He still remembered the day they had recruited him. He was one of the youngest people in history to become a Warder, at only sixteen years old. Soon after, one of the elite Warders had approached him, and after another two years of even more intensive training, he had graduated a second time. The memories of the ceremony were still vivid – receiving the tattoo, meeting all the others. It was the first time in his life he had truly felt accepted. Nobody there was afraid of his power, or made fun of him for not being able to explain why he could do what he could do.
Though officially known by the Warder Council as the elite, they more commonly referred to themselves as the travelling Warders. Most Warders were stationed in a certain place and took whatever cases arose there. Larger cities could have as many as a dozen Warders working together. The elite, however, could be assigned anywhere for each individual case. Their assignments were specifically chosen by the Oracle, and they took those that most Warders couldn’t handle. One of Tallis’ first cases as a member of the elite had been investigating allegations that another Warder was misusing their authority. It was not a memory he recalled with much fondness, and it had not helped his level of popularity among the regular Warders.
“You said,” Brannon replied, making Tallis breathe a slight sigh of relief. “Well, you or one of your friends did. That it was odd that you three would be sent here instead of three normal Warders.”
“Have you been listening in when you shouldn’t?” Tallis asked. He wasn’t positive, but he was fairly sure they had held that conversation in the small shrine. He wondered if one of the secret tunnels he assumed Brannon was using opened into it; that could be useful in the future.
“No,” Brannon said, trying to sound innocent.
“I don’t believe you,” Tallis said. He watched as Brannon looked a little chagrined and said, “I’m not angry. But you’re asking for a secret.”
“I am?”
“Yes.” Tallis said somewhat apologetically, “I can’t share that secret.”
“Oh.” Brannon heaved one of his huge sighs, then said in a regular voice, “All right.”
Tallis smiled at him. “Why don’t you come sit over here, where it’s warmer?”
Brannon gave him a narrow-eyed look while he seemed to be weighing this possibility. “I guess I could. It is chilly over here.”
“I promise I don’t bite,” Tallis said, teasing.
“Well, all right.” Brannon came over, and Tallis got a good look at him for the first time. His feathery black hair fell just below his shoulders, and was tied back with a narrow strip of leather. He was extremely pale; Tallis guessed he didn’t go outside very often. His eyes were a clear, pale blue with just a hint of grey in them, and they somehow seemed much older than the rest of him.
The other thing Tallis noticed about him immediately was that he was shivering. He crawled onto the bed next to Tallis, curling his feet up beneath himself, and allowed the other man to wrap a blanket around him; Tallis noticed that his skin was cold to the touch. Tallis also noted with some amusement that the Elder’s decree, that Brannon was never to let a Warder touch him, did not seem to have made much of an impression on the child. “You don’t like Elder, do you,” Brannon said, as if reading Tallis’ thoughts.
“I don’t necessarily dislike the Elder,” Tallis said cautiously, unsure of what Brannon’s reaction might be, “but he’s doing things that are making me angry.”
“Like lying?” Brannon asked, looking up at Tallis with unchildlike interest in those unchildlike eyes.
“Yes, like lying,” Tallis said.
“Elder says that betrayal is one of the most grievous sins,” Brannon said solemnly.
“I agree with him.”
“So if he hates liars but he’s lying to you, does that make him a – a hippo-something?”
Just like that, the illusion of age was broken. Tallis stifled a smile, and cleared his throat. “A hypocrite,” he corrected gently. “And yes, he is. But lying and betrayal aren’t necessarily the same thing.”
“Isn’t betrayal like telling a really big lie?”
“Sometimes lying is part of it, but there’s more to it than lying.” Tallis took a deep breath, trying not to think about the subject too closely. “Lying is just trying to hide something, but betrayal means that you’re really hurting someone. And that you mean to hurt them.”
“Hurting someone who trusts you?” Brannon said quietly, in an ages-old voice.
