by Kris Hiatt
The Onneron Brother would be back in a few months; probably waiting for spring to come, so Vrindel decided he would have to form a plan. He didn’t want to make it too obvious, but he hoped that he could at least plant a few seeds of doubt against the brothers and hope one of them grew. He was the leader of what he thought was the most powerful organization in the world, and he was also their speaker. It wouldn’t be difficult.
“Archbishop,” the two acolytes at the door said to him in greeting as they bowed and opened the door.
He walked through the main hall, kissing his fingers and placing them on St. Zivon’s statue as he passed. He remembered walking through this hall for the first time as a young boy, attending mass with his father. His mother had died during childbirth; something his father had at first blamed God for, then later accepted the truth. The truth that it was Kaden that saved Vrindel while God took his mother’s life. Vrindel knew from an early age what he wanted, no, was called to do by Kaden, and thereby God. He knew he was meant to lead this Church to the greatest heights it has ever been. Why else would God allow Kaden to save him?
He remembered learning about how Kaden united all the people of Onneron, then nothing more than an open land with hundreds of small homes built of sticks in the mud. He showed them a better way to build, a better way to live. He formed the first city, naming it Haven because the long bay offered respite from the pounding waves of the ocean. He lived for many years, far beyond what most men lived for in those days, and many believed he was touched by God, sent by God to show them how to live a better life.
He died well after the founding of Haven, saving the life of a fellow worker while working atop what was to become the Onneron Priory. The worker slipped from the top while placing a block, and Kaden grabbed the man before he could fall. Kaden held his entire weight until the man could find a hold of his own. The mortar was wet and when the man finally got his weight fully under his own control, Kaden fell to his death. He was mourned for thirteen days and celebrated the next one. Two of those cycles make up a month and there are thirteen months in a year. A statue of Kaden was erected in the very spot he fell commemorating his sacrifice. It is still one of the most viewed pieces of ground in the world. Thousands and thousands of people visit it each year to pay their respects.
The man that Kaden saved would later lead the Church that Kaden died trying to build. Zivon was saved by Kaden and became his biggest advocate. Zivon had said many times that there was no way Kaden could have held both their weight in the slippery mortar. Only God could have helped Kaden do so. It became popular belief that Kaden was God’s chosen, and Zivon, by Kaden giving his life for him, was his. The Church still recognizes that Kaden is their savior, while Zivon, after finishing the work both inside and out of the Church that Kaden had started, died many years later, and was quickly called a saint.
Vrindel wondered if, when he died, many years from now, his legacy would be strong enough for his followers to name him a saint. The idea put a smile upon his face as he finished he walk to his private quarters. St. Vrindel, he liked the sound of that. He knew his actions needed to be grand enough to even be considered, and the only thing he considered grand enough was to convince the College that the work that Kaden had started was meant to be included in the work inside of the Church. He needed the Church to absorb the College. For that to happen, he was going to have to involve the people, as Kaden did before him.
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“Good people of Haven, we have come together on this day, the day of Celebrae after the first thirteen days of Kaden’s mourning, on the thirteenth month to pray for his guidance and to show that our faith in him has not waned,” Vrindel said loudly to the mass before him.
The massive cathedral was at full capacity, with many people standing in the rear, leaving barely an opening for anyone arriving late. Vrindel didn’t think there would be; the place was packed with more people than he had seen this year.
“We thank God for giving us Kaden in our time of need, when our world was still in its infancy,” Vrindel said, kissing his fingers and placing them skyward. The entire mass followed his lead. He was meant for this.
“We give praise that through Kaden and St. Zivon’s leadership, our world has grown strong and just. It has not been without difficulty, no, no. Even now the trade routes between our two greatest cities have come to no more than a crawl,” he said, trying not to look directly at Liernin, who was in attendance with his family. He could see several heads in the audience shake in agreement.
“Kaden, we ask that you guide us, as you always have, and lead our people past the petty differences that separate them. We ask that you ask God, as his chosen, to give us the strength that we need to move forward as one, instead of divided as we are now,” he continued. He had everyone in the audience already. Not a single person was looking away; all eyes were on him and he loved it, knowing he was doing Kaden’s work, God’s work.
“We also ask that you show our wayward brothers the truth behind your power. Your gifts cannot be ignored and cannot be faked. Please, Kaden, show them that your power flows through them whether they believe in you or not,” he finished, knowing he performed it perfectly. The faces of the people told him the truth; they were with him. They may not completely understand that he was referring to the Onneron Brotherhood. They may be picturing a friend or relative who didn’t attend mass, but he knew they would come around; the seed had been planted. A little more watering and it would grow, just in time for spring. And with the first part of his plan started, spring would be perfect for the second part. He just hoped Nimbril would accept his offer.
“Let us pray,” he said.
They all did.
“Let us celebrate!” Vrindel told them after prayer.
And they all did that as well. Long into the night the city of Haven celebrated Celebrae in Kaden’s honor. As the second to last Celebrae of the year, it was very festive. Vrindel knew from experience that next Celebrae, fourteen days from now, would be even more so.
