“You are of Aerysius no longer,” the guard pronounced ominously. His eyes went to the chain on her wrist.
Merris couldn’t take her eyes from her burning cloak as a tear rolled softly down her cheek. She had worked very hard for many years for the right to wear it. She had been only an acolyte, had never had the chance to become a full Master. Now that dream would probably remain forever unfulfilled. Cael was right; she was no longer of Aerysius. At least she still bore the chain on her left wrist; she doubted they could take that from her.
“Come,” he grated, striding away a few steps before turning to look back.
Merris didn’t follow, instead lingering where she was, transfixed by the smoldering remains of her cloak. It took a great effort of will to turn away from it. She brought her watery gaze up to Cael’s. She swallowed what seemed like the last bit of resolve that yet remained to her. Feeling completely numb in every way possible, Merris moved to follow after him.
He waited as she approached, watching her with brown eyes full of disdain. When she reached him, he put a hand on her back and pressed her forward toward a doorway. Her mind was swimming, mired in a dark haze. She could only stare ahead blearily as the guard propelled her forward.
“Lower your gaze,” he commanded sternly. “Lower it! Did they teach you no manners in the Rhen?”
“I don’t know your ways,” she reminded him tartly, lowering her eyes to the ground.
He glared at her sideways but said nothing. They walked in silence as the guardsman led her down an exceptionally long and narrow corridor that descended gradually over a very long distance.
After minutes of walking, they finally arrived at a thick iron door. Cael used a key to unlock it, shoving the door open before them. They emerged onto a tiled walkway that led out of a hillside into a star-filled, cloudless night. Merris kept her gaze trained on the tiles under her feet, observing her surroundings only with her peripheral vision.
They had emerged onto a massive terrace. The stones that made up the wall beside her were lightly colored, having the texture of porous sandstone. Vines with pink flowers meandered across their surface. The air felt warm, summery. It had a thick and salty taste to it.
“You must learn your place if you wish to live,” Cael informed her, striding ahead. “You project far too much confidence for a woman of your status. You’d better tame it before it tames you.”
“What is my status?” Merris wondered sourly, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground just ahead of her feet.
“You are clanless, old, and very plain, so you have very little status,” the burly man responded matter-of-factly.
“Old?” Merris gasped. “I’m only twenty-four! And I have never been considered plain.”
“Plain,” Cael repeated. “Your breasts are small, you have the hips of a boy, and your hair is the color of a mouse. Did your mother never teach you how to walk?”
Merris felt warmth flush her cheeks, surprised by her own reaction to his brutal assessment. “Well, I couldn’t be all that plain,” she snapped, positively seething. “After all, you offered to share your bed with me.”
“Out of pity,” he growled at her. “Eyes to the ground!”
Merris fumed in silence as he pressed her ahead down a flight of broad stairs. Somehow, she managed to keep her eyes lowered. Her barbarous companion frightened her just as much as he infuriated her. Not for the first time, she berated herself for having the temerity to follow the prime warden into that cellar. It had been such a rash thing to do. She wished to the gods she could take that decision back.
Chancing a glance up, she realized they had entered a wide courtyard. Merris lowered her eyes again quickly, but not before noticing the few people that were about. There were two women crossing the courtyard toward them, along with another man walking ahead. The women were robed in brightly colored dresses of a very fine material that rippled about them as they moved. Merris couldn’t help but stare at the pair of them, one woman in orange and gold, the other in emerald green.
She whispered disdainfully under her breath, “They’re not staring at the ground.”
Beside her, Cael made a scoffing noise. “They are mages of the Lyceum. They are women of high status.”
“And I’m an acolyte of Aerysius,” Merris countered obstinately. “I am the prime warden’s personal secretary!”
The brutish guardsman halted in mid-stride and turned to fix her with a toxic sneer. “I told you: you are no longer of Aerysius. Neither are you an apprentice of the Lyceum. You are a clanless, wedless, ignorant and boyish woman. You are nothing.”
