Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3)

by Holder, Angela

  The words hit him like a blow. He’d known, but part of him had still hoped he was wrong. But her voice rang with truth. The way she stood with her shoulders back and spine proudly straight told him he was seeing the real Nirel for the first time.

  Elder Davon cleared his throat. “There’s no need to call in the authorities. I think we might be able to reach an understanding, if you’re willing to listen to what we have to say. Would you like to adjourn to the outer chamber and sit down for a discussion? I expect the Lord’s shrine isn’t a comfortable place for a servant of the Lady.”

  Vigorre shuddered. The vivid patterns woven into the curtains were playing tricks on his eyes, seeming to jump around with nausea-inducing randomness. He longed to rip them down and summon the Matriarch’s men to destroy the foul place. But he needed the information only the Dualist leader could give. Whether he’d believe what Davon told him remained to be seen. He nodded curtly.

  Davon ushered him out of the shrine and into an adjoining room with as much dignity as if he were an invited guest. He lit a lamp by the door as Vigorre dropped into one of the hard wooden chairs around a rectangular table. Davon seated himself across the table and gestured for Nirel to take the chair at his side.

  “I must ask your forgiveness,” Davon said, regarding Vigorre steadily. Vigorre felt as if the man was assessing him, judging his character, evaluating how he was likely to react. He suppressed a sneer. How dare the heretic presume to pass judgement on one of the Mother’s servants? “It was necessary to conceal certain facts from you in order to accomplish goals vital to the well-being of the Faithful. But now the time has come to bring you into our confidence. The Faithful and the Purifiers share a number of objectives. I’ve long thought you would be the ideal person to negotiate a truce between us. There’s much to gain if we cooperate.”

  Vigorre blinked. “What?” He shook his head and gave a mirthless laugh. “Cooperate? What could the Purifiers and the Dualists possibly have in common? You hate us, and we hate you.”

  “I can’t speak for the Purifiers, but I assure you the Faithful feel no hatred toward those who oppress us. Only a desire to go about our worship of the Lord of Justice unhindered. Listen, and I will enumerate the ways in which our interests are aligned.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not interested in negotiating with you. All I need to know is—”

  Davon spoke over him, ticking off the points on long, gaunt fingers. “One. The Purifiers want to expel the Faithful from Ramunna as they have from Marvanna. The Faithful here would like nothing better than to leave a country that oppresses us with restrictive laws, discriminates against us in matters of taxation and trade rules, takes away our children on the slightest pretense, abuses us at will, and shows us in a myriad of other ways that we are unwelcome. All we need is a place to relocate, and we will depart.

  “That has nothing to do with—”

  “Two. The Purifiers despise the Tevenaran wizards, consider them the slaves of demons, and seek to destroy them. The Faithful believe their power to be unholy and dangerous. If it is used on us, we are irredeemably corrupted. We both would rejoice to see it permanently eliminated from the world.”

  “Fine, you’ve made your point. Just tell me—”

  Davon held up a hand to silence him and continued. “Three. The Purifiers want to take power in Ramunna, replacing the Matriarch with her cousin who adheres to their ways. The Matriarch is no friend to the Faithful. We would be willing to assist them in their efforts, in exchange for considerations I believe the Purifiers will be willing to grant.”

  Vigorre stared at him, then shook his head. “Interesting as this may be, it has nothing to do with what I need to know. Why did Nirel—”

  Again Davon cut him off. “Have patience. All will be made clear. Four. The Faithful want a country of our own, where we can govern ourselves according to the Lord’s Ordinances, without persecution by the followers of the Lady, or indeed any interaction with them at all. We’re prepared to pay the Purifiers a generous sum if they help us achieve this goal. Very generous.”

  Vigorre’s eyes widened. How would Keeper Yoran react, if Vigorre were to bring this proposal to him? Yoran loathed the Dualists, but would that keep him from dealing with them, if the arrangement was as much to the Purifiers’ benefit as Davon was saying?