Tallis stared at his eyes for a moment. “Yes,” he said.
Brannon seemed to think about this, then looked away. “That’s sad.”
“It is,” Tallis said. “Why all the adult questions?”
“I don’t know. Were they really adult?”
“Most little boys don’t worry about things like betrayal.”
“Should I not have asked?” Brannon asked.
“It’s all right that you asked,” Tallis said.
“I don’t have much of anyone to talk to here,” Brannon said. “Sometimes the monks will talk to me but mostly they just tell me to mind my studies. I’m sorry if I bother you.”
“You don’t bother me, little prince,” Tallis said, smiling, the nickname slipping out without him thinking about it. “I like your company just fine.”
“I’m not a prince,” Brannon said, frowning faintly.
“Are you sure?” Tallis asked playfully, although honestly he could not have said why he picked that particular term of endearment.
“Very sure. And anyway, I’m not little. You’re just big. How old are you?”
“Nineteen. How old are you?”
“Twelve.”
It took Tallis a moment to reply to that, as he had until this point believed Brannon to be eight or nine. Brannon was very small for his age, although it did explain some of his more mature questions. “Then you’re still young enough to be little,” he said, and chuckled when Brannon wrinkled his nose. “Are you warming up now?”
“Very warm,” Brannon said happily.
“Don’t you have any shoes and socks to wear?” Tallis asked, unable to help himself.
“I don’t have shoes. And I don’t like socks. They pick up dirt in the passageways and then Elder knows I was out at night.” Brannon grinned at him. “In the summer sometimes I don’t even wear clothes. I know every passageway and every room and every tunnel. I have it all in my head.”
“Do the tunnels go everywhere?”
“Everywhere in the monastery. Some of them go outside, but I don’t go that far. I’m not allowed.”
“Why not?”
“I dunno. ‘Cause I’m not. Elder says I’m never to go outside.”
Tallis considered this. It was an interesting set of restrictions – he was not allowed outside, not supposed to let a Warder touch him, and apparently not supposed to leave his room, wherever that was, and explore. It sounded illegal to him, suspiciously like child abuse or neglect. This was not to even mention that keeping a child with magic away from the Warders and the required magical testing was a crime, albeit a minor one. “Elder Edrich has lots of rules, doesn’t he.”
“Uh huh. Why did you say that Elder was lying to you a lot?”
“He wants us to find us the stolen chest but he’s telling us lies about it,” Tallis explained. “Like that it was stolen from the room you heard us talking in. I know it wasn’t. Do you know where the chest from that room is?”
“No . . .” Brannon said.
“Really? I thought you knew everything that happened here.”
“Hey!” Brannon was immediately indignant. “I do! I know everything that happens here!”
Tallis grinned at him. “Then you know where the Elder hid the chest from that room.”
Brannon hedged. “Well . . . no, I don’t know where he hid it . . . Well, all right, I do, but I can’t tell. He’d be mad. Besides, why do you care where the chest is? It’s not the one you want.”
“I’m curious,” Tallis said. “Wouldn’t y
ou be?”
“Yes . . . but it’s in the Elder’s private chambers, so you can’t go see it anyway.”
Tallis sighed. “I wish I knew what was in it.”
“The wrong chest or the right one? The wrong chest has a ring.”
Tallis blinked at him, taken totally off guard by this immediate answer. “How do you know that?” he managed.
Brannon blinked back. “It’s a secret,” he said. “But I’ll tell you if you make me another one of those butterflies.”
“That sounds fair,” Tallis said.
“No, wait!” Brannon said. “I want a dragon.”
“A dragon?” Tallis asked, startled without knowing why.
Brannon nodded happily and said, with confidence, “I want a purple and gold dragon.”
“Why those colors?” Tallis asked. “Are they your favorites?”
Brannon blinked at him, a blank sort of look. “They’re the right colors,” he said.
