The Third Soul Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Solthain was a fool,” said Corthain.

  Arthain went rigid, his eyes opening wide. “What did you say?”

  “He was my brother and I loved him, but he was a fool,” said Corthain. “I told him not to attack. I told him to wait for reinforcements…”

  “Silence.”

  “But he wouldn’t listen,” said Corthain. “He’d spent too much time listening to you! Too many speeches about how the Conclave always prevailed against demons and those who practiced forbidden arts…”

  “Silence!”

  “So he stormed Paulus’s tower,” said Corthain. “He got all my men killed, he got himself killed, and…”

  “I said silence!” roared Arthain, slamming his palm against the desk. Blue fire flashed from his fingertips, and part of the massive desk turned to charred coals.

  Corthain took a step back, hand flying to his sword hilt. For a moment Arthain stared at him, face livid, his shoulders shaking with fury beneath the red robe.

  “Get out,” spat Arthain. “Get out of my sight. A pity I already disinherited you, since I wish I could do it all over again. You are not my son. You were never my son!”

  “And I only wish,” said Corthain, “that Solthain had listened to me instead of you. Then he might still be alive. And that my father were not a heartless sorcerer living on the blood of slaves and…”

  “Get out!” roared Arthain.

  Corthain turned and left. The slave woman cowered outside the door, eyes wide at the sound of the Magister’s fury.

  “My lord,” she managed, “your servant can show you to the door…”

  “No need,” said Corthain, sweeping past her. “I know the way. I’ve been thrown out before.”

  Coming here had been a mistake. Coming anywhere near the tower of House Kalarien had been a mistake.

  Maybe, Corthain reflected, he should have brought Luthair after all. It was hard to see how the meeting could have gone much worse.

  ###

  Corthain walked past the tents and the tables and the toiling slaves and returned to his guardsmen.

  “How did it go, my lord?” said Rikon. “Ah…not well, I take it?”

  “Not particularly,” said Corthain. “We should leave. Now.”

  Corthain returned to the coach, the guards took up position around it, and the coachman snapped his reins. Talking a coach did have one advantage, Corthain admitted. He could brood in relative peace.

  What had he even been thinking, coming anywhere near his father’s tower? The old man still blamed him for Solthain’s death, that was clear. And losing his temper with his father had been the height of folly. Corthain cursed under his breath and pounded a fist against his leg.

  Still, it could have been worse. He doubted Arthain would interfere with the wine contracts. Such affairs were beneath the notice of a Magister of the Conclave and an Araspani nobleman, after all.

  And once the contracts were concluded, Corthain could leave Araspan and never return.

  He looked forward to it.

  Chapter 3 - The Temple

  Thalia did indeed know how to throw a banquet.

  She had musicians. She had tables laden with food and wine. She even had dancing. Freeborn servants moved among the guests, bearing platters of appetizers. How Thalia had gotten Magister Arthain to allow freeborn servants on his own grounds, Rachaelis had no idea.

  And there more guests than she had expected. Dozens of Adepts, numerous lords, and even a few Magisters.

  “So many,” murmured Rachaelis to Thalia.

  Thalia smiled. “You’re really rather notorious. Aramane Morulan was quite outspoken, and you are his daughter. And rumor has gotten out about your Testing. The First Magister said that you were perhaps the strongest new Adept he has seen in years. So they’re all curious about you. Some of the Colleges want to sound you out, to see if you’ve inherited Aramane’s radical opinions.” She laughed. “Which you have.”

  “So that’s why they’re all here?” said Rachaelis.

  “Well, a few of the younger men may want to seduce you,” said Thalia. “And some of the older ones, come to think of it.”

  Rachaelis gave her a look.

  “Well, that, and the free food,” said Thalia. “And it’s tradition, of course. It’s considered good form to go to a sponsor’s banquet.” Her smile faded a bit. “Not everyone makes it through the Testing, after all.”

  “No,” said Rachaelis, thinking of Riza and Isabella. Which trial had killed them, she wondered? Had they been torn apart by the demon-possessed dogs? Had Magister Arthain killed them?

