Pendin’s father took a seat on a plush sofa, looking up at them. “Why have you come here, Pendin?”
Pendin glanced to Endric, who could only nod. They would need to be honest with Pendin’s father, especially if they hoped to get any answers. “We were hoping you might have word of one of the Denraen.”
His father chuckled. “You’ve come to the university to find information about a Denraen? I thought that your friend’s new rank would have given you access to whatever information you wanted.”
“Normally, it would,” Pendin said. “This is different.”
“Different how?”
“We’re searching for someone who studied in the university,” Endric said. “I don’t know her area of study, but she likely still has contacts here, and I need to find her.”
“A girl. That’s what this is about?”
“Not a girl. She works with Listain—”
Pendin’s father sat up, like an arrow shot from a bow. “No.”
“All we want is to know where she might be. Then we will—”
“No. I will not do anything that gets in the way of that man.”
Endric glanced at Pendin before continuing. “Listain is the Raen, and he—”
Pendin’s father shook his head, cutting him off once more. “I know exactly who he is, Mr. Verilan. And it’s for that reason that I refuse to cooperate. The fact that you’re here rather than asking him tells me that he doesn’t want you to know. That would be reason enough to refuse.” He stared at Endric and then Pendin, his eyes hard and reminding Endric briefly of his father. “Now, if that’s all that you came here for, I think it’s time for you to depart. There will be a selection today, and I’ll be needed.”
“A selection?” Pendin asked.
His father nodded.
“What is that?” Endric asked.
His father shrugged. “Only the most important day of the year at the University. I’m disappointed that Pendin forgot that today would be the day of selection, but should not be surprised. He has abandoned so much of himself these days.” He looked at Pendin, the frown on his face deepening. “You should visit with your mother before you disappear. She will want to know that you’re safe.”
“She knows that I’m safe,” Pendin said softly.
“How… You maintain contact with her?” When Pendin said nothing, his father shook his head. “I should have known. She doesn’t fret about you nearly as much as I would expect. And then there is the business of the strike that you shouldn’t have known nearly as much about as you did. I suppose your mother was involved in sharing there as well?”
Pendin stared at him stone-faced. Endric was proud of the fact that Pendin gave no sign.
His father stood and started ushering them out of the door.
Endric didn’t know what to do. If he let Pendin’s father push them out, they would have failed at the one reason that they’d come to the university. All he wanted was to know where to find Senda, and if he couldn’t do that, they would have risked what they had for nothing.
“Master Sapon, you are aware that the city was attacked, are you not?”
Pendin shot him a wide-eyed glance that Endric ignored. It was a gamble, but it was one that he thought he needed to take. He needed to find out what Pendin’s father knew, and he suspected the miners—especially the master miners—were aware of the attack on the city. If not that, they would have to have been aware of the fact that the mines had been compromised. They lack of miners there made that likely.
“I am aware of what the Denraen tell us. They do not share nearly as much as should be shared, especially given the joint need to protect the mines.”
“The mines weren’t protected. I managed to make my way through them without encountering anyone. Don’t you think I should have come across at least a few miners?”
“The mines are extensive. There are often stretches where we do not have representation.”
“I made it from the base of the mountain into Vasha. Would you call that a stretch, or would you call that a problem with the protection?” Endric stopped, forcing Pendin’s father to stop. “I know the miners didn’t want the Deshmahne to gain access to the city.” He was reaching here, but this was a question he hadn’t managed to answer yet. The Deshmahne—especially the earliest attack—had somehow gotten into the city. Urik had been responsible for that, but he would have to have had help.
“You know that?” Pendin’s father said.
This was going poorly enough that Endric could easily imagine Pendin’s father searching for Dendril and sharing how Endric and Pendin had forced their way into the university and then confronted him. His father would not react to that well. And then what would he do? Would he lecture Endric about his lack of patience again? Would there be another lesson for him to learn, one where he could again fear that he was letting down his father—and disappointing Andril?
“The man who was responsible for the attack was spotted,” Endric said. “That’s why we came here. I need to find this man.”
Pendin’s father took a step back. He studied Endric with a gaze that reminded him of how Novan had studied him, a deep consideration that made Endric acutely aware that he stood before a scholar, a man trained in observation and study, even if his area of study had been the mines. There was a weight to his gaze, one that seemed to measure Endric. Would he pass or would he be dismissed yet again?
“Need to find him? What will you do with him when you do find him?”
The question was one that Novan had asked, if only in a different way.
Endric had convinced himself that he wanted nothing more than to determine what Urik had planned and find a way to bring him to justice, but was that exactly true? Was that all that he wanted, or did he really want something more, something like vengeance? When he thought about it, he wasn’t certain of the answer, not if he were honest with himself. He still felt twinges of anger when he thought about Urik’s betrayal.
What did his father feel when he thought of Urik?
