by RJ Blain
THE EYE OF GOD
RJ BLAIN
PEN & PAGE PUBLISHING
The Eye of God
RJ Blain
Copyright © 2013 by RJ Blain
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN 978-0-9920289-3-0
For more information or to contact the publisher, please visit penandpage.ca or rjblain.com
Original cover art copyright © 2013 by Chris Howard
www.saltwaterwitch.com
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my father.
I wish you were around to see this. I think you’d be surprised.
Mom, thanks for putting up with me all of these years. I know I’m responsible for more than a few of your gray hairs, and I really appreciate all you’ve done for me.
Heather, thanks for being my editor and putting up with all of my writer quirks. Without you, this book wouldn’t have gotten so far.
Brooke, Jaime, and the rest of the Google+ Hangout crowd:
Thanks for keeping me company.
To Samantha Potter, Russell Holly, and Natacha Ozbasar: Without your support, I never would’ve been able to publish this book.
And last, but not least, I’d like to thank my husband for putting up with me as I worked on writing this book.
Chapter 1
The wind clawing at Terin’s back was cold from the winter still clinging to the neighboring mountains. He pressed closer to the cliff, digging at the stone until his fingers and toes ached. His boots hung over his shoulder, but until he reached the top, he didn’t dare to put them back on. Howling its fury at his resistance to its will, a gale blasted at him before settling to a calmer, whispering breeze.
As the sun set, the shadow of the columned manor stretched over him and cast him into darkness. Lantern light spilled over the plateau’s edge, and its glow taunted him.
Terin risked looking down, and a shudder coursed through him. One by one, the lights of Lower Erelith City winked to life. From his perch near the top of the plateau, they resembled stars in the night sky. If he made even one mistake, he wouldn’t need to worry about his master’s will or his mission; there wouldn’t be enough left of him to bother scraping off the stones.
At least it wouldn’t hurt for long if he did fall.
Every muscle ached with the effort of maintaining his grip. Until true night fell, he couldn’t climb to the gardens above. So long as he remained hidden, so long as he obeyed his master’s will, he’d be safe from his master’s wrath—so long as he succeeded at his task.
Worry gnawed at him as he stared up at the sky. Remnant streaks of red and gold lit the western horizon. The stones beyond the manor’s shadow glowed with the crimson hue of blood.
One finger at a time, Terin peeled his right hand off the stone he’d been clutching for the better part of an hour, biting his lip to keep silent. His skin pulled and tore open old when he reached for the next handhold above his head. Ignoring the protest of his stiff muscles, he inched his way upward.
While most of the cliff was bare stone, the presence of a spring encouraged things to grow. Scrub clung to the rocks, cracking them and making the cliff unstable. Where he’d spent most of the afternoon waiting, the strong, rugged rocks offered stable handholds. Near the estate, gnarled roots protruded from crumbling stone, tearing at him as he sought to grip something that wouldn’t break away under his weight. Too many of the mossy stones shifted and creaked when he brushed against them. Sweat dripped from Terin’s brow, stinging his eyes before falling to his chin.
Laughter echoed from above, and the faint melody of a harp ushered in the night.
Terin sighed and stared at the tangle of roots he was crawling over. It should’ve been an easy mission: Sneak into the estate, find any sales slips lacking the Emperor’s seal, and bring them back to his master. All before dawn. No one was to be killed or injured if he could avoid it. It was something he’d done before.
Any other night, the task would’ve been simple. What had he done to earn his master’s ire, to have to do such a thing during a festival party? At least he hadn’t been ordered to assassinate someone, though he didn’t expect the respite to last long.
“Time to get this over with,” he muttered, worming his way up to where the Citizen’s garden skirted the cliff’s edge. The hilt of his short sword jabbed him in the ribs, and he twisted around to adjust it. He would’ve rather left it behind, but his master had insisted he bring the weapon with him.
Arguing wasn’t an option; he’d brought it without voicing his complaint. Shaking his head, Terin forced his attention to his task.
A thick hedge of roses formed a fence around the property. The foliage blocked his view of the estate, but it didn’t mask the giggling of women or the lusty chuckles of men.
Terin wiggled as close to the roses as he dared, pausing to catch his breath. A flash overhead drew his eye. Balls of light, brought to life by God’s Word, danced in the sky and cast opalescent hues on the revelers within the garden. His mouth gaped open.
Seven balls, each one matching the colors of the rainbow, darted to and fro, leaving streams of colors in their wake. Terin swallowed back the lump in his throat. While seven wasn’t so great of a feat, it meant trouble lurked on the other side of the hedge.
The thought of meeting a Speaker left a sour taste in his mouth. Worse, the possibility existed that the Speech-wrought display wasn’t the work of just one Speaker. One Terin could handle. Two would add more complexity to his mission than he liked.
Terin’s hope of a bloodless night faltered as two more of the lights burst into existence. Those within the garden let out a cheer. Adjusting his grip on the cliff, Terin lowered his hand to his sword and fingered the leather grip.
