Arbiter (The Arbiter Chronicles Book 1) (29 page)

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” he asked. “But a sword is a sword. It’s made of steel, but its nature is to be a weapon. A broken sword is no longer a sword. It’s simply steel. I can manipulate steel, but I cannot order steel to become a sword. I can use it to form the shape of a sword, but I have no idea how to forge a sword, so it’s not a sword.” He shrugged, picking up the blade again and turning it over in his hand, as if to inspect the other side of it.

“…It’s complicated, and hard to explain,” he said. “I don’t always understand the distinctions either. But I’m an Edictal Mage. My Source has been modified to do this one thing. So I know when something is a thing and when it’s not.”

“…Bet you see the world a lot differently from how I see it,” said Rae fixing her eyes on one of the trees in front of her. There were no decorative plants in Berais’s garden—just trees. Tall, lofty shade trees.

Cathel inclined his head towards the tree in front of them. “What do you see when you look at that?” he asked.

Rae shrugged. “…A tree.”

“…I see a tree,” said Cathel. “And a branch. And leaves, and roots, and life. I see wood, and energy and growth. I see will. I know that I could ask that tree to lower a branch for me, but I couldn’t ask it to give me firewood, or to cut off a branch so I could form something, or to die. But…if I saw a dead branch in the forest, I could ask it to change its shape for me. That’s how I see the world.”

“Because of your Series,” said Rae. “…It changed you. When it altered your Source, it changed what you see.”

“Maybe,” said Cathel. “Or maybe it just increased my scope. My master—Alyan
and I saw very different things when we looked at the same world…with the same magic.” He glanced at Rae out of the corner of his eye. “And you see something different too, when you look at the world.”

She didn't answer that, mostly because it was true. She knew without even thinking about it that the moon was still waning, that it was three days to the next new moon, that the two of them were alone in the garden and that Cathel was in a quiet, contemplative mood. His thoughts seemed to surround the both of them, his concern for her draping over her like a blanket. It should have been a soft touch, but Cienn’s words had rubbed her raw today, and instead it burned. She immediately threw up her mental barriers, before their closeness could overwhelm her.

“…What do you see…when you look at me?” she asked.

She felt his surprise—a dull throb from behind the veil she had drawn over his presence. He turned towards her, watching her, before she heard him let out a ragged sigh.

“…Do I have to answer that?”

Rae shook her head numbly, unsure why she had even asked. “Only if you want to…”

“…It’s forbidden to use Edictal Magic against another human,” said Cathel quietly. “And it’s just as taboo to ask them what they see when they look at someone else.”

She said nothing, keeping her eyes on the ground. for a moment, she thought that was it—that that was the extent of her conversation. But then, Cathel sighed. “…You’re very…bright…”

“Bright?”

“…I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t…have the same sense of people as you do. You get feelings and emotions from them—temporary conditions. I get…natures…almost. More permanent things…but also more abstract ones. They don’t change with mood, only with time.”

“I’m bright?” asked Rae, attempting to inject some levity into her voice. She managed to quirk a small half-smile, shaking her head. “You need your eyes checked. Mika’s the bright one.”

“Mika is…bright,” he agreed after a while. “…Bright like a firework. Like…like something that’s there one minute and gone the next. It’s…a weak brightness. You’re…Yours is harsher. It’s colder. It burns. It clings to everything it touches so that it almost hurts to look at you. I could never get you to do anything. Not if you didn’t want to do it.”

“I don’t see it…” he added. “But I know that it’s there because I can feel it. But you keep it locked up, for some reason…like you don’t want anyone to see. So it’s obscured, even though it shouldn’t be. It’s something I see out of the corner of my eye sometimes, when I’m with you. I think they see it too.” He gestured at the castle. “I think that’s why every High Lord we’ve come across knows who you are.”

“…The Arbiter, said Rae quietly. She saw Cienn’s blade again, saw it move through the air like a flash of light, before coming to stop just inches from her throat. “But that’s not…someone I can be.” 

“…Maybe not…” said Cathel. “But no one can tell you that either.”

Rae stared at him, surprised. She studied him, trying to gauge how much she knew, but Cathel’s expression was deliberately neutral. “…I believe you’ll make the right choice,” he said quietly. “But not because you’re the Arbiter. I believe it because of who you are.”

She sat there, speechless. She had dealt with insults before. She had dealt with challenges and threats before. She had dealt with doubt and tests before. But Cathel’s simple statement, and the amount of trust that it implied was different, and she had no idea how to respond to it. She had no words. How could she tell Cathel that his trust in her was unfounded, when by his own admission, he could see into the very nature of things? How could she deny it, but how could she accept it?

It only occurred to her a long while after Cathel left that he had referred to her problem as a choice.