“I . . . all right.” Tallis frowned, shaking himself slightly. He felt distinctly odd, like there was a memory on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite catch.
“Besides, those are the colors of the dragon in the chest downstairs. I want one like that.” Brannon smiled at him in the silly way of a little boy, oblivious to Tallis’ emotional response.
“You’ve opened that chest, too?”
“I’ve opened all the chests in that room, but the dragon is my favorite. Sometimes . . .” Brannon’s voice dropped and he sounded slightly shy as he continued. “Sometimes when I’m lonely I go sit in there and open the chests, and play with the little dragon, and then I don’t feel alone anymore. But don’t tell Elder, all right?”
“All right,” Tallis said. He reached for one of his bags and took out some paper, beginning to fold them in a new pattern. He had never made a dragon before, and was pleased when it took shape under his fingers easily. “Will you show me the other dragon?”
“Haven’t you seen it already?” Brannon asked. “You looked in the chests. Don’t lie, ‘cause I know you did.”
“Yes, but I’d like to see it again,” Tallis said. “How do you open the chests?”
Brannon gave him another blank look. “I just open them.”
“We can’t do that,” Tallis said.
“Did you try?” Brannon asked.
“I . . . well, Calessa did, and then we picked the locks.” Tallis had to admit that it had not occurred to him to simply try to open the chests. The locking spells on them were as plain as day. “We couldn’t just open them.”
“Oh,” Brannon said, clearly a little surprised.
“There’s no reason to think that they would just open for us,” Tallis said. He looked down at the little dragon and ran his finger down along the back of it. Color spread from his finger, making the body gold with purple highlights. He picked it up and breathed on it gently. The wings spread momentarily, and then the dragon curled up as if to take a nap.
Brannon giggled. “That’s so cute!” He nestled a little closer to Tallis without thinking about it. “Can I keep him?”
“Of course,” Tallis said. “He was made for you, little prince.”
Brannon giggled again, and then looked up at Tallis with wide eyes, making the instant transition from child to miniature adult. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll treasure it.”
“I know you will,” Tallis said, smiling back. “And you’re welcome.” He paused, waiting to see if Brannon was going to say anything else. The child seemed content to play with the dragon in silence, so after a few minutes, Tallis said, “Will you open the chests so I can see what’s inside them again?”
“All right,” Brannon said, accepting this with remarkable ease. He bounced up and down on the bed a little and asked, “Do you want to go see them now?”
“If you want to,” Tallis said.
Brannon thought about it. “You have to promise, promise, promise that you won’t tell Elder Edrich, all right?”
“I promise,” Tallis said.
“All right.” Brannon bounced off the bed and went over to the corner. He glanced furtively over his shoulder, and whatever he did to trip the passageway, Tallis couldn’t see it with the boy’s body blocking the view. The hallway behind the hidden door was quite narrow. Brannon fit easily, but Tallis, with his wider shoulders and fuller frame, had to squeeze through carefully. Fortunately, they were tall enough for him, but he could feel the rough stone scrape against his arms as they walked.
Brannon held his finger over his lips in an exaggerated gesture. Tallis smiled slightly, but obediently kept quiet as they crept through the dark tunnels. He had wondered how Brannon had been able to go through his packs with only the moonlight to see by; now his question was answered. Through years of moving through these tunnels in the pitch black with only a candle to see by, the boy’s night vision was probably superbly developed.
He brought his magical ball of light with him, but Brannon frowned at him, so he extinguished it. He had no idea if the boy’s paranoia was reasonable or not, but since Brannon was doing him a favor, he didn’t want to make the boy angry.
It was his first look at the tunnels, and it amused him because he understood why they made Sienna so cranky. She was the shortest of the three Warders, but even she must have had to duck down slightly in places. The floors were stone in some places and dirt in others, and the tunnels were quite cold. Tallis winced as he looked at Brannon’s bare feet, but the temperature didn’t seem to bother him.
