“I’d say you might be ready,” Doctor Pember smiled, his lips thin. “Perhaps we should have a talk before I return home. My particular school will have an opening for another apprentice soon.”
Her eyes widened again, and she bowed from the waist this time, both hands over her heart. “I would welcome the opportunity, Doctor.”
Doctor Pember inclined his head, then turned to Aren. “There you have it, Apprentice. Perhaps she has a potion for your headache as well.”
Aren bowed, then Doctor Pember continued across the courtyard towards the guest rooms. As soon as he was gone, Rieka punched Aren hard in the abdomen. “You could’ve warned me! Gods, he must think I’m a fool! I could throttle my father for not telling me Illithe was coming! And you! Why didn’t you tell me?”
Aren rubbed at the spot where she had punched him. “How was I supposed to know? Is he important?”
She gripped his forearms, her nails digging. “Doctor Pember is renowned in the medical field for his breakthrough work on molecular expressions. He’s done so much toward advancing the areas of mitochondrial ancestry, not to mention all the dabbling he’s done in reproductive charting and testing against organs with mage-traces!”
“He looks like a stork.”
She punched him again. “You weren’t really curious about mage illnesses, were you?” she asked, her hand still curled in a fist. “You were setting me up!”
“You’re welcome?”
“Aren! Is dinner over?” a woman asked, entering the courtyard.
The Guard who let her in had a large, goofy grin on his face, and he bowed low to her before waving at Aren and returning to his post outside. The woman smiled, pulling down the dark hood of her traveling cloak as she walked towards them, revealing her beautiful face and loosing her silky, black hair.
“Master.” Aren couldn’t help but smile as he bowed his head.
“I really insist you call me Lake,” she said, then looked from Aren to Rieka then back again. “Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all.” He tried to stop smiling but couldn’t, and he could feel Rieka’s eyes boring into him. “This is Lady Rylilith-Terpin Rieka; she’s like family to me. Rieka, this is Master Vesila Lake of Tennar.”
The two women exchanged pleasantries, and Rieka raised an eyebrow. “Aren didn’t mention having a new friend. I see he’s been working his magic.”
Lake looked at him, and by the expression on her face, he guessed that she was imagining marks on his shoulders. “She’s joking,” he said. “‘Working magic’ is a sort of colloquialism we use in the west.”
Lake laughed and addressed Rieka, “Aren offered to show me the Library. He’s so kind to sacrifice his time. I suppose this is the magic you’re referring to.”
“Our Aren is all about sacrifice,” Rieka said, reaching up to pinch Aren’s cheek.
“I was just going to change into my robes first,” he said, ignoring Rieka.
“You go change, brother. I’ll keep her company until you return.”
He laughed, the sound of it false, staged. “Dear Rieka, I wouldn’t dream of troubling you. I’ll change later. You fetch your father’s keys; I know you have a lot of studying to do.”
Rieka was about to reply when Lake put herself between them. “You’re both being silly. Aren, go change. I’d love to chat with Lady Rieka if she has the time.”
He glowered at Rieka, whose shoulders emitted a soft glow that made her blush, then he walked away towards the stairs, glancing over his shoulder once to catch both women waving at him. He really needed to work on keeping himself closed up in the Library more often. Lounging about in the courtyard seemed to bring him nothing but trouble.
FOURTEEN
“Apprentice, I don’t know where she is!” Nianni said, her voice high and panic-stricken. She had stopped him just as he left his room, nearly tackling him in the process.
“Calm down, Priestess,” Aren said, sucking at his finger. He had been securing the pin that fastened his robe and ended up sticking himself when she grabbed his arm. “Breathe and speak slowly or you might explode, and I’ll get skewered by all the silver that goes hurtling outward. Greater detail this time.”
“I hate you so much!” she seethed.
“Your attitude isn’t going to make me want to help you,” he pointed out.
“Selina. Is. Missing.” Nianni enunciated each word.
