Forging Divinity (25 page)

Jonan put his hand to his chest. “I’m wounded. After all you’ve seen me do, you can’t think of a better way to put me to use?”

Vorain frowned.
That’s good, keep her off-guard. Keep her guessing.
“You’re offering to work for me?”

“I’m willing to entertain the possibility, given your credentials. I admit, I’ve never worked for a goddess before. It does have a certain appeal.”

She beckoned to him. “Walk with me.”

Jonan tensed. He had been much more comfortable staying in the same area, which he had already examined thoroughly. A walk could – and probably would – lead him into a trap.

“Of course,” he replied, bowing gently at the waist. As he took a step toward her to follow, Vorain turned backward and slipped her left arm around his right, taking it as if she was escorting him to a ball. Jonan blinked furiously.

“We can’t be talking about gods and goddesses out here,” she said. “Rumors quickly take on legs.”

Jonan raised an eyebrow at her phrasing.
Must be a rehri colloquialism.
“All right, then. Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” she assured him. “It isn’t far.”

“Lovely.” He suddenly wished he had brought his dagger. It wasn’t much, but it was more reliable than the two potions he had shoved into his pockets. He had left it behind to avoid looking like a threat, but given who he was walking with, he was beginning to regret that.

Vorain was truer to her word than he had expected – she led him to a run-down single story house about a block away. She led him to the door and turned the handle, shoving it open.

The entry room was about the size of Jonan’s bedroom and near-empty. A small bed lay near the back wall, and a rickety-looking wooden table sat cross from it. The only other room in evidence was a tiny washroom near the back-left side of the room.

Vorain guided him inside, turning to close the door behind them. The wood of the doorframe was warped, resisting her push, but she eventually managed to slide the door into alignment and shut it.

“What’s this?” Jonan inquired, glancing around.

“This,” Vorain explained, “Is my home.”

Jonan turned and quirked a brow at her silently, awaiting an explanation.

“When I first came to this city, this place was a blessing. I was just a girl, and a desperate one at that. My brother and I shared that bed,” she pointed, indicating the bed in the corner, “For three years. I couldn’t have afforded even this, but the owner was desperate to get rid of it. It wasn’t a great neighborhood, you see.”

Jonan nodded.
Must have been pretty desperate to sell to a young Rethri girl. I’ve only seen a handful of Rethri in this city, and they seem to keep to themselves.
“Why were you and your brother on your own?”

She visibly tensed, her expression souring.
Maybe I asked the wrong question.
“Hope,” she explained. “My family had given up on him.”

Vorain led Jonan over to the table, and she took a seat on top of it. She patted the side, inviting him to sit next to her. The table looked like it could barely hold even her weight, but he didn’t want to offend her, so he gingerly took a seat beside her, trying not to put too much pressure on it. She finally slid her arm out from his, glancing away from him toward the wall.

“About one in every thousand Rethri is born without a functional dominion bond. As I’m sure you know, most Rethri are born with a tie to a specific dominion. You can tell which one by looking in our eyes,” she said, pointing at her indigo orbs. “When we come of age, we undergo a ritual that strengthens the bond. This helps stabilize our health and slows our aging process.”

Jonan nodded. “I grew up near Liadra, so I’m no stranger to the Rethri bonding process. I’ve even attended a few bonding ceremonies.”

Vorain furrowed her brow. “That’s rare. You’re one of the Order of Vaelien, then?”

That’s a trap of a question if I’ve ever seen one.
“No, but I work with them,” he replied, giving her a similar answer to the one he had given Lydia. It wasn’t precisely untrue.

She nodded at that, seeming satisfied. “Is that why you were concerned about the children? Is this some sort of Order of Vaelien investigation?”

And an even more dangerous question.
“Not precisely. Before I get into that, though, you mentioned that some children are born without a functional dominion bond. I’ve never heard of that before, and I’ve been around Rethri my entire life.”

“It is a sad subject,” Vorain explained, “Because the uvar – that’s our word for unbonded – are usually returned to Vaelien immediately after they are born.”