  Or had they believed the lies of the greater demon, and been burned away by astralfire as the demon devoured their minds?

  Rachaelis looked at the banquet and felt a bit sick. Still, Thalia had gone to so much trouble, and she did not want to seem ungrateful.

  So she steeled herself. She greeted the Adepts and Magisters as they arrived. Some brought gifts, and she thanked them. Magister Nazim brought her a beautiful bracelet wrought in the shape of a chain of silver roses, the symbol of the Temple of the Seeress, and Rachaelis put it on at once. Magister Jonas gave her a copy of a book, an ancient military text describing how the mages of the Old Empire had wielded their spells in battle.

  “Every Adept should read this,” he said, “considering how often we find ourselves fighting.” He snorted. “Though the way you handled yourself during the Testing, you might not need it.”

  At last all the guests arrived. Thalia gave a brief speech, thanking the guests and lauding Rachaelis for joining the Conclave of Adepts. There was applause, and the Adepts turned to their food.

  “We should go hunting together,” said Thalia, sitting across from Rachaelis.

  “I’m no good with a bow,” said Rachaelis. “In fact, I’ve never even held a bow.” She sighed and adjusted the cortana and sicarr at her belt. “Before yesterday, I never even carried a blade.”

  “Oh, I don’t use bows,” said Thalia, taking a drink of wine. “Hawks, of course. I train them to take down pheasants. It’s quite an enjoyable hobby, and provides me with dinner at the same time.”

  “After my first year,” said Rachaelis. “I get the impression I’ll be kept quite busy.”

  Thalia grinned. “Actually, you’ll be with me for the first few weeks, at least.”

  “Really?” said Rachaelis. That improved her mood considerably. “What will we be doing?”

  “Screenings,” said Thalia. “Every five years, the Adepts screen any children in Araspan for magical ability. Usually the College Novitia focuses on searching for children with magical talent, but in the city, we all help.”

  “Oh,” said Rachaelis, her enthusiasm dimming. She had known that she would go into the Conclave her entire life. But other Initiates had been torn from their families, brought thousands of miles to the Ring. She had heard Initiates crying themselves to sleep at night, more than once.

  “It’s not so bad when it’s in the city,” said Thalia. “Everyone who lives here is familiar with the Conclave, after all. The parents tend to…respond better to the news.”

  Rachaelis sighed. “It's not the sort of duty I would enjoy.”

  “Hardly anyone does, except for the Adepts in the College Novitia” said Thalia. “But it is necessary. Untrained children can do a lot of damage when they start manifesting power. They can even wind up summoning demons. My father told me about one child. They boy accidentally summoned demons that possessed his family. The demons killed the boy, and half the village, until my father stopped them.” She shrugged. “It’s unpleasant, but necessary.”

  “It is,” said a man’s stern voice. “Much of what our Conclave does is both unpleasant and misunderstood, but necessary for the security of mankind.”

  Arthain Kalarien stood behind his daughter, a wrapped bundle in his hand. He looked grimmer than usual, his mouth drawn in a hard line. He appeared weary, which surprised Rachaelis. Magister Arthain never seemed anything less than in
domitable.

  “Father,” said Thalia with an easy smile. Nothing intimidated her, not even Magister Arthain. “Why don’t you join us?”

  “I shall,” he said, sitting next to Thalia. “First, Rachaelis Morulan. Congratulations on surviving the Testing and becoming an Adept. You were stronger than I expected.”

  “Thank you,” said Rachaelis, trying, and failing, to sound pleasant.

  Either Arthain did not notice, or he did not care. “A gift is traditional on these occasions, I believe.”

  Rachaelis took the bundle and unwrapped it. To her surprise, she saw a gleaming silver brooch, an intricate design swirling around a glittering blue stone. Her breath caught in her throat. She had seen this before…

  “This was my mother’s,” she said in wonder. She had only the faintest memory of Caecilia Morulan. Her mother had been killed when she was barely three. Yet Rachaelis remembered her mother wearing this brooch.

