"Sarin, isn't that a little cruel?" his mother said, her face pale. "He is our son after all."
"He's no son of my mine. Not the way you slept around, you whore."
"I resent that statement," she said, but there was little fight in her voice.
"And I don't care. It's the truth."
Kadin listened with interest. He'd never heard his father say this before, but it explained why the man treated Kadin so much more harshly than his other children. Maybe it was not only that Kadin was an extra mouth to feed.
Kadin turned to his mother. "Am I not his son, then?"
"Let's not talk about this," she said, looking away. "Why don't you work with your sister?"
"He's not working anywhere," said Kadin's father. "I've had enough of him destroying our livelihood." He set his fiery gaze on Kadin. "Go inside. Now."
Kadin dashed toward the house, his neck sore. He stepped inside, praying to Aralea that his father would have the decency to sell him to an honorable man. But were there any honorable men in the slavery business?
Could life get any worse than it already was?
Kadin stayed in the house, pacing around, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He walked in circles around the large cooking pot in the center of their home. Their five beds stood at the outside of his circles, making the house feel cramped, making Kadin feel like he was taking up space, food, and light. Despite their lone Sunlamp, the air remained chilly.
But nothing compared to the cold hatred Kadin felt toward his father.
A few hours later, Tyrine joined Kadin, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"It's terrible what Father tried to do," she said.
"Yes, and he promised worse," Kadin said. "I don't want to be a slave."
"How is that any different from what we already are? Maybe the reputation of slave owners is exaggerated. Surely they can't be any worse than Father."
Kadin leaned against the cold stone wall, massaging his temples. "I wish I could believe that, but life doesn't work like that. Life makes you suffer every second."
"Not for everyone," Tyrine said. "Don't give up hope."
"We're Lightless. We'll always be Lightless. No one cares about us. What does it matter to all those Sunweavers in their comfortable manors if a few Lightless families starve? What does it matter to them if a Sunweaver abuses his slaves? We're a drain on society. Father is right about one thing. I am useless. We all are."
He fought against tears, looking away from Tyrine, the only person he'd be upset to lose. She didn't oppose their father, but she cared about Kadin.
"You're looking at this the wrong way," she said, sitting at the edge of her stone bed. "This is an opportunity to find a new life. That should be exciting."
"Well, it doesn't feel that way. I wish Father had killed me."
"Don't say that. Never say that. You can't give up." She stood up and put her hands on Kadin's shoulders—a gesture that normally would have comforted him. But not today.
"Why can't I give up?" Kadin said, stepping away from Tyrine. "Our own sun is giving up on us. Maybe you can't feel it, but its power is getting weaker every day. The world's going to end. What does it matter what happens to me?"
Tyrine leaned on the wall, her face pale in the light of their Sunlamp. "You can't know any of this. You're only imagining these things."
"Maybe," Kadin said, but he knew he was right. He sank into a stone chair at their small table, wishing he could fade away. In truth, he'd thought many times of killing himself. Anything was better than living under his father's tyranny.
But suicide was a sin according to Aralea.
He could run away, though, and disappear into the massive underclass of Tarileth society. Surely no one would ever find him among the hundreds of thousands of Lightless in Hyrandel. Maybe he'd even find a way to survive, however unlikely that might appear.
"I can't let Father do this to me," he said, worried what Tyrine would think.
"What other choice is there? You can't be thinking of running away."
"Why not?"
"You might not like it," she said, "but we need the money. We need it badly. Life as a runaway won't be any better than life as a slave, and you'd leave us with nothing."
"I don't care," Kadin said. "You can come with me. Mother, Father, and Ralin can starve. I won't shed a tear." And, with cold certainty, he realized that he wouldn't. That scared him.
"I can't come with you. What could I do other than offer my body for money?"
"We can think of something," Kadin said, trying to improve his own mood more than Tyrine's. "You're miserable here."
"No, Kadin. I'm not running away, and neither are you. I have marriage prospects."
Kadin barked a laugh. "You'll probably end up married to someone like Father, and you'll be right back where you started."
She settled down in a chair across from Kadin, reached across the circular stone table, and put her hands over his. "I'll have to take that chance. Give me that chance. Give Mother a chance to survive. She might not stand up to Father, but she does love you. She's simply afraid."
"She's useless," Kadin said. Then he hesitated, remembering his father's cryptic remarks. "Tyrine, have you ever heard that I might not be Father's son?"
She sighed, looking away and tapping her fingers on the table. "It wouldn't surprise me. You look nothing like him. He treats you so poorly. Then there's the way you say you feel the sun, the way the Sunlamps die around you. It makes me wonder if you might actually be a Suncaster."
"If I was a Suncaster, I wouldn't be stuck in this life."
"Not if you have only one ability," she said. "The ability to negate light, that's Purple Suncasting if I remember correctly. I think that's what you might be doing."
Kadin hadn't thought of that. He tried not to think about all the dead Sunlamps, for that reminded him of his father, of countless beatings. Tyrine was a thinker, though. Kadin had always wondered what she might have been if she weren't Lightless.
"It could be," he said, not sure what to think of the possibility. He hated Suncasters and Sunweavers almost as much as he hated his father. "But I doubt it. I'm just cursed by Halarik."