The betrayal there went deeper. Urik had not only sacrificed Andril, but he’d encouraged Endric to make a stand against his father—not that he’d needed much prodding. But Urik had also been his father’s En’raen, a part of the inner council of the Denraen. His father would have to feel more betrayal than anyone else. Yet he didn’t show it. Instead, he begged Endric to remain patient, telling him that he needed to wait for the Denraen response—and that Endric would not be a part of it.
“I will ensure that he is brought to justice,” Endric said with a soft heat in his voice. It made no sense to lie to Pendin’s father, especially when his intent for sharing was to coax the man into telling him what he might know about Senda.
“Justice. Is that what you will pursue?”
“I believe so.”
Pendin’s father studied him a little longer. “I hope that by the time you find him that you have decided what you will do.”
“If my father has anything to say about it, I will not be getting a chance to bring him to justice.”
“Dendril doesn’t want to find this man?”
“Dendril wants me to be patient.” Why was he sharing this much with Pendin’s father? He could say nothing more—he should say nothing more.
“There is a difference between being diligent and being cautious. Diligent ensures you are prepared. Cautious can oftentimes prevent you from acting. Tell me, Endric Verilan, are you willing to be diligent?”
Endric sighed. “I will do what is needed. I’ve already acted irrationally once before, and I don’t want to make the same mistake again.”
“What mistake would that be?”
“I challenged my father.”
Pendin started to smirk but cut off.
“Indeed? You challenged Dendril? I have not heard that.”
“There are many things kept to the Denraen that you wouldn’t have heard about.”
“Not as many as you would think,” Pendin’s father said.
He took a deep breath, staring at Pendin. “There are times when you must push beyond yourself if you are ever to learn what you are meant to be. Perhaps the gods wanted you to have such an opportunity.”
“I didn’t realize the scholars were so devout.”
“Not all, but more than you would think.”
“Then help me. The man who attacked Vasha has been spotted in Thealon. He intends to use the priests to remain hidden. He can’t be allowed to do so.”
“And this friend of yours will help you find him?”
“She will have heard more than I have,” Endric said.
Pendin’s father considered him for a moment. “There is one person who might know, but you will not have heard it from me.”
“Of course not.”
He tipped his head, meeting Endric’s gaze. “If your friend trained here and was claimed by Listain, then there is only one person you must find.” He made a point of holding Endric’s gaze, not looking over at Pendin. “Elizabeth will know.”
“Elizabeth? As in Mother?” Pendin said.
His father didn’t look over. “Your mother has long been responsible for identifying potential agents for Listain.”
“She didn’t encourage me to join the Denraen.”
“No. She did not.” Pendin’s father frowned. “If Elizabeth is unable to help you, there are other places you can go for information. There are others who would share your concern with what happened to the priests. They are the ones you must approach.”
“Who?” Endric asked.
Pendin’s father shook his head. “That’s not for me to share, but know that I will get out the word that you search, and if there are any answers to be found, I will see that we get them to you, but only if you commit to doing what is right, doing what is necessary, with this man when you find him.”
Endric didn’t know which it would be, or how he would know, but he nodded regardless. “I will do what I must.”
“Good. Then I will too.” He turned to Pendin and nodded. “Find your mother and pray to the gods for my safety. She will not be pleased that I shared with you what I have.”
11
“You didn’t know?” Endric asked as they made their way through the halls of the Ophan building. Pendin’s father led them, his back slightly stooped, as if the weight of the decision to bring them to Pendin’s mother weighed on him. Endric wondered why that might be. What else might they find? There seemed to be more that Pendin’s father wasn’t sharing, though Endric couldn’t be certain that was the case.
Maybe he was misreading things. It wouldn’t be the first time that happened.
“I knew my mother wasn’t fully connected to the revolt,” Pendin said. “And my father is one of the Master Miners. I didn’t want to stay here and be brought into the mines.” He said the last with a hushed voice, glancing toward his father as he did. “But I didn’t know my mother was involved in any way.”
“This is more than involved,” Endric said.
“More than involved,” Pendin agreed.
If his mother helped identify those who could help the Denraen, it meant that she was a recruiter. Endric shouldn’t be too surprised that there were those within the University who recruited for the Denraen—at least for Listain. The scholars would be valuable assets. But Endric would have expected the recruits to be more along the lines of the way Senda recruited her people. Informants, not actually agents on behalf of the Denraen.
They swept down the stairs and out of the Ophan building.
Endric nearly stumbled.
There was tremendous activity here.
Not only did he see scholars dressed in their brown robes hurrying around, belts of different colors cinched tightly around waists indicating the area of study, but he saw others as well, men and women in dress not of Vasha, most young, and with eyes wide as they stared around them. It must be the same way that Endric looked.
