Deviants of Giftborn (The Etherya Series Book 1)

by Amarcya, Zuri

  All the muscles in Clisantha’s body tensed.

  “He would like to meet with you and Lord Telmar tomorrow.”

  “Of course, when?”

  “The first hour after sun-arc at the council assembly hall.”

  “I will be there.”

  He inclined his head, turned and walked out of her home.

  Clisantha took a deep breath and went to the door to watch two hjuys drifting away. Closing her door, Clisantha noticed the neighbors across the road, looking out of their windows. Being visited by the Thaide Priest was no small gesture. Via would no doubt be coming to see her tomorrow to find out more about it.

  She went to her rooms. She only had tonight to think up something to tell the High Priest. There must be an excuse she could give that would also help her to gain the status she wanted.

  She sighed as she changed. Isa never mentioned she was Giftborn. If she had Clisantha could have warned her about the detection ball. In any case if she had no other family, she would have a much better life in the Arc than as an orphaned child in Torak. Maybe that was how she thought Carrick could help her. She scrubbed the dye from her face finally feeling relaxed. Isa’s visit had brought back some important memories and for that she was grateful. She must now set out to do what she had promised her father and herself she would do all those years ago. Investigate his death.

  Eleven

  Essen marched through the curved, pearly blue corridors of the Healing Temple. A cool breeze greeted him at every corner while the steady thud of his boots burst into the peaceful silence that swamped the building. Robed figures padded past him at regular intervals, mostly women and young girls slipping through doors leading to the treatment rooms, continuing the remarkable work the temple was known for.

  He opened the door of the main office, entering without breaking his stride, and almost wrinkled his nose at the cutting tang of lime. Shelves of books cluttered the walls along with diagrams and pictures of male and female bodies, viruses and tinctures. At the center of the room stood a large desk, crammed with stacks of parchment, swill-paper, bottles and books. Kelvedon had already arrived and was perched on one corner, deep in conversation with Aspatria, who sat behind the desk. They rose and bowed. Essen noticed their hands fly away from each other behind the desk.

  “Hail, Sovereign,” greeted Aspatria. “I’m glad you could respond to my summons so quickly, High Priest.

  “It seems I was not as quick as Kelvedon. What news do you have for me, Aspatria?”

  Aspatria clasped her hands together. “Thaide Tarul is dying.”

  Essen stared at her. “How is that so? I thought you could heal his wounds.”

  She lowered her eyes. “It seems I was mistaken.”

  Essen let his shock wash over him. Puryths were hardly ever wrong with a diagnosis or treatment, and in all her time managing the Care sect, Aspatria had never given an inaccurate diagnosis.

  “Tarul’s condition is worse than I thought,” she said. “There were some underlying injuries that we didn’t detect until a few hours ago. Somehow his Gift was affected. He will die.”

  “How was his Gift affected?”

  “There are fluctuations in its strength. I can’t examine without Tarul being awake so I can experiment. I’ve never encountered this condition before.”

  “How can an untrained cause this kind of damage to two Thaide?” Essen asked, amazed.

  Aspatria glanced at Kelvedon. “I only have two explanations,” she said. “The energy could have been emotionally charged. Intensely strong emotion could strengthen the energy to such degree. But in such an instance all energy would leave the body because the untrained don’t have the strength to control the flight of their Gift.”

  So why didn’t it? Why didn’t she die? “What would cause such an intense emotional reaction?” he asked.

  “Fear, anger… Distress would be the most likely cause, and even then the untrained would have to be powerful.”

  “And the other explanation?”

  “The untrained could be actually be trained. She could have decided to kill them, or been reckless…”

  Essen nodded, his mind racing. “And you are still unable to view Tarul’s memories?”

  “It’s unlikely we will ever recover them here at the Healing Temple, High Priest. But, if you permit it, the Element Sect may have more luck.”

