“We still have not seen proof this is what occurred,” Eliam said, refusing to meet Tarsten’s glare. “Braetin’s servants assert this as fact, but there are eight temples. The senate must maintain its independence. We must wait for proof and not be seen to align with one faction.” The room went still. Perhaps calling leadership of the most powerful temple a faction hadn’t been wise. “I’m saying we shouldn’t focus too tightly until the truth is certain. The temple may be reacting to pressure from Dul Graiphen, and he, by their admission, is not of the soundest mind.”
Ursin frowned. “What are you suggesting? That we round up all the Kilovian practitioners in the city? Question them about their involvement and demand answers as to the practices of their cult?”
When a flurry of agreement went around the room, Eliam knew he’d trapped himself. “But of course, that would bring unrest to the immigrant community,” he cautioned.
“What of the unrest in the citizenry?” Blackwater asked.
Tarsten nodded. “We agree, senators. We cannot allow any harm to come to the citizens of Vol from the foreign witches. We have been accommodating of their ways, but they have attacked the seat of our power. This can’t go unanswered.”
“I suggest the orders go out at once, then,” Seba said. “We must get answers for the citizens of Talmor to assure them their legislators as well as their sacred temples will protect them from harm.”
A sinking feeling settled in Eliam’s stomach. Seba had always been the quiet one. If he was set on this path, Eliam had no hope to convince the others.
“What shall we say about Dul Graiphen?” Tarsten asked. “I have tried to keep his ailment hidden for the sake of his reputation as well as ours. If his condition became known, the emperor may be call upon to intervene.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Ursin said. “Yet.” He held up a hand to stop the protest of another member. “We wait, as Dul Eliam said, until we have facts. Meanwhile, we act in the best interest of the empire. The emperor himself could demand no more.”
“Agreed,” Tarsten said.
“Agreed,” Eliam said reluctantly, and the others echoed him.
“So by order of the Council of Eight, all Kilovian practitioners will be arrested and questioned immediately.” Ursin gave a grim nod.
Eliam frowned, knowing he could do nothing to stop what they were setting in motion. “Will we not reconsider the arrest warrant against Korbin Ulbrich? Despite what the temple claims, we have no sound evidence he was involved with the attack on his father. There is no crime in him having been at his father’s house. I find it difficult to believe he would do what he’s been accused of.”
His relationship with Korbin had not yet come out, but every time he started to say something about it, Tarsten cut him off. Eliam knew that contradicting Tarsten’s claims on the matter would be signing his own political death warrant.
“We know you were once friends with the boy,” Ursin said gently. “But how can you ignore that Graiphen’s own servants claim he conducted a thorough search this very night, likely in an attempt to remove evidence? If Dul Tarsten had been but an hour earlier, he might have discovered the boy doing so.”
Boy? Did they not recall that Korbin was the same age as he was? Did they think of him as the boy senator? Probably, he thought with disgust, realizing how very little power he had. “I would suggest, then, that when he is apprehended, he be treated with the greatest respect. Unless I hear from Graiphen’s lips that his son is guilty, I would not want to be the one to bear responsibility for a public blot to his family’s name.”
“Of course,” Dul Junis said with a thoughtful nod. “We must instruct the city guard to behave with absolute care and discretion.”
“Very well,” Tarsten said. “Dawn is approaching, and we have already worked a full day. I suggest we adjourn and await the unfolding of these events.” He glanced at Eliam. “You will sign the recommended orders?”
Eliam closed his eyes. “I will.”
∞
Several hours of wandering the streets didn’t soothe Korbin’s mind. He’d accomplished what had been requested of him, offered all the help he could, and been as reasonable as anyone might expect. He’d certainly done more than he wanted to.
He wondered what would happen when people realized Graiphen had stolen away in the night. Korbin doubted anyone would notice until some time the next day, although his father was known to be an early riser. Probably the first request for help would be to Dul Tarsten. Or perhaps himself, but then, did anyone know where to find him? They would soon enough, he thought, and a feeling of gloom settled over him.
