d called her mesmerizing?
Even though she didn’t hear from Venviel for a week, Hope disregarded her worries before they could evolve into hate. She’d given Venviel permission to break her heart. She’d only expected the elf to do it in person, through her actions, not through rumours and hearsay. If Venviel had suspected Hope would discover the truth about Orchid Brave, maybe she’d realized she didn’t have to do more than seduce her.
After all, Hope had no one to rely on. No one who loved her. No emotional support. Without the temple, she stood alone against a torrent of indifference aimed her way by Lho Allanar.
If Venviel never showed her face again, after practically confessing true love, Hope’s heart would die a slow death. She’d regret how easily she’d been fooled, but she could never blame Venviel for using such a devious tactic. She would make up excuses for the love she’d lost, convince herself the elf had been killed, but she wouldn’t have closure.
Nine days crawled past. On the tenth day, the owner of the tavern she stayed in reminded Hope of Lho Allanar’s yearly celebration of adoration. Since, somehow, she’d forgotten the festival.
Keerla certainly hadn’t forgotten it though. Hope thought she’d kept a low profile, lived out of view of the high priestess, but when she returned to her rented room one night, she found Keerla waiting.
The high priestess stood by her window and stared out into the street. Two disciples sat on Hope’s bed, whispered to each other, and observed her with keen interest. They didn’t leave her room before Keerla dismissed them with a stern nod.
“It seems you’re living large on the temple’s expense, Inquisitor.” Keerla said, as the disciples shut the door to the room, and crossed her arms.
When Keerla claimed she lived large, she exaggerated. Hope did not spend more than a couple of gold coins a week on rent. The high priestess could probably convince the owner of the tavern to lower her rent even further, if she wished. He couldn’t disagree without consequences.
Hope lit a candle on the small table in the corner. She would have offered Keerla a seat by the table, so they could talk, but she only had one chair. Someone would have to stand.
“Have you discovered who is behind Orchid Brave?”
“I have not,” Hope said and prayed the high priestess didn’t realize she lied. It seemed impossible to tell what Keerla did or did not know already. Spies existed everywhere.
“Are you sure that’s the case?” Keerla strode over to the table, pulled the lone chair out, and sat. They were not in her office, but it didn’t stop the high priestess from dominating the room with her presence. The atmosphere thickened.
Hope walked over to the window and considered opening it, but when she noticed how it rained, she merely plopped down on the side of her bed. Her tails thumped the blanket which was supposed to keep her warm. “If I knew who they were, I would tell you, High Priestess.”
“I’m sure you would, Hope.” Keerla tapped a nail against the table. “I’ve dealt with defiance in our ranks, lately, but I’m sure you of all people would tell me everything. You wouldn’t have reason to hide anything from the temple, would you?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Good to hear.” Keerla smiled in a disturbing manner, like she’d sniffed out the stench of Hope’s lies and found it exquisite to inhale. “I do so appreciate loyalty. And I imagine the goddess would share the sentiment. You can’t have true love without honesty, after all. It would be a very dangerous sham.”
“Of course.” Hope nodded, placed her hands in her lap. “Deceit leads to hatred.”
“It does.” Keerla dragged her nail along the table in a repetitive pattern. “You’re so correct inquisitor. I’m glad someone listened to my sermons when they served as a disciple.”
“Always.” Hope looked out the window. Raindrops fell on the glass, trickled downwards. She could see a dilapidated stone building with its boarded up front across the street. Whoever had once owned the home must have abandoned it. She’d heard about elves who packed up to sail the seas.
“A little bird told me you paid a visit to our congregation a week ago.” Keerla sighed. “I heard you spent the night with someone new, someone Vaeri didn’t recognize. Am I familiar with this elf?”
Hope had to answer in a way which didn’t give Venviel up to Keerla, and didn’t make the high priestess more suspicious. She suspected she’d failed when she took longer than a second to reply.
“It would be difficult for me to say, High Priestess. I’m not familiar with your social circles.”
“Assume I know everyone in the city.” Keerla watched her with a scowl. “Would I be familiar with the elf who seduced my newest inquisitor then?”
“You would.” Hope swallowed. She focused on the sound of the rain in an attempt to keep herself calm. “Of course you would.”
“But I’m not.” Keerla slammed her palm onto the table. “The description Vaeri provided did not bring anyone to mind. Not a soul. Yet, for some reason, this elf visits my temple’s congregation. If she’s a follower of the goddess, I should know her name and face. I know everyone. Don’t I?”
“Yes, High Priestess.” Hope nodded. Her mace gleamed in her belt, as the candle in the room flickered, but she couldn’t possibly attack Keerla. The idea was preposterous. Venviel would have to fend for herself, if it came down to a confrontation.
