by Matt Russell
Iona heard the sound of another sack hitting the street, and she turned to see Livia standing in the doorway. Her older sister looked at her for a brief moment and then rolled her eyes and moved back into the house.
"You can probably come back inside in a little while," Iona whispered. "I'll make your bed for you and bring you more wine if you wish."
Lady Sondal frowned. "No, child, I will not live with that man and that..." She drew in a slow breath, as if bracing herself, then said: "I am done here. My father will take me back. I will make him."
Iona swallowed. "I... I'm sorry you're so unhappy."
The woman turned and looked sharply into Iona's eyes. "Do you think I need your pity?" She stood up then, stiffening. "Tell that pathetic little man that I require a hundred desseks to cover my travel expenses to return to my family." She turned and glared at the Sondal home and said: "I leave you all now to your miserable, peasant lives."
"I—I'll tell him," Iona said. She walked into the home and told Hervin that his wife required money to return to her home. This drew another smile from Livia, who moved to the house strongbox, opened it, and immediately began counting money. Hervin stared after her for a moment and then walked clumsily to his armchair, slumping down into it. Iona moved to him and said: "Are you alright?"
"I..." he said, blinking. "I suppose I don't know."
She bit her lip, unsure what to say. Finally, she whispered: "Did you ever love her?"
Hervin laughed as if to himself. "I suppose I don't know that either." He frowned, muttering: "She was just sort of thrust upon me. My father told me the day I turned eighteen that he had negotiated a wonderful match for our family. By sundown, I was married. He wanted... noble blood in our line I suppose, but we were never able to have any..." Hervin shrugged. "Still, I've always tried to be a good husband to her."
"Do you want her to stay?"
He gazed down at the floor, hesitating before murmuring: "I should..." For a long moment he did not speak, and then he whispered: "I think she will be happier back with her father."
Iona gazed down. It seemed there was nothing to be done. After a moment, she leaned in close to Hervin and whispered: "Thank you for freeing me. You're the kindest man I've ever met, and it's an honor to be adopted as your daughter, and...I love you."
He looked up at her with wet eyes, a wonderful smile on his face, and said: "Thank you, my dear."
Chapter 10:
Rules of the Treaty
I am sure there will be debates for hundreds of years on our conclave's decision not to excommunicate the Starborn, Cassian Asango. Bishop Cromlic argued that the blessing of Promethiock should not spare the boy from the judgment of the Gods, for not even the Great Dragon himself could escape their justice. We of the Lucinian order debated this issue long ourselves and ultimately determined that Promethiock was imprisoned, but he could not be destroyed, even by deities. Among all the celestial beings, he is the closest to us and was our champion. If not for him, our race would have died away many centuries ago. Thus we chose to respect the blessing of Promethiock, and to await the unfolding of his Chosen One's destiny.
---Bishop Elethius of the Lucinian Order
Kota stood in the center of his cell as the Nemesai leader stared at him. The man's name was Sebastos, and he had the rank of high inquisitor. He had had Kota stripped of his shirt, an act that was likely meant to make him feel frightened and helpless. Gretis had made him meditate wearing only a loincloth while he sat in snow though and being shirtless was hardly a bother compared to that. The cruel eyes of his jailor were another matter. Kota was afraid, but Gretis had been training him for years because she believed him to be a great warrior. He would not shame her by showing cowardice.
Time was growing confusing. Kota thought he had spent at least a night in this place, though day and night were challenging to differentiate, given the lack of light. The Nemesai had kept him alone, declaring that any visitation would interfere with the holy inquisitional process. Kota had heard Otho through the walls grudgingly agree to this with the words: "While I consider your proposal." There had been a great deal of shouting before that, which rumbled through the stone and steel, and much of it had been from Gretis. She had screamed that the second anyone laid a finger on Kota, she would know, and she would castrate and kill every Nemesai in the church. It had taken Otho at least half an hour to convince her not to merely force her way into the cell. Through all of this, Kota had been kept secluded. The high inquisitor was his first visitor.
"I understand you have, remarkably, been taught how to read," Sebastos said. His tone seemed to indicate a disgusted sort of amusement.