  “Five.” Davon held up his hand, fingers spread. “I’ve devised a plan which, if carried out successfully, will simultaneously remove the Matriarch from power in Ramunna and remove the wizards from power in Tevenar. If Keeper Yoran agrees to ally with me, I’ll share it with him. If he decides my plan has merit, we can cooperate to carry it out. The Purifiers will inherit rule of Ramunna. The Faithful will take Tevenar for our own. We each obtain what we most desire. Once the agreement has achieved its purpose, we need never deal with each other again.” He folded his hands in his lap and regarded Vigorre expectantly. “Will you carry this offer to Keeper Yoran for me?”

  Vigorre sank back in his chair. What Davon offered was insane, unthinkable, audacious—but perhaps not impossible. Stranger alliances were recorded in the annals of Ravanetha’s turbulent history. Keeper Yoran was deeply devoted to the Mother, but he was also ruthlessly practical. If Davon really did have a workable plan, Vigorre could imagine Keeper Yoran agreeing to this bargain. He already had Father’s cooperation. Against a united front of Dualists, Purifiers, and Temple, the wizards would be helpless.

  But was that what Vigorre wanted?

  He gripped the edge of the table and leaned forward. “I might. But not until I understand what’s really going on.” He fixed his gaze on Nirel. “I want you to confess every lie you ever told me.”

  She flushed but met his eyes. “I never lied to you. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

  Was that true, or another lie? He leaned back. “So tell me now.” He jerked his head at Elder Davon. “I take it there are Dualists in Tevenar after all?”

  She glanced at Davon. He gave a slight nod. “There were. My father was one. But most of them died or left the Faith. Father abandoned it as a young man when he married my mother. She wasn’t, and he never told me about his heritage. Then, when we arrived in Ramunna, I started to hear about things that sounded familiar…”

  Vigorre paid close attention as she spun her tale of growing suspicions and the confrontation when Kabos had confessed his secret. Of how the two of them had slipped into the Dualist Quarter one night, found a shrine, and asked to be readmitted into their ancestors’ faith. Of the long series of lessons and the grueling Trials. He wasn’t surprised that Nirel had excelled in her test. He’d always known she was intelligent, and the way her eyes glowed and her voice grew animated as she recounted her discoveries showed clearly that the Dualists had captured the passion of her heart.

  “…And Elder Semanel said that Elder Davon always used the last question to push a candidate to the limit at their weakest point, so he would know what he had to work with. He said that I had proven myself, that he would use me—” She faltered and looked at Davon.

  “So you had, daughter. And so I have.” Davon smiled at her, then turned to Vigorre. “After her trials, I questioned Nirel closely on everything she knew of the wizards. The Matriarch had already sent Ambassador Gevan to bring them here, and I knew that the Faithful would be dealing with temptations we hadn’t faced in a thousand years. I was intrigued by her account of what followed her arrest. Nirel of course had no knowledge of the secret text guarded by the Purifiers, but I’d long been aware of its contents. I was shocked by how closely her experience matched what the Purifiers feared.”

  Blood rushed in Vigorre’s ears. “That part was true? You really did see the demons kill a man and eat him?”

  She glared at him. “Of course. I told you I never really lied.”

  He clenched his fists. “And you just happened to run into me at the ball, and just happened to confide your darkest secret to someone you’d barely met?”

  She bit her lip and glanced
at Davon. He patted her hand and addressed Vigorre. “I sent her to the ball to seek you out and to pass her story on to you. I wanted Keeper Emirre to have confirmation of the wizard’s true nature from a source independent of the Purifiers, who as his political opponents he would naturally doubt. My plan to obtain Tevenar as a homeland for the Faithful depended on your father urging the Matriarch to send the Armada against the wizards, something he would do only if he believed the tales of demons. If Tharan had succeeded in preventing a wizard from coming to Ramunna, she would have been eager to listen. Since he didn’t, I’ve had to devise new plans. Nirel is looking for ways to provoke conflict between the wizards and the Matriarch, in the hope she’ll become so angry she’ll go to war against them.”

  Nirel jumped in. “I almost had it today. Think how she would have reacted if Josiah and Kevessa had torn the dungeons apart and freed her prisoners.” She sighed. “Elkan’s a lot harder to manipulate.”

