“And you feel that your son’s presence will be taken as an endorsement of the temple and its practices?” she asked.
Jorek nodded. “The other temples have raised that concern, yes, but mine is perhaps more personal.”
“I see.” She wondered if by “other temples,” he meant Ultim Qardone Graiphen had raised that concern. She wanted to believe that Korbin’s father was trying to protect her and do right by his son and the empire as he claimed, but he’d built a legacy of betrayal. Until he proved himself, she was going to act with the utmost caution where he was concerned.
“So you will attend?” The emperor leaned forward on his seat, his expression expectant. “I need someone I trust to be there, but any of my advisors will be too easily recognized.”
“I am a Kilovian practitioner. I think I would be easily recognized as well. And after our meeting, Zain knows me.”
“There will be a large crowd,” said the other advisor, an older man, bent with years of worry. “You can blend in with the public.”
Octavia shook her head. “I have heard from a reliable source that Zain wishes me harm.” The emperor blinked, but she went on. “I feel safe enough here, but I will not be so foolish as to walk into his lair.”
“That’s preposterous,” said the Dula. “You’re the guest of the emperor. No one would dare do you harm.”
“Not even a demi-god?” Jorek sighed. “No, she’s right. If there’s any chance attending will put her in harm’s way, I won’t hear of it.” The advisors were quieted by his statement but appeared disgruntled at the affront to the emperor’s name. It was unheard of that someone would threaten any guest of his.
“Korbin, then?” the advisor asked.
Octavia cut him off. “No. He’s known to be associated with me. You would be placing him in danger as well.”
“Did your informant say he was targeted by Zain’s threats, too?” Jorek asked.
She paused, recalling Graiphen’s exact words. “Not exactly.”
The first advisor clapped a hand down on the arm rest of his chair. “That settles that. We’ll send him. He’s the son of the Ultim Qardone. Even Zain wouldn’t dare touch him without risking the ire of Braetin’s temple.”
Octavia wanted to argue that Korbin wasn’t now nor would he ever be under Braetin’s protection, but the other three weren’t listening. She raised her voice over their chatter. “There is one other small matter, your highness.”
The trio stopped and stared. “Yes?” the emperor asked.
“I wanted to thank you for securing Pendra’s release from the temple in Vol.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Korbin told you?”
She’d been determined to not berate him when she saw how worried Jorek was about his son, but the fact that he was more concerned about where she heard the news than how she felt made her angry. “No, Sen Betram told me. It seems the entire Kilovian community knows. Did you really believe I wouldn’t find out?”
“Octavia,” he said, his voice quiet and pleading for patience.
She held up a hand. “We can talk about these things later. For now, I just wanted to thank you. It pains me to think what she might have endured for the past months, but it is a relief to know her suffering is over and her healing begun.”
Jorek nodded, but he regarded her warily. “I must see Dul Korbin right away. The temple ceremony will begin within the hour, but yes, you and I do have several things to talk about, not the least of which is Pendra’s recovery.” He stood. “I would like to dine with you this evening. We can have our discussion then.”
She closed her mouth into a tight line, then tilted her head, relenting. “Very well.”
∞
After much argument as to the best approach, Korbin won his point and dressed down for his trip the temple. He’d lived as a commoner for years and convinced the others he could play the part convincingly.
He acquired clothing to make him look like he could be a merchant from a lower quarter. One advisor would have sent him in as Graiphen’s son, a prominent Dul and guest of the emperor, while another agreed with him that the less attention he called to himself, the better.
Octavia had been present at the discussion but hadn’t fussed about the plan. Even still, he could tell from the deep creases on her forehead that she was worried about him. Knowing that warmed him. Truth be told, he was a little apprehensive himself and not convinced that Zain didn’t wish him dead for good measure. But time wouldn’t allow him to tarry, so he prepared quickly and went on his way.