  “Thank you, Aspatria, I know you have done your best. Please invite Priest Mazeli to see what he may be able to do and keep me informed of any developments. Obviously you will need to inform Tarul’s family.” Essen turned to go. “Kelvedon walk with me.”

  Kelvedon followed Essen through the corridors and out of the Healing Temple in silence. Outside the sun made a feeble attempt to warm the air and a sharp wind billowed their cloaks as they climbed into Essen’s hjuy.

  They traveled back to Torak Tower in silence, weaving among the carriages that filled the roads. Upon entering Essen pulled together a platform for them both which hoisted them up to the level of Essen’s quarters where he poured them both large goblets of ale.

  “Are you aware of the implications of Aspatria’s conclusions?” Essen finally asked, before settling into a low forest green soft-seat by his enormous windows.

  Kelvedon, who chose to stand, nodded. “I am.”

  “So explain to me how it happened.”

  Surprise jumped into Kelvedon’s dark eyes. “I can’t explain it.”

  “Why not?” Essen asked, leaning forward and locking him with a fierce stare. “You train them, you monitor them, you discipline them, you put them to work… you should be able to explain it.”

  “High Priest, I have over two thousand Thaide under my command across the Realms. I don’t know how you expect me to explain the behavior of two.”

  Essen sat back in his chair. Kelvedon was one of the most admired men throughout the Realms. Women desired him and men envied him. Tales of his abilities, rugged good looks and Gift strength reached countries as far as Peyrany, in the Eastern Realm, in the form of bedtime tales for young children. Essen knew Kelvedon’s serious demeanor, dedication and willingness to do what others could not played a great part in his success but everyone, save the Sovereign, had weaknesses.

  “Kelvedon, you were one of the most meticulous Thaide Priests I ever trained. Your mind squeezed logic out of every impossible situation and sought truth and understanding from every action in every wrongdoing. Your testing results were so impressive it caused lengthy discussion as to whether you would be more beneficial in the Charter Sect rather than within the Thaide. You have done well serving the Sovereign Order, but in this recent investigation your attentions have waned.”

  Kelvedon stared at him. “In what way, High Priest?”

  “You have not thoroughly examined this situation.”

  “And what has led you to that conclusion? I did, after all, correctly deduce that it was the beggar that had entered Torak and not a Phalorian as you assumed.”

  Essen lifted his ale. “Your attitude has led me to such a conclusion. You have considered all options except if the Thaide were at the heart of their undoing. You didn’t look into their backgrounds. You didn’t examine their behavior patterns, families or interests. You didn’t gain insight into how these men may have behaved while in the Ryim or what their opinions were about their jobs.”

  “Their opinions are irrelevant,” Kelvedon snapped. “They are trained to view their duties as a way of life, High Priest, not a job.”

  “And what if they resented that way of life, Kelvedon?” Essen asked, annoyance creeping into his tone. “You don’t have the luxury of presumption in your rank. Surely you don’t expect every single Thaide to be worthy of their position, or to resist from becoming corrupt?”

  “Maybe before the intensive selection and training processes designed by myself and the Care sect, but it’s unlikely now.”

  Essen leaned forward. “That is the most naive thing I have heard you say. The Thaide are still pe
ople, and people are subject to corruption.”

  Kelvedon’s voice remained level, though his usually impassive eyes were alive with anger. “I don’t see how this view is relevant. Even if they were at fault, they didn’t deserve to be murdered. Sovereign Law is very clear. The untrained will still suffer His Justice.”

  “Unless it was self-defense,” Essen pointed out. “You’re already aware that a trained magien has no right to cause undue distress to an untrained. Their situation is already stressful enough. The predicament we have here is that we don’t know the two Thaide well enough to understand how they may have treated the untrained. It’s your job to consider all possibilities.”

  Kelvedon stood still, staring back at Essen, the only hint of a reaction shown at the corners of his clenching jaw.

  Essen sighed. “Kelvedon, I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. Your lack of focus has affected your ability to recall parts of Sovereign Law you don’t often need to enforce. I know the attack took you unawares but this lack of attention to detail is most unlike you.” Essen eyed him.

