“Do not let your emotions get in the way of this, Whyn. Your whole heart must be given to Tearia, nothing else.”
“Is that all you give your heart to?”
“You know where it lies, husband.”
Whyn laughed. “Yes, it lies here in my bed.”
“You know you have always had it,” she said, pressing her body close to his. “Where is the sword now? Reiv does not still have it?”
“No, its whereabouts is a mystery. It seems when I sent guards to retrieve it from Reiv’s apartment it had vanished. There is no way Reiv could have taken it with him, so I do not know how it could have disappeared. Crymm’s bunk area has been searched, he was my first suspect, but witnesses at the time of the arrest claim it was not with him. That is most likely true. If Crymm had taken the sword he would have been waving it about for all to see. I never expected to lose track of it, but do not worry. It will turn up.”
“Well, it had better,” Cinnia said. “It is rightfully yours.”
“Just as you are.”
Whyn brushed his lips across her cheek. She rolled herself on top of him and moved her face close to his. “Would you do anything for me, husband?”
“Of course. Name it.”
Her face turned deadly serious. “Then do what the Priestess asks of you, whatever it takes to make your legacy one that Tearia will never forget.”
“She wants much of me. How much are you willing to share?”
Cinnia traced a finger lightly across his lips. “How much are you willing to give?”
“All that I have,” Whyn said. “Do not fear, wife. I will do it…for you…and for Tearia. And the first thing I must do is eliminate a weaver.”
Whyn gathered Cinnia into his arms, his breath quickening as his hands slid over her. Their limbs entwined. He stared into her eyes, startled by a circle of red surrounding the pale green of them. For a moment doubt threatened his passion. Was he merely a replacement for the love she could no longer have? Then he recalled what the Priestess had said: You have her heart as well as her body, but I have the rest of her. Whyn smiled. Yes, he could be satisfied with that. He covered Cinnia’s mouth with his, sending a spasm of desire through his body. But a sudden knock at the door startled them both, causing an unwelcome interruption in their play.
“Be gone!” Whyn barked over Cinnia’s shoulder.
The door swung open. “My lord, forgive me,” a young male servant said breathlessly. “The Commander sends word that—“
“It can wait!” Whyn shouted.
“But Sire—there is a fire—in the catacombs. The Commander—”
Whyn pushed Cinnia off and sat up abruptly. “Tell him I will be there momentarily.”
“Forgive me, Lord, but I think momentarily will be too late.”
BACK TO ToC
Chapter 11: The Far Reaches
Whyn ran from the palace toward the temple, the shouts of servants and barking of guards growing louder with every step he took. Lines of men passed bucket after bucket through the outside door to the catacombs below. Guards marched up and down the lines, goading servants to the task with the crack of a whip.
Mahon raced toward Whyn, his face red with sweat. “My lord,” he said, bowing quickly as he met him.
“What has happened?” Whyn demanded. He continued toward the catacombs, not breaking his pace. Mahon hustled at his side.
“A fire in one of the cells,” Mahon said breathlessly. “It was well underway before we received word.”
“Which cell? Where is it located?”
“Deep within—in the farthest reaches. But I do not understand how a fire could have started, my lord. Prisoners are not allowed light within their cells. The only source would be the torches on the walls, but none are within reach of the prisoners.”
Whyn clenched his jaw and quickened his pace. When he reached the entrance, he ordered the workers out of his way and stormed inside.
“My lord,” Mahon said at his back. “It is too dangerous. The fire is not yet contained.”
“Then it is your responsibility to see that it is kept from me!” Whyn shoved past the dumbfounded servants who paused to bow in his presence. “Order the men not to break stride,” Whyn called back to Mahon who had ducked in behind him. “The fire cannot be allowed to spread beyond the cell.”
Mahon nodded and motioned a guard to heed Whyn’s command. The guard shouted at the servants, and the buckets continued down the line with increased pace.