By the time he reached the bottom of the hill, the road was already packed with people, so he got out of the carriage and slipped into the crowd. Making his way further proved difficult because everyone wanted what he did: to get into the temple. He saw many young people dressed in simple robes of pale color. They must have been hopefuls who wished to become acolytes. On taking a closer look, he realized that a few of their number were not so young.
He wondered what they hoped to achieve by offering their lives to the temple. A life of service was unlikely to be one full of riches or glory. Some people were attracted to power, and Zain had an incredible talent for persuasion. A small, darker voice in his mind wondered if these people were simply weak-willed, helpless to resist Pang’s influence. He supposed the outcome would be better for them than for those who flocked to Braetin’s temple for the same purpose. Still, knowing what Pang and Braetin both were, the idea of these young people coming under the Spirits’ control repelled him.
Music drifted from the temple square, and entertainers juggled and performed tricks, hoping to elicit a few tips from onlookers. A couple of enterprising food sellers had brought carts into the square, even though commerce was strictly forbidden in the temple complex. No one seemed inclined to send them away, though.
Korbin saw a couple of people dodging through the crowd, moving like pickpockets. A few people would go home lighter of coin than they intended. Curiously, he saw no overt presence of imperial guards or city watch. That surprised him since Nassore was purported to be within. Were they hidden or disguised, or had Nassore turned them away?
A loud thump sounded, coming from the white-spired Temple of Pang. It resonated deep in his bones, but nobody else appeared to react. “What was that?” he asked a man next to him when their eyes met.
“What?” the man shouted over the crowd.
“What was that?” Korbin called back.
“What was what?” the man asked.
Korbin gave an apologetic smile and shrugged. “Must be the drums.” He gestured to the musicians on the other side of the square.
The man shrugged back and turned away, not appearing to have heard Korbin over the din of the music and the roar of voices.
Korbin’s mind turned to his mother, as it had almost constantly since he had awoken from his “journey” with Octavia. He’d heard the hushed voices, Betram and Octavia saying he shouldn’t have been able to call to her. He’d seen the concern on Octavia’s face, but he didn’t care. Seeing his mother again had changed him. The experience filled a gap in his mind, healed a hurt he hadn’t realized was there. He even felt more kindly to his father, something he never thought would happen. He knew better than to trust Graiphen completely, but his mother’s forgiveness had gone a long way to securing Korbin’s.
With difficulty, he managed to wriggle up to the temple entrance, where he was stopped by a priest and priestess wearing the white robes of Pang’s servants. “Do you wish to offer yourself into Pang’s service?” the priest, a short man with a tidy auburn beard, asked.
“No,” Korbin replied, startled by the question.
Without further discussion, he moved his attention to a woman next to him who wore a white robe. “Do you wish to offer yourself into Pang’s service?”
“Yes,” she said, her brown eyes shining.
“Come forward and be blessed by the child of a living Spirit.”
They let her pass, and Korbin came forward again. �
��I wish to ask for the blessing of the Spirit,” he said. “I am a supplicant.”
“Come back tomorrow,” the priestess, a plump woman with round eyes and narrow red lips, told him sharply. “Only new acolytes today.” She turned to ask yet another person the same question.
Korbin felt another deep thump that shook the ground. He grasped for a pillar to regain his balance, but again, no one else appeared to be affected.
“Move along,” the priest said. “You’re blocking the entrance.”
No matter how much he desired to find out more about the goings on of the temple, he wasn’t going to make a false claim to swear himself to her. He might have in the past, but now he knew the Spirits to be living creatures who would collect their due.
He took a step back and watched as three women and two men were allowed inside and directed to the sanctuary. He called to the priest who’d denied his entrance. “Is it true Prince Nassore is here today?”
“It is,” the priest told him. “That’s why we’re only allowing some inside.” He shrugged apologetically.
“Why would he attend a ceremony for recruiting acolytes?” Korbin asked.
