Call of the Colossus: An epic fantasy novel (The Mindstream Chronicles Book 2) (42 page)

Rivva hummed to herself as she finished dressing, her mood light and her outlook positive. Though the sun still sat on the horizon, reflecting its orange glow across the strait’s shimmering surface, she was eager to begin this day. She planned to visit Jora later to meet her warrior friend and talk about strategies for ending the war. Her father had claimed that Retar favored the war, but her own chat with the god in the temple the previous day revealed that to be untrue. Retar simply let it go on because it suited him, not because he favored war over peace. In his typical elusive fashion, he wouldn’t give her any suggestions for an alternative, but it was heartening to know that a peaceful solution to the conflict might suit him as well.

She met her father outside her room, his brisk steps muffled by the running carpet as he hied down the hallway. She hurried to catch up and keep pace with him. “Good morning, Papa.”

“Yes, good morning, dear. Dominee Ibsa’s here and in a bit of a mood, I’m told.”

“So early? We haven’t even broken our fast.”

He offered his elbow for her to take and patted her hand when she did. “She likes you. Why don’t you come with me? Perhaps together we can send her off with a smile.”

“What’s she on about this time?”

He gave her a look of wary exasperation, eyebrows arched as he sucked in a breath. “Only the challenger knows.”

They descended the stairs to the second story, where the offices and meeting rooms were.

“She’s not upset about Jora’s brother, is she?” Rivva asked.

“I don’t see why she would be. If anything, she should be pleased. The Gatekeeper wouldn’t move against us as long as we have him.”

“Papa,” she drawled, “Jora’s not going to move against us at all. She doesn’t want power. She wants peace. That’s all.”

They reached the king’s office, roomy and well furnished. Dominee Ibsa, dressed as usual in her orange silk and glittering jewels, stood at the window overlooking the blooming, autumn flowers in the back garden. Her hood was down, revealing graying black hair clipped back with a jeweled barrette.
Does this woman have no shame?
Rivva wondered. She never failed to draw attention to her lavish collection of gold and gems.

“Dominee,” King Yaphet said as he strode toward her with his right hand extended. “It’s always good to see you. Has Behrendt offered you tea?”

“Your Majesty.” The dominee curtsied demurely. “Your Highness,” she said, flicking her eyes to Rivva. “Yes, thank you.”

“What brings you so early?” the king asked. He gestured to the comfortable furniture in the near corner. The three of them gathered there, Ibsa taking a seat in the center of the plush, golden sofa, while Rivva and King Yaphet sat in the two matching chairs opposite.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard yet, but it seems our Gatekeeper is freeing the statues around the Legion building.”

The king glanced at Rivva as if to ask
Do you know anything about this?
“I know of only one. How many has she released?”

“Two so far, but it’s only a matter of time before she frees them all, putting thirty-four Colossus warriors at her command. This cannot be allowed.”

“Do you know why?”

“Does it matter?” Ibsa shot back. “She’s planning something and moving her pieces into position, all without your knowledge or consent.”

“Hmm,” King Yaphet said. He sat back in his chair, a pensive look on his face. “First Captain Kyear goes missing, along with his wife, and now this.” He turned to Rivva. “Has she mentioned anything about freeing the Colossi? Do you know what she’s up to?”

Rivva swallowed. The last thing she wanted was to paint her friend in a negative light, but she didn’t yet know what Jora was planning. “Not yet, but I’ll speak to her this morning and find out. You don’t suspect her in Captain Kyear’s disappearance, do you? He and his wife might be visiting relatives. He must’ve forgotten to tell his colleagues at the Legion, or he told them and they forgot.”

“If that were true, then the Truth Sayers would see them. They cannot. The only logical conclusion is that he and his wife have met their end.”

“If they were dead,” Rivva argued, “the Sayers would see that, too.”

“Unless their bodies have already been burned,” Dominee Ibsa said.

The king gave her a nod. “The captain’s disappearance and presumed death is especially meaningful in light of the fact that he was responsible for delivering the godfruit payments to us.”