#

For the past week, Mika’s life had settled into a sort of routine. She barely saw Rae these days. The other girl was always training, and the fact that the High Lord had given each of them their own rooms meant that she hardly ever had to see her. Cathel wasn’t around a whole lot either. When he wasn’t watching Rae training, he was studying something in the library, or chatting with Selde, Cienn, or one of the servants. He really only came around when it was time for their magic lessons, and those only happened at night after dinner.

So she had kept herself entertained by doing what any curious teenager would do given a large building with many rooms and enough time. She had set about exploring Berais’s castle. Of course, there were some rooms that were off-limits, and others that were accessible only through passages that happened to be restricted to staff.

But if Mika was good at anything, it was being where she wasn’t supposed to be.

The girl braced her hands on the balcony in front of her, feeling the cool stone beneath her fingertips. She took in a deep breath, breathing in the misty air that surrounded them. The sun was beginning to set, and mists were beginning to form in the gorge below, obscuring the river from view. Most of the balconies were on the river side of the castle, and it wasn’t hard to guess why.

The view was breathtaking from out here.

“You have some nerve to sneak into my wing of the castle,” said a voice from behind her.

Mika turned her head slightly. Cienn stood behind her, his arms folded as he leaned against the balcony door, but he didn’t sound angry. If anything, he only sounded amused.

“Didn’t know it was yours,” she said, looking back out over the ravine.

“An easy mistake to make, one that will no doubt never be repeated,” said Cienn. He stepped forward, his boots making little noise on the balcony floor. “…Does the Arbiter know, little bird?”

“Does Rae know what?” asked Mika, her fingers tightening their grip on the balcony railing.

“…That you spy on her,” replied Cienn casually, as if he were discussing the weather. Mika turned towards him. He leaned against the railing off to her left, his arms folded and a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “That’s a remarkably strong Source you have there.”

The response was almost automatic. “Not as strong as hers.”

“No, not as strong,” agreed Cienn. “But remarkable still. Rare…in someone so young. And especially rare in the untrained is the ability to hide yourself from a spell of perception. I can’t imagine Cathel teaching you that. Did you figure it out all on your own?”

Mika’s eyes narrowed. “And what if I did?”

Cienn shrugged a shoulder lazily. “As I’ve said. Remarkable. But little birds should be careful of what they hear, lest they find themselves accidentally clipping their own wings.”

Mika’s eyes widened, her mind going back to that day in the forest. The day with Rae and Cathel, the day the two of them had gone off to find water.

“…You heard…?” she asked, lowering her eyes.

“You are not the only one with the ability to remain undetected,” said Cienn. He smiled, shaking his head slightly. His eyes captured hers, and she was suddenly struck with the notion that she was being searched, that he was testing her somehow. It was hard to not look away from his eyes.

At length, he turned away, shrugging casually as he made his way towards the door.

“I value my privacy,” he said. “Do not enter my wing again.”

Her deeper conversations with Cathel always had paradoxical results. On one hand, they often gave her new insight into herself and her behavior, a fresh perspective on the problem she was considering. On the other hand, they usually made her feel moody and irritable, and had caused her to seek out solitude more than normal. Cathel had a way of knowing her, of understanding her problem and delivering his own perspective in a way that—while not impolite—did nothing to spare her feelings on the issue. He told things as they were, and while her mind appreciated him for his forthrightness, in execution it was maddening.

And more maddening still, to her, was the idea that someone she had only known for two and a half months could know her so well, could claim to see her nature, could place in her so much implicit trust. It made her want to yell, scream, rail at him, remind him that she was only human and could not be given this responsibility, remind him that it was more than was in her power to bear. On some days, she wanted to shatter his trust in her, shatter all
their trusts in her, so that they would finally leave her alone and realize that she didn’t have all of the answers, and she couldn’t make all of the choices.

But they trusted her. And Rae was not so cruel as that.

So she would withdraw from them, and sit by herself, and brood, and turn over these thoughts in her mind, and slowly begin to fight through her irritation and her irrational anger against Cathel and consider the truth of his words. And slowly she would realize that his words had an ounce of wisdom in them. And she would mull it over a bit more and come to a decision.

And thereby refute her own claim that she was unable to choose, proving Cathel right on both counts.

It was at a moment like that that Rae found herself sitting at the edge of the cliff, her feet dangling off the side as she overlooked the river. It continued to churn beneath her, the sound of rushing water a constant companion now that she had entered Berais’s mountain castle. She had her glove off, and was staring quietly at the silver crescent marks on the back of her hand, glowing faintly in the waning moonlight. They were the marks from Alcian, the geis whose sole purpose was to make sure that no matter what she was doing, she was doing it towards an end, towards a decision.

To see this through to the end, no matter what that end may be.

To never give up.