Merris whirled on him in defiance. “I am not nothing. I am strong in the potential, and I have all the knowledge and training I need to become a full Master; the only thing I lack is the Transference! I don’t know about Caladorn, but back in the Rhen people like me are considered very rare. And I will not continue to go about staring at the ground!”
“May I inquire what’s going on here?”
Merris whirled to find herself confronted by the self-same women she had just been comparing herself to. The one standing nearest her had lustrous ebony hair that fell down her back to her waist. A gown of bright-orange silk was elegantly draped over her statuesque figure.
The other woman was exceptionally tall and lithe, waves of cinnamon hair curling about her olive complexion. She was wearing a gossamer-fine gown of emerald green that glistened as it was stirred by a breeze. There was something about her; perhaps it was the confidence she projected or the sinuous way she moved. Maybe it was the child-like glint in her eyes. Or a combination of everything. Whichever it was, Merris had no doubt: this was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her life.
And probably the most dangerous.
“Great Lady,” Cael addressed her, dropping immediately to his knees and bowing his head, eyes trained on the ground at her feet.
Merris moved to emulate him, falling quickly into her deepest curtsey and spreading wide the simple gown Sephana had lent her. No Master of Aerysius had ever demanded such a display of deference from her. In the Rhen, people did not bow or scrape before any mage; only the office of the prime warden demanded such a humbling display.
The chestnut-haired woman nodded slightly. Cael rose to his full height, drawing himself up and squaring his shoulders. But he still did not meet the woman’s gaze, keeping his eyes respectfully lowered. Apparently, these women had more status than he did.
“Great Ladies,” he addressed them, “I am escorting this courier to Grand Master Quinlan Reis.”
“Are you, now?” the red-haired woman responded in a sultry voice, gaze flicking toward Merris. Those confident eyes wandered over her, taking in every feature about her from her shoes to the top of her head. They traveled down her arm, halting at the markings of the chain upon her wrist. Her gaze snapped instantly back to Merris’s face, locking on her eyes.
“Your presence here is an act of war,” the woman said almost conversationally in a thick, melodic accent. She took a step forward and reached up, stroking her fingers down the side of Merris’s face. “Explain to me, my dear, how does an acolyte of Aerysius come to be a courier for the Lyceum?”
Merris swallowed, deeply disturbed by the feel of the woman’s touch. “I beg your pardon, Great Lady,” she responded, choosing her words as carefully as she could. “I was sent here by Ambassador Braden Reis with dispatches for his brother.”
“Truly?” The raven-haired woman wandered forward, raising a pair of perfectly arched eyebrows. “And what prevented Ambassador Reis from simply bearing the dispatches himself?”
Merris felt beads of perspiration beginning to gather on her forehead. She didn’t know what to say. She had taken Braden’s warning to heart, and she certainly did not want to reveal the nature of her mission to these two vipers. She glanced nervously at the guardsman.
“Do you still have the letter I gave you?” she asked.
Cael frowned, but produced the crumpled-up parchment from
a small leather pouch attached to his belt. He handed it across to the red-haired woman, avoiding her stare. The woman took the note into her delicate hand and smoothed it with a graceful motion of her fingers. Merris studied her as her eyes scanned over the letter, noting her posture, the careful way she centered her weight over one foot, which lent a gentle curve to her hipline. Every action she performed was a study in deliberate seduction.
Status, Merris thought. She understood now. She understood why the guardsman had considered her to be so plain. Compared to these women, she was plain.
“Welcome to the Lyceum, my dear.” The chestnut-haired creature smiled, glancing up from the note. She was staring now at Merris with unabashed interest in her eyes. “It would seem that Grand Master Braden has found us a very talented turncoat.”
Her smile broadened. “You will be tested, of course, to be certain that Braden’s assessment of you is accurate. I’m quite positive that you will pass our testing. Tell me, my sweet, how did he ever convince you to abandon Aerysius? Is he really that good in bed?”