Whyn wound his way through the crowded corridor, the stench of sweat and smoke filling his senses with fear and loathing. Men leapt from his path; wide eyes darted in his direction. Prisoners screamed and wailed as desperate hands clawed through cell bars.
“Should we relocate the prisoners?” Mahon asked.
“No,” Whyn replied.
A grimy hand shot out of a cell window, grabbing hold of Whyn’s arm. Whyn gasped and jerked away, then staggered back and stopped. The uneasy memory of his brother doing the same thing a year before lurched to mind, as well as the argument that had resulted because of it.
Nothing happened, Reiv had insisted. The foul creature grabbed my tunic, nothing more…
“You allowed yourself to be touched by a Jecta,” Whyn whispered. “And a damaged prince cannot be prince at all.” He glanced at his arm, fully expecting to see a mark of contamination where the Jecta had touched him. Strangely he did not.
Mahon shot a glance to a nearby guard, ordering him with a silent jerk of his head to take care of the prisoner. The guard nodded and drew his sword, then unlocked the door and disappeared inside.
“Sire, allow me to lead you,” Mahon said, stepping forward to round him.
“No need,” Whyn said. He waved Mahon back and continued down the corridor. He knew the cell of destination. Even without the line of men leading the way, Whyn would still have been able to find it. There was only one prisoner with access to light, and that prisoner was surrounded by piles of books and brittle parchments.
Whyn turned off the main corridor and into a narrower one. He was immediately stopped by a thick wall of smoke and a crowd of coughing, retreating men.
“You will see the job done!” Whyn screamed, shoving a servant back down the corridor.
The servant cowered for a moment, then grabbed the nearest bucket of water and disappeared into the smoke. Others were forced in after him, but none returned. More were sent, until at last a few staggered out with empty buckets, gasping for air and assuring the King the fire was dying at last. The smoke thinned, but additional brigades were sent in.
After some time, the chaos subsided and Whyn was left standing in the passageway, surrounded by panting, filth-covered slaves, and Mahon, who had remained at his side.
“The fire is contained, Commander,” a guard reported.
“We shall see,” Mahon said, brushing past the guard toward the cell door beyond.
“No!” Whyn said. “I go in alone.”
Mahon stopped short and turned to Whyn with confusion.
“You heard me,” Whyn said. “I go in alone. Now, hand me a torch.”
“As you wish,” Mahon said with a quick bow. He grabbed a torch from a nearby wall and handed it to Whyn.
Whyn strode past him and into the mucky corridor, stepping over the tangled bodies of slaves. The air was thick, and his lungs burned with every breath he drew. He pulled his tunic over his nose and held it with his free hand.
Thrusting the torch through the burned-out portal, Whyn worked to focus his watering eyes on what was left of the cell. Even with light from the torch, all he could make out were mounds of black and the occasional glow of a dying ember. He stepped into the room, treading carefully on the slippery layer of mud and ash that covered the floor. There were piles of charred debris, most of it indiscernible, but there was one with an unmistakable shape.
Whyn walked over and nudged it with his foot. Chunks of burned flesh and brittle bone collapsed and smoldered at his feet. A bellows-s
haped book that lay next to it disintegrated into a clump of residue.
Whyn took in the disarray around him and felt fear mixed with fury. Had the fire been started by accident, caused by Tenzy falling asleep with her precious candles lit? Or had she found something within those pages that caused her to seek a desperate end? He scanned the room once more, but realized there was no hope that anything could be salvaged. If Tenzy had done this intentionally, then her attempt to bury the truth had been a thorough one.
Whyn headed out of the cell and into the corridor. Mahon and his men waited a short distance away, their soot-covered faces illuminated by the flickering torches held in their hands. Whyn handed off his torch and ordered them to follow. He then turned to Mahon. “Have the room sealed.”
“The body?” Mahon asked.
“Leave it,” Whyn said.