Chapter 13
The class of twenty-one concentrated on reaching The Calm. Three students left the College the day after hearing the full truth regarding the stone-faced from Magister Kelvrin, and two others left a few weeks later saying they were constantly afraid of being stone-faced and couldn’t concentrate on anything else. Another brother left this morning with only a note as notice, and one was dismissed for stealing, so their class of twenty-eight was now twenty-one.
Treace concentrated on nothing, leaving his mind blank. He ignored his surroundings and his sensations. He pictured nothing but blackness in his mind and pictured his body going toward it. He could feel his emotions in front of him, strong and sure, only they were distant. He willed his mind to go deeper into the blackness. He could still feel his emotions, but he couldn’t see them in front of him, they surrounded him. They were everywhere. He stared into the blackness all about him but nothing stared back.
He opened his eyes and Magister Kelvrin clapped his hands. Treace looked around and everyone was clapping for him too.
“You are close, Brother Treace. I can see it in your face. You begin your fall more quickly than anyone I have seen, yet you can’t seem to find the center of your emotions, even though you remain there for several minutes.”
It was true, many of the other students marveled at his ability to fall toward The Calm, even though he didn’t find it. They asked how he could stay there, fighting it, for so many minutes. Treace didn’t know. Even Heral, who had been the first to find The Calm, couldn’t fight to find it for as long as Treace could. Treace just wished he could find The Calm, like Heral, one of his best friends.
“I may be close, but Heral has found it. He deserves the praise, not me.”
“True, he has found The Calm, and we have applauded him for his efforts many times.”
Treace knew that as well, but he didn’t like people celebrating his mediocrity. Celebrate success, celebrate brilliance, but he didn’t think you sho
uld celebrate being average.
“You can’t feel or see your emotions below you?” Kelvrin asked.
“No, I feel them everywhere, but I can’t see them,” Treace said. He knew the magister would understand what he was trying to say. You didn’t have your eyes while in The Calm, but you could feel your emotions and Kelvrin said you could actually ‘see’ them with your mind. Treace couldn’t and he was getting tired of failing.
“You will,” was all Kelvrin would say, was all he ever said. Treace surely had his doubts.
“I’m very proud of all of you,” Kelvrin began. “We have been working at this for five months and as spring has finally found us, so have several of you found The Calm. Many of you will have it mastered by the two year mark. For those of you that are having difficulty, we have a lot of time left to get it down.”
Treace hadn’t fallen completely into The Calm yet, but there were several students who still weren’t even close to finding it, and he guessed Kelvrin was just being nice by telling them they would get there.
“Thank you brothers, that is all for today,” Kelvrin said.
The entire class got up and moved out the door. Treace walked out and decided to head to the mess since he was hungry. It would be a little while before the evening bell rang, indicating the start of dinner, but he thought he would wait and think about The Calm.
He arrived a short time later and found a seat in the back corner so his friends could easily find him. He had meant to try to fall into The Calm again, but instead found himself thinking of his mother and Jensen. He knew in his heart that Jensen was a good man, but he couldn’t help but be a little angry that he hadn’t told Treace the entire truth about his father, or his father’s plan. He wished he would be able to talk to Jensen to find out the truth, but knew it would be a long time before that would happen. A brother couldn’t leave the College, except to go to Kilindric, until he mastered the Path of The Calm. The break for summer lasted six weeks and it would take him at least that and a week to make the round trip to and from home. So even though he could leave the city, he didn’t have time to make it there and back without missing time in his course. And he couldn’t miss any of his studies and retain all benefits and rank until he became an adept. He knew he wouldn’t see his mother, or Jensen, again for another couple years or more.
“I hoped I would find you here,” Brother Drevic said, walking up to Treace.
“And you have. What can I do for you Brother Drevic?”
“The Archmagister would like to meet with you,” he said.
Treace felt his eyes widen and his eyebrows rise. He wondered if he was in trouble. He didn’t remember doing anything wrong, but he was still relatively new where the Paths were concerned, so he guessed he could have broken some rule he wasn’t aware of.
“You’re not in trouble, don’t worry,” Drevic assured him, most likely seeing the concerned look on his face.
“We’ll get some food after we meet with him. Please come with me.”
Treace followed Drevic to the Archmagister’s quarters and couldn’t help but think he was in trouble the entire way. He played back the last few weeks in his mind and couldn’t come up with anything. He briefly wondered if it had anything to do with Drevic showing up in the Room of Calm so frequently, but he couldn’t tie anything together so he let it drop. He would find out soon enough.
Drevic knocked twice on the Archmagister’s door and waited.
“Enter,” said the Archmagister.
Drevic opened the door and indicated for Treace to go in before him. He didn’t want to at first, a sudden feeling that the door was going to be closed behind him and the Archmagister would devour him were he stood.
He chastised himself for such foolish and childish thoughts and stepped through the door. Drevic followed and closed the door behind him.
