Aalae inclined her head, then turned and proceeded to walk away, with Sabana and Geir falling into step behind her. Alaric motioned with a nod of his head, and Tanghi escorted them out.
Alaric and Taia stood alone in the courtyard, only the sound of crickets and the occasional flutter of wings disturbing the silence. “If it were you, what would you do?” he asked, returning to their previous conversation. “There’s no hope for Trum. If you were Aalae, would you ask me to help save the people left in the House? Would you help me defend Thell?”
“I would let Trum and Thell fall,” Taia said, looking him in the eye. “I would put all of my effort into defending the next House. If I were Aalae, I would have no intention of helping you.”
TWELVE
Aren trailed behind Lord Vir, Elder, and Counselors Helmun and Darc as they walked through the courtyard. He wasn’t sure why Vir wanted him to follow, but he wasn’t about to question him. They were just passing the mermaid when a rapid clicking of heels on stone caused Aren to turn. Lady Illithe strode towards them, her brows furrowed and her burgundy lips pressed tight. He managed to give a little bow as she passed.
“Lord Vir,” she called to stop the rest of the procession. “A word, please.”
Vir stopped and turned to face her. “Yes, Aunt Valine?” He waved for the others to continue onward, and Elder led them towards the council room. Aren made to follow, but Valine grabbed his arm. He exchanged a look with Vir, but she held on and continued to address Vir as if Aren wasn’t even there.
“Are you taking that girl’s warning seriously?”
“That’s what I need to talk to my counselors about. Why do you ask?”
She sighed, looking at him as though he were a child who didn’t grasp the situation. “Illithe sent scouts east several weeks ago because of rumors of mage unrest in Trum. I didn’t think anyone west of the Relythaun, aside from Illithe, had heard, but for that girl to speak of mages—”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Vir asked, irritation coloring his tone. “Is there anything else I should know about?”
“We weren’t going to call you about a rumor,” she said, lowering her voice. “The last thing the Houses need is something to panic about.”
Aren looked from Vir to Valine as they spoke, feeling awkward and trapped and just the slightest bit foolish. He wasn’t sure why she insisted on including him in their political and familial affairs.
“I’m supposed to be able to rely on you and Illithe, Aunt Valine. Rumors or not, news of mages is serious. Mage uprisings have resulted in thousands of deaths, and now I’m getting the news from a little girl.”
“You’re right, we should have called you, but understand that our methods of communication are no longer secure. I know you asked the Doctor to come, but our hesitation to trust the relaying of messages is the real reason Father and I came with him.”
Aren’s mind raced back to the river, to the messenger, and the words from Rose.
Word has reached us that the House of Trum has been infiltrated by mages.
Rose already knew, Aren thought. Illithe knew. And Selina has confirmed everything. If you believe that the gods are actually talking through her, he added to himself.
“I need to talk to my counselors. I will speak with you and Gran Kente tomorrow.”
Valine inclined her head a fraction. “We have questions about your new Priestess as well.” She finally let go of Aren’s arm, and he had to stop himself from taking off. “This is the young man my father indicated earlier?” she asked, changing the topic.
“Yes. This is Elder’s Apprentice, Gerrit Aren.”
“My Lady.” Aren bowed his head.
She stood next to him, too close for Aren’s comfort, and he was surprised by how tall she was. She made no secret about studying his face, and he tried not to shy away from her scrutiny.
“The little girl’s guardian, for the most part,” Vir said, seeming to share in Aren’s discomfort. “He, like the girl, is without known blood relatives. The Gerrit family discovered him as a very young child and adopted him.”
“Interesting,” she said, smiling for Aren. “You’ve never been to Illithe, then?”
“No, my Lady.”
“You might want to have a talk with Doctor Pember while he’s here. He specializes in genetics.”
Aren was about to thank her, but Vir spoke first. “Aunt Valine, wish Gran Kente a peaceful night for me, and let the servants know if you need anything.” Vir turned to continue towards the council room. Aren, torn between following him and paying his respects to the Lady, turned one way, then the other, making a hasty bow before hurrying to catch up with Vir.