Before long, his legs were heavy and tired and he needed to return home, even though it wouldn’t be home much longer. As he rounded the corner, a hand reached out of the shadows and grabbed him roughly. His instincts kicked in, and he struck out, hitting a large figure squarely on the jaw before recognizing his face.
“Saqine?” Korbin said incredulously. “What are you doing here?” The man was one of Eliam’s most trusted servants.
“Waiting for you, Dul,” he whispered, holding his face where Korbin had clouted him.
“Sorry about that,” Korbin muttered.
“No need, Dul.”
“Shhh. Don’t call me that here.” He glanced at the windows overhead. The homes behind them were dark and silent.
“My apologies,” Saqine said and bowed. “I have a message for you. You can’t go home.”
Korbin could almost hear him choking on the unspoken title. Such habits were hard to break. “Why not?”
The servant pulled out a sheet of heavy paper, the kind that was often posted on placards around town. In the darkness, Korbin could only make out one word at the top: Criminal. His stomach clutched.
“What does it say? It’s too dark to read.”
The servant lowered his voice to an almost inaudible level: “Criminal. Korbin Ulbrich. Criminal. The witch Octavia. To be detained for criminal heresy and practicing black magic.”
“Criminal heresy? I need to speak to Eliam.”
“He suggests that you leave Vol before daybreak. Bad things are coming. You must go.”
Korbin nodded, even though he hadn’t quite taken the news in. “Octavia,” he whispered.
Saqine handed Korbin a pack. “I gathered a few of your things. I was stopped when I came out. They are watching. You must go. Quickly.”
“Were you followed?” Korbin asked.
“No. Of that I’m certain.”
“Do they know where Senne Octavia lives?”
“No. Dul Eliam told me to reassure you they do not.”
“It won’t be long before they do,” Korbin said. Despite the immigrant community’s efforts to keep the names and locations of the Sennestelle quiet, she couldn’t stay hidden in her house forever. He had to get to her quickly. “Thank you,” he added. “And give my thanks to Eliam.”
“Of course. Be well, Dul Korbin.” The servant bowed slightly, and Korbin hoped no one saw him.
He didn’t bother hushing the man about the use of the title. Eventually, everyone would know. Probably as soon as the sun rose and these notices appeared in the public square. With a nod, he hefted the pack over his shoulder and folded the notice. He’d need to approach Octavia’s without being seen, but the cover of darkness would help. He muttered a prayer for Nyloc’s blessing that he might arrive at Octavia’s before the imperial soldiers did.
It was well past the darkest hour when Korbin reached Octavia’s street. He’d travelled at a steady lope, using the normal pace any Talmor Rider would when on a messaging run. Although few messages or parcels were sent at this hour, no one would question his movements. But then a thought occurred to him: he was a wanted criminal. The word echoed unpleasantly in his mind. Surely whoever had made this accusation knew of his position with the riders. Perhaps wearing the insignia and cloak hadn’t been a good idea. As the logic hit him, he moved even faster, taking care to stay away from the br
ightest spots of lamplight.
Light streamed from her window and tell-tale shadows moved within her flat. Fortunately, this time, there was no green sash, so he knocked discreetly.
A curtain moved aside in an adjacent window, and someone emerged from a nearby entrance. Before the watcher could intervene, Octavia’s door opened and she peered out, signaling to the neighbor with a calming wave.
She glanced up at Korbin. “What do you want?”
Her tone surprised him. “Forgive the late hour, Senne. I need to speak with you. May I come in?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I think not.”
“Have I offended you?”
Another neighbor’s door opened, and a man’s figure lurked in the shadows. “Senne?” a deep and lyrical voice asked, followed by a string of questions in the Kilovian tongue.
Octavia sighed and shook her head before answering in brief, clipped tones. She looked back at Korbin. “You may come inside, but only briefly and only because I do not wish to bring the entire district down upon us.”
