Spirits of Light and Shadow (The Gods of Talmor)

by India Drummond

  “I hope so,” Korbin said.

  Just then, Eliam entered in a rush. “Will pears do? We don’t have any apples.”

  “It’s no problem,” Octavia said softly. “I was able to devise another method. Your friend will be fine now.”

  “You have blood on your face,” Eliam said with a frown.

  “Do I?” Octavia remembered wiping her tears away to add to the mixture of her blood.

  “You’re both a mess. You can’t go out like that,” he said grimly.

  “We don’t want to be a bother,” Octavia told him.

  “I can’t send you out covered in blood. People will think there’s been a murder.”

  “There very nearly was,” Korbin said. “Will he try again?”

  “Perhaps,” Octavia said, “But not too soon. It takes more energy to work with the dark forces than with love and light.” She paused. “Well, that’s not true. But they take more energy to control. This conduit employs an impressive amount of control.” This was both a good sign and a bad one. Although their enemy would have expended a lot of energy, the sophistication of his technique showed he had the capacity for a great deal. She couldn’t predict how long before he would be capable of attacking again.

  “You should rest here for the night. I won’t hear of you leaving,” Eliam said.

  “We’ll go before first light,” Korbin assured him. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

  Eliam sighed and sat opposite the pair. “I’ve never seen magic practiced before. It all seems real now.” He absently touched a broach he wore on his waistcoat, a symbol of one of the eight Talmoran gods.

  Using a clean cloth to wipe the blood off her face, Octavia said, “Yes, indeed it does.” Her mind was focused on their enemy. If he chose to attack again, she wasn’t certain she could defend Korbin through a second encounter. She only hoped they would have a little time before that happened.

  Chapter 11

  The room Eliam gave them was a guest chamber intended for children. It was out of the way and, according to Eliam, hadn’t been used in years. Inside, they found two narrow beds and furniture that was about three-quarter-sized with a small adjoining room for a nurse.

  When they arrived, Korbin had tried to offer Octavia the nurse’s room, since it had a full-sized bed. He planned to take one of the children’s beds. Although it was a touch short for his frame, if he bent his knees, it proved comfortable. In the past, he’d certainly slept in less desirable spots.

  But Octavia insisted that they sleep in the same room in case Korbin’s attacker made a second attempt during the night. He hoped that wouldn’t happen. She tried to hide her exhaustion, but protecting him had cost her.

  She took the second child’s bed, although with her small stature, she didn’t seem to find it uncomfortable. When Eliam offered to have a trusted servant draw a bath for them, she declined, instead wanting only a hand basin and some clean cloths. Eliam brought the required items and she thanked him, seeming surprised a Talmoran Dul would do such things himself.

  She wrapped Korbin’s torso in the clean cloths, leaving the now-dried blood on his skin like a salve. “I know it might be repellent to you, but my blood will protect you,” she explained.

  “After everything I’ve put you through, everything you’ve already done for my family, I am amazed you would sacrifice so much, putting yourself at risk to save me.”

  She hesitated before tying off the bandages. “I would do the same for anyone.”

  “That’s what makes you a remarkable person. I don’t think anyone would have done the same for someone they barely knew. So thank you.”

  “I’d like to think any of the Sennestelle would have.” Her voice betrayed a lack of conviction, however. She glanced around the small room. “It’s astonishing that people have such wealth.”

  Korbin frowned. The room was nothing spectacular. Half the furniture was covered by white dustcloths. “I know you’ve had a difficult life,” he said. “Having to leave your home, always looking over your shoulder. That couldn’t have been easy.”

  “I’ve always thought rich people had no worries.” She gave a half smile. “Many of my clients have been such people. They always ask for help with trivial things, usually to get something they want that they don’t have, never realizing how much they do have.”

  “Their worries are the same as anyone else’s. Money doesn’t change as much as you might think. When my father and I parted ways, I was surprised how little I missed all the things.” He waved his hand around the room.

  Octavia nodded, washing her hands in the small basin, wiping up the blood that had splashed on her clothing. “I’ve spent much of my life surviving. I’m not sure I can imagine what a life like Eliam’s would be like.”

  Korbin nodded to her blood-stained clothing. “I’ll ask Eliam about getting you another dress. We shouldn’t risk going back to your flat, but I don’t think that is going to come out.”

  She sat on the bed opposite him. “Dressing as a servant would allow me to pass through the city without drawing attention. Something plain.” Drying her hand on a rag, she avoided meeting his eyes. “I judged you too harshly when we first met.”

  The statement surprised him. He hadn’t noticed her treating him harshly. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to help. He waited for an explanation, but instead, she slipped off her shoes and tucked herself under a blanket without saying another word. He didn’t remember closing his eyes, but weariness overcame him and he dropped off to sleep.

  She was sleeping when he woke a few hours later. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but he could hear the subtle footfalls of servants moving quietly down the passageways. As promised, none entered their room.

  He dressed, his back still stiff from the attack, but otherwise feeling well enough as he snuck to Eliam’s chamber down the corridor. His friend was awake when he entered and clearly hadn’t slept much either.

  “Good morning,” Korbin said, softly closing the door behind him.