A servant girl walked towards them at a quick pace, her face pink, her fingers working at the edge of her apron. Aren recognized the black ribbon that tied her brown hair into a ponytail. She bowed to Vir, then to Aren, and said, “My Lords, there’s a Miss Trista at the gates to see you.”
“Me?” Vir frowned.
Aren cleared his throat. “Miss, um…Please tell the Guard to send her away.”
“But, my Lord,” she squeaked, “she says it’s a matter of your betrothal.”
“It’s just Apprentice.” Aren exchanged a glance with Vir, who raised his brows. “There is no betrothal. Please have the Guard send her away with instruction to never bother the House again.”
After the girl rushed off, Aren said, “Forgive me, my Lord.”
The council room was large, dark, and comfortable. The walls and floor were made of dark, polished wood, the floor ingrained with an indecipherable scrolled pattern that had faded over centuries of wear. Paintings encased in brushed gold frames adorned the walls, all of them depicting the sea in some form or another. All the lamps and sconces had been lit, and the gentle flames seemed to dance along the walls.
Vir took a seat in the brown leather chair by the fireplace, accepting a glass of amber liquor that Elder had poured for him. Elder took up a chair near him and worried at the pommel of his saber, unaccustomed to not having his staff to fiddle with. Counselor Terpin Darc looked perfectly at home on the rich, upholstered love seat, while Counselor Novin Helmun paced along the wall, running his fingers over the shelved books. Aren found a spot next to the fireplace, where he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for someone to ask him to take notes or make drinks or shine shoes.
At last, Helmun asked, “Is there a reason for the Apprentice to be here?” Helmun was pudgy, Tiede’s formal dinner attire doing little to flatter his thick midsection. Aren wondered if it was the reason Lady Saris was constantly inviting him to her bedroom. He shuddered.
“He’s essentially the Priestess Initiate’s guardian,” Darc said, reaching for his drink. “If we’re here to discuss the commotion surrounding the little girl’s supposed visions, what better person to question than the one she is closest to?”
Vir nodded. “I’ve been informed that the girl and the Apprentice are like siblings. They’re both orphans, Unblessed. As you know, the Apprentice ended up with the Master Blacksmiths. The Apprentice, in turn, found the girl.” He swirled his glass, then drank down a mouthful of the liquor.
Helmun said, “I still don’t understand—”
“Two days ago,” Vir interrupted, “Syrn came looking for their latest Initiate. Two days ago, the Apprentice and girl were out fishing on the Taethe. Yesterday the girl was presented to Syrn, and yesterday the Apprentice approached me with a message from Rose.” Vir paused to let his words sink in.
“But that’s impossible,” Helmun said, walking towards the love seat. “Unless they managed to get a boat, in which case the Harbor Masters need to be punished for letting them in.”
“You came through the Wood, didn’t you?” Darc asked, addressing Aren. Aren nodded as the counselor’s dark, upswept eyes scrutinized him. “You seem to have your wits about you,” he said, his tone questioning and curious.
“But that’s impossible,” Helmun repeated.
“Rega
rdless,” Elder said, “the message Lord Vir mentioned is the reason my Apprentice returned from his holiday. It turns out that Rose fears a mage uprising, and to have the little Priestess tell of mages—”
“Is there any basis for this fear?” Darc interrupted.
“Valine just informed me that Illithe has been investigating rumors of an uprising in Trum.” Vir looked to Elder.
“Well,” Elder said with a sigh that pushed him into the cushion of his chair. “That changes things, doesn’t it?”
“What do we know of this message or the truth of it?” Helmun asked, scratching at his trim beard. “And how do we know that Illithe isn’t trying to scare us? Besides, we’ve had thousands upon thousands of travelers and messengers before. How do we know this message and the messenger are authentic?”
“The seal was authentic, and we know Rose doesn’t use or trust the lark. On top of all that, our Harbor is closed. Apprentice, do you vouch for the messenger?” Vir squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if warding off a headache.