"That is correct," Kota said.
The Nemesai cast him a dangerous smile. "I see courage in your eyes. We like it when we get ahold of one with courage. Pride is the most satisfying sin in all the world to destroy." His gaze traveled up and down Kota's body, and he whispered: "How many years did it take you to develop this marvelous physique?" The tall man leaned in toward the bars and hissed: "It will take seconds to destroy all that work. My men like to slice and cut pieces away from truly defiant sinners. You might do well to lower your gaze and show penance before you actually begin to irritate me."
"Penance for what?" Kota said, continuing to stare at the inquisitor.
Sebastos's eyes seemed to grow more dangerous, and he whispered: "For partaking in the heretical teachings of that whore Sansrit Master."
At these words, Kota's claws began to extend from his fingertips. They longed to slash at anyone who dared to speak so of Gretis, but some part of his mind knew better than to show anger. The Nemesai was trying to provoke him, and his only way to keep his wits was to remain calm. He closed his fists and let his claws poke into his palm and said evenly: "The only thing Lady Gretis has ever taught me is how to fight and how to quiet my mind."
"Quiet your mind," the Nemesai repeated, the amusement returning to his voice. "And what does that entail?"
"Sitting down, shutting my eyes, and letting my thoughts fade away. I meditated all night in this cell." Kota gestured with shackled hands to the small pile of hay that the Nemesai had graciously provided for him to use as a bed.
"Mentally shutting out the gods I wager," the man said with a tone of satisfaction.
"There is no law in the Holy Enumis against meditation."
Sebastos let out a dark chuckle, and he said in a gruff, sarcastic tone: "You have read the Holy Enumis?"
"Every word," Kota said. "I was extremely careful to study all the laws laid down by the Norn and the original five bishops, as well as the first Starborn. I have been a guest and student of a religious order for the past five years after all. It was important to me to respect their customs."
"You can read Dhavic?" the Nemesai muttered, his eyes showing disbelief.
"I can, yes, but I read most from the newly translated Enumis. Bishop Otho purchased several copies and made them available in the temple library. "
"He did, did he?" Sebastos's eyes narrowed. "It seems the heresy of Asango reaches further than we had realized." He leaned in still closer to the bars. "You knew him, didn't you—Cassian Asango?"
"I did."
"No doubt he was fascinated by your people's lack of belief in the Gods. You do not believe in them, do you?"
"I do believe in them,” Kota said, “but they have never made a requirement of my people that we worship them. The Norn has never spoken a single declaration regarding the shamalak to my knowledge, which causes me confusion upon what grounds you have you arrested me?"
Sebastos rolled his eyes. "Do you believe I would explain myself to a lower creature?" He held up a whip with eight leather wires and said: "You're barely more than a wild animal, and you're lying to me! That woman has taught you her Sansrit heresy and you, being the hideous product of humans mating with wild dogs, are demonstrating a dog-like loyalty to her. This is your last chance to lower those beastly eyes and start confessing be
fore I scour your face with this." He snapped the whip sharply against the bars, causing them to make a high-pitched whine.
Kota shut his eyes and drew in a slow breath, calming himself as Gretis had taught him. Then he gazed again at the High Inquisitor. "I am not the product of humans laying with dogs. I am a shamalak though, and so I have excellent hearing. For example, while I was meditating last night, I heard Otho shout at you that I had better not have a single mark on me. I heard you wait for him to leave, and then you quietly muttered something about cutting his face. Then, a few moments ago, I heard you say to someone that you couldn't touch me, but you thought you could still scare me into confessing something because I am a weak-minded lower creature. I am sorry, but whatever I am, there is nothing to confess."
Sebastos’s lips curled into a sneer of pure hatred. He began to actually tremble with anger. After a few sharp breaths, the man reached down into a pocket and drew out a large, iron key and opened the cell door. Kota's heart quickened as the Nemesai stormed in and took him by the back of the neck with a vice-like grip. He had pushed the man too far.
"Not another word, you little vermin!" Sebastos snarled into Kota's ear. "Now walk! We are going to talk to the great Bishop Otho right now!"