Had she given up? Had Berais’s task done that to her? Sure, she was still doing something, attempting to fulfill the High Lord’s mad request, but it didn’t feel
like she was continuing forward. It felt like she had stopped, like her training with Selde was just an excuse. An excuse to say she was doing something, to trick even herself into believing that she was moving forward, when in truth, all she was doing was running in place. She lowered her hand, raising her eyes as she stared at the moon, a faint, fading sliver in the sky, reflected vaguely in the mists that had gathered in the gorge below her.

Alcian had said that she saw everything that occurred beneath her eye. Was she watching now?

“This is a precarious position, for someone of your station,” said a voice from behind her.

Rae turned her head slightly, although she already knew who it would be. She only knew of one person who was able to hide his presence from her completely, when she was actively searching for it. She had no doubt that Berais could, but he didn’t. She knew exactly where the High Lord was, almost as if he was taunting her, waiting for her to come willingly to him.

Cienn stood a small distance away, his blue eyes falling on her. The
tarethan
wore a contemplative expression on his face, watching her as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her. He tilted his head slightly towards her, looking out at the river.

“Someone who wished you ill could push you over before you had a chance to defend yourself.”

“Are you going to?” asked Rae.

Cienn laughed. It was a beautiful sound, but terrifying in its beauty, because it belied something else, something far more sinister. Something wild.

Yes, she realized as she watched him. There was a wildness to Cienn—something almost mad. It was a hard-edged madness, like lightning, like the blade of a knife—mercurial moods like water tossed in a storm, and all hidden behind a beautiful face and beautiful eyes and a beautiful laugh.

And she realized that even without her perception, she was starting to understand Cienn a little bit. But also not at all.

“No, Arbiter,” said Cienn, smirking as he looked at her. He shook his head, as though he found the very idea amusing. “No, Arbiter,” he repeated. “If I wanted you dead, you would already be.”

“I can’t sense you,” said Rae.

“No,” said Cienn. “I am of the High Blood. You would never be able to sense me, unless I allowed you to. The only reason you can sense the High Lord at all is because he allows you to.”

“But you could come out here and find me.”

Cienn shrugged. She saw the movement out of the corner of her eye—he had come closer to her. “I have my ways.”

“So that means you came out here looking for me,” she said, not wanting to beat around the bush. “Why?”

“I wished to know what would bring the Arbiter out to such a dangerous place at such an unreasonable hour of the evening.”

In response, she held up her hand, turning the back of it towards him. Cienn's eyes focused on the back of her hand, before moving towards her. “That isn’t a mark of the
tarethan
,” he said.

“No,” replied Rae. She moved her leg, striking the heel of her boot against the wall of the cliff and watching as a loose rock tumbled down to the river below. “It’s a geis. From High Lord Alcian.”

“I expected as much. It would be improper for any Lord of either Court to mark the Arbiter in another way.”

“Because the Arbiter must be impartial,” she finished, lowering her hand and staring down at the river. It wasn’t a question.

She heard Cienn shift and turned her head slightly to watch him. He had come to stand next to her, his eyes fixed on the river as well. Although he was standing, he seemed unmindful of the fall in front of him. That didn’t surprise her. He probably had some way of surviving a fall from this height. That, or he was just insane. That wouldn’t have surprised her either.

“That is true,” he said. “So, then. What compulsion as High Lord Alcian placed on you? What task gives you such trouble tonight?”

Rae didn’t answer. In part, because she had a feeling that he already knew, and in part because answering would mean conceding something to him. Instead, she drew her legs up, pulling them close and resting her arms on top of her knees. “I’ve been considering the things you told me.”

He quirked an eyebrow towards her, and when he spoke, there was no mockery in his voice. “And?” he asked.

“Selde still wants to train me.”

“So like that dog,” said Cienn casually. Rae’s eyes narrowed in anger, and she looked up at him.

“Don’t talk about him that way.”

“What could you do to stop me?” asked the Ivali, looking her in the eye. Rae met his gaze, tilting her head back slightly as if in challenge. “You know what I just realized,
tarethan
?” she asked. “I’m not the only one in a precarious position.”

Cienn laughed, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “Oh, that’s rich,” he said. “You would, what? Throw me off the cliff? Attempt to drown me in the river? Girl, you truly have no idea of the powers you are dealing with.”

Rae scowled. She hated to admit it, but Cienn had a point. She had no idea what his nature was, or what his own abilities were, besides the fact that he was unnaturally beautiful, partially insane, and skilled with a sword. She had a fifth of the Decadal Series at her disposal, two months of sword training, and a knife barely longer than her middle finger. The odds were painfully, ridiculously stacked against her. But then again, the odds had been stacked against her since the beginning.