“What do you mean she’s missing? You took her back to your room after dinner, didn’t you? I thought she was asleep.”
“She was! I laid her down, then stepped out to finish my chores and tend to my duties. I’m still expected to do my regular tasks in addition to babysitting,” she said, getting defensive. “Head Priestess is going to kill me!”
“How could you lose her? Where have you looked?”
“Both worship rooms, the dining rooms, the kitchen, the parlor. The Library was locked, and two women were talking there, but I didn’t ask if they had seen her.”
“Maybe she’s moving,” Aren said, wondering which hallway he should venture down first.
Nianni twisted at her bracelet. “I can tell the Head Priestess, if you think that would be best. Maybe the Seer…”
Aren turned his head, his brows furrowed. He put a hand up to Nianni to quiet her. He had the sensation of being at a show, when the lights dimmed and every person seemed to turn to the person they were with to say, “Shhh…” Something was troubling about the thinness of the sound, the way it drifted like smoke and pulled his attention in different directions. His head was starting to throb the way it had by the river.
“Do you hear that?” he asked, his voice less than a whisper.
“Hear what?”
He held a hand up again, listening to the hissing sound for a few seconds, then said, “The roof.” He started down the hallway heading east, and Nianni followed after him, trying to keep up with his long stride.
Aren’s chest began to hurt, and he pressed a hand over his heart as if it would ease the sharp pain. Broken memories rushed at him, and he knew that the discomfort he was feeling was a bad omen. He hurried towards a hidden alcove, and when he felt the draft, he rushed up the stairs, taking the steps two and three at a time. The strange echoes that inhabited the secret, forgotten places of the House descended on him as if he were prey, and he growled as if to scare them away. He was only vaguely aware of Nianni whimpering as she hastened to keep up.
The door at the far end of the landing was ajar, and he wasted no time in pushing his way through and climbing the remaining steps up onto the rooftop. The sea winds blew more roughly up here, and his robes caught, threatening to hurl him off the roof. He grabbed at the robe’s edges and held them close, then turned as Nianni emerged.
“Stay here! I’ll be right back.”
He followed the narrow walkway that had been integrated into the structure, glimpsing the skylight that led into Aalae’s worship room, as well as the high arches that indicated the Library. The hissing voices were stronger, and he pushed on until he reached the incline that led to a spire where one could see the Laithe to the east and the Wood to the south. Selina stood close to the spire, her white robes held close to her little body, her raven hair whipping in the wind. Aren made his way to her, then lowered himself so he could look at her face. The moon shone in her eyes.
“They’re asking for you,” Selina whispered. “This is what you hear. This is where your headaches come from.”
“They aren’t calling you, are they?” he asked.
“No, just you.”
Aren dropped his head in relief. Thank the stars she wasn’t affected the way he was. He looked out in the direction of Tiede Wood. The wind traveled over the strange, dense treetops, causing the whole of it to shimmer in the moonlight. Aren didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, he was relieved to know that he wasn’t the only one who could hear the voices; on the other hand, what did it mean that Selina could hear them? Was it this whole mess with the goddess communicati
ng with her? He kissed Selina’s forehead and took her hand. “It’s time to go back to bed now. Priestess was very worried about you.”
Nianni surprised him by not asking any questions. “Thank you,” was all she said before leading a drowsy Selina back to their room.
Aren ran his hands through his hair. He needed to get back to the Library. There was more research to do on Tiede Wood. Maybe there was something he had overlooked—something in a tale or a legend. Who was it that said Lady Elleina had gone mad? Maybe there was a record of illnesses, an historical list of people who suffered from headaches, visions, delusions. He crossed over towards the stairs leading to the courtyard just as Geyle was coming out of her room.
“Apprentice! Are you all right? You look tired. Everyone is talking about the little Priestess and what happened over dinner. Is she well?”
Aren pushed his hair away from his eyes and looked at the Lady standing before him. He went to pay the proper respects, but she placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He gave her a lopsided grin, and she giggled.