They were in a small clearing. A street ran in front of the Ophan building, this one wide enough for several carts to pass, and was filled with the people he observed. Other buildings lined the street, most with increasingly intricate detail to the buildings. The Ophan looked to be the oldest, built with a simplicity that gave it a distinctiveness, but the others were all built with more decoration, a certain elegance to them that the Ophan did not possess, though it was impressive in its age.
To the north, nearest the mountain rising over their head, he noted a low wall and behind it, men and women in short-sleeved shirts and long pants working with the staff. He stared, unable to hide his amazement at the skill he saw on display. There was a rhythm to their movements, a dance, and he was drawn to it, tempted to join in their sparring.
“Come on,” Pendin said, grabbing his arm.
Pendin’s father glanced back and saw Endric staring. He smiled. “You snuck in on a good day. All of this is all part of the demonstration for those who think they will be able to join the university.”
“How many will be accepted?” Endric asked.
“If we’re lucky, only a few.”
“And if you’re not?”
Pendin’s father shrugged. “There are years when we can’t find anyone worthy of joining the university. That happens less often these days than it once did, but still more than we would like. Now that we have something of a reputation, we’re able to draw from all over, which provides plenty of chances.”
He directed them through the street and away from the crowd that formed around the demonstration. Endric resisted the urge to look back, drawn to the fighting and the sheer display of skill. Perhaps he would have to encourage more of the Denraen to come to the university to train, though he suspected they would struggle convincing them—or the university. Most Denraen wouldn’t believe they could learn anything from scholars. Endric wouldn’t have had he not seen it himself.
They veered off a side street, moving between a pair of shorter buildings. From here, the sounds from the street were muted. Neighboring buildings blocked the sunlight, giving shade and leaving the street in shadows. The air had a stale odor to it as well, as if the steady breeze that gusted around the city never made it here.
In any other part of the city, a street like this would be rundown, especially in some of the areas he and Pendin once had to patrol. Many of them were dirty and dangerous, and there was a need for the Denraen patrols. He didn’t have the sense that was necessary here.
“Where are we going?” he whispered to Pendin.
His friend shook his head. “I don’t know. As far as I knew, my mother was always a part of the miner guild. This… I don’t know.”
They stopped in front of a simple door on a building that appeared no different than any of the others. Pendin’s father knocked in what Endric suspected was a pattern, the sound muted like so much else had been. He took a step back and waited.
After a moment, the door pulled open.
An older man with a narrow face poked his head through the door. When his eyes settled on Pendin’s father, they relaxed, and he started to pull it open. He froze about halfway when his gaze drifted back to Endric and then to Pendin.
“What is this, Gresh?” the man asked.
“Open the door, Petra.”
Petra squinted at Pendin, his gaze lingering on his face before it dipped down to take in Pendin’s uniform. “Is that—”
“Yes. Now open the damn door so I can see Elizabeth.”
Petra croaked out a laugh that ended in a fit of coughing. “She is not going to be happy to see you.”
“She never is.” Gresh stepped forward. “I think she’ll be happy seeing her son.”
Petra laughed again. “You might be right. Then again, you might not.”
Petra stepped back, pulling the door open wide and letting them in. Endric started to follow, but Pendin grabbed his arm, pulling him around.
“I’m not sure about this,” he said.
“We’re looking for Senda.”
“This… this has gotten
out of hand, Endric. We came hoping for information about Senda before you’re deployed. It was bad enough that we snuck into the university, but now we’re discovering secrets my family kept from me? I don’t like what’s happening here.”
Endric watched Pendin’s father disappear into the doorway. “We all have secrets.”
“Right. Yours is mostly about your love for certain ales. And the women you might or might not have been with.”
Endric shrugged. “Some secrets are better than others.”
Pendin’s face twisted. “There are times I don’t like you.”
“Is now one of them?”
“It’s starting to be.” He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and let out a heavy sigh as they stepped into the room.
It was dimly lit, a single lantern glowing with a soft orange light resting on a table just inside the door. The room couldn’t have been more than four or five paces across, and the ceiling was low, practically pressing onto his head. How short must the original inhabitants of the building have been? Didn’t they care about normal height?
“It’s only you,” Pendin said.
“What?”
“Who has to duck. Only you. If you weren’t so damned tall, you wouldn’t have to bend at the neck. You take after your father like that.”
Endric shook his head as he followed Gresh through another door. “Dendril always said I took after my mother,” he told Pendin.
On the other side of the door, the ceiling opened up for them, rising a good foot or so above his head. Endric stretched and took a deep breath. This room was the opposite of the previous one. Where the other was cramped and narrow and poorly lit, this one was wide open, probably twenty paces across and lit by a dozen different lanterns that all glowed with a bright light. Walls were decorated with tapestries hanging along them, all portraits. Were they some people of importance to the university? Past scholars forever memorialized here?
“Come on,” Gresh said, guiding them through the room.
Soldier Sword (The Teralin Sword Book 2) Page 10