The priest ignored him at first and let another girl pass while denying her mother the right to watch the ceremony. “I’m sorry,” the priest said. “We only have room for the new acolytes today. There’re just too many.”
She nodded, clearly disappointed. “When can I see her again?”
“If she’s accepted by the goddess, it’s impossible to say,” the priest said. “If she’s not, by the end of the day. If she doesn’t return tonight, take that as a sign that she has pleased the goddess. Move along, missus. You’re blocking the entrance.”
With disappointment etched on her face, the mother turned away. Korbin’s heart went out to her.
He turned back to the priest and repeated his question. “Why would Prince Nassore be attending a ceremony for recruiting acolytes?”
“He’s pledging on behalf of the imperial family,” the priestess said. “He’ll be making the announcement afterward in the temple square. Stay and watch if you like. It will be a glorious occasion.”
The priest cast her a sharp glance, as though the plan had been a secret.
“What?” Korbin asked, his concern rising. “The emperor’s son can’t become an acolyte. Not unless he abdicates his position.”
“He’s not becoming an acolyte,” the priest said, still glaring at the woman beside him. “And we don’t have time to discuss this with you. It’s temple business. Move along before I call the city watch. You’re blocking the entrance.”
Korbin let himself be shoved out of the way and back toward the main square. Whatever was going on inside, he didn’t have the means to find out. He glanced at the temple towering on the opposite side of the square, that of Braetin. He wondered if his father was inside, and if so, what he was doing. He must be aware of Nassore’s intentions. He would know that Zain must not be permitted to get such a hold over the imperial family, but Korbin feared it might be too late. What could any of them do?
Chapter 22
Upon hearing Korbin’s report, Jorek sent his personal guardsmen to retrieve Prince Nassore from the temple. Octavia waited with the emperor, Korbin, and the two advisors, Dul Facime and Dula Merria. The guardsmen had been ordered to show the emperor’s personal token, so Nassore would know the order came directly from his father, but to be polite and deferential to all.
If, and only if, he refused, they would escort him out by force. Such an action would cause an ugly scene, one that no one could predict the repercussions of, but Jorek was far more concerned about the consequences of Nassore swearing loyalty to one temple. He also said that if things went that far, they were to take Nassore to his rooms and post guards outside the doors until Jorek himself ordered otherwise.
The silence in the reception room was unbearable. Octavia twisted the fabric of her scarf in her hand. Korbin sat across from her, staring at the table in front of him, and Jorek paced near the window. The advisors sat on the far side in a pair of chairs, talking quietly to one another with grim expressions.
Finally, Jorek spoke, addressing himself to no one in particular. “Zain is making a bold move toward controlling the throne.”
The advisors stopped their conversation but didn’t speak up. They nodded in silent agreement.
“But, your highness,” Octavia said, “you are young. Surely Zain knows that it will be many decades before your son could assume the throne. Why go after Prince Nassore rather than you?”
Jorek sighed. “I can’t say I understand all of his plans or powers, but Zain likely believes that if he controls my son, he controls me.”
She swallowed, not wanting to ask if the assumption was true. Jorek seemed to have a capacity for hardness when it was called for. She didn’t doubt he would disown his son if he thought he had to. Talmoran men did such things.
Turning over the possibilities in her mind, Octavia tried not to assume the worst. But she couldn’t help but question what would happen if Nassore refused to come. Even she, a foreigner, knew what it would mean for Imperial guardsmen to lay hands on someone of royal blood and force him to leave the temple against his will. What would the people say? She feared it would only cause more sympathy for Zain, who seemed to grow in popularity every day. She’d been hearing stories of crowds flooding to the temple to beg for his blessing, and more often than not, he gave it.
Maybe, she mused, Zain hoped for an ugly scene. If it made him appear sympathetic and the emperor seem unreasonable, heretical, and out of touch, what would happen?