  So that’s what she’d been up to. It was clever of Davon to use the Matriarch to eliminate the wizards, although Vigorre still didn’t understand how he intended to take Tevenar away from her once she conquered it.

  But those things were distractions from the point that mattered most to Vigorre. “It’s still too much of a coincidence. The one person in all the world who’d witnessed the demons reveal themselves just happened to come to you, ready to tell her story to whoever you thought should hear it?”

  Davon spread his hands and inclined his head. “Nirel wasn’t the only one; the others in Ozor’s band experienced the same events. It was indeed fortunate there were lost Faithful among them, and that they found their way to me. I might have used Kabos as my messenger, but I thought a young lady would be more convincing to a young man.” He smiled indulgently. “I consider such fortuitous coincidences blessings from the Lord of Justice, his hand at work in the world to bring about his ends. You no doubt attribute them to the intervention of his sister.”

  Maybe it really was the Mother at work. Why shouldn’t she use these heretics for her own purposes if she chose? He desperately wanted to believe Nirel. If that key fact of her story was true, everything else could be what she claimed—not lies, just incomplete truths. He could see how she’d needed to conceal her identity from everyone, including him. It really was illegal for her to live outside the Quarter and practice her faith secretly. He was angry at her deception, but he understood why she’d done it. He could forgive her. He could still love her.

  He swallowed. He was a Keeper, a servant of the Mother, as he’d wanted to be his whole life. Nirel, by her own declaration, rejected the Mother and worshipped the false deity who stood in direct opposition to everything he believed. How could he not despise her for that? The future he’d hoped for was impossible. He could never bind himself to an unbeliever.

  But looking at her across the table, her dark eyes fierce, her slender body taut, her lovely mouth set in a determined line, all he wanted was to sweep her into his arms and show her with his hands and mouth and body that none of it mattered, that somehow he’d find a way for them to be together.

  He reached across the table and snared her hands. “Swear to me it’s true. Please.”

  She wound her fingers in his. Her voice was firm. “I swear by the Lord of Justice that what I told you of the demons is true.”

  He flinched at the blasphemy, but he had to believe her. He nodded and released her hands. “All right.” He turned to Davon. “Keeper Yoran is in the Matriarch’s dungeon. He won’t be able to meet with you until she releases him.”

  “I can wait; nothing in my plan requires haste. Far better to bring matters to a slow but certain conclusion than to rush headlong into foolish action.” He grimaced. “Unfortunately, Nirel tells me Keeper Yoran has put in place a scheme to kill the wizards and their familiars this very night.”

  Vigorre nodded. “I’m supposed to lead them into a trap.” He turned to Nirel. “That’s why you were trying so hard to stop me. You need them alive so they can make the Matriarch angry.”

  “Exactly,” Davon said. “Our task will be much more difficult if they’re killed. Not impossible, for the Matriarch would likely send to Tevenar for another wizard, who we could then use to provoke the necessary conflict. But greatly delayed. From all reports, Master Elkan is already upset with the Matriarch because he disapproves of her governance of Ramunna. And she with him, because she hates above all things to be criticized, and yet must tolerate his scorn to receive the benefit of his power. Such dry tinder needs only a spark to set it ablaze. It would be a pity to waste such a favorable situation because Keeper Yoran eliminated the wizards before he had the opportunity to see how advantageous it would be to keep them alive.”

  “So you need me to protect them until Keeper Yoran has the chance to rescind the order.” One of the knots in Vigorre’s stomach eased. That at least he could do willingly. “I can do that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And I think I can get into the dungeon and talk to him again. Probably tomorrow afternoon. If he agrees to listen to you, I expect he can smooth things over with the Matriarch so she’ll release him soon. Arresting those people was mostly for show; she can’t really expect to hold so many of Ramunna’s most important men for long. A public apology should be enough.”

  “I trust your judgement.” Davon inclined his head.