Whyn exited the catacombs and hustled up the steps leading to the grand portico of the temple. As a child that porch had terrified him. The tall black cressets had reminded him of leggy spiders, and the pillars that lined the top step had seemed like towering sentinels. As his eyes moved from one column to the next, he felt as though his former enemies had become his friends. It gave him comfort, even though he knew he would soon be facing the Priestess with terrible news.
He shoved open the doors and entered through them, hating the fact that he was entering the sacred place with dirt upon his feet and the stench of smoke in his clothes. But he could risk no delay. The Priestess surely knew something of what had transpired in the catacombs, and with a valuable source of knowledge now lost to her, she would be contemplating further instruction for him.
He headed straight to the Room of Transcension. Although he had not been instructed to go there, he knew that was where the Priestess would be. An event of this magnitude would warrant consultation with the Goddess, and this was the one place where that communion could occur. He pushed open the double doors that led into the room. They were covered with gold and inlayed with depictions of Tearian history. The last time his eyes had moved over those images was when he had been summoned to the hearing concerning Reiv and the two Jecta thieves. It was during that time that the Priestess had communed with Agneis, goddess of purity and supreme deity of Tearia. And it was during that time that Reiv and his two friends had been sentenced to fade away in Pobu.
Whyn entered the room, not surprised to see the Priestess sitting on her chair atop a tiered platform. She was lined on either side by rows of towering statues, each a marble replication of a god or goddess. At her back loomed the grandest figure of all, that of Agneis, pale and beautiful. Whyn approached the platform and stopped before the Priestess. He bowed from the waist, keeping his head low. “Priestess, I come with news of the fire.”
“Rise. Tell me,” she said. Her crystalline eyes were as cold as the tone of her voice.
“Tenzy is dead and all contents of the cell destroyed with her. I inspected it myself. Nothing survived. I ordered it sealed.”
Whyn felt the ground rumble beneath his feet as the Priestess rose from her chair. “Destroyed?” she shouted. Her eyes grew dark, and a cold wind swept through the room, causing the torches along the walls to flicker.
Whyn clenched his hands at his side. “The witch must have set the fire herself,” he said. “Perhaps she discovered something within the pages of the tome. I fear there is no more evidence of it.”
The Priestess stood in a whirlwind of fury. Whyn waited, tense and silent, for the sting of her anger to reach him, but it did not. The wind died as suddenly as it had appeared, and the Priestess was left staring at him, smiling.
Whyn worked to steady his pounding heart. Perhaps the Priestess had communed with Agneis who had given her comfort. Or perhaps her plan was so grand that even Tenzy’s despicable act could not thwart it.
The Priestess sat back down on her chair and draped her hands upon its scrolled arms. “Fire can be friend or bitter enemy. Perhaps in this case it was our friend. The tome was confiscated but days ago from a Jecta, a potter found making his way back to Pobu from the hills. He was questioned of course. The wretch claimed to have found it in a cave while searching for clay. Evidence points to the truth of it, but we learned little else from him. Unfortunately, the interrogators were overzealous in their methods.”
“How is the tome’s destruction a blessing, Priestess?”
“It is unlikely the potter knew its contents, though why he would risk being caught with it is a mystery. However, if it contained any evidence of the Prophecy, that evidence is now gone. I do not care what the Prophecy says, for I know it to be a lie, but had the information fallen into Jecta hands, it could have been used against us. It is unlikely anyone among them could have interpreted it, but even so, it was the gods who willed us to find it. How else could one explain how easily it fell into our hands? With all Jecta documents now destroyed in the fire, and plans for the Purge underway, there will soon be no more threat to Tearia.”
“Orders are in place for increasing our spies in Pobu. The Guard is preparing for it as we speak.”
“You have spoken with Mahon, then?”
“Yes. He will do his duty.”
“He had no qualms regarding the issue of Reiv?”
“His only concern was for me.”
The Priestess raised an eyebrow. “What of his wife? I understand Brina has remained loyal to Reiv. What duty does Mahon have toward her?”
