Galen took a deep breath and stepped forward, walking slowly past the ring of chairs that formed a circle around the perimeter. Large and throne-like with seats upholstered with red velvet, all were identical save for one – into its gilded back was carved the circle of Erys.
Pausing, Galen laid a hand on its armrest. The wood was worn smooth, the collective presence of all those whose wise counsel had guided the priesthood through the ages. “If only you could have led us through these troubled times yourself, my old friend.” He closed his eyes. “Erys took you too soon.” Galen owed much to the last patriarch of the priesthood, Palior N’Allrion. During the last days of the eminent leader’s life, Galen had promised his dear friend that he would guide the priesthood through the coming turmoil.
Tonight, a new patriarch would sit here.
Galen turned away, the next leader of the priesthood could never be as wise, nor blessed with the same scope of vision, as Palior N’Allrion.
A small, ornately carved wooden table stood at the center of the thick red carpet, a cushion on its glossy surface cradling the scepter of the priesthood. A formal reminder of the gravity of this process, it would remain untouched until this momentous decision had been made. Solid red gold, with the largest ruby ever mined from the Great Timor Mountains set in its top – the preciousness of the material was nothing compared with the power the sceptre represented.
Galen had a great deal of influence over who would wield it next. And in return for that influence, he could expect to strengthen his own position, becoming even more indispensable to the upper echelon within the priesthood. As he once more secured his position as councillor to the patriarch, Galen would ensure that his guidance was followed in the future decisions to be made, and that his promise to his old friend was kept.
Palior was entitled to that promise and much, much more. The old patriarch and the priesthood had been an island of refuge for Galen when, shortly after the succession of Cerebus to the throne, Galen found himself on unstable ground while all that he stood for and cared about in his beloved Pellar was systematically jeopardized by the new king, a man that Galen was sworn to serve.
During King Doren’s reign, Galen’s place had always been assured. The two men had fostered a relationship of mutual respect for their individual talents throughout the years. Galen knew the king’s mind and was fulfilled by the role he had played in raising Pellar to the preeminent military and economic power in Eryos. Doren was a proud man and his ambitions as a king were simple: power, strength of arms and absolute rule. Galen’s one regret was that had never found a way to better instruct Doren on the finer plays of statecraft.
As chancellor of Pellar, some of Cerebus’s education fell to Galen and he was initially pleased to find an intelligent and subtle mind in the young heir. But as time passed, Galen became disturbed by many of the ideas and opinions the young man expressed. He had warned Doren, but the king was satisfied that his son was well-versed in statecraft and well-blooded in battle, and had little interest in pursuing philosophical avenues with Cerebus. When Cerebus ascended to the throne of Pellar, Galen knew he would be a very different king than his father had been.
At first he had hoped that the idealistic young king would outgrow his foolish dreams of a Pellar ruled by its people, but Cerebus’s vision and ambition for a much different Pellar grew and took root in his many public works and projects. It was a fine enough fantasy, but in reality it just wasn’t possible.
Wealth that should be going towards strengthening the army and filling the crown coffers was being dribbled away on books and learning and convoluted court systems, on alms for the poor and schools for girls. A grubby farmer or a fat baker would never pick up a sword to freely help defend their Kingdom, regardless of how happy they were. They had to be paid for it or forced into it.
Galen watched his own world disintegrate as Cerebus made decision after decision to pull apart all that Doren and he had built together. Cerebus kept Galen on as king’s chancellor, but increasingly disregarded his wise council. Then Cerebus married Elana, and to Galen’s dismay, the king found an avid cohort and fellow idealist in his queen. The chancellor lost all hope of tempering Cerebus’s rule. So he bided his time, covering his resentment and fostering his role as the loving uncle whose days of true service were past; as such, he was beyond suspicion.
Until now.
Turning away from sceptre of Erys, Galen shook his head regretfully and assumed his seat next to the Patriarch’s chair. Cerebus could have become a great king, far greater than his father even. If only he had not been blinded by a misplaced sense of responsibility for the social and philosophical health of the people. Such things only bled away the strength of a king. And when strength mattered most in the workings of a kingdom, ideas like Cerebus’s led to ruin.
People needed to be ruled by a strong and steady hand. As soon as citizens were given the right and responsibility of making decisions, the realm would grind to a crumbling halt. People could never agree with each other about how things should be run. The kingdom would eventually tear itself apart.
One only needed to look to the south, at the quagmire Ren had become without a strong central power, to see that Cerebus’s grand plans would never work. The changes Cerebus had made during his reign had transformed Pellar in ways that were of little importance. The people of Pellar were happier, it was true; still, weighed against the weakening and destabilizing of the kingdom, it counted for nothing.
Desperate to save his beloved Pellar, the king’s chancellor turned his great expertise to the purpose and cause of the Priesthood of Erys. Palior had been only a priest when they met, content with his station, but Galen’s great knowledge of secular politics and governing brought Palior to see the possibilities of what the Priesthood of Erys could become. With Galen as his guide, Palior had risen quickly through the ranks of the priesthood and finally to the office of the patriarch itself.