Kota was forced to make quick, tiny steps with the heavy chains on his ankles. The much taller man pushed him quickly down the dark hallway, and more than once he started to lose his footing, but the long-fingered hand around his neck kept him from falling and thrust him on. They crossed out into the dungeon's antechamber where the other Nemesai were standing around conversing with one another. They looked up as Sebastos thrust Kota forward and growled: "I have decided that Otho's time has drawn to a close. We are going to see him now."
The tattooed men immediately fell into ranks in front of and behind their commander. They moved in a tight formation up the stairway that led into the rest of the temple. Kota had to hop up each step as the hand gripped him from behind.
When they came to the top, they emerged into a large hallway where several Onkai men were moving about. Sebastos shouted at them: "Soldiers, go and fetch your Bishop. Tell them the High Inquisitor demands his presence, or the shamalak's throat will be slit." He whipped a dagger from somewhere behind and held it in front of Kota's neck.
This elicited fear in some of the Onkai’s faces and anger in others, but one of them said in a terse voice: "We will go and find him.” They scattered.
"Remain quiet," Sebastos whispered, and he moved the blade a little closer. The man's hot breath blew on the fur of his ear. Kota stood still, his muscles coiling so that he might fight in whatever capacity he could if the opportunity came.
There was a pounding of footsteps rumbling down the hall, and, after a moment, Otho, Gretis, and Darius came marching at the head of perhaps sixty Onkai soldiers. When Gretis saw Sebastos holding a blade to Kota's throat, she quickened her pace, moving ahead of the others. She drew her sword in a flash from a scabbard at her belt and screamed: “You SON OF A BITCH!” There was murder in her eyes.
"Get back, wench!" Sebastos shouted, and one of his soldiers aimed a crossbow at Gretis. She continued forward, accelerating, and the High Inquisitor grunted: "Kill her!"
“NO!” Otho shouted, his eyes wide.
An arrow flew at Gretis's chest, but her left hand whipped up with utterly unbelievable speed and caught it mid shaft, stopping it dead in the air. She tossed the thing away and moved even faster, becoming a blur as she drew back her weapon.
"GODS!" Sebastos shrieked in terror, wincing backward and pulling Kota with him.
"STOOOOOOP!" a voice shouted from down the hall, and it boomed like thunder from all around, rumbling the very floor beneath them the way Cassian's had years ago in the forgotten city. Gretis's eyes widened, and she froze midway through a swing that would have taken Sebastos's arm off at the shoulder—just to the left of where Kota's face was.
"Gretis!" Otho cried, catching up to her in a wheeze. He put his enormous gloved hands on her shoulders, and they both turned to look down the hall to the left at something Kota could not see.
"Everyone stop," the voice came again, and it still reverberated unnaturally as it had before, yet it did not seem quite so panicked. After a moment, an incredibly handsome young man of perhaps twenty years in a rich silken white tunic and flowing black cape came bounding into the room. He was gasping for air, his face damp and flush, as if he had been running for a long time. When he made it into the center of the fairly perplexed crowd, he panted: "Oh thank the Gods! No one's dead yet." He locked eyes with Gretis and managed to exhale: "Please put the sword away, my lady. There won't be any need for violence." A smile of perfect white teeth flashed across his smooth features.
"Who are you?" Otho said.
The newcomer straightened up, drew in a deep breath, and exhaled: "Telemachus Vale, Starborn of the Nineteenth Generation." His eyes shifted again to Gretis, and he held up a hand, saying: "Please, I beg that you put the sword away. This is all about to be under control. You have my word." Very slowly, Gretis lowered her weapon and returned it to its scabbard. "Thank you," Telemachus said with another gleaming smile. "Gods, if I'd gotten here a second later..." He hunched forward for a moment, then panted: "My apologies to everyone. I sit behind a desk for most of every day and," he gazed up at the army of Onkai and added: "unlike you incredibly brave men, I'm not used to this much excitement."
"What is the meaning of this?" Sebastos managed to shout. The hand that held the knife to Kota's throat was trembling.
Telemachus turned to the Nemesai and said: "Let's not have a blade at anyone’s throat." His right hand flicked up.