“Oh well.” Keerla shrugged. “I suppose they could have been a merchant, from somewhere distant. There are elves that spend years hiding among humans, aren’t there?”
“Indeed, High Priestess.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know the name of your romantic encounter?”
“She didn’t tell me her name.” Hope couldn’t remember Venviel saying it, so she wasn’t technically lying to Keerla in this case.
“But you still slept with her?”
> “I might have had a little to drink.”
Keerla fixated her with a ruthless, piercing gaze the instant Hope said she’d gotten drunk. In hindsight, she realized that was an obvious lie. She didn’t drink. She was too responsible to get drunk, or lose control of her senses, and it might be one of the reasons Keerla had promoted her to inquisitor. The high priestess may have expected Hope to always be sober and clearheaded.
“That would explain it, I suppose.” Keerla rose to her feet, straightened her robe, and turned towards the door to leave but paused. “Vaeri complained about someone who’d stolen precious heirlooms during the congregation. You wouldn’t have heard anything about that, would you, Inquisitor?”
“No.” Hope imagined Venviel may have visited the congregation to steal, but she’d not seen her take anything.
“I see.” Keerla grabbed the handle to the door. “Have a pleasant night, and sweet dreams, Inquisitor. I suspect Orchid Brave, whoever they are, will visit the festival tomorrow. If you haven’t uncovered evidence about their identity by the end of the celebrations, I’ll assign someone else to the task. Someone more veteran. Someone who won’t stay their blade. Faraine, perhaps?”
“Understood…” Hope didn’t watch Keerla leave. She stared out the window, listened to the rain fall, and knew she’d gotten caught in a trap.
Arrow
At a certain point, Venviel needed to act. She couldn’t put revenge off forever, and even if she’d helped a minority of Lho Allanar’s citizens, many cries went unanswered. The temple only got worse. Orchid Brave couldn’t be everywhere at once.
If she wished to inspire serious change, she had to show everyone that they didn’t have to bow, beg, and scrape to get by. Furore was a fraud. They could lead different lives. She’d sustained an existence of hatred, aimed at the temple, for the last five years. No agent of the goddess had discovered her, no innocent elf had gotten hurt by her actions. She’d made damn sure Orchid Brave had helped those who really needed it. Unlike the temple and Keerla, who only helped those who groveled and swore they believed in love.
The high priestess infuriated Venviel to a point where it became obvious she had to be her first target. Who else could have issued the order to burn her home to the ground? Who else fought to keep the status quo in place? No one, that’s who, because no one gained as much on it as Keerla did.
Venviel could continue to play by their rules, and listen to the goddess’ nonsense, or she could put an arrow through Keerla’s ugly face. It seemed the quickest solution. It would either work or prove ineffective. No matter what, it would definitely make Lho Allanar pay close attention to what she did and said next. Every eye in the city would be on her afterwards.
Keerla did take precautions against assassins though, so she would not be easy to kill. Her chosen disciples followed her everywhere, and the inquisitors were never far away. If the high priestess called for help, a dozen armed elves would swarm Venviel. Worst case scenario, she might have to prepare to fend them off.
She couldn’t attack Keerla at the temple either, because Furore may take it as a personal slight. If the goddess sided with the high priestess, Venviel would die. No question.
To avoid the worst outcomes, she settled for planning her attack for the days of adoration. Keerla would show herself among people during that week, and the crowds would provide Venviel with plenty of opportunity to disappear.
She kind of forgot Hope, while she planned her attack, and it wasn’t until the night before the celebrations would begin that she remembered the inquisitor. A part of her feared Hope would be among those in Keerla’s guard, and another regretted how she’d been so preoccupied with her own goals that she’d not paid the inquisitor a visit. She’d become so accustomed to sporadic romances that she’d not thought twice about their relationship.
Could she trust Hope to keep her secret? Could she expect her to side with Orchid Brave over the temple? Venviel worried that the answers to both questions, especially when they hadn’t met for a week, would be no. She shouldn’t rely on Hope. The inquisitor remained a servant of Keerla, even if Venviel had enjoyed the nights they’d shared. If she forgot where Hope’s loyalty lied, the woman might hurt her again.
After a night of disturbed sleep, where she tossed and turned more than she slumbered, dawn arrived. The cracks in the walls of her new hideout let the sun’s rays in, along with the cold, but at least they moved towards warmer seasons. She would have hated to spend weeks freezing underground during another winter.