“Again, you make me smile,” she said, her fingers playing with the ribbon that flowed from the sash around her waist.
“You should more often. It’s a lovely smile.” Stars, what was he saying? This. This was the sort of thing that got him in trouble.
She stopped fidgeting and smoothed out the skirts of her dress, her cheeks flushing. She looked in the direction of her room, then back at Aren. “I heard that Vir invited you to council. Is it because of the little girl?”
“Selina,” he clarified. “Yes.”
“Did Vir mention anything else? About Rose or Illithe?”
“My Lady, it’s not my place to—”
She bit her lip, then moved closer. Aren, caught off-guard again by her casual manner, moved a step away, pretending to make room for her. Not seeming to notice, she leaned in and whispered, “Lady Illithe doesn’t care for me. She’s not said one word to me this whole night. I know she thinks I’m not good enough for Vir, and maybe she’s right. She’s here to tell him to be rid of me. You’ll tell me if they talk about me, won’t you?”
“Even if Lord Vir said the moon was brilliant this evening, I couldn’t tell you.” Aren watched slow tears linger on her cheek before falling. “What are his councils to you anyway? Matters of House, that’s all. These things you speak of are more personal, not something Lord Vir would discuss with his Counselors and especially not me.” Without thinking, he reached out and wiped away a tear with his finger. “Please don’t cry.” She smiled at him, her cheeks burning and her blue eyes watery. Stars, how did he get himself into these situations?
FIFTEEN
Aren found Rieka and Lake where he had left them. The women were talking in hushed tones, and as soon as he approached, they ended their conversation and turned to smile at him. He raised an eyebrow, but Rieka only stepped over to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. She made her way out through the courtyard, leaving Aren and Lake standing by the Library doors.
He gave Lake a smile as he unlocked the Library and launched straight into the grand tour. He took her through the deep archives and the vaults, showing her the ancient, prized scrolls from the first ancestors of Tiede. He pointed out interesting facts about the architecture and explained where different types and subjects of books could be located and how they were indexed and organized.
She asked questions as they went along, showing a sincere appreciation for the Library’s historical significance. She was a wealth of knowledge, making suggestions on the cross-indexing techniques Elder had set up and advising on the care and protection of those volumes from Tennar that used a strange type of acidic wood-pulp paper. Aren pulled out his notebook and jotted down her recommendations. He enjoyed walking through the Library with her and found that he wasn’t even thinking of her amorously. He wasn’t wondering what words he should use to impress her or even what she thought of him. All that mattered was the conversation, the exchange of thoughts and ideas between them, the mutual respect for knowledge. He could talk to her all night.
“Thank you again for being so patient with me,” he said as he led her back towards his desk. “I know you don’t have a lot of time before you have to go. I got carried away showing you everything, and I feel bad that I made you wait so long for me to return earlier.” He offered her a chair, then took a seat next to her.
“I got just as caught up as you did. Tiede’s Library is everything I’ve heard tell of and more, but you never did say why you were gone so long.”
“My little sister Selina, the newly chosen Priestess…” He fiddled with a pen on his desk for a moment. “It’s a long story. We’re not blood-related, but I’m all she has and she was having trouble sleeping.”
Lake looked at him, smiling with admiration. “It sounds like you had good reason to be delayed. If I finish my research quickly, perhaps you wouldn’t mind sharing your story. I know it’s late, but I’ve nowhere to be until morning. I understand, though, if you’re tired. I have a room at the inn I can return to.”
He looked up from the twirling pen, stilling his fingers. “I can share a story if you’ll tell me what you and Rieka were talking about.”
“We’ll see.” She winked. “Let me get started on my research. Maybe you can get some work done too, and your evening won’t be a complete waste.”
Aren couldn’t fight the smile on his face. “I’ll ask the kitchen to send us some coffee.”
There was a resonating click, followed by the groan of heavy, ancient wood as the doors to the Library opened. Aren and Lake exchanged glances before he stood up to greet whoever was visiting this late in the evening.