  Kelvedon placed his goblet on the table. “I apologize, High Priest. It won’t happen again.”

  “It cannot happen again,” Essen said. “You are the Thaide Priest. Eliminate the distractions causing this lack of attention.”

  Kelvedon nodded.

  “Did you remove the detection ball from Mss Saraethien when you collected the child?”

  Kelvedon nodded. “She and Daus Telmar have agreed to the meeting tomorrow.”

  “Good.”

  Kelvedon dipped his head to Essen. “Thank you for the drink, High Priest, but I feel anxious to start making progress into the investigation of Sono and Tarul. May I be excused?”

  “Yes,” said Essen. He swallowed his malty drink, looking out of the window over the Arc as Kelvedon left.

  ***

  The council assembly hall situated in the first quarter was used for political and legal procedures in Torak. It had been built a few hundred years ago and was one of the most uninspiring buildings in Torak. As Essen followed Kelvedon through the low-lit corridors with horrid paintings on the walls, he made a mental note to ask the Visionyths, top-rank magiens in the Creation sect, and city designers to redecorate the interior.

  Kelvedon led him through another drab corridor, before turning into a small meeting room. The auburn walls seemed to close in on them while the mahogany floor added a stifling overtone. The room had not even been lit with lumni light. Instead candlesticks provided a jittery blaze, adding an old fashioned tone to the room. The square table in the center was surrounded by four chairs with a pitcher of water and glasses and a fenyac set, presented with a platter of honeyed fruits and fried nuts.

  Essen took a seat and asked the attendant to summon Mss Saraethien and Telmar. Kelvedon stood in a corner of the room as usual.

  “Hail, Sovereign,” Essen greeted, his voice seeming quiet in the shadowy room. Again Mss Saraethien had played down her beauty, choosing to wear her hair scraped back, with a long skirt and fitted tunic. Telmar had dressed in a smart collared tunic and trousers that made him look formidable.

  “Hail, Sovereign,” Mss Saraethien and Telmar replied in unison, bowing before taking their seats.

  “Mss Saraethien,” Essen began. “At our last meeting I told you I would give some thought to your claim for lordship, and I have indeed considered your suitability at length. You make an excellent candidate and your background is strong. I looked into the records of your training in the Arc and you were making considerable progress. There is concern about your lack of experience and although Lord Telmar being willing to guarantee you does work in your favor, it may not be enough.”

  Telmar started with surprise. “High Priest, my recommendations have always been of the highest quality and I have never personally recommended anyone who has failed their duty or caused you any concern.”

  “What guarantee can you give me that Mss Saraethien will successfully hold her ward indefinitely?”

  “The guarantee of my past successes, High Priest, in addition to my watchful guidance.”

  “Would you put your lordship on the line?”

  Telmar baulked. “If… that was required…“

  “Thank you High Priest,” Mss Saraethien cut in. “I appreciate your consideration of my situation, however after further thought on the matter I agree that it isn’t suitable to ask you for this post.”

  Telmar turned to her, his face etched with disbelief.

  Essen pursed his lips, surprised. “Is there a reason for this sudden change of heart, Mss Saraethien?”

  “After further thought I realized that if I am to be the first female citizen Lord, I would request a female magien to be my guarantor. And I’m sure you would struggle to find someone willing?”

  Essen lifted the round fenyac pot and poured the rich, golden liquid into the three short cups, releasing its earthy, intoxicating fragrance into the room. She had pinpointed a definite difficulty, but a pang of disappointment spread through him at her sudden lack of interest in achieving her goal. “That is true, Mss Saraethien. Many of the female magien ward owners wouldn’t be willing to take you on.”

  There was a short silence as the three of them sipped their fenyac drinks, Telmar ladening his with cream and honey.