If she got lucky when she killed Keerla, Lho Allanar would celebrate her as their hero and provide her with a nicer, cozier place to sleep. Sadly, it seemed likelier that the period after Keerla’s death would be worse for her. The temple would not vanish alongside its high priestess. The inquisitors, disciples, and priestesses would not up and leave. They’d be out for blood.
Nevertheless, she grabbed her bow, slid a knife into her boot, attached the rapier to her belt, and told herself that she would kill Keerla to save others. Not herself. Everything she did on this day, the first day of the yearly celebration of adoration, she did out of love for Lho Allanar’s inhabitants. And her parents. Especially her parents. Thalia and Corym hadn’t deserved death.
Venviel made her way out of the tunnels, emerged in a back alley by the docks, and joined the elves moving towards the temple. She might have to trail Keerla for a while, before she found the best opportunity to strike, but she could be patient. She’d practically done nothing more than practice patience over the last five years.
An hour later, she found herself at the foot of the steep hill of the temple. Trumpets and drums played around her secluded position, where she hid in the thick canopy of a tree, while dancers ran around citizens on the streets and encouraged them to let loose by shaking colourful shawls and ringing bells.
She’d like to see Hope, alive and well, among the citizens, but if they saw each other, the inquisitor may do something stupid. It might be for the best if she avoided Hope altogether, lest she implicate her in her crime.
Trumpets echoed from the top of the hill. A procession of priestesses and disciples in their finest robes appeared. They were too far away for Venviel to make out their faces, and she couldn’t see well past the leaves in front of her, but the high priestess must be among them.
The commotion on the streets had died down as soon as the procession had made its presence heard. Everyone waited expectantly for Keerla, yet no one had waited as long as her. Venviel ran her right hand along the length of her bow.
In The Clouds
“You’ve given your temple new rules?” Fate asked gleefully, stroked the glass ball in her lap, and flapped her deerlike ears.
Furore gazed down at Lho Allanar from their cloud. It could indeed be a day for great change, like Venviel had planned, like Fate may wish to watch for the sake of drama. Or it could be another victory for the status quo that had arisen. If she’d not become such a busybody after shouldering the responsibilities of the goddess of love, she may have ruled Lho Allanar herself like its desirable queen.
“Furore?”
“I said I’d think about it, so I’m thinking about it.”
“I gave you a gift.” Fate scrunched her nose up. “You should repay me, if I’m your dear.”
“I’ve given you free reign over my worshippers. You have the ear of my high priestess.” Furore dangled her legs over the side of their cloud, through the air, and kicked another cloud into bits of white. “If Venviel and Hope fails, I might give the temple new rules to abide by. If.”
“Then you won’t hate me for toying with them.” Fate leaned her shoulder against Furore’s. “You’d say it’s my right as their unseen second goddess.”
“Go ahead, Fate, if you must. Treat them like dolls.”
Luck
Hope borrowed a boat from the docks, on the first morning of the days of adoration, and rowed to Venviel’s old hideout to warn her about Keerla. Since she valued her own life, sh
e didn’t have a choice. She had to tell the high priestess everything about Orchid Brave and pray she and Venviel could find a way through the aftermath together.
Of course, she did not find Venviel in the tunnels. Her former hideout lay abandoned, dusty, and inhabited by a large spider. Hope had no idea where she may have gone. She delved deeper into the tunnel network, but it soon became apparent that the tunnels had no end. If she wasn’t careful, she would get lost. She’d not accomplish anything if she wandered around in darkness without a trail to follow.
Hope retraced her steps, returned to the canal, and emerged into early sunlight with her boat. If it hadn’t been for a stroke of luck, she might have visited Keerla and given her whatever evidence she had, but instead she saw Venviel.
Up on the street, the elf appeared around the corner of a building. Hope called out to her, waved, but Venviel did not hear. Or she willfully chose to ignore her, but Hope couldn’t fathom why she would do that. Both of their lives hung in the balance. They needed to cooperate if they wanted to best Keerla.
Hope could feed the high priestess false information, no problem, but she would catch on sooner or later. If Venviel told Hope everything she’d done, every little detail from beginning to end, Hope could craft plausible lies. She could weave an intricate web. But she couldn’t trick the high priestess when she didn’t know what Keerla already knew, and she wouldn’t tell anyone. Keerla would deceive Hope till she’d given away far too much and found herself confronted by her fellow inquisitors.
One day, she’d be a respected woman with a bright future. The next, she would have vanished. Everyone would act like she’d never existed. Simply because Venviel hadn’t been there to help her lie, help her survive.
Hope rowed closer to land, scrambled up onto the street, and ditched the boat. She couldn’t see Venviel amidst the crowds, but she had a general idea of what direction the elf had headed, so she walked towards the temple with everyone else.
Never Enough Page 8