Vir strode towards them, still wearing his dinner attire. “Apprentice.”
“My Lord.” Aren dropped to his knee, bringing his fist to his chest. Lake rose to her feet next to him, bowing her head in respect.
Vir made a motion with his hand to tell Aren to get up. “And you are?” he asked Lake curtly.
“Master Vesila Lake of Tennar, Lord Vir,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “Elder Lyte Tanda invited me.”
“Welcome to Tiede, Master,” Vir said, his suspicions disappearing at the mention of Elder’s name. He turned his attention back to Aren. “Elder is in Council, so I need your assistance. My father once spoke of an ancestor who had a fighting technique that involved two special blades. I want to make sure that such a thing exists before I call on the Guild.”
“I know exactly what you’re talking about,” Aren said, thankful for the easy question. “I’ll get the reference for you.” He disappeared into the stacks and reemerged a moment later with one of Tiede’s historical volumes, flipping through the pages and placing the book on his desk to point out a section with various anatomical diagrams.
“It was originally used to behead mages. Your ancestor, who invented the technique in conjunction with an unnamed Fighters Guild Master, was Lord Tiede Mar,” Aren explained. “It’s called Uniting the Heavens. It’s no longer used because it’s impractical to fight with two blades. Those few who do it seem to do so for show.”
“It would take too much discipline,” Vir mumbled. “Strength is one thing, but to wield two long blades in harmony for the purpose of battle would take much more effort than mastering one long sword.”
Aren hesitated, then said, “I can demonstrate the basics, if you’d like. There’s a ritual to it; for example, aligning your blades to Night and Light, channeling both energies from your kal evenly into each blade—”
“You’ve studied this?” Vir raised an eyebrow, looking over the illustrations.
“Master Gerrit required his children to learn all the blade techniques,” Aren explained, “even the so-called forgotten ones. If it existed, we had to learn it. Fighter Gerrit Gryf is set to be the first Master of the dual blade in decades.”
Vir scrutinized Aren. “You can fight with two blades?”
Aren felt heat rising to his face. “I’m no expert, but yes I can, my Lo
rd.”
“Show me,” Vir said, releasing the saber at his side and tossing it.
Aren caught it by the pommel and shrugged out of his robe, draping it across the back of his chair. “I don’t have another blade at the moment—”
“Crescent Fire then,” Vir demanded, referencing one of the older, lesser-known exercises.
Lake took a step back. Like Vir, she seemed to have no idea that a bookworm like him could use a blade. Aren moved to the clear area in front of the desks. “Crescent Fire” was one of the most artful of sword stances, used for show by average swordsmen, but a graceful and deadly combination when executed by a Master, even if it was labeled an exercise. Aren was no Master, but he knew how to handle a sword. He just hoped he wouldn’t end up putting a tear in his pants or accidentally stabbing Vir.
Aren took a breath, slashing at the air to loosen his wrist. He went through the series of sword stances and exercises that Gryf had taught him at least once a week, but he still felt rusty.
May as well get this over with, he thought. He ran through a series of graceful moves that showed off his precision with the blade as he turned one way then another, as if fighting some imaginary opponent. His long body was agile and swift, as his mind guided each muscle. When the blade had completed its crescent arc, his sword hand settled close to his outstretched ankle while his other arm was positioned out to counterbalance. The entire sequence happened in the space of eight heartbeats.
Vir nodded and signaled for Aren to rise. He closed the book on the desk and picked it up. “I’ll send for Master Gerrit’s son. I’ll want you there as well. The Messenger will notify you. If Gerrit can teach, I’ll need you as a sparring partner.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Aren said, handing the saber over.
Vir took the weapon, then studied Aren for a moment. “How long have you been apprenticed to Elder?”
“Six years to the day.”
Vir stared at him a little longer. “As the most senior apprentice in this House, it’s time you took a more active role. You won’t get very far hiding behind these books.”
Uniting the Heavens Page 17