While one Speaker could conjure nine lights at one time, it was unlikely enough that Terin was forced to assume there were at least two in the gardens. He would plan for three being present and hoped he could slip by them as they worked to entertain the Citizens.
Terin hesitated a moment longer, watching the balls bob and dance among the stars to the melody of the harp. Without any warning that he’d crossed the line between doing his duty and disobedience, heat stabbed at his neck. His breath hissed through his teeth, and he grabbed at the collar around his throat. The metal singed his fingertips. He forced his eyes back to the ground, struggling to keep silent.
Such displays were meant for the eyes of the Citizens alone, not for slaves, and especially not for a slave like him, who had a duty to fulfill.
The collar fell inert, and the burning ebbed to a throb. Terin spared one more glance at the lights. Warmth spread through his throat in the promise of punishment. He sighed, lowered his eyes, and crawled onto the precarious ledge.
Resentment left a bitter taste in his mouth. The scripture to bring the lights to life was on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t dare Speak. That was a privilege of the Citizens. His Speech belonged to his master, and his master wouldn’t reward him with something as useless as watching lights.
A rainbow glow illuminated the ground in front of him, mocking him. Terin shook his head and forced himself to focus on his duty. Where the hedge of roses ended, a pale stone wall guarded the estate. It perched on the decaying edge of the plateau. Its foundation, clinging to the rocks, was warm to his touch.
The whispers of God’s Words clung to the wall and the underlying stone in a litany meant to keep the edge from crumbling to Lower Erelith City far below
. With a few Words of his own, he could send it plummeting down. Terin secured his hold on one of the stones and peered over the edge.
Lights flickered below, though they were few and far between, lacking the strength of the lanterns in the center of Lower Erelith City. None of the lights moved. While few risked living so close to the plateau, Terin didn’t want to be responsible for even more deaths. He’d killed enough people—innocent people—all at his master’s will.
Terin sighed and traced his finger along a line of mortar sealing the marble blocks together. With a few Words, a little concentration, and the sapping effort of Speaking, he’d have all of the distraction he needed to obey his master’s orders.
As if sensing his intent to obey his master, the collar cooled and erased the remnants of his punishment for staring at the lights meant for the Citizens’ eyes alone.
Terin’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. If he destroyed some of the Citizen’s wall to do his master’s bidding, it mattered none to the collar—none to his master—as long as he didn’t kill any of the guests or guards.
Terin closed his eyes and drew several deep breaths. He slid his legs off the edge of the cliff and dangled from his hands until he found a foothold below. He climbed below the wall’s foundation, listening to the whispers of the ensorcelled stone until it faded to nothing more than a faint hum in his mind and ears. A great outcropping of smooth, weather-worn granite jutted out from the softer white stones, marking where the cliff stabilized.
Water trickled down its face from a crack above. A fine mist cooled his face. Thick blankets of moss and fern clung to the stone, in sharp contrast to the rest of the plateau’s faces.
The top of the vein stretched a few feet above where the wall overlooked the cliff. Terin dug his fingers into the cracked mortar and climbed up. The added height let him peek over the top of the wall.
Glass shards reflected the colors of the rainbow, and the light illuminated the rusting nails embedded in the stone.
Terin scowled at the deterrent. The precaution would keep a Citizen out, of that he had no doubt. It stopped most thieves, since the good ones let themselves in through the front gates when no one was looking. Terin would’ve preferred the gates, too, but his master had been adamant: He was to approach the estate from the cliffs, not from the streets.
He glanced down at the city below again, and let out a frustrated huff. With one slip—one little mistake—he’d be free, but even the thought of it triggered the collar’s warning heat. His muscles stiffened, and alternating waves of hot and cold stabbed at his muscles and bones.
Terin closed his eyes.
Death would have to come to him another way—a way his master hadn’t forbidden. When the paralysis faded, Terin reached up to touch the thin ring encircling his throat.
It cooled to the temperature of the air, sensing his resignation to his fate and his master’s will.
His day would come. Until then, he’d do the best he could and hope to dodge the fall of his master’s heavy hand, not that he had much luck with that in the past.
The lights exploded overhead in a shower of streamers which fell off the side of the cliff and then swooped. Delighted cries once again shattered the peace of the night, followed by a softer applause.
It was time. Terin untied the laces of his boots and put them on. Shaking his head at his sword, he unbuckled it and set it down. Lying down on his stomach, Terin placed his hand on the marble wall below. He stared at where the foundation and the cliff met.
“O, Land, Gift of God, treasure of the Mortal Man, open and share thy wealth with all,” he Spoke, focusing his will on the weakened cliff. The whispers of God’s Word imbuing the stone swelled to a discordant scream. The lingering presence and will of the Speaker who’d once secured the wall to the plateau struggled against him.
With the tips of his fingers tingling from the power that flowed through his hand and into the rock, Terin fought back against the power interfering with his master’s work. One by one, his fingers went numb, and the stab of a thousand needles crept up his arm.