Tyrine gave him a sharp look. "You need to be more positive about things. The world wasn't designed only to torment you."
"Well, it certainly feels that way."
The door opened, and the rest of Kadin's family stepped into the house. His father glared at him. "Help your mother cook dinner. And don't break anything."
Kadin hopped to his feet, wishing he had the powers of a Sunweaver. Then he could burn his father alive, strike him with lightning, cause him unbearable pain in every way imaginable. The man deserved it after all these years of cruelty.
But Kadin couldn't do any of that, so he helped his mother cook their meager dinner: the cheapest cuts of beef, stale bread, and withered vegetables from the farm. He ignored the stern looks from his father and brother. Tyrine also helped with the meal, but none of them spoke. What could they say that wouldn't enrage Kadin's father?
Once they sat down for dinner, Kadin's father said, "I've been to town, and some Sunweavers will be there tomorrow to purchase slaves." He smiled. "So we'll all be richer tomorrow, and without the most troublesome member of our family. I should have done this long ago."
"Why didn't you?" Kadin asked.
"Because your mother loves you for some unfathomable reason."
Kadin didn't believe that. She would have stood up for him if she'd loved him.
"Am I my father's son?" he asked, locking his gaze with hers.
She looked away and didn't answer, but that was answer enough.
Chapter 4: A Dangerous Secret
Deril sat across from his mother in the large bedchamber she shared with his father. The room's Sunlamps enhanced the golden undertone to the stone walls. That, combined with the rich red carpets covering much of the floor, made the room feel warm.
His mother squirmed in her cushioned stone chair
, looking from side to side as though she might not share her secret.
"Do you know something about who kidnapped Father?" Deril asked. His legs felt a little sore, but he ignored the pain. In light of his father's disappearance, the pain didn't matter.
"Can you promise never to share this information?" she asked, tugging at her dark hair. "Can you promise to protect me?"
Deril leaned forward. "Protect you from what? Did you have something to do with this?"
"Indirectly, yes." She hesitated a moment. "I have a secret that I've been keeping from you for many years. The same secret Karik has. Promise me, Deril."
Deril felt that he shouldn't make a promise. It might make further action difficult. But he wouldn't get her information without the promise. He'd deal with the consequences later, and he wouldn't break his promise. He had too much honor for that.
"I promise," he said, his stomach twisting into knots. What had he sacrificed?
"Karik is a Fireweaver."
Deril didn't know what he'd expected, but that was not it. He stared at his mother for a few long, tense moments. "No. That can't be true."
"It is true. Karik is a Fireweaver because . . . because I'm a Fireweaver, too."
Deril trembled. How could his own mother and brother be evil Fireweavers? He would have believed it was all some kind of joke but for the seriousness in his mother's voice.
"And you expect me to keep this hidden from everyone?" he said. If he'd known that was her secret, he wouldn't have made that promise. Even now, he felt like breaking it. He believed in Aralea's teachings, which stated that Fireweavers were abominations.
And he could have been one. The room felt suddenly colder.
His mother leaned forward, her face pale as she drummed her fingers on her thigh. "There are a few things you need to know about Fireweavers. It is not the power alone that makes a person good or evil. No, that depends on the choices a person makes. My powers might come from Halarik, but I worship Aralea."
She looked uncomfortable as she spoke that final sentence, as though she was manipulating the truth.
"How can I know you're not lying?" Deril asked.
"I'm your mother. Don't you trust me?"
"I'm not certain anymore. You've lied to me my entire life."
She put her head in her hands, a tear trickling down her cheek. "Because I knew how you would react. You believe so strongly in Aralea. You believe everything the Church tells you about people like me. Our nation has made Fireweavers what they are."
"I'm sorry. I can't believe that. I can't even believe you're a Fireweaver." On the one hand, Deril was angry. On the other, he felt the compulsion to comfort his mother, whom he had never seen so distraught about anything.
"Weave Orange and Yellow. You'll see."
Deril didn't want to do it, didn't want to spoil the image of his mother he'd held his entire life. This was the woman who'd healed him from so many of the injuries he'd suffered doing foolish things. Things like jumping off a cliff.
He did the weave and saw the glow of heat around her. A glow too bright for a Sunweaver. His insides grew cold, and he felt as though a part of him had died.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
He hesitated a few long moments, wishing he could take back today's events. "I'll have to keep it secret. I promised."
"I'm glad I can trust you," she said, tears trickling down her cheeks.
"But don't think that means I can accept what you are. I don't care what you say. Fireweavers are abominations. You never should have had sons. You only risked increasing Halarik's influence in our world." He felt tears in his own eyes and worked to hold them back, to hide them from his mother. "Does Father know?"
"He has known all along. In his youth, Zaren was not the devout man he is now. He had a rebellious side. He associated with the Brotherhood of Fire. That's where he found me. That's where he became the man he is, a man he's hidden from the larger world."
"From his own son," Deril said. It was hard to reconcile the image of the father he knew with that of a man who'd associate with Fireweavers.
"He hid these secrets from everyone," she said. "Don't you realize how damaging this secret could be?"