Through the broad reach of the Priesthood, Galen was able to oppose the king’s many plans. The priesthood began to court the more powerful families in Pellar, establishing ties of obligation. And when Cerebus sought support for his various projects, he found his past allies had united with the priesthood. By instilling the priesthood’s values in the minds of the public, values that Galen and Palior knew to be counter to the king’s policies, they were able to thwart Cerebus through the very means that he valued most – the opinion of the people. Together, Galen and Palior brought the priesthood into Pellar’s political arena, applying for a seat on the council so they could work from within the government.
It had been a risky relationship, and his work with Palior had to remain a secret. Galen could not be seen to align with the priesthood or he would lose what little power he had left to temper Cerebus’s plans and decisions with his circumspect counsel. It was difficult; the king was an intelligent man, and over the years Galen had to tread very lightly. But the risk had paid off. As the priesthood grew in power, Galen became increasingly certain it offered the strong leadership the Kingdom needed – a great central pinnacle that people could look to for direction. Soon, the priesthood would supplant the crown, with him at the patriarch’s side to once again realize his dreams of a strong Pellar.
The latch on the door clicked, and the first commission member filed into the room. Tihir N’Avarin’s usually austere features were flushed with expectation.
Galen frowned at the priest. N’Avarin inclined his head. “Chancellor.”
“The others?” asked Galen shortly.
“They will be along. I wanted the opportunity to speak with you privately.”
“You do not trust I have everything in hand for the vote?”
N’Avarin flushed more deeply. “No, I am sure tonight’s proceedings will be smooth. Erys has blessed this succession,” he said piously. “I wished to speak of how it is with the king and queen. She is recovering, I am told.”
“Yes, the Rith was able to heal her wound.” Galen sighed with frustra
tion and regret. “Things are getting out of hand, N’Avarin. The queen should never have been involved. If you hadn’t been so impatient to speak with me, she would not have suspected anything.” Galen took a deep breath and relaxed. He did not want to inflame the man before the others arrived. They would have to come to accord if they wished to accomplish all that was planned.
“Perhaps if the Myrian woman had been handled more carefully,” said N’Avarin in a cold voice, “some of this would have been avoided.”
“I am afraid even Miroth underestimated her on that account. He was explicit – only is his own men were to capture her. The fault lies with him.” Galen smoothed out his robes, smothering another moment of irritation. Miroth’s proposals demanded much and gave little in the way of assurances for the priesthood’s future gain beyond vague promises of a place in the new order of Eryos.
“The Lord of Lok Myrr,” said N’Avarin with distaste. “He is not to be trusted, I fear.”
“I share your concern, N’Avarin. But our agreement allowed us to make necessary arrangements before the Raken army arrived at the city gates. We are as well positioned as possible with such a dubious ally.”
“And what if he decides to turn on the priesthood? Perhaps the king –“
Galen shook his head. “Any bridges back to that possibility have now been irrevocably burned. As misguided as Cerebus’s ideals are, his commitment to them has proven unshakable. And now with Elana coming to harm, he will be relentless in pursuit of the culprits.”
“But Miroth –“
“We have what Miroth needs, N’Avarin. Do not forget that. For whatever reason he is bent on acquiring this Messenger. We will use that to our advantage.”
N’Avarin stroked his chin, his dark eyes flashing with a new confidence.
“This alliance will leave the priesthood in a position of absolute power once the siege of Pellaris is over,” said Galen. “Remember, Miroth made first contact. We have the upper hand. By now Miroth’s spies in Pellaris will have sent word of the failure to capture Rowan. He will be looking for another opportunity to take her, and the priesthood will prove indispensable to him. Now, do be seated, N’Avarin; you must be seen to be pious and unconcerned. You are here to serve the priesthood in your leadership, not yourself.”
The priest’s expression hardened but he said nothing and moved to his own chair. As he sat, the door opened and the rest of the commission began arrive.
Watching them file in, Galen turned his thoughts to the work at hand. He didn’t have much time do what needed to be done. Elana’s condition was improving and things were moving very fast. The new patriarch had to be in place and Galen safely concealed by the priesthood before the queen regained consciousness. New plans also had to be made to improve the bargain struck with the Lord of Lok Myrr.
He had already removed his most valued possessions from his study and left the keep with little regret.
His true home was here with the priesthood.
Truth Revealed
Cerebus paced impatiently between the large bed and the window, passing a hand across his face, feeling rough whiskers. Late morning light filtered through the laced curtains. He had hardly slept all night, keeping watch over Elana, checking to make sure she continued to breathe easily.
He turned back to face the bed, where she still lay sleeping, marvelling again that there was no sign of the terrible gash that had rent her scalp open yesterday. Elana was strong in so many ways, but sweet Erys it had been terrifying to see her so badly injured. He’d taken the safety of the keep for granted until Rowan was attacked – and now… Cerebus muttered an oath, berating himself for the hundredth time. Elana should have had an armed escort. She had scoffed at the idea, told him every man was needed on the city walls and of course she was right. Still, if only someone had been with her. Cerebus closed his aching eyes.