She relented, lowering her head again. There was a pause, and after one moment, Rae heard the sound of shifting fabric. She glanced to her left. To her surprise, Cienn had crouched down next to her, pulling his knees close as well. “I do not mean to insult, Arbiter,” he said, his tone was serious and almost apologetic. “You have no idea of the power you wield either. And that is your weakness. You have been beaten so many times that you have forgotten your fire. You’re a sword without purpose. A walking corpse. A wanderer that drifts without purpose, moving simply for the sake of moving without a destination.”

“You talk to all girls like this?” she asked.

Cienn gave her a playful smirk in response. “I am unaccustomed to using conversation to gain a woman’s attention,” he said. “Normally, my presence is enough.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a pig.”

“There may be some truth to that,” said Cienn, unfazed. “But please, Arbiter, if you must insult me, call me a snake or a rat. That implies a certain degree of cunning.”

Rae snorted, deciding against expressing what she really thought about his cunning. When Cienn next spoke, his tone was serious again.

“I did not jest, when I spoke about Selde. Nor did I mean it as an insult. He is very much like a dog. He is a fierce fighter, for a human, and unfailingly loyal. He is also a kind and honorable man who would die for his master. I have known him since he was a boy, and I have never known him to place his loyalty in the wrong hands. But for all this, his greatest strength is the thing that blinds him the most. He does not see the truth of things. How could he see that he is doing you more harm than good?”

The Ivali's voice grew quiet. “His father was such a man. Despite what you may think of me, I still mourn him.”

Rae stared at Cienn, trying to gauge whether or not he was telling the truth. She didn’t want to trust him—this Ivali with the strange eyes. He reminded her too much of the Reaper. Or at least, he had at first. But the Reaper would not sit here with her and speak to her. The Reaper would not be attempting to comfort her in his own way. And the Reaper would certainly not mourn a human.

“I'm a directionless sword and Selde is a dog,” she said, repeating what he had said earlier. “What are you?”

She had expected a mocking answer from him, or for him to turn her question aside and use it as another way to tease her. She hadn’t expected his eyes to suddenly grow serious, nor had she expected the way he suddenly looked at her, holding her gaze with a quiet expression of old pain. At length, he stood.

“I wish to show you something,” he said.

Rae nodded, getting to her feet as well. She stepped away from the sheer drop, no longer comfortable with being so close to it. Cienn led her a few paces away from the cliff, then stopped, his back towards her. As she watched, he reached up, unbuttoning his shirt.

The fabric fell away from his skin with a whisper, the pale blue shirt coming to land on the ground. Rae stared. Cienn was handsome, yes, but that wasn’t what drew her attention. What caught her eye the most was the black mark on his side, curling upwards from his waist. She couldn’t identify the design of it, unlike the mark on the back of her hand, but if she looked at it closely enough, she thought she saw fire, or smoke, or water, or a sword.

“Among the
tarethain,
the placement of the mark is significant,” said Cienn. “This is where I struck Berais, one hundred years ago. I struck his side.”

He turned away from her, his eyes fixing on the castle that lay spread in front of them, a stately figure of stone against the dark sky. She thought he was going to leave it at that, but then Rae saw his shoulders move, a tremor going from them down his back like an almost imperceptible sigh.

“You asked me what I am. I am not a stray dog like Selde, lovingly picked up off the stones of the courtyard and brought into this home. Nor am I a sword without an edge, like you are, sharpened by harsh words and harsher tests. I am something that deserves to die. I am a thing that once unearthed, should be immediately destroyed, should be buried forever. I am a horror, an abomination. I am held in this realm of sanity by a single thread. Freed of that leash, I am something that can only destroy. I am a monster.”

“For two hundred and fifty or so years, I was the scourge of Berais’s existence. I hated him. I devoted all of my time and energy to killing him. I killed his servants, I killed his men. I killed the
Entelithielen
, the men who would become the Eithels. I killed ancestors Selde no longer remembers. I fought the High Lord a number of times, but each time I fought him, I never managed to strike him, and each time, he allowed me to live. Until eventually my thirst for blood was whetted. I no longer bothered his humans. Only him.”

“One hundred years ago, Berais and I fought, and my sword struck his side. He bled. The sword tasted blood. To this day, he still has a scar. I remember that day. I remember him raising his sword towards me. I remember thinking then that at least I would die fulfilled—that at least in all of my wretched existence I had managed to strike the Warrior. I was five-hundred and thirty-three years old on that day, Arbiter. Young for one of the High Blood, barely more than an adolescent.”

“I was young. And for the entire century before that, I had already been waiting to die. But he did not kill me. The High Lord looked at me, and…” His voice caught, just barely. She wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been listening so intently. “congratulated me. He said that anyone with the skill to strike him deserved to learn some more. And so the lion pitied the monster. And took the monster into his home and marked the monster as friend.”