Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3) (17 page)

“So no one will suspect them if they secretly have you killed!” Vigorre wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and drew her close, his heart pounding. “You know the truth about them! Don’t you think they’ll go to any extreme to keep you from exposing it?”

She pressed into his side before drawing away. “I let them know that we plan to publicly uphold their story. As far as anyone in Ramunna knows, we believe everything they say about serving the Mother and only wanting to help people. Now they know we’re not going to tell, they have no reason to silence us.”

“But they’re demons!” He kept his voice quiet, though intense, but at her frantic look he dropped it even further. “You can’t expect them to act rationally.”

She grimaced. “Tell that to Ozor. He threatened to throw me and my father out of the village if I didn’t cooperate. What choice did I have?”

“I think I will.” Vigorre tightened his grip on the reins and urged the horse to greater speed. “I think that when we reach the village I’ll tell him exactly how I feel about him using you this way. With my fists, if necessary.”

“Vigorre, no!” Nirel grabbed his arm. “You can’t! Please, don’t let him know I told you about this. Or—about the wizards.” She stared at him, her face chalky. “He’d kill me.”

“Let me take you away from there,” Vigorre said with quiet urgency. “Father will arrange the betrothal tomorrow if I ask. We can be married in a month. You’ll never have to fear Ozor again.”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I wish I could. But my father would never agree. He insists I follow Tevenaran custom and wait until I’m twenty.”

That seemed an eternity. “I know Keepers who’d waive the requirement for you to have your parents’ permission before you’re sixteen. As long as you clearly wanted to marry me.”

She shook her head against his arm. “I can’t leave my father, Vigorre. Please don’t ask me to.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so loyal to him.” On the few occasions he’d met Kabos, the man had glowered at him as if he’d like nothing better than to pound Vigorre into a pulp for daring to look at his daughter. He’d regarded Nirel with nearly as much loathing. But he’d never said anything openly hostile, only spoken the bare minimum of gruff, clipped words, all the time scowling at Vigorre as if he believed him a rapist.

“I know he doesn’t show it, but he really does love me. And I love him.” Before Vigorre could object further, she straightened and twisted to look at him. “Why were
you
there? You know the truth about the wizards as well as I do. Why are you pretending you want to help them?”

He glanced around reflexively, although no one could possibly hear him over the varied noises of the busy street, packed with people returning home at the end of the day. He kept his voice a low hiss. “I went to Yoran Lirolla this morning and pledged myself to the Purifiers. He asked me to befriend the wizards. I’m spying on them. Eventually I’m going to lead them into a trap.”

Nirel gaped at him. He hurried on. “It’s working perfectly. Elkan practically invited me to become a wizard. Look, he gave me this. It’s their book of laws.” He pulled the slender volume from his robe and displayed it to her. “Just think how much we can learn about them from this. It’s full of lies, of course. Elkan tried to convince me it was written by the prophet Guron himself, can you believe it? But I expect there are truths there as well, for those who know how to spot them.”

Nirel stared at the book. She licked her lips. “Can I see it?” she asked in a strained voice.

Vigorre hesitated, but there was no reason to refuse. “All right.”

She took the book and opened it to the first page. Her eyes scanned it intently. When she reached the bottom she flipped to the next page and continued reading.

All the way through the market and the Dualist Quarter she devoured the contents of the book, never speaking, only occasionally stiffening or furrowing her brow or moving her lips slightly. She was nearly three-quarters of the way through when they passed a huge tent that had been erected beside the main road and turned onto the little lane that led through the middle of the village.

She only lifted her head when Vigorre halted the carriage outside her house. He extended his hand. “I wish I could let you finish, but I have to show it to Keeper Yoran tonight.”

She clutched it. “If you want, I can write out a version in Ramunnan for you. Modern Tevenaran script is pretty different from ancient Marvannan. ”

“I’ll tell Keeper Yoran you offered.” He grasped the book. “But he’ll want to see the original right away. And Elkan will expect me to bring it back tomorrow.”

Nirel let it slide from her fingers, shrugging as if it wasn’t very important to her. “Maybe I can read the rest in the morning, if you’ll pick me up and drive me to the Beggars’ Quarter.”