He heard a soft murmur from the bed. Elana had moved her head; she now faced him and the window. Cerebus bent over her, placing a hand lightly on her forehead.
Her eyes fluttered open. It took her a moment to focus on his face. A small smile curved her lips at the sight of him.
Relief flooded his chest “My love, we have been so worried for you,” he said softly. “How do you feel?”
Elana’s eyes wandered over the room then back to his face. “Groggy, and rather weak,” she replied in a whisper. “Cerebus, how did I come to be here? I have no memory of it.”
Cerebus clasped one of her hands in his own. “You were unconscious when they brought you here. You were found on the floor of the main side corridor with your head split open.”
Elana frowned in concentration. She reached up to touch the side of her head where the wound had been. “I remember being hit. The pain was terrible.”
“Elana, did you see who attacked you?”
Elana shook her head and then closed her eyes. “No. I… I was coming to see you. It was important.”
“What was important?”
“I can’t remember. I think…” His wife’s face blanched suddenly and her eyes widened. She reached out and gripped his arm, her fingernails digging in. “Cerebus, where is Galen?”
Cerebus frowned. “Where he always is, I would assume. I have not seen him since yesterday morning. Why? What is it? Is he in danger?”
Elana closed her eyes and sagged back into the bed. “Cerebus, you must find him. He’s the one. He is the traitor.”
“What?” Cerebus pulled away. “What are you talking about?”
Elana’s eyes were suddenly very clear. “I know it’s hard to believe, I didn’t believe it either; I tried to justify it; I tried to think of some plausible explanation. Cerebus, I found something in his study.”
Cerebus felt as though the air was being pressed out of his lungs. He couldn’t take his eyes from Elana’s earnest face. “What, what did you find?”
“A small clay-lined box used to make a copy for casting. It held the impression of a key, Cerebus. The bailey key.”
Cerebus straightened and gently pulled Elana’s fingers from his forearm. “Do you know what you are saying, love? Galen? He’s been like a father to me, to us both. How can you be sure that you’re not jumping to the wrong conclusion?”
Elana struggled to sit up against the pillows. Her face was pale. “That is not all, Cerebus. Before I got to his study yesterday, I saw him speaking very closely with Tihir N'Avarin. He received a note from the priest. When I walked into his study, I caught him burning it. I asked what it was, and he said it was just a list of the priesthood’s latest demands. But why would he burn that?”
Cerebus turned away and walked to the window, a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He’d known Galen all his life, had relied on him for guidance and support. Galen would lay down his life for Pellar. How could he be involved with giving a key to men who were sent here from Miroth? Impossible! Galen had as much dislike for the priesthood as Cerebus. How could the chancellor be allied with them?
He turned back to his wife. She sat up in the bed watching him gravely, her braided hair dishevelled. Erys help him – one of the two people he trusted most in the world was telling him the other had betrayed them.
Cerebus strode back to the bed. He leaned down and brushed Elana’s forehead with his lips, touching her soft cheek with his fingertips. “Rest, my love. I’ll send one of your ladies in with some food. Guards are posted outside. I have to go.” He began to turn away but Elana stopped him.
“What are you going to do, Cerebus?”
He looked back down at her, unable to bear the thought of anyone hurting her again. He sighed. “I’m going to find out the truth. I need to speak to Galen. I owe him that much at least.”
“Please be careful,” she whispered. “Do not go alone.”
Out beyond the curtained window and the city below, the alarm bells began to sound again.
Fight in the Great Temple Square
It happened in broad daylight, in the great Temple Square, as th
ey made their way to the library to help Dalemar. Nathel had just cracked a joke and Borlin was laughing as they walked. Hathunor paced loosely beside Rowan.
She breathed in the fresh air and sighed, not looking forward to the prospect of another day spent in the cramped, dusty room.
A small troop of castle guards approached them from the opposite end of the square, about twenty or so. Rowan frowned; something was odd about them but she couldn’t identify what. Keeping her eye on them, she turned her attention back to the conversation. As they drew nearer to the guards, Rowan noticed a black robe amongst the red and gold of Cerebus’s colors. The priest had been walking with the guards but split to move away towards the Temple.
It was too far to see his face clearly but something about the way he walked and the glances he cast at them over his shoulder gave warning.
“Did anyone see that?” Rowan interrupted Borlin.
“I did,” said Nathel, reaching down to ease his sword in its scabbard. The move solidified the group – all now had their attention trained on the priest and the castle guards coming toward them.
“That was Tihir N’Avarin, wasn’t it?” Rowan asked.
Nathel nodded, casting a quick glance at the Temple before looking back at the guards.
The sun broke free of the clouds and as the huge square was plunged into sunlight, Rowan drew in a breath. “Look at their feet!” Mud-splattered boots of different shapes and colors. They were close enough now to see that the red and gold uniforms were ill fitting.
So it comes to this, she thought, not surprised to find Tihir N’Avarin involved.
Nathel swore. “The library is too far away.” They were almost at the center of the square. The guards would intercept them if they made a run for it.
Messenger from Myris Dar (The Stone Guardians Book 1) Page 41