"Wha—" Sebastos grunted as the dagger wrenched suddenly free from his hand and whisked through the air to Telemachus, who caught it in a smooth, effortless catch.
As if by reflex, a few of the Nemesai soldiers raised their crossbows, but the Starborn glanced at them and shouted: "Ho! None of that!" and with an upward sweep of his free hand, the crossbows all lurched free of the men’s grips and slammed into the ceiling above, splintering to pieces. Telemachus’ extended fingers twitched to the right, and the chunks of wood and metal slid across the stone and congealed into a small cluster, which then dropped to the floor.
Sebastos made an unintelligible grunt somewhere between shock and anger, and he raised his right arm to lock it around Kota's throat, but Kota easily wriggled free and hopped away. Gretis moved in a blur between him and the Nemesai and half drew her sword. Sebastos flinched back and glared at both of them, and then at Telemachus. "You cannot do this!” he snarled. “Not even a Starborn has the authority—"
"Authority!" Telemachus shouted back, and his grin grew a shade fiercer. "That is actually exactly what I came here to discuss." He straightened up a little more and huffed: "On what grounds have you assumed the authority to arrest a shamalak?"
"I…" Sebastos stammered, hesitating, and then he said: "I am high inquisitor. I need not explain my actions to anyone but my Bishop."
"Oh no matter, I'll just look inside your head," Telemachus said in a soft mutter. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned a little forward, peering at the Nemesai. Sebastos's eyes widened, and his face grew panicked. "Yes-s-s, just as I thought," Telemachus whispered. "You're using the Vendrith Accords as your pretext." He lifted his head and moved it in a slow swivel, addressing everyone as he said: "As some of you may know, the Vendrith Accords are a roughly nine-hundred-year-old set of agreements the human church reached with the elves over, among other things, religious authority. One particular line more or less translates to: ‘Humans may govern themselves in all matters of religion, but the theocratic governance of other sentient creatures falls under the authority of the elven people.’ This is, of course, the reason why the human church has never tried to indoctrinate people like Kota here." He gestured to Kota.
"That is correct," Sebastos said through gritted teeth. "However, there is a clause below what you just translated that states t
hat we, the Nemesai, have the right to intercede if a member of another race is practicing heresy amidst human beings."
"You forget the rest of that line," Telemachus said with defiant chuckle "that the right to intercede shall only occur when no member of the elven court is available to arbitrate."
Sebastos gave a sneering laugh. "The elves have not seen fit to have anything to do with human affairs in nearly eight centuries."
"Not until now," Telemachus said with a calm smile. He gestured to his left, and a hood drew back from a thin, cloaked figure. Kota blinked as he saw the movement of shimmering bronze fabric, and he had the sense that this figure had been there all along, but he had not noticed it, or could not notice it. He watched in wonder as an impossibly smooth, flawless female face appeared with intricately braided golden hair, long ears that were pointed like his own yet without fur, and eyes that glowed a burning turquoise. This elven girl looked at him for an instant, casting a little wink. She was breathtakingly beautiful, appearing to be perhaps a year older than Kota himself, though what the signs of age meant in an elf was difficult to guess. There were gasps all around the room. Kota thought he had never seen so many gaping eyes in all his life.
"This is Lady Thalice of the House of Corostine," Telemachus said.
There was a moment of awed silence, and then Otho said in a humble voice: "My lady," and he lowered his head. Immediately, the Onkai around him followed his example and gave little bows to the girl. Kota pivoted on his chained feet and made a bow as well, and, somewhat to his surprise, so did Gretis. Only the Nemesai remained upright. They all seemed to be stupefied.
"I thank you for your kind respects, most noble Onkai," Thalice said, her voice humming with a wonderful, inhuman cadence that tickled Kota's ears. She walked over to him, casting a smile. "Hold still please." She made a very sudden movement, her left hand knifing as it came down in a slash at the chains that bound his hands. Just before her thin fingers touched the metal, they flashed an almost blinding yellow. The chain snapped, and two halves of a link fell to the floor, sliced through the middle in a clean, perfect cut. "I should never like to see one of your kind in chains," she whispered.