Merris’s mouth dropped open in shock. She began to form a denial, but couldn’t make the words move past her lips. She closed her mouth, completely uncertain of how to respond. Status, her mind echoed. Apparently a woman’s status in Caladorn was tied to her perceived sensuality. If she was going to remain here, she figured, she had better learn how to emulate their ways.
Merris shrugged, assuming the most confident posture she could muster. “Braden has a few talents, I suppose. Not enough for my taste.”
The red-haired woman’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “My name is Sareen Qadir,” she introduced herself as she smoothed a strand of Merris’s hair back behind her ear. “You will soon be in need of a mentor, I think. I will be happy to help you fill in any gaps in your knowledge.” She bent forward and pressed a soft kiss against Merris’s cheek. She let her lips trail lightly over the girl’s skin as she moved to whisper in her ear, “It would please me to teach you everything I know.”
With that, she handed Braden’s note back to Cael and strolled away, her raven-haired companion following with a mischievous glance back over her shoulder. Merris turned to gape at the guardsman in frank disbelief; she could barely make sense of the exchange that had just occurred.
Cael’s gaze still lingered on the red-haired woman’s back as she moved away across the courtyard. He explained softly, “Of all the women of the Lyceum, Sareen Qadir has the greatest status. It would be a great honor for you to be chosen as her apprentice.”
Merris turned to eye him with a look of speculation. “Tell me, Guardsman Cael,” she asked, “how do the men of Caladorn measure their status?”
Cael’s gaze was still fixed on the sway of Sareen’s hips as he responded, “We measure our worth by the number of enemies we have vanquished.”
To Merris, that seemed rather impossible. After all, not every man of Cael’s bizarre society could be a murderous warrior. “What about Braden Reis?” she wondered. “He seems to have a great deal of status, and yet I sincerely doubt he has ever killed a man.”
Cael shrugged as he turned and strode away. “There are more ways to defeat an enemy than by putting him to the sword. Be assured, Ambassador Reis did not arrive at his position without conquering a great many foes. And if you truly doubt that he has ever killed a man, think again. Battlemages live and die by his command.”
Merris frowned. “But he’s a Chancellor,” she protested, taking quick strides to catch up. “He’s just a diplomat.”
The guardsman shrugged. “Chancellors are masters of tactics, both at the negotiating table and in the command tent,” he argued. “When talk fails and the fighting starts, it will be the Order of Chancellors that decides our strategy on the field of battle. It is they who command Caladorn’s legions.”
Merris frowned in consternation. “So Braden is some sort of…field commander?”
“You do not understand.” Cael shook his head. “Braden Reis is Warden of the Order of Chancellors. If his negotiations in Aerysius fail, it will be he who leads Caladorn’s armies into battle.”
Merris’s eyes slipped slowly to the side, her mouth going slack.
“Come.”
Cael was already moving forward across the dark courtyard. Merris started after him. Resolved, she returned her gaze to the ground and followed Cael’s long strides into a large building constructed of many layers of soaring balconies. The entrance was a wide arch that looked to be made of braided stone.
Within, Merris found herself in a large hall. The floor was covered by dozens of patterned rugs, the walls draped with silks and tapestries. Small trees grew out of colored pots spaced closely together around the room. The sound of trickling water was easy on the ears, coming from small fonts built into the walls themselves. It was a warm and intimate setting, casual and comforting. So unlike the stark and formal grandeur of Aerysius.
Cael led her out of the hall and into a series of corridors broken by outdoor patios, at last arriving at a door at the far end of a balcony. The guardsman rapped twice upon the door with his knuckles then shifted into a wide stance with both hands tucked behind his back.
As she waited, Merris wandered a few steps away to a stone balustrade and leaned over, looking out into the night. A warm breeze stirred her hair as she contemplated the view before her. There was only blackness below that stretched out to the far horizon, a wide expanse of star-filled sky overhead. A crescendoing noise came from below, like a gust of wind swelling to a gale and then gradually dissipating. Merris leaned further over, peering straight down the rocky cliff. Waves. She realized with a shiver that she was listening to the sound of the ocean.