“He has agreed to keep a closer watch on her. I do not think we will have much to worry about in her regard. I have spoken to her myself. She swears allegiance to me, though she does not know of the plan to dispose of Reiv.”
“Can she be trusted? It would not do well to have a member of your own family working against you.”
“I expressed great concern for my brother’s well-being. She seemed convinced of my sincerity. When I asked of his whereabouts, she told me she had learned he was working as a weaver. I received word through an informant that Reiv is a Shell Seeker now, but Brina found the idea amusing.”
“Amusing?”
“Reiv never cared for water so deep he could not see his feet. In childhood he was doubly fearful of anything that slithered.” Whyn laughed. “I doubt he would enter a place crawling with sea snakes. More than likely he is a weaver as Brina said.”
“Do you have spies in Meirla to be sure of that?”
“Few. The Shell Seeker village is more remote and tightly grouped. It would be difficult for a new member to blend in this late, but Mahon is attempting infiltration, as well as utilizing any spies in Pobu who may be in touch with the Shell Seekers. I am sure it will not take long to learn of Reiv’s whereabouts.”
The Priestess’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps. But just in case, I have another way of reaching him if he is in Meirla.”
“Another way?”
“I have an ally in the sea. A terrible ally. If Reiv does prove to be a Shell Seeker, she will find him and take care of him. Of course, if this happens, we will be forced to question Brina’s allegiance.”
“If Brina proves to be a traitor, what would you have me do? Mahon would never allow harm to come to his wife.”
“Of course he wouldn’t. That is why Crymm would find himself receiving his first directive from his new King.” The Priestess smiled cruelly. “Never fear. We will find the Unnamed One. And you are right. It will not take long.
BACK TO ToC
Chapter 12: Stone Secrets
Dayn lay atop Nannaven’s roof, attempting to get some sleep. The moon and stars were annoyingly bright, but that wasn’t what had him tossing and turning on his bedroll. He had been sick three times that day, though today wasn’t the first time the mysterious illness had visited him; it had happened several times during the past month or so, and he could no longer blame it on something he ate. Each time it had felt the same: the earth would waver beneath his feet, sending nausea to his gut and flashes to his brain. The first time it happened had been the day of the Summer Fires Festival, and Alici
ne had commented that his face looked noticeably green. Another time he, Alicine, and Reiv had been confined to Guard Headquarters. Dayn usually did a good job of hiding the sickness when it descended upon him, but he had vomited noisily into the straw that day, and there had been nowhere to run. As he recalled the retching incident, he smiled at how Reiv had backed away for fear of contamination. But Dayn’s amusement evaporated when he realized that he might in fact be harboring some unknown plague. The spells of sickness were happening more and more frequently now, and his bodily discomforts were increasing with each occurrence.
He pitched to his side, trying to push the fear of an agonizing death from his mind. There were plenty of other things to worry about, the argument he’d had with Reiv that morning for one. Dayn turned his eyes to Alicine’s shadowy form across the way. It was a wonder she could sleep at all, especially since her relationship with Reiv had once again taken a twist and a turn. Dayn sighed and rolled onto his back, cradling his head in his hands as he gazed at the sky. He wouldn’t solve any problems tonight—the issues would still be there in the morning—and at the rate things were going, there would probably be a few new ones as well. He focused his eyes on the stars. Maybe if he counted them he could bore himself to sleep.
A muffled rap at the front door below alerted him, and he sat up. The sound of Nannaven’s barely audible voice could be heard, then the slow, loud creak of an opening door. Dayn cocked his head, straining to hear whatever conversation might drift his way. For a moment he thought to abandon his attempt at eavesdropping. The last time he had listened in on a private conversation, he had learned more than he really wanted to know. But he eased toward the trap door anyway and bent his ear to listen.
He glanced over at Alicine. She, too, was up and wide awake. Dayn raised a finger to his lips, then motioned her over. She crept in his direction and knelt beside him.
Leaning over the hole in the roof, they moved their gaze beyond the ladder to the candlelit room below.
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