The route they took was convoluted, and he quickly lost track of where they were in relation to his room. He was somewhat amazed when Brannon opened a small door directly across the hall from the shrine, one that none of the Warders had even noticed earlier that day. “It’ll be locked,” Brannon said in an undertone, gesturing to the door of the shrine. “It’s always locked at night.”
“Can you open it or do you want me to?” Tallis asked.
Brannon made a face. “Better if you do. Elder won’t yell at you.”
Tallis found the implication that Brannon could undo the locks interesting, but didn’t say anything. He slid silently across the hallway and traced a few symbols on the door. They glowed gold momentarily, and there was a soft click as the door unlatched. The two of them went inside and Brannon bounced over to the first chest. With no magic and apparently no effort whatsoever, he lifted the lid off. “See?”
“I . . .” Tallis stared in wonder for a few moments, then went over to the second chest. He verified that there was, indeed, a locking spell on it, then opened the chest without unlocking it first. “They were locked,” he said, bewildered. “They are locked.”
“They lock for other people,” Brannon said, as if this made sense.
“Why not for us?”
Brannon shrugged, as if this seemed unimportant to him. “I can’t open the others, though. The important chests.”
“There must be different spells on them,” Tallis mused. He reached out and picked the bowl up carefully, admiring the ornate dragon again. “Do you know who these things used to belong to?”
“Elder says it used to belong to the Emperor, and before that, the gods.” Brannon looked skeptical. “But I don’t believe in the gods.”
This statement, coming from a boy who had been raised in a monastery, puzzled Tallis. “Why not?”
“I dunno. Listen to Elder preach long enough and you probably wouldn’t believe in them either.” Brannon’s tone had shifted; he sounded sullen and a little hostile, playing with the origami dragon that Tallis made him and not looking up.
Tallis smiled and ruffled his hair. He knew that giving the boy a lecture would harm far more than it would help. “Morning services are the worst,” he agreed.
“He gets mad when I won’t chant with them,” Brannon muttered.
“I don’t really think chanting matters so much sometimes,” Tallis said. “I think it’s what you feel. I also know it’s hard to believe in someone who never gives you reason
to. But I believe in the gods.”
“Why?” Brannon asked suspiciously.
“Because the world used to be a better place before it lost the Emperor.” Tallis shrugged a little, knowing that he couldn’t explain it very well. “Sometimes I don’t know why I believe. I just do.”
“If there were gods, they’re gone now,” Brannon said. He stared off into space, his voice distant and sad. “I . . . can feel that sometimes. When I’m alone in the temple. That no one’s watching over us.”
Tallis crouched down so they were the same height. “That’s because the gods used to show themselves through the Emperor. But you can still feel their magic in things like this. It feels cleaner.” He took Brannon’s hand and placed the bowl in it. “They aren’t gone, little prince. They made the world, and they’ll be here as long as there are still people who believe in them.”
Brannon rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and turned away. “Don’t preach,” he said sullenly.
“Sorry,” Tallis said.
The boy heaved a sigh. “Well, never mind. We should probably go before someone finds us in here.”
“All right. I don’t want to be yelled at by the Elder any more than you do. He might make me join the morning services as a punishment.” Tallis indulged in a theatrical shudder, and this drew a reluctant smile from Brannon. “Who wants to kneel and chant at sunrise?”
“You’d like the temple,” Brannon said. “It’s quiet there, and when the monks aren’t there fouling up the quiet with their chanting, it’s nice.”
“There’s a temple here?” Tallis asked curiously. There was a small shrine on the second floor of the monastery, where it seemed that the monks did all their services. Given the size of the building, Tallis had no idea where they might be hiding a temple.
“Well, yes,” Brannon said, becoming evasive. “Where would they worship if there was no temple?”
“I haven’t seen it,” Tallis said, hoping to keep things conversational.
“It’s a secret,” Brannon said, clearly uneasy.
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