He bowed to her and, as before, followed her up the narrow stairway, wondering about her change in demeanor.
At the top of the stair, she turned, crossing her arms. “Your father is a Dul?”
Korbin nodded, confused.
“Is your father Dul Graiphen Ulbrich?” Her knuckles were white, as though the prospect frightened her and she was holding herself for dear life.
With a sigh, Korbin nodded again.
Her breath caught. “You idiot,” she said.
Korbin frowned, not knowing whether she was talking to him or to herself. She paced, muttering a low string of what sounded like recriminations.
“How did you find out?” he asked. She cast him a glare, and he realized this wasn’t the most pertinent question. “Did you hear about the criminal charge, then?”
With a start, she shook her head. “What charge? What are you talking about?”
“I’m so sorry I’ve brought so much trouble to your door, but you need to come with me. It’s not safe for you here.” He handed her the notice and watched her dark eyes as she took in the words on the page.
“Criminal heresy?” Her hand went to her mouth and she paled. “I’ve heard of this charge, of course, but for years the Sennestelle has practiced in the empire and been tolerated.”
“It’s an old law,” he explained. “Nobody really pays attention to it anymore. Kilovians aren’t the only immigrants who do not embrace the Spirits of Light and Shadow.”
“What happened? Why the change?”
“My father clearly has enemies.”
She frowned as though that didn’t answer the question. “I heard he disappeared.”
Korbin frowned and shook his head. “Already? We only left at dark. They shouldn’t have discovered his absence so quickly.”
“I heard this rumor when I visited my mentor earlier this evening. It couldn’t have been more than two hours after nightfall.”
Korbin explained his father’s strange request and Saqine’s cryptic warning.
Her hand trembled, and she leaned against her worktable. “It’s happening again,” she muttered.
A sickening knot formed in Korbin’s stomach. Suddenly the situation was much more real. He’d grown used to a life in the shadows, avoiding the people he once knew. It had been almost a game. But looking into Octavia’s frightened eyes, their situation didn’t seem like a joke. “The man you knew as Dow was Dul Eliam Kerstone. He—”
“The senator?” Octavia interrupted.
She looked like she might collapse. The change shocked him. She’d always seemed so unshakeable.
“Why? Why would he come here? Why would he do that?”
Korbin guided her to a seat. “He is my friend. He was trying to help my father.”
“You said you were a bastard. You’re friends with Dul Eliam? The man who runs this entire province? He was here. Right here. In my workroom.” She shook her head in disbelief and with a small moan added, “Now they know where I live.”
“Eliam’s not like that. We should go to him. I believe he can help us.”
“You lied to me,” she whispered. “You’re a Dul.”
Korbin didn’t know why, but it was important that she believe him. “I didn’t. My father and I had a falling out a couple of years ago. He disowned me.” He showed her the insignia he wore around his neck. “I’m a Talmor Rider, a simple deliveryman.”
She stared at him incredulously. “Yet today, you helped your father escape his enemies.”
“Please, Senne Octavia. I want to help you.” He took the second half of the promised payment and put it on the table beside her chair. “You don’t have to come with me, but I think I can protect you. Eliam will shelter us until we find out who is doing this. He’s a powerful man.”
She gathered her collar and pulled it closed. “I’ve had enough of powerful men.”
“As have I,” he said softly. “Please come with me. I’ll take us to Eliam’s. If he can’t assist us, I’ll take you wherever you want to go. I’ll look out for you. I swear it.” He pressed his eyes closed. “This is my fault, my father’s fault. We brought this on you. Please allow me to pay my family’s debt by giving you what protection I can while we find out what’s going on.”
She tilted her head as though considering, but the deep frown didn’t lessen on her brow.