  “Good, you’re up. Where are you going today?”

  “To see my father,” Korbin told him. “All this could be solved if he would tell everyone it wasn’t me or Octavia who attacked him. I’m surprised he hasn’t done so already.”

  Eliam tilted his head, a look of compassion on his face. “I hope you’re right.”

  Did he believe Graiphen wouldn’t exonerate his son? “You don’t think it’ll be that simple? But you came to us. How could we have been responsible for the attacks?”

  “I know. You’re right.” Eliam went to a wardrobe. “Here,” he said, removing a plain, white shirt from a shelf and tossing it to Korbin. “That one is ruined.”

  “Sorry about the mess last night,” Korbin said. Eliam waved it away, so Korbin went on. “Can Octavia stay here for a bit?”

  Eliam’s expression darkened. “How long is a bit?”

  “Just while I’m gone today. I’ll return as soon as I can, probably in an hour or two, and we’ll leave after that. Either my father will clear our names and we can go back to our homes, or we’ll have to come up with another plan.”

  Eliam considered. “If she’ll stay in her room, then yes. I do trust my servants, but I think it’s best if as few people know of your presence as possible.”

  “Of course. We’re wanted fugitives. I know what it would cost you if our presence were discovered.” Changing his shirt for the one Eliam had given him, he tucked it in and then fastened the cuffs. It was much nicer than what he usually wore.

  With a word of thanks, Korbin slipped out, wanting to leave before it would be impossible to go without being observed. He stopped to tell Octavia his plan and found her awake but still in bed. She had recovered some of her color from the previous night, but Korbin encouraged her to stay in bed for a while, telling her she wouldn’t be disturbed.

  Surprisingly, she didn’t argue, and he wondered if her magic the previous night had cost her more than he realized.

  “I don’t th
ink you will be attacked again today,” she said. “It’s possible the dark conduit doesn’t even realize his efforts were blocked.”

  “No?” Korbin frowned.

  “I didn’t actually prevent his magic. I only relieved you of some of the pain and damage.”

  Not understanding the difference, Korbin nodded. “What about that?” he asked, gesturing to the bundle that contained his Talmoran Rider badge. He shivered to think how it had turned against him.

  “I can clean the dark magic from it,” she said. “But later.” She suddenly appeared tired again. “When we go find my sister conduits, they will have the materials I require.”

  “If it goes well with my father today, you can return home this afternoon.”

  She wore the same pitying expression Eliam had before. “I hope so.”

  Korbin nodded, uncertain what to say. He closed the door behind him and made his way through the house, careful to avoid the servants busy about their work. Fortunately, their attention to duty made it easier to avoid them.

  Out in the street, he moved carefully, even though the sun hadn’t yet risen. He felt jumpy, as though every dark corner held someone searching for him.

  He travelled across the city slowly, creeping from one block to the next, hesitating every time he heard footfalls in the streets or felt someone approaching. Only some tradesmen were about, preparing for the day of work. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he looked like he was skulking.

  When the tall spires of the temple complex came into view, relief washed over him. He felt almost as though he was closer to salvation with every step. Despite their differences, Korbin believed his father wouldn’t allow him to be arrested for something he didn’t do, not when Graiphen had the power to put an end to the crisis with a simple word.

  Korbin listened to the rush of the immense fountain as he waited in the main plaza of the temple complex. He gazed up at the eight looming structures surrounding the well-manicured area. There were a few other people about at this hour. He could make out only figures and shadows in the dim, pre-dawn light. He wondered what kind of grief or troubles had brought them to the temples so early in the morning.

  Of all the temples, the one devoted to the Spirit of Shadow Braetin had always struck him as the most ominous, with its dark, curving spires and tiny, high windows. He’d been surprised when his father wanted to come to this of all the temples, but they’d promised him help. What kind of comfort they could have offered him, Korbin had no idea, but Graiphen wasn’t a man to be argued with, even in a weakened state.

  As Korbin stared at the doors and reflected on the odd circumstances that caused him to bring Graiphen here in the first place, the doors swung open. Two red-robed priests fastened them back on the outer wall. He stood and rushed forward, not wanting to spend one more moment than necessary in the public plaza. People of all stations and areas of the city came to the temple complex regularly, and sooner or later, someone would recognize him.

  “Qardone?” Brother? Korbin said, bowing to the priests.

  One of them tilted his head in acknowledgement and raised an eyebrow. “Do you wish to make a sacrifice?”

  “I’m not here for prayers, qardone. My father is a guest here. I wish to speak with him.”

  The two priests glanced at one another, the elder of them creasing his forehead into a frown. “Your father?”

  “Graiphen Ulbrich.” Judging from their expressions, they knew precisely who he meant.

  “Of course. Come. Let us pray to our mistress of shadows.”

  The younger of the two bowed and silently excused himself. Korbin hoped he was going to fetch Graiphen, so he allowed the remaining priest to usher him into the main worship room. On all sides loomed tall, dark red pillars with ancient script carved in black lettering.

  A large chair loomed on a dais at the head of the room, and in it sat a figure in red so bright, it shone. A hood covered his face, leaving only his jawline exposed, but his presence filled the room with palpable tension.