Once inside, Drevic bowed to a thin older man sitting behind an ornate desk. Treace knew well enough to bow and did so.
“Hello Brother Treace, so nice to meet the young man I have read, heard, and talked so much about,” the Archmagister said.
Treace had no idea what to think. While the man was present during his oral exam, he never actually met the man until now. And, the Archmagister had just told him that he had read, and talked about him. What did that mean? Why were they talking about him?
“You can stand up now,” Drevic told him.
Treace realized that he was still deep in his bow and stood up. The Archmagister had gotten out of his chair and was walking toward him.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Treace said.
“So polite,” the Archmagister said. “Tell me, how do you like the College so far?”
“Difficult, sir,” Treace said, thinking of his struggles with Path of The Calm.
The Archmagister laughed hard and Drevic joined him. Treace didn’t see what was so amusing with him having difficulty, but he was used to people laughing at him, so he simply remained quiet and waited for the laughter to subside.
“See?” Drevic asked the Archmagister.
“Oh, I do,” the older man replied. He turned to regard Treace then.
“Would you be surprised to know that your idea of difficulty and that of the College differ?”
“I don’t understand, sir.”
“I’ll start from the beginning. I know you’ll understand, you’re smarter than you know.”
Treace wasn’t buying it. If he was so smart than why did Path of The Calm elude him? Why is it that he barely answered half of the oral questions from his exams two years ago?
“First Brother Drevic told me that you had given a man a sword as a present on the passage to the College. He said the sword was expertly crafted and you claimed to have made it yourself,” the Archmagister began.
Treace remembered Drevic on the boat then. He remembered him telling him that it was very thoughtful of him to give Jensen the sword. Could he really see it from that distance?
“I re-read your application which indicated that you were indeed a master smith. A master smith at the age of fourteen? It was hard to believe, but after hearing about the quality of the sword, I could hardly refute it. But, there was a possibility that you were lying about being a smith,” the older man said.
Treace didn’t know that his application said that he was a master smith. He did remember that Jensen submitted the application some time ago. Did Jensen really think he was a master smith?
“At one time, about a decade ago, a trade, such as smithing, would be highly regarded by our order and would have helped you gain entrance. That was back when we completed most of the work ourselves. We now use the members of Kilindric to our advantage and no longer require brothers to perform a trade while attending the College, you have to do well on the exams and submit the proper donation,” the Archmagister explained.
“I don’t recall a donation,” Treace said.
“Yours was submitted almost ten years ago,” the Archmagister said. “Someone had very high hopes for you. I’m sure they were not disappointed.”
At first it didn’t make any sense, then he remembered his father’s letter. Nine years ago his father knew he wanted to send his son to the College. He believed in his seven year old son so much that he acquired a donation and submitted it almost ten years in advance. It made him appreciate his father even more for what he did. He wondered where his father got the money and why it was such a secret. Jensen knew about it but didn’t tell him. He thought he had yet another thing to ask Jensen about the next time he saw him, whenever that would be.
“I have heard that you have performed work for Mr. Uripo, the local smith in Kilindric. And I hear your work is of better quality than his own,” the Archmagister continued, smiling.
Treace had been working with the local smith for the last few months. With his traditional studies complete, he found he had more free time. So for a couple of days a week he worked on orders for Mr. Uripo. He was trying to make some more coin so that he could afford more ro
bes, quills, and other necessities. His money had run out and so had his quills. He was borrowing one from Heral for a while before working for the smith. His winter robes were starting to become tattered from everyday wear and he wanted a new one. He had no idea that many considered his work to be of better quality, though.
“Also, I hear you are one of the leaders in your class in learning Path of The Calm.”
“Pardon me, sir, but I don’t believe you heard correctly for the last one. Brother Heral is clearly the class leader in that category,” Treace dared to say.
The Archmagister and Drevic shared another of their chuckles and the older man nodded to Drevic.
“No, young brother,” the Archmagister said, walking right up to Treace and grasping his shoulders. “The only one here that is wrong is you. But it’s okay, it is possibly your best attribute.”
Treace was lost again. What was it the Archmagister was trying to say? He said that his best attribute was that he was wrong? That didn’t make sense.
“Everyone around you can see how gifted you are. Not just at one thing, either, but at many things. Just speaking with you has shown me the truth of that. You are the only one who fails to see it.”
“I only answered half of my oral exams correct when I first applied,” Treace said, trying to show the Archmagister that he wasn’t failing to see anything.
“Correct, but you still answered more questions correct than anyone else” the Archmagister explained. “You see, those exams are near to the final exams that you just finished last year. We use them to gauge not only what you know, but how you answer the question. Most importantly, we see how honest you are with yourself. If you make up an answer, we know. We want to know how you handle the unknown.”
That seemed logical to him, and it answered a burning question that he had. He wondered how he did on the exams and now he knew why he felt he failed. The difficulty was intentional. But, he thought, the difficultly of The Calm couldn’t be ignored.