A pebble bounced from the edge, its clatter lost among the cheers of the Citizens and the cacophony in his ears. The cry swelled to a shriek, and the Speaker’s influence shattered.
The cliff groaned, and the stone beneath Terin trembled. Mortar flaked away, and a web of cracks raced upward. White chunks tumbled and bounced off the cliff face, plummeting to the ground hundreds of feet below.
Terin pressed closer to the granite and clung to it. The plateau rocked beneath him, and before he could grab his sword, it bounced over the edge. With a thunderous roar, the wall and a chunk of the cliff collapsed around him.
In the glow of the dancing lights, Terin caught a final glimpse of God’s roses before they were pulled down to the city below in an explosion of dust and stone.
~*~
Under the cover of dust and darkness, Terin jumped down from his perch. His legs crumpled beneath him. Staggering to his feet, he hurried toward the columned manor. The ground lurched beneath him as it shifted in the aftermath of the collapse.
If the dancing lights remained, they didn’t penetrate the gray cloud settling over the gardens. Terin choked on the dust and clapped his hand over his mouth, but it didn’t spare him from the burn in his throat and lungs. The ache intensified with his every breath. Hurrying to the veranda, he slipped behind one of the pillars supporting the stone overhang. As the rumble of the landslide faded, the Citizens’ screams grew louder.
Several figures burst through the double doors leading into the manor. They ran past the twin statues supporting the second story balconies. Terin caught a glimpse of a mosaic portraying white and red roses before the dust billowed in and obscured the foyer.
Under the cover of the clouds of dust, Terin dove through the door. Another pair of statues stood guard within. The billowing robes of a sword-bearing woman offered him shelter from those rushing through the cloud to the outdoors.
Terin waited until the dust shrouded everything—and everyone—in white before making his move. When the foyer emptied of the stream of those headed outside, he emerged from his hiding place, ducked his head low, and shuffled down the hall.
With his heart pounding in his ears, Terin glanced through his dust-coated hair for something to offer him a clue to the whereabouts of the papers his master desired. It took all of his will not to look up at those who did pass him by, his collar warning him whenever his eyes lifted from the ground.
There were a lot of things slaves weren’t supposed to do, but the collar’s insistence wasn’t enough to stifle the temptation to look. Too often his master desired more than asked, and if Terin didn’t anticipate those wants, his reward would—yet again—be the lash.
If Terin failed beyond what his master viewed as tolerable, he’d face the Arena again. A shudder ripped through him with the same intensity of the cliff’s collapse.
He wouldn’t find death there. Others would, however, and he’d be powerless to stop it. Terin shuddered again, and focused his attention on the job at hand. If he got caught, not only would the arena await him, his master would be watching and waiting to reclaim him. There were things worse than death, and his master wouldn’t hesitate to find a worse punishment for him.
The shiver started at Terin’s toes worked its way up his spine.
“You!” The heavy step of a boot on stone approached from behind. Terin whirled and struggled to keep his head lowered. “What are you doing here? This is off-limits to slaves.”
A hand struck out at his face, a blur in his peripheral vision. Terin twisted away from the blow; the tips of the man’s fingers brushed against his cheek instead of catching him full in the face.
The instinct to strike back and remove the threat burned in Terin’s chest. His foot slid back and he adjusted his weight.
The collar sent a jab of pain through his throat, cutting off his breath. Terin balled his hand into a fist and danced back out of the Citizen’s r
each. Through his bangs, he risked glancing up.
The Citizen, covered in pale dust, closed the distance between them. A finger caught Terin under the chin, lifting his head up. “We’ve no slaves with green eyes. Who are you? Who is your master? What are your orders?”
Terin clamped his mouth shut. When he didn’t answer, the collar burned his neck. The slap struck his left ear and snapped his head to the side. He scrambled back, ducked beneath the snatching hands of the Citizen, and sprinted down the hall, his breath burning in his throat and lungs.
The slap of running feet followed him. Terin slipped by someone emerging from a room. A lantern cast light and shadows down the hall. Shouts rang out for him to stop. When Terin didn’t obey, orders for his capture echoed in the corridor.
The hallway branched into four different wings. Terin skidded around the corner and collided with someone. His face slammed into a broad chest and he bounced back, the breath rushing out of his lungs. A cloud of dust choked him from the impact. Terin didn’t remember snatching for the man’s clothes as he fell, but they hit the floor together. Terin kicked up and out with his right foot. His ankle throbbed from the impact of his foot against the man’s chest, and the Citizen let out a startled cry.
With his muscles straining, Terin threw the pale-haired man over his head. The Citizen hit the ground with a thud. Rolling to his feet, Terin scrambled for the end of the hall. The doors lining the way were closed, and a great window fashioned of many square panes of thin strips of iron stretched from the floor to the ceiling.
Without slowing, he twisted around and crashed through it. The window shattered, and shards of glass and metal bit at his shoulder. The ground he expected on the other side wasn’t there.
Terin fell.