  On either side of the figure sat two rows of both male and female acolytes in faded red robes that extended just below their knees. They chanted a slow, rhythmic song that made Korbin feel warm and sleepy.

  He and the priest stayed at the back of the room, and the priest watched Korbin take in the scene. “What do you value most in life?” he asked Korbin.

  “Loyalty,” Korbin answered without thinking, surprising himself. But as he considered a moment, he realized it was true.

  The priest nodded, seeming pleased with his response. “Our mistress also values loyalty, and to her servants who show this quality, she is most benevolent.”

  Korbin fought to not show his surprise. Braetin’s realm was nightmares, fear, even envy, all qualities associated with obsession perhaps, but loyalty? It wasn’t the first word that came to mind.

  As though reading his thoughts, the priest gave a small smile. “The road we in Braetin’s service travel is difficult and dark, but through adversity a man’s true qualities are revealed. Would you prefer a friendship that had been forged in fire, or one that had only ever seen fair weather?”

  His thoughts went to his friendship with Eliam, one that had been proven over and over in difficult times, the only relationship that had survived him being ousted from Graiphen’s home and losing his status as a Dul. He realized he’d come to trust Octavia, too. Not because of her words or her position as one of the Sennestelle, but because of her actions during adversity. She was unshakeable. “A forged friendship is the only kind that can be trusted,” Korbin finally replied.

  “Exactly,” the priest said. “Our centuries-long loyalty to our mistress has begun to bear fruit at last.”

  “What do you mean?” Korbin asked.

  “Only that your father has brought us a great gift.”

  “Has he?” Korbin turned to meet the priest’s eyes, but the other man’s attention was locked onto the figure at the head of the room. As though by habit, the priest mouthed the words of the acolytes’ chant.

  “Once, the Spirits of Light and Shadow walked this realm, spoke with men, and in exchange for our devotion, they granted powers to the faithful.”

  Korbin was not a particularly religious man, but he knew the tales every Talmoran child learned in school.

  “But over time, loyalties faded, the sacrifices became fewer and more superficial, and the Spirits withdrew their favor, preferring younger, more devout realms to our own.” He glanced at Korbin. “Your father is a powerful man.”

  “He’s a politician,” Korbin said flatly.

  “He’s much more than that.” The priest gestured to the head of the room. “Look,” he said.

  Korbin glanced up again, this time trying to notice details. He was missing something. Then he realized the figure had a familiar form and bearing. “Father?” he whispered, looking to the priest for confirmation.

  “He will be in meditation and making preparatory sacrifices for the next full day and night.”

  “Preparing for what?” Korbin asked in disbelief. Graiphen was wearing the robes of a high priest. How could this have happened in just two days?

  “Our mistress has awakened, and your father has found much favor with her.”

  That was no kind of answer, but Korbin was too stunned to know what questions to ask. “But I need him to clear my name. I’m being accused of things I didn’t do, and with one word, he could help me and my friend, who is also falsely accused. Surely he could spare a moment to at least write a letter on our behalf.”

  With a motion of his arm, the priest guided Korbin out of the hall of worship. “Then you, too, are making a sacrifice for the benefit of our mistress, and she will be pleased with you. She will teach you to bear the pain of your cost like the honor it truly is and you will find glory in her presence.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Korbin said and turned around to go back to the hall. He strode up the main aisle, directly to the chair where Graiphen sat. “Father, I need
your help. The senate believes I attacked you. I need you to tell them Octavia and I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  The figure didn’t move, nor did the chanting of the acolytes slow.

  “Father,” Korbin said. “Please.” Now that he was close, he could see Graiphen’s mouth, chanting softly along with the acolytes. Korbin wasn’t even certain Graiphen could hear him. “Father?”

  He stood in front of Graiphen’s seat for long moments, but his father didn’t move nor overtly acknowledge his presence. Only a slight shift of his head made Korbin certain Graiphen knew he was there.

  The priest who led him in appeared at Korbin’s side. “He will be in a state of meditation until he begins his final sacrifice later this morning.”

  Final sacrifice? A shiver ran down his spine. He hoped that wasn’t as ominous as it sounded. “When can I speak with him?” Korbin asked, turning away from his father and facing the priest.

  “Tomorrow,” he said.

  “I’ll come back in the morning.”

  “No. Be at Centennial Square at midday,” the priest said. “He will speak with no one before then.”

  Korbin sighed. He should have known Graiphen wouldn’t make anything easy for him. With a final glance at his father, he nodded, then turned to leave. He could wait one more day, he supposed. One more, but no longer. One way or another, he would make his father do the right thing, if not for him, then for Octavia.

  Without another word, he left the worship hall and walked into the morning light, relieved to be away from the oppressive darkness of Braetin’s temple.

  Chapter 12

  With his meditations complete, Graiphen felt calm, centered, refreshed—things he hadn’t felt in as long as he could remember. Standing in a small, dark room, he extended his arms outward as two acolytes removed his red robe. He reflected on his son’s plea and was not without sympathy. The senate had gotten out of control, and clearly Graiphen’s enemies were attempting to use Korbin to further their political agenda.