Rivva shot a surprised glance at Ibsa to judge her reaction to the king’s admission of smuggling. The dominee’s face was pinched, the lines around her mouth and eyes etched deeper in a scowl, but there was no surprise there.
She knows.

Rivva’s thoughts tumbled. The only reason Ibsa would know about it was if she was involved. Had she played a part in orchestrating the entire thing? With all the money she made from the citizens’ use of the god vessels to commune with Retar, she was buying gold and gems to adorn herself rather than returning the money to the kingdom to feed and clothe soldiers.

And the king let her.

Why? What hold did she have over him?

“Despite my order to the contrary, Jora must have been investigating the smuggling and traced it back to him. We must assume she knows we’re involved and is gathering her forces in preparation for usurpation.”

“What?” Rivva asked. “No. I don’t believe it. Jora wouldn’t do that.”

Ibsa crossed her legs and arranged the fabric of her robe to drape over her dangling foot. “I told you to keep an eye on that girl. I warned you to keep her from meddling. Everything we’ve worked so hard to build will come crashing down upon us. You shouldn’t have to worry about the Gatekeeper challenging your rule,
Yaphet
.”

The way the dominee called him by his first name was like the squeal of rusty axels to Rivva’s ears. No one else, not even his closest friend, who served as Minister of Domestic Matters, spoke to him so impudently in front of other people. He didn’t even flash her a warning glare as he would have to anyone else.
What is going on between them?
Rivva’s head began to swim with her mind pulling her thoughts in so many directions.

“Once the people find out, they’ll revolt,” Ibsa went on. “You’ll be the one whose head is on the chopping block.”

Something about the way she said that made Rivva think there would be no repercussions for the dominee’s involvement in any of it. It was
we
when they were building the smuggling empire, yet
you
when contemplating the consequences of the citizens finding out about it. Rivva felt the heat of blood flowing to her face. She did her best to hide her stiffening upper lip.

King Yaphet stood and strolled pensively to the window. “I know, I know. I’d hoped to make a friend of her. Our southern campaign is dependent wholly on her cooperation.”

What southern campaign?
Rivva thought. Her father had never spoken of attacking Barad Selegal before. It had to have been another one of the dominee’s ideas, another manipulation. “Let me talk to her,” she said. “I’ll find out why she’s releasing the warriors. Perhaps she’s received some instruction from Retar.”

“What?” King Yaphet asked, wheeling about. His face was taut with alarm. “What business does she have with Retar?” He directed his question to the dominee.

Ibsa’s black eyebrows crouched over a furious glare as if they would spring forth and attack. “None that I’ve sanctioned.”

Sanctioned?
Rivva thought.
Who in the Challenger
’
s name does she think she is?

“Has she been in the temple?” he asked.

“Once, but I threw her out. If that girl has been communing with Retar, she’s doing it illegally.” Ibsa stood, seeming taller than her true height. The veins in her neck bulged almost as prominently as the bands of tissue that ran up her throat. “This is outrageous. We cannot stand for this, Yaphet.” She began to pace as well, though at a stroll and only within the boundaries of the circle of furniture.

Rivva clasped her hands to keep from wringing them the way her mother did when she worried. This conversation had gone far off course. “I was merely speculating. I’m sure she’s not doing anything illegal. Perhaps she’s releasing the Colossi for humanitarian reasons. She’s a kind person, after all. Imagine spending eternity in stone, never dying–”

“No,” Ibsa said. Her voice had a finality to it, as if she were the Queen of Serocia making the decisions. “She’s dangerous and must be ended. Everything was fine until she came along. Revoke her pardon and have her executed.”

Rivva shot to her feet. “No,” she wailed. She rushed to her father and took him by one arm, pleading with her eyes for him to refuse this notion. “You can’t. She’s a good person. Kind. Peaceful. She’s the first Gatekeeper in half a millennium. You can’t do this.”