“Yes, my Lord,” Aren replied. Now was probably a good time to bring up the fact that a mage had attacked him. It seemed so contrived, though, as if he were jumping on the mage bandwagon. “The ferry wasn’t taking passengers, his horse abandoned him, and he had no desire to step anywhere near the Wood. He thrust the message upon me and ran off.”
“The mages are a dying cult,” Elder spoke up. “Their kind has not been active since decades before my time. They’ve been stopped before, though at great cost.”
“And yet,” Darc said calmly, “Illithe is concerned or curious enough to send scouts out across the Relythaun Wood. That’s a long journey to follow up on a rumor.”
“A valid point,” Elder said. “Should we consider that mages could be in Tiede?”
Darc lifted an eyebrow. “Would that be easier to believe than a killer we can’t catch? How many deaths now? Five? Six?” Silence ensued as everyone considered his words. Then Darc sighed, took a drink, and said, “Are we chasing a man or a monster? Both, perhaps?”
Vir and Elder looked at Aren, who cleared his throat. “That thing I fought in the alley, and whatever it was on the steps that knocked me unconscious—that was no man.”
“The message, then,” Helmun said, taking a seat next to Darc. “If it’s authentic, what does Rose want of us? Even if Trum were under attack, what does Rose have to fear? It’s on the other side of the great Relythaun Wood.”
Aren recalled a map of Cordelacht, saw the massive expanse of the eastern woods, the twin lakes embedded within them. He moved west from there, imagined the annual market now underway on the western borders of the Relythaun. A little further west, nestled in the rolling hills, was the simple House of Rose: beautiful but unremarkable, and completely defenseless.
Once weakened, we will eventually be overrun by the ambitious Illithe from the north and the barbarous Kaishar on the western end of the Rail.
“The concern I have is about Rose’s reaction,” Vir said, interrupting Aren’s thoughts. “I’ve not shared this piece of news with anyone, not even my wife, and considering it pertains to her House, you will take to heart the gravity of the situation. I trust you to keep it a secret.”
“Yes, my Lord,” they responded in unison.
Vir swallowed the last of his drink and rolled the glass in his hands. “The rumors from the east are that the mages were embedded in the towns, maybe even in the House, so Rose has begun locking up everyone who bears the marks of the magic wielder. They would like Tiede to send soldiers to assist. Their people are rebelling against the detainment.”
Elder shook his head and Darc leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and placing his face in his hands. Aren could tell Helmun wanted to say something, but all he could do was open and close his mouth like a beached fish. Aren had been puzzling over this portion of the message since he had read it. Rose had always been a peaceful House, satisfied with its hold on the quiet green hills. Rose also had a history of having a very strong and persevering line of magic in its people. That would be a lot of people to detain.
“Does Illithe know?” Darc asked, lifting his head to look at Vir. “Rather, did you get the impression from Lady Valine that Illithe knows what Rose is up to?”
“Part of the problem is that I no longer know what Illithe is thinking,” Vir frowned. “They have never seen eye to eye with Rose, that much is certain.”
Helmun found his voice at last and added, “If we come to Rose’s aid and assist in the detainment, Illithe wouldn’t stand for it. We can’t risk angering Illithe.”
“And yet, would we leave Rose in chaos?” Elder asked.
“This isn’t something we can resolve right now. Think on it. I want courses of action and scenarios for a response to Rose’s dilemma,” Vir commanded.
“Yes, my Lord,” they said.
Vir turned his attention to Aren. “And it all comes back to the little girl. I want you to keep an eye on her. She warns of magic and war, and I will not take that warning lightly. I’ll have the Head Priestess give you as much access as possible without interfering with their rituals. If the girl has any more information, I want it.”
THIRTEEN
The first to be dismissed from Vir’s meeting, Aren took a moment to sit at the mermaid fountain and look up at the stars. It had been a long day, and he was trying to muster the energy to make it up to his room, get out of his clothes, and collapse into bed. He still had some work to do before he could call it a night, and there was still Master Lake, to whom he promised access to the Library. That, he didn’t mind so much.