"I do, and that's also why I must keep my promise." He looked into his mother's eyes, seeing the tears, seeing years of secrets. What else wasn't she telling him? "Do you know where Karik might have taken Father? Do you know why?"
She wiped away a tear. "When I discovered Karik was a Fireweaver, I introduced him to some of my old friends, part of the Brotherhood of Fire. I hoped they could provide a haven for him if things went bad, give him a chance to avoid detection."
"And give Fireweavers even more power," Deril said. "How can you justify that?" He agreed with the Sun Guard. The Brotherhood of Fire needed to be eradicated.
"Am I evil?"
"I don't know. Not anymore." He ran a hand through his short brown hair. "How can I know what to believe when you've challenged everything I've always known? How can I go on pretending that nothing has changed?"
"You'll go on because that's what you have to do," she said, recovering a little composure. "Now let me tell you more. The Brotherhood of Fire is still around, but so is another group, one you've also heard of."
"Halarik's Chosen." Deril shivered despite the warmth of the Sunlamps. Halarik's Chosen were a group even more dangerous than the Brotherhood, but Deril thought the Sun Guard had driven them all into the Frozen Lands years ago. "They're still around?"
"There are more Fireweavers in our nation than you'd think. Most are like me, very skilled at hiding the source of their power. The Sun Guard only likes to think that they've wiped out Halarik's Chosen. In truth, they are more powerful than ever."
"And does your Brotherhood stop them?" Deril said, restraining the urge to mock her.
"They would like to, but they can't operate in the open."
"Instead, they lead people over to Halarik's chosen. That's what you mean." Deril rose and walked over to the nearest wall, trying to stifle his anger. "You might mean well. They might mean well. But they're making the world more dangerous."
"And what exactly makes Fireweaving more dangerous than Sunweaving?" she asked. "The powers are the same. Only the source is different."
"The source makes all the difference. Aralea is good. Halarik is evil."
"People are not that simple," she said. "The world is not that simple."
Deril paced around the room, fighting the urge to run out and tell the Sun Guard everything his mother had said. Yes, he'd made a promise, but he'd also promised that he would do everything in his power to serve Aralea. Wasn't the Sun Goddess more important than a Fireweaver?
"None of this is important," he said. "Just tell me where I can find them. The longer we delay, the more likely it is that they'll kill Father."
"If they wanted him dead, he'd be dead already."
Deril scratched his head. He hadn't considered that. "But why would they need him?"
"I'm not certain. Even Fireweavers can't live without the Sunlord."
"But why kidnap him? They have nothing to gain from this if they can't kill the Sunlord. The Sunlord can't decide who gets sunlight and who doesn't. There's no threat they can hold against us—or at least no threat that I can discern."
"Then I think you know what you need to find out," his mother said. "The question isn't where they've taken your father. It's why."
"But if they've taken him to the Frozen Lands, we can send an army."
She gave him the kind of look he'd seen a lot when he asked stupid questions as a child. "You don't realize just how many Fireweavers there are, do you?"
"Not as many people as we have in Tarileth."
"But most of the people here are Lightless," she said. "Everyone who lives in the Frozen Lands is a Firecaster or Fireweaver. They're ready for war. I don't believe we are."
Deril continued pacing, unable to look his mother in the eye. "All right. You know these people. How
can I gain access to what I want? How can I get Father back?"
She didn't meet his eyes either. "I can find someone to get you into the Brotherhood. From there, you're on your own. You'll have to see if you can find information on Halarik's Chosen. We can't attempt to rescue Zaren until we know what they want."
"I understand. Will the Brotherhood accept me?"
Even more important, could Deril accept becoming part of the Brotherhood?
"Not all members are Fireweavers," she said. "But you'll have to adopt a false identity. Any members of Halarik's Chosen who've infiltrated the ranks of the Brotherhood will be suspicious of you if they know who you are."
Deril worried that they'd know anyways. As part of the Sunlord's family, he was reclusive, but he did get out from time to time.
"I don't understand," he said. "Why are you supporting me in this? Don't you want to say that I should stay here, that I should keep trying to develop the powers I obviously don't have."
"I'd like to say that," she replied. "But perhaps you're right. Perhaps you will never develop the powers of a Sunlord." She wiped away another tear, looking alarmingly frail, as though these revelations had taken a lot out of her. "It might be my fault."
He turned to her, raising his eyebrows.
"No Sunlord has ever had children with a Fireweaver, and that might have affected your powers. Karik couldn't become a Sunlord because he's a Fireweaver, and I think you can't because something about my power has interacted with your father's. Perhaps someone with direct Fireweaver ancestry can't ever be a Sunlord."
"At least there might be a reason," Deril said, but he couldn't bring himself to feel relieved. "I always thought I'd done something wrong."
To his surprise, his anger had faded. Yes, his mother was a Fireweaver, but that didn't change the person she was. Now he even understood her favoritism toward Karik. She wasn't favoring Karik. She was protecting him, guiding him. But she'd failed.
"Do you hate me?" she asked, tears streaming down her face. She looked so fragile, so human—not the monster he'd expected of a Fireweaver.
Sunweaver Page 3