  Vigorre took a deep breath. Nothing had changed. The familiars were demons. The Purifiers would continue to protect Ramunna from them, except now they’d have the Dualists’ help. Vigorre wasn’t betraying his oath. He might technically be disobeying Keeper Yoran’s orders, but only to give him the chance to achieve his goals in a more effective way. Surely he’d be delighted when Vigorre told him that with one blow they could rid Ramunna of not only the demons, but the Dualists, too.

  He rose. “I’d better go now, if I’m going to call off the attack on the wizards before the rest of Keeper Yoran’s men decide I’m not going to play my part and figure out a way to do it without me.”

  Davon rose and came around the table to clasp his hand. “I’ll be waiting for Keeper Yoran’s reply. He’s welcome to meet me here any time that’s convenient for him. Or we can arrange another place if he prefers not to enter the Quarter.”

  “I probably won’t be able to come myself, but I’ll send a messenger.”

  Davon walked beside him toward the door. “Nirel could bring me word.”

  Vigorre couldn’t bear to look at her. “Can she?”

  Her voice was flat. “As long as you’re willing to keep what you’ve learned a secret, there’s no reason we can’t keep going exactly as we have been.”

  “I think that would be best,” Davon said.

  Vigorre shrugged. “I’ll send a carriage for you in the morning, then?” He didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “If it’s not breaking the rules for you to attend a service in the Mother’s Temple.”

  Her voice was cool. “The twelfth Ordinance of the first month forbids it, but if an Elder commands me, my duty to obey him takes precedence.”

  “I do so command you,” Davon said. “I want you to maintain your disguise. Participate in Temple services and prayers and anything else necessary to avoid suspicion.”

  “Yes, Elder.” Nirel inclined her head with deep respect.

  Vigorre forced himself to face her. “If we’re going to avoid suspicion, I should walk you home. I would never agree to let you go alone, if—” He couldn’t force the rest out past the lump in his throat.

  She scowled. “It would take too long. You’ve got to stop the attack on Elkan and Josiah. I’ll be fine.”

  “If you insist.” It was just as well. He didn’t think he could face walking beside her for three long miles. At some point in the next few days they’d have to talk, but he wasn’t ready. “You’d better come up with something to say to the guard at the gate. I let him think I was following you because I suspected you were sneaking off to see another man.”

&nbs
p; She snorted. “Thanks a lot.” She tilted her head. “I’ll say I was commissioning a gift for your birthday, and I had to make up a story about needing new underclothes to keep you from finding out.”

  Lies and more lies. It sickened him how comfortable she was with them. “Sounds good.” He moved toward the door.

  She turned and grasped Davon’s hands. “How’s Mila doing?”

  Worry shadowed his eyes, but he smiled. “As well as we can hope. Nalini said it will be several days before the pain lessens.”

  “But there’s no signs of infection? Fever, swelling, red streaks?”

  “No, thank the Lord.”

  Nirel squeezed his hands and released them. She turned to Vigorre. “Mila is Elder Davon’s daughter. Last night Nalini removed a tooth that’s been giving her terrible pain for years.”

  Davon heaved a sigh. “It was a blessed day when the Lord of Justice sent her here. I think I would have sent Mila to the wizards myself if there hadn’t been another way to help her.”

  Vigorre stopped. “Wait. Nirel saw the demons. You know that’s where the wizard’s power comes from, not the Mother. Why do you still refuse to let them use it on you?” His heart pounded. He’d caught them in a lie, after all.

  But Davon only smiled sadly at him. “The Purifiers falsely attribute the demons to our Lord, but we know the true source of all evil in the universe. The power is the Lady’s, however she manifests it. The Lord of Justice defeated his sister and stopped her from bestowing her power directly, so now she uses demons to corrupt us.”

  “To try,” Nirel said stoutly. “She won’t succeed.”

  “Not when she faces hearts as true as yours and Mila’s.” He embraced her, then moved to open the door. “Good-night, daughter. Be safe. Good-night, Vigorre. Go swiftly about your task, and may the Lord of Justice bless you.”

  Vigorre’s stomach lurched. He wanted to reject the blasphemous blessing in ringing tones, but he couldn’t. Forgive me, Mother. He nodded stiffly and fled into the night.