From down the corridor, footfalls echoed, heavy boots walking in perfect rhythm. Only guardsmen had that particular gait. All eyes turned toward the door.
The time it took them to arrive felt like hours but was in reality mere moments. Jorek took his seat, his face frozen into an unreadable mask. She guessed he was preparing himself for bad news. When the doors opened, the two guardsmen came in, and Nassore flew in after them.
“What was the purpose of that?” he demanded of his father. “There was no urgent matter, was there?”
Jorek raised an eyebrow. “If I say a matter is urgent, it is thus. The matter is of utmost importance to Talmor, my son.”
“You humiliated me.” He waved toward the guardsmen. “Everyone there knew what their presence meant.”
“Perhaps you should not have promised to do something you had no right to do, and all this would have been avoided,” Jorek said.
“No right to worship the gods?” Nassore spat. “Zain is right. The house of Khourov has become weak and corrupted.”
Jorek’s face betrayed nothing, but his hand gripped the armrest a little tighter, the gold ring on his hand standing out against the pale flesh around his knuckles. He addressed the guardsmen. “Take my son to his rooms. See that food is brought to him as needed and command a steward to pack for a journey. Until he leaves, he will need to rest, so he will not go out nor will he receive visitors.”
Nassore froze. “A journey?”
“Your education is not yet complete. I command that you go to Domen Province and study finance under the tutelage of Dula Rosset. She taught me when I was your age, and you have much to learn on the matter. You will leave immediately.”
“I will not,” Nassore said.
Even Octavia was taken aback at his behavior. This young man hardly seemed the same person she had met when she first arrived. Zain’s influence had not been positive, and it worried her how quickly he’d planted seeds of rebellion in the young prince’s mind. If he could manage this within Jorek’s own family, what could he do with the common people?
Jorek sighed. “After you take Nassore to his rooms, send for Dul Crenta and tell him to assist my son before he departs.” He gestured to the guards, not even looking at Prince Nassore. “Go.”
“Crenta?” Nassore paled. “Father, I am an adult, not a wayward child to be disciplined as though I’d refused to do my home
work. I am honoring the gods. This is what you taught me to do, what all Talmorans should do. If you cannot see this, we are all doomed.”
Jorek didn’t respond, and the guards came and stood beside Nassore. When he refused to move, they grasped his arms and pulled him away. He struggled but couldn’t get out of their iron grip.
When they were gone and the sound of Nassore’s shouts had faded down the corridor, Jorek said quietly, “Leave me.”
Everyone stood and bowed, including Octavia. She glanced at Korbin, who looked as worried as she felt. They all quietly filed to the door.
When they reached it, Jorek said, “Senne Octavia, if you would stay please.” His voice was tight and formal.
She nodded and waited for the others to go.
“Shut the door.”
She did as he asked, and he stood and walked toward her, falling into her embrace. She held him tight for long moments.
“I’ve lost my son,” he whispered.
“No,” she said. “Not yet. Not if I can stop Pang and her brethren. She is the one who directs Zain’s path. She must be stopped.”
Jorek released her and met her gaze. His face had the tracks of tears on either side. “How will you do it?”
“I don’t know. But I will.”
Looking into her eyes, he put a cool hand on her cheek and caressed it gently. “I do believe you will save us all.”
She had no answer, so she kept silent.
Jorek’s expression was still grim, but he looked as though he saw a glimmer of hope. She wished she felt the same. Instead, all she felt was the weight of what she must do and the uncertainty of her eventual success.
As she pondered these things, Jorek leaned forward and kissed her. It was not the timid kiss of a boy, but the strong, demanding kiss of a man who knew what he wanted. He put one hand on the back of her head and the other went to her waist.
Surprised at first, Octavia stiffened, but as he held her, she relaxed, letting his touch feed her own need. For a while, they held one another, and they were not two people of different ranks or national origin, but two people who needed one another in that moment.
Born Of Fire And Darkness (Book 2) Page 18