“You’re going back?” He searched her face. “Why? You’ve done what Ozor asked.”

“He wants me to keep an eye on them. Warn him if I think they may try anything.” She essayed a not-very-successful smile. “And I’ll get to spend the day with you.”

“I’ll enjoy your company, but I’d rather you stay away from danger.” He’d have to continue working with the wizards, if she did. He wasn’t about to let her go near them alone. “Are you sure it won’t be too hard to be around the demons? After what they did to you?”

She twisted her mouth into a rueful grimace. “They never drop the pretense in public. Even people in Elathir who’ve been around wizards their whole lives have no idea of the truth.”

“All right.” At least he’d be able to personally guard her. “They may be careless around you, since they know you already know. You can tell me anything you see, and I’ll pass it to Keeper Lirolla.”

“Yes.” She leaned in, inviting a kiss, and he complied with fervor. She was so dear to him. He wanted nothing more than to protect her. With his life, if he must.

After a long, but still much too brief time, she pulled away. “See you in the morning,” she promised as she climbed from the carriage.

“Bright and early,” he told her, with far more enthusiasm than the last time he’d spoken those words.

She grinned and waved as she ducked into her house. He waited until she was completely out of sight before he maneuvered the carriage into a tight turn and headed home.

He drove quickly and took a few shortcuts through some of the rougher sections of the city, so he was only a little late. His new Keeper robes, though they were dusty and sweaty from the long day’s work, were suitable for even the most formal occasions, so he didn’t take the time to change, only washed his face and hands and ran a quick comb through his hair. Nathenarre was pickier about such things than his last stepmother had been. But she could only require so much decorum when Father insisted that all four of Vigorre’s younger half-siblings be included at the dining table, instead of being served their meals separately in the nursery as was the practice in most aristocratic families.

He arrived in the drawing room just as the tinkling bell announced the evening meal was ready. He fell into his usual place behind his father. Nathenarre led them into the dining room. They seated themselves around the long table with its abundance of shining silver, glistening crystal, and spotless white linen.

Father waited until the servants had placed the first course—a delicate pastry confection stuffed with exotic mushrooms, herbs, and cheese—in front of each of them and retired to the kitchen. He nodded at Vigorre as he picked up his fork and dug in with every sign of great enjoyment. “I received your note. Now that you’re a full Keeper you have more freedom to decide how you serve the Mother, but I hope you don’t choose to abandon your duties at the Temple very often. Others had to make up for the work you left undone.”

The delicious appetizer suddenly tasted like dust in Vigorre’s mouth. Only his father could deliver such a severe rebuke in such a mild, reasonable tone of voice.

He swallowed. “I’m sorry, Father. I wouldn’t have left you shorthanded if it hadn’t been urgent.” He glanced down the table. Alna and Bravenorre were talking over each other, telling Nathenarre about how their governess had taken them to see a traveling menagerie filled with animals from every corner of Ravanetha. The twins, who’d been left behind, listened with envy and occasional exclamations of disbelief.

Vigorre dropped his voice. “I went to see Keeper Yoran this morning, Father.”

Father nodded, carefully neutral. “So I gathered. What did you decide?”

Vigorre studied his plate. “I made my vows to the Purifiers.”

Only a slightly louder than normal indrawn breath betrayed his father’s reaction. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Although I hoped you’d choose otherwise.”

Vigorre raised his eyes and forced himself to meet his father’s gaze. “I had to, Father. You know what Nirel saw. After the ceremony, Keeper Yoran showed me the Purifiers’ secret text. It confirms everything! The holy Yashonna described the demons and warned of their return. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing while those very demons are free to work their will in the heart of Ramunna.” He poked at the pastry with his fork. “You knew all along, didn’t you? What the text says?”

“I’ve read it, yes.” Father tilted his head and studied Vigorre. “I’m not entirely convinced of its authenticity, however. There are grave doubts as to whether it was truly penned by Yashonna.”

“But now we have proof that what it says is true.”