“This is a political move, and you and I are merely caught up in a bad moment. But my father is fine and he doesn’t wish to make any accusations against us. He can make these charges go away. Only the emperor himself or an act of the entire senate can countermand my father’s decree. I know where he is. We just need shelter until we can get to him. I can provide that. Then your life will return to normal.”
Doubt played across her features, but eventually she let out a breath and nodded. “I need to gather a few things.”
Korbin helped her rise. Her fingers were small but elegant. He hadn’t noticed that before. “You should hurry. The sun will be up in a couple of hours. I know a place we can lie low for a while. We’ll go to Eliam first thing in the morning. The fewer people who see us arrive, the better.” He hesitated, then added, “Do you have any clothing that is less distinctive?”
She glanced down at her long, flowing robes. “You mean less Kilovian?”
The accusation in her tone stung, but it was what he’d been getting at. “They’re looking for a conduit, thus a Kilovian.”
“You think I could pass for a Talmoran?” she asked sharply.
“Not on close inspection, of course not.”
She pulled her hand back from his. “I’m going to get what I need.”
It took all his self-control not to urge her to hurry again.
Chapter 8
Korbin took Octavia to a small riders’ outpost just inside the city gates. Close to the main station, it was rarely used, and he hoped they’d be safe for a couple of hours. Soon word of the arrest warrant would spread, and even his fellow riders might be looking for him. Fortunately, no reward had been placed, or every one of his neighbors in Chelotti Strand would be banging down the door of the local constabulary to offer information. His only hope was people’s natural reticence to involve themselves with the authorities.
The small outpost building was designed as a place travelling riders could catch a short rest. But the provisions were meagre and the four narrow cots uncomfortable, so most preferred one of the city’s many inns. Saving a few coins wasn’t worth the muscle knots one would get from the miserable pallets provided.
Still, for Octavia and him, on that particular night, the outpost was safer than going someplace more comfortable. She’d managed to lie down and close her eyes, although her breathing told him she didn’t sleep much more than he did. She was frightened but coping well.
He admired her strength. Trying not to watch her, he sat on a bed opposite hers and stared toward the door and the ever-lightening sliver that told him night was waning. All the
while, he wondered about her and what had brought her to this city.
He wanted to ask her a million questions about her past, her life, her family. She was young, likely not far from his own age; however, she had a timeless way about her, as though the soul of an old woman inhabited a young body. Calling her old wasn’t fair because her mind was alive, alert, and curious. But now wasn’t the time to satisfy his curiosity. He needed to focus.
Her long, dark eyelashes fluttered, and he had an almost irrepressible desire to touch her face. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she had something he needed, or maybe she knew something he didn’t. He suspected she held the answer to a question he hadn’t yet thought to ask. He wanted to win her trust, to prove that although he came from an important family, he wasn’t like those she’d learned to fear.
Outside, pattering footfalls of the earliest workers had begun to move about the city. “It’s time,” he said softly.
Her eyes opened and he noticed the haunted look within them. Instead of giving voice to her fears, she sat up and smoothed her hair.
The door handle rattled. In a rush, Korbin darted over to Octavia and pushed her back on the bed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his mouth close to her ear.
She stiffened but didn’t resist. Her heart pounded and her breath quickened.
“Whoa,” came a voice from the door.
Korbin spoke softly to Octavia. “It’ll be okay. Follow my lead, and keep your face hidden.” Her clothing was still a touch odd for a Talmoran woman, with dark bands woven around the hem, but nothing made her stand out as a conduit.
Korbin glanced up at the door and tried to look abashed. “Sorry. We were just leaving.”
The other rider, a man named Deto, gave a tolerant grin. “You know you’re not supposed to bring companions here, Korbin.”
Korbin turned, and Octavia sat up next to him, burying her face in his shoulder, playing the part of a woman caught in a dalliance. “Just don’t tell Captain Parsetrosic.” He stood and helped Octavia to her feet.
“We’ve all done it at one time or another,” Deto said, chuckling.
Spirits of Light and Shadow (The Gods of Talmor) Page 8