  “It was,” said Arthain. “Your mother was one of my best students, and perhaps the finest artificer the Conclave had seen for a generation. Your father gave this into my keeping, after she died. A rememberance of her, he said.” His hard eyes turned a little distant. “They would both wish you to have it, now that you are an Adept.”

  “The detail is exquisite,” said Thalia.

  “She was talented, as I said,” said Arthain. “It is also enchanted, and blunts any magical attack upon its possessor's mind. A useful ability, when dealing with those who wield forbidden arts.”

  “Thank you,” said Rachaelis, surprised. She would not have expected this from Arthain Kalarien, and found herself looking at him in a new light. “But…why give this to me now? I thought…you did your very best to keep me from taking the Testing, and tried to kill me during it.”

  Arthain sighed, irritation passing over his face. “You children. None of you understand. Your mother was murdered.”

  “Yes,” said Rachaelis. “I know. Paulus did it.”

  “He did,” said Arthain. “And he made it look like an accident, and we did not discover that he had given himself over to a high demon for another five years. Because of our mistake, he did great harm. My son was killed. Your father suffered…whatever has been done to him. And all because Paulus was unworthy. That is why each Initiate must undergo the Testing, to prove that they are worthy. That is why I tested you to the utmost of your ability. To do anything less would be an insult to your parents. These things can be told to you, now that you are an Adept.”

  “I see,” said Rachaelis. Little wonder Arthain was so hard, if he had done such things in the name of his duty over and over again.

  Arthain gestured at the silver bracelet. “You worship at the Temple of the Seeress. That is an unworthy faith for an Adept, for the Temple teaches mercy, and an Adept must have none.”

  “My mother worshipped at the Temple,” said Rachaelis.

  “Yes,” said Arthain. “Against my counsel. And perhaps if she had not exercised mercy, and instead killed Paulus once she learned of his crimes, she might be with us still.”

  Rachaelis’s newfound sympathy for the Magister vanished in a flash of anger.

  “Father,” said Thalia, cutting off Rachaelis's response. “I confess, you look rather wearier than is your wont. Is anything amiss?”

  Arthain blinked. Instead of answering, he picked up a glass of wine, staring at it. He was silent for so long that Rachaelis thought he had decided to ignore the question.

  “Father?” said Thalia.

  “Your brother was here,” said Arthain at last.

  “My brother?” said Thalia. “You mean…”

  “Yes,” said Arthain, mouth twisting. “Corthain.”

  Thalia looked thunderstruck. “He’s here?”

  “Yes,” said Arthain. “Evidently he received the title to a Callian domnium after the Battle of Dark River. His lands produce wine, so he came here in hopes of securing commercial contracts. A son of House Kalarien, selling wine like a common huckster. Disgraceful. I’m not surprised at how low he’s sunk. He is still the same miserable wretch he was when his folly killed your bother.”

  “I see,” said Thalia, voice calm once more. “Thank you for telling me, Father. I shall be sure to avoid him.”

  ###

  The next morning Rachaelis stood in her new rooms.

  “A thousand crowns?” she said, incredulous. “A year?”

  Salorin, the Conclave’s chief seneschal, stood with her, a sober-looking man in a fur-lined black coat, a golden chain of office around his neck. “Yes, Adept. All newly raised Adepts receive a yearly allowance of a thousand crowns. I realize this sum may seem somewhat small, but it does increase after…”

  “No,” said Rachaelis. “That is more than adequate.” She looked around. “And these rooms…”

  “They are small, Adept,” said Salorin, his tone apologetic, “but hopefully they shall meet your needs, and…”

  “No,” said Rachaelis. “They’re just…larger than I expected.”

  She now had her own sitting room, study, bedroom, lavatory, and bath on the fifth floor of an inner tower of the Ring. And the rooms were already furnished, too. Rachaelis had spent the last twelve years sharing a room half this size of the bedroom with two to five other Initiates. The new apartment seemed palatial by comparison.

  “This is excellent, Salorin,” said Rachaelis. “Thank you.”

  Salorin bowed, looking relieved. No doubt he listened to complaints all day. “I am pleased, Adept.”