“It would seem so. At least, we know for certain that animals do provide certain individuals with powers that greatly resemble those our records describe as being granted to the ancient wizards by the Mother.”

Vigorre stabbed at a mushroom. Why did Father insist on being so cautious? “And we know they’re hostile to the Mother, and enslave those who serve them, and kill any who try to oppose them.”

“If we take Nirel’s story at face value, yes.”

Vigorre slammed his fork down. “She’s not lying!”

“I didn’t say she was.” Father’s voice stayed maddeningly reasonable. “There could be many possible explanations for what she witnessed. Please use proper table manners.”

Scowling, Vigorre picked up his fork and placed it silently on his plate in the position that indicated he’d eaten as much as he wished of the course. “You don’t believe there’s any other explanation than the obvious.”

“Right now, no. I’m inclined to think the Purifiers have the truth of the matter. But I haven’t come to a final conclusion yet. I need to watch more of what these Tevenaran wizards do, first.”

Vigorre took a deep breath. “I spent the afternoon working with them. Keeper Yoran wants to learn more about them, too. He asked me to befriend them and act as his eyes and ears.”

He could see his father’s sharpened interest in the way his eyebrows rose slightly. “And what did you observe?”

Vigorre let out his breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Their power is real. They spent many hours and huge amounts of effort healing people. Rich or poor, highborn or low, they made no distinction. The only thing that mattered was the severity of the problem. Those dying, or near to it, or in pain, they helped first.” He closed his eyes, picturing how the interactions had gone, over and over. “They were unfailingly kind, courteous, and attentive. Even at the end of the day, when I was exhausted and they seemed far more so, they maintained a professional demeanor. They treated their beasts with affection, as one might a favorite horse or hound.”

“Others have reported the same.” Father savored another bite of pastry. “Such accounts make me doubt they’re demonic in nature. Why would demons show such generosity, pouring out healing unstintingly without asking for any reward? Isn’t that more characteristic of those truly dedicated to the Mother?”

“Maybe.” Vigorre twisted his hands in his lap. “Or maybe that’s what they want us to think. Evil can pretend to be good in order to achieve its ends.”

“What ends do you think this masquerade would serve, if the creatures are evil?”

“Temptation.” Vigorre stared blindly at the table in front of him. “One of them—the older one, Master Elkan—” He caught his father’s nod from the corner of his eye. “He asked me if I would like to become a wizard like them. He suggested I might be offered a bond with one of their creatures. By the Mother, he said, although I’m sure the Lord of Demons could disguise himself as the Mother if he wanted.”

“What did you say?” Father’s voice was gentle, non-judgmental.

Vigorre shrugged, still not looking directly at him. “What could I say, without revealing what I knew? I said I’d think about it.”

Father spoke even more softly. “Will you?”

Vigorre ducked his head. “I want it so much, Father.” It was a great relief to confess his weakness. “When I saw how they could just stretch out their hands, and gold light would pour out of them, and broken bodies became whole, suffering ceased, lives were saved… I want that power for myself. I feel like I would sell my soul to get it.” He gulped. “I think that’s exactly what they’d ask for.”

Father was silent for a while. Servants cleared away the pastry and set steaming bowls of soup before them. Vigorre found he could sip a little of the rich broth. The warmth slid into his stomach and spread through his limbs.

Finally Father said reflectively, “So you believe the demons would seek out those most strongly devoted to the Mother, those most likely to oppose them, and use our best impulses to ensnare us? They would use our very desire to do good in the Mother’s name as bait?”

“Yes. Exactly. The Mother has given us free will, and they can’t violate that. They can only trick us into choosing them because we want what they offer. But once we willingly subjugate ourselves to them, we become their slaves.”

“And once they’ve removed our opposition, what do you think they will do?” Vigorre couldn’t be sure, but he thought his father’s question was serious, not merely hypothetical.

He lifted his chin. “Conquer Ramunna. Rule it the way they rule Tevenar. Turn people’s hearts away from the Mother.”

“Why would they want that?”

Vigorre balled his fists. “Because they’re demons! They hate the Mother. They want to hurt her any way they can, and what better way than to destroy the children she loves?”