The king patted Rivva’s hand before prying it from his arm. He resumed pacing, his expression thoughtful. “You’re right about that, Rivva. The first Gatekeeper in over five hundred years. It would be a shame to sentence her to death without first interrogating her. That device you have—what is it again?”

“The kendern,” Ibsa said.

“Yes, the kendern. We’ll use that and question her. I’m sure Justice Captain Milad has a man who’s skilled in extracting information.”

Rivva gaped at him. “You mean to torture her? Papa, no!”

“Only if she doesn’t willingly tell us what her intentions are,” he said.

Rivva shook her head, disbelieving her father could order a woman tortured. Not just a woman—a loyal Serocian citizen who only wanted to help him.

“No,” Ibsa said. “She has already shown us her intentions by meddling in affairs she was specifically told to disregard. She has already begun assembling forces to move against us.”

“You don’t know that,” Rivva argued. “You’re speculating because you mislike her. I’m telling you Jora isn’t planning an offensive.”

“And how would you know?” Ibsa asked, her eyes cold like steel. “Are you in league with the Gatekeeper, Princess?”

Understanding flared in Rivva’s mind. The dominee didn’t simply disfavor Jora; Ibsa feared her because of her power and her ability to influence the king. Until Jora became the Gatekeeper, no one had ever held the kind of influence with him that Ibsa had—not even Rivva—and now she felt threatened. “No, of course not. She simply strikes me as a naive girl, not a power-hungry villain.” The words of one ancient philosopher came to mind:
Attitudes are mirrors for the mind.
Rivva wouldn’t find a more poignant example of this than in Dominee Ibsa.

The dominee waved one hand as if swatting away an annoying fly. “She’s a murderer and a traitor. That’s my final decision. It will be done.”

Rivva gaped at the dominee.
Her final decision? Who does she think she is?
She opened her mouth to give the woman an earful.

“Agreed,” her father said. “Send Milad and his men to arrest her. If she doesn’t come willingly, let her know we have her brother. If she still won’t comply, I’ll have no choice but to officially revoke her pardon and arrange for her execution.”

“What?” Rivva screeched. “Papa, no!”

“I’m sorry, my dear. The dominee is right. Jora’s already proven disobedient. She cannot be trusted. With her books in our possession, it’s only a matter of time before we find someone able to take her place as Gatekeeper. Someone who’s loyal and compliant.”

Rivva chewed the inside of her cheek while the dominee and the king discussed their next steps of arresting the Gatekeeper. There had to be a way to help Jora without making the dominee suspicious. “If you’ll pardon me, I’m going to lie down. The news of Jora’s betrayal has unsettled my stomach.”

“All right, dear,” King Yaphet said. He kissed her temple and patted her back. “Have Behrendt bring you up some tea.”

The moment Rivva was in the corridor, she hurried to the stairs. She had to do something, and she knew exactly where to begin.

Jora, wake up. They
’
re coming.

Jora awoke with a start, Boden’s voice still fresh in her mind. The feeling of vices clamping onto her upper arms and yanking her out of bed had been so real, she wasn’t sure at first that they weren’t. Her mind was still dim, her thoughts sluggish. She heard sounds of quiet footsteps approaching in the hallway. Many footsteps. At least, she thought she heard them. Her mind was slow to grasp what was happening or to distinguish reality from her dream. At first she thought she was at home in Kaild, but the room was all wrong. She opened the Mindstream and saw a half-dozen enforcers, led by Milad, gathering outside her door. She whistled as quietly as possible.

Just as the door burst open, she rolled off the bed and into the ’twixt, falling silently to the floor.

“She’s here,” Milad said. “Swing your fists and kick your feet around the room. If you knock her unconscious, we’ll see her.”

Jora scrambled under the bed. She pushed herself against the wall and watched through the Mindstream while the enforcers twisted and turned, kicking their feet and swinging their arms in a macabre dance as they tried to find her. A few men occasionally pounded on the mattress and pillow above her, and she cringed, knowing their blows would have knocked her out of the ’twixt as she fell senseless had she stayed in bed.