She heard Cael rap upon the door again, much louder this time.
The door swung open. But it was not a man that greeted them.
It was a woman with kohl-darkened eyes, wearing only a blanket that was loosely draped around her naked body. Her hair was so matted that it must have been days since she had last combed it. Her dark eyes focused on them blearily as she swayed over her feet, clutching at the door for stability.
“What do you want?” she demanded in a slurred and thickly accented voice.
Merris shot a glance at Cael, but the burly guardsman seemed thoroughly unaffected. “We seek Grand Master Quinlan,” he announced stiffly. “Go tell him he has company.”
The girl glared at Cael, taking a staggering step backward. Then she turned and called over her shoulder, “You have visitors, my love.”
“Tell them I’m out,” came the reply from within.
The woman simply shrugged at Cael. “He’s not home,” she said, swinging the door shut.
The guardsman reached out and caught the door, thrusting it open again forcefully. The girl tottered backward into the room as Cael pushed his way past her, dragging Merris in after him.
Merris glanced around, taking in the interior that might once have been lavish, but was littered with trash and rotten food, piles of clothes and overturned furniture. A haze of white smoke filled the air. Merris coughed, waving the fumes away from her face as she gazed around in disgruntled astonishment.
Cael caught the girl by the arm and, ripping the blanket off her torso, firmly escorted her out of the residence. He slammed the door closed behind her then turned to confront the filthy quarters with a look of disdain.
He grabbed Merris by the hand and dragged her forward down a short hallway strewn with clothing and litter. Merris had to almost jog to keep up with him, stumbling over filth. He led her through a doorway created by a drape of beads that hung from floor to ceiling, pushing them back out of his way with a tinkling clatter.
Merris stopped in her tracks, appalled at the sight of a man who lay sprawled in the midst of a mass of blankets, cushions and assorted garbage. Only his lower body was covered by a careless drape of cloth, his torso completely exposed. He was exceptionally thin. His sallow skin seemed almost stretched over bone and protruding ribs. It was impossible to tell
if his dark hair was either very wet or very oily. The unkempt growth of whiskers on his face was too short to be properly called a beard and yet far too long to be considered stubble. He was staring at the two of them with an expression of dazed befuddlement.
“Oh, my, isn’t this awkward,” the naked man announced in a thick and garbled voice. “My apologies, guardsman, but I do regret that I’m rather indisposed.” His red and watery eyes glanced toward Merris. “Unless you come bearing gifts, of course. Always room for one more, I say. Hop on in, darling,” he invited, patting the cushions beside him.
Cael drew himself up to his full height, face grimacing in disgust. “Grand Master Quinlan Reis, I present to you Merris Bryar, an acolyte of Aerysius. She is here at the bequest of your brother, Ambassador Braden.”
Grand Master Quinlan stared at Cael and then stared at Merris, his forehead creased in obvious bewilderment. At last, he nodded. “So it is my intractable brother who seeks to indulge me with exotic pleasures from afar? Even better, I say. What are you waiting for, my dear? I am anxious to explore how the delicate flowers of the Rhen compare to those of Bryn Calazar.” Then he paused, frowning uncertainly as his gaze struggled over the dim interior of the room.
“Where did you put my whore?”
Merris slammed the door shut behind her as she ran after the guardsman’s burly form.
“Where are you going?” she demanded, shouting after him. “You can’t just leave me with that man!”
Cael cast her a sidelong glare over his shoulder, not slowing his long, brisk strides. Without looking back, he assured her confidently, “Yes, I can.”
Merris found herself having to jog to keep up. “Wait!” she shrieked, reaching out to catch his arm. “Please! Please, take me back!”
Thankfully, Cael stopped walking. He rounded on her with a thoroughly exasperated expression on his face. “Take you back where?”
Darkstorm (The Rhenwars Saga Book 1) Page 5