  “In addition I feel that my business would suffer if I took my ward duties as seriously as I planned,” she continued, “and I have realized that I don’t want to give up my business. However would you consider a new suggestion that would allow me to utilize some of the knowledge I have gleaned?”

  Telmar glanced at her, with annoyance.

  Essen inclined his head. So she had another plan. “Go ahead.”

  Mss Saraethien clasped her hands on the table. “I’m an extremely successful merchant,” she began. “My business offers a trade-and-sell service to other merchants in order to help them gain stock and services that they need while disposing of stock they don’t want. My business is the only one of its kind because I don’t offer a service to citizens and I don’t produce stock myself. However the business has grown to large proportions in the last three years—I have over forty workers and own three factories. I would like to propose to you the possibility of extending my services to merchants in the Arc.”

  Telmar stiffened. Essen glanced at Kelvedon, who was staring at Mss Saraethien. This woman became more interesting by the moment.

  “It’s a clever business idea, Mss Saraethien. Explain to me exactly how it would work.”

  “Currently I have workers that visit businesses during and at the close of their trading. If they have faulty stock they are trying to dispose of, or stock that’s not selling well, they give it to my worker in exchange for something we have acquired or we buy it from them and sell it on. Arc merchants could do the same.”

  “And what would they get in return?” Essen asked, thinking of Telmar’s hideous meeting room. “The quality of citizen goods are generally poorer than magien goods. How will magiens get a fair trade?”

  “How can they not? They will be able to dispose of stock that is unpopular to magiens and get a higher value for it in monetary terms or browse my factories for something that they deem of similar value. You would be surprised at the quality of some stock in Torak, and what merchants are willing to throw away.” Her lips hinted a smile. She lifted up the sleeve of her tunic to display a silver bracelet. It was delicate in its design, with tiny colored stones dotted throughout.

  “A merchant gave me one hundred of these bracelets because the catch was faulty and he didn’t have the manpower to fix them. I got them fixed and sold them on.”

  Although the bracelet was indeed something he could see sold in the Arc, Essen still doubted that magiens would get enough of a good return to be interested in the trade option.

  “If magiens and lords are willing to stop at the trade bay in the Ryim to purchase goods made by unskilled beggars, why not see what citizen merchants have to offer at
least?” Mss Saraethien added.

  At that Essen did smile. “What effect will this have on citizen merchants?”

  “A very positive one. In fact I can guarantee citizen merchants an increase of interest and sales if they can say their stock is magien-made.”

  A reasonable argument, Essen thought. The Creation and Care Sects have released numerous studies arguing that Torak would be a more healthy and unified city if magien-citizen relations improved. Perhaps this would be something that would support that improvement. At least if nothing else it would reprocess magien materials and items into Torak.

  “High Priest, I can recommend Mss Saraethien’s merchant service as being professional and popular,” Telmar said. “I feel that a development of this nature would be of benefit to both her and the merchants of Torak. Of course I’m heavily experienced with merchant trading and can oversee and advise her as necessary. I can hire teams of reliable workers that could assist. She won’t fail.”

  “So you are now willing to take responsibility for her, Telmar?” Essen asked, raising a brow.

  Telmar swallowed. “I’m still happy to be her guarantor, High Priest, and assist her in ensuring success.”

  “I would like to insist that I keep full control over my business, High Priest,” Mss Saraethien said, with a gracious nod to Telmar. “Lord Telmar’s advice is appreciated and has been extremely helpful, but I can’t relinquish any part of my business to someone who has no experience in the service I provide.”

  Essen held up his hand, as Telmar was about to respond. “Leave the room, both of you.”

  “Yes, High Priest,” Mss Saraethien muttered, rising. She walked with measured, calm steps, her patterned cream skirt clinging to her hips and twirling around her ankles. Telmar rose, dipping his head, before following her out of the room.

  “Kelvedon,” Essen said, turning to him as soon as the door closed. “How would the logistics of such a service work?”

  “You’re not truly considering this?”

  Essen frowned at his tone.