  “A thousand crowns every year, you said?” said Rachaelis. “Could you send, say…two hundred of that over right away? I would like to do some shopping. Clothing, books, that sort of thing.”

  “Of course,” said Salorin. “I shall have the funds sent at once, Adept.”

  He turned to go, stepping past the two Swords standing guard at the door. She had been guarded ever since she had left Thalia’s banquet last night, in case the slain Mabignon had friends.

  Friends of the man she had slain.

  To her surprise, she did not feel in the least guilty. He would have killed her, or worse, if she hadn’t struck back. His death did not weigh upon her conscience.

  Mabignon’s reasons, though…that still bothered her. Why had Mabignon attacked her? Marvane’s explanation of rape made the most sense, but still seemed wrong. She trusted Nazim's instincts. Something else had been going on.

  But what?

  Rachaelis shook her head and walked to her sitting room's windows. She saw the grounds, the walls and towers of the outer Ring, and beyond them the haze of the city. A thousand crowns a year, she thought. She could find a good use for that money. Yes, she could.

  A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. One of Salorin’s slaves bowed, and left a pouch of coins on the table. Rachaelis thanked the slave, who scurried away with downcast eyes, and went to the Swords.

  “I’m going to read for the rest of the morning,” she said, taking the pouch from the table. “Please don’t let anyone disturb me.”

  The Swords acknowledged the order, and Rachaelis locked the door behind her. From the wardrobe in her bedroom, she took a gray traveling cloak, and pulled it over her red robes. A few deep breaths to clear her mind, and she summoned an image in her thoughts. A warehouse in the docks, with walls of crumbling brick, and a roof of dilapidated clay tiles. She held the image, summoned the power, and astraljumped.

  A silver flash, a moment of wrenching disorientation, and Rachaelis found herself in a dockside street, the air heavy with the smell of salt and dead fish. The warehouse waited a short distance away. The pouch hidden beneath her cloak, she opened the door and slipped inside.

  Outside, the building looked like any other dockside warehouse.

  Inside, it looked like a Temple.

  Benches faced a dais on the far wall. Banners hung from the ceiling, woven with the image of a silver rose. A statue of the Seeress stood on the dais, standing over a table laden with flickering candles. Perhap
s a dozen people, some in the orange of slaves and others in the rough clothes of freeborn workers, sat on the benches, heads bowed in prayer. An old woman in a black robe turned as Rachaelis approached.

  “Welcome,” said the woman. Old she might have been, but she looked strong and fit. “Welcome to the Temple of the Seeress. We are small, but…” She blinked, and then smiled. “Rachaelis?”

  “Sister Maria,” said Rachaelis.

  Maria frowned as she saw the flash of red beneath Rachaelis’s cloak, and then her smile returned. “I had heard rumors that an Initiate had survived the Testing. I am pleased that you are all right.”

  “Thank you,” said Rachaelis.

  Now that she was an Adept, it wasn’t strictly necessary for her to conceal her visits to the Temple. But the Conclave of Adepts and the Temple of the Seeress had never been on friendly terms. The Conclave held that it, and it alone, was the sole authority over magic in the world, the world’s sole guardian against the demons of the astral world. The Temple taught that the ancient mages had brought the ruin of the Old Empire, and made it possible for demons to possess the dead. The Magisters disliked that. The Temple also taught mercy, and compassion for the poor, and that all were equal in the sight of the Divine.

  Given how the Conclave relied upon slaves, the Magisters liked that even less.

  “Would you bless me?” said Rachaelis.

  “Of course,” said Maria. “Come, sit, sit.” They sat on one of the benches, and Maria took Rachaelis's hands, her grasp callused and strong. “Light of the Divine, watch over this child of yours. Light of the Divine, leave her not in darkness. Light of the Divine, let her be strong and true, and merciful and wise. So let it be.”

  “So let it be,” repeated Rachaelis. “Thank you.”

  “What will your duties be, now that you are an Adept?” said Maria.

  Rachaelis’s mouth twisted. “Whatever tasks I am given, at first. Later I can choose for myself. But for now, they’ll have me doing screenings. Looking for children with magical talent, so I can steal them away from their parents.”