A flurry of wind danced through the courtyard and fretted the fire in the torches before spinning back up and away into the night sky. It mussed his hair, which he didn’t bother trying to push away from his eyes. He contemplated lying down where he was, but he knew that Elder would beat him with his staff if he was caught.
“Aren!”
He looked up to see Rieka, Counselor Darc’s daughter and Dane’s lover, walking towards him, lifting the hem of her dark-blue, satin and chiffon gown so she could move faster. Her long braid of hair was coiled atop her head, and her smile widened as she approached.
“What are you all dressed up for?” he asked, standing up to greet her. “If you were hoping for dinner, you’re late, and your father’s in a meeting with Lord Vir.”
“My father sent me to see a show that he couldn’t attend. Do you know how long their meeting will be? I need the keys to my parents’ house.” She frowned. “What happened to your face?”
Aren touched the sensitive area around his eye. “Just a run-in with a monster. You can try checking with the Guard about the keys. If your father was anticipating you, he might have left the keys with them.”
She brightened. “You’re a clever boy. I’m going to assume you don’t want to talk about what happened to you, but you can’t stop me from worrying.”
“No reason to worry. You know me, always making poor decisions.” Images of Selina and the incident at dinner tugged at him, and his thoughts were drawn to the Wood. “Do you have a minute for a medical question?”
“Yes, but not if it’s too personal. I don’t think I’m ready to know more about you than I do about Dane.”
He poked at her side and she laughed. “Selina’s acting strange,” he said, “and I’ve been having these headaches, so I was wondering if the proximity of magic could cause—”
“Headaches,” came a man’s voice, refined and clear. “The true plague of the people.”
They turned to see a tall man dressed in a crisp, gray dinner suit walking towards them. He seemed to be all legs, moving with the lightness of a bird as he adjusted the round, charcoal-rimmed glasses atop his sharp nose. Rieka stood there frozen, her eyes wide, her breath caught in her throat.
“Doctor Pember,” Aren said. “May I introduce Lady Rylilith-Terpin Rieka.”
At the sound of her name, Rieka blinked several times. Then, remembering her manner
s, she bowed her head. Her bare shoulders glowed, the marks flickering then vanishing.
“You must be Counselor Darc’s daughter,” the Doctor said, seeming to take no notice of her marks. “A pleasure. Your father is most esteemed. We had an interesting conversation over dinner regarding the turbulent history of the truffle.”
“My father dabbles in exotic cuisine,” she managed to say. Aren raised an eyebrow at her; he had never seen her so dumbfounded and speechless. Her voice was faint and she seemed unsteady.
“Now what is this about headaches and magic?” Doctor Pember asked. “It turns out that genetic mage traits are my specialty.”
A doctor from Illithe who specialized in mage traits; Aren’s curiosity was piqued. Lady Illithe said he was a geneticist and that Vir had requested he come to Tiede. Aren’s mind wandered back to the message he had brought from the river.
Whatever ailments or shortcomings you have must be overcome. These are small obstacles for you, Lord Vir.
“I’d rather not trouble you with my problems,” Aren said. He looked at Rieka and smiled, recalling some of the subject matter that he and Dane quizzed her on for her tests. “I wonder, though, can the marked come down with incurable illnesses that the unmarked would be immune to? I’ve been transcribing an old scroll, and people were very superstitious a long time ago. I wonder if there was any basis for their paranoia.”
Rieka passed a questioning glance to Aren. Her suspicion seemed to break her from whatever spell was laid over her, because she cocked her head and said, “There are very few recorded instances of illnesses that can be attributed to the mage trace in the marked genome. In fact, as much as ninety-eight percent of cases that were once thought to be related to the markings were later found to have no relation to the mage markers.”
Doctor Pember looked down at Rieka from over his glasses. “Your father didn’t mention that you were a student of medicine.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I’m apprenticing in Tiede until I can qualify for Illithe’s guilds.”
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