“Returned to Vaelien...” Jonan blinked.
Lissari is the giver of life to the Rethri. Vaelien represents preservation, but also death.
“You mean they’re killed?”

Vorain nodded. “It is considered a kindness. The uvar never develop properly. In the old days, before they were ‘sent back to Vaelien’, the uvar usually died within a few years of their birth. Sometimes, extreme measures were taken to protect the children – but they would age rapidly and disproportionately, and no amount of sorcery seemed sufficient to repair the damage.”

Things were starting to click together in Jonan’s mind. “Your brother was born as an uvar.”

The goddess nodded, raising a hand and making a gesture across her eyes. “He was. My mother died birthing him, and my father was crushed. I pleaded with my father to eschew the tradition and spare my brother. Elias – that’s my brother – was mother’s last legacy. Father didn’t see it that way.”

“So, you took your brother and ran?” Jonan guessed.

“Yes,” Vorain said, resting her hands on her knees. “Yes, that’s what I did.”

She was brave,
Jonan considered.
Saving her brother, abandoning her grieving father. I wonder how different things would be if I had been that brave when...

“The reason I’m telling you all this,” the indigo-eyed girl explained, “Is because I believe you wanted to help those children. I’ve watched you closely, and I think you’re one of few humans I’ve met that would take a risk for one of my kind.”

“And you want my help?” Jonan asked.

She shook her head. “No,” she put a hand on his shoulder. “No, I don’t need that anymore. But you’re sweet to ask. I wanted you to understand that the children are going to be fine now.”

Jonan frowned. “How?”

“When I ran from home, I chased a myth – a land where they claimed anyone could become a god. The gods, I believed, had power – the power to do anything. Maybe even save my brother. I was just a child, of course. I had barely gone through my own coming of age ritual when I ran away. I didn’t understand the ways of the gods, or even the ways of people.”

“Looks like it worked out for you pretty well, goddess,” he said, cracking a grin.

She chuckled. “If only that were true. I’m still just Rialla Dianis, a girl trying to take care of her brother. Edon, however, is the type of god I needed. The type of god who cared.”

Rialla Dianis? Like House Dianis, or the Dianis Arcane College in Velthryn? That explains some things.
“So, you’re saying the godhood is a lie, but that the idea behind it is good?”

“No,” Vorain shook her head. “I’m saying that I’m not a god, but Edon is. And that he cares about people – more than any of the old gods seem to. He is working to save my brother, and others like him.”
Ahh, that’s what all this is about. Your brother is one of the kids in that hospital, and you’ll do anything to save him.

Jonan considered that for a moment, thinking back. “Is Edon the older man I saw in that hospital? The one who goes by Raymond Lorel?”

Rialla shook her head. “No, but Raymond is a good man. He’s the one who took me and my brother in – we had nothing when we first came to this city. Elias was deteriorating, and I had no way to stop it. I tried selling my sorcery skills – it didn’t go well. But Raymond heard about me and tracked me down. He’s a minor sorcerer himself – just stability sorcery. That minor talent was precisely what Elias needed. Raymond bought us time.”

“So, Raymond is one of these court sorcerers I keep hearing about? I didn’t see any pins on him,” Jonan noted.

“No, he’s not a court sorcerer. Just a man with a minor talent. My skills already exceeded his when we met, but I couldn’t do anything about my brother, and he could. Raymond did have a few connections with stronger sorcerers – he introduced me to Sethridge. When Sethridge saw what I could do, he hired me immediately. Things got better from there – I met Edon and convinced him to help Raymond with researching Elias’ condition,” she explained, sounding exhausted.

“If Edon really is a god, why hasn’t he fixed the problem already?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Vorain explained. “The gods aren’t omnipotent, and Edon is weaker than most. He ascended from mortality to godhood, much like the Tae’os gods supposedly did thousands of years ago. Gods learn and grow, just like people do.”

“Sure, followers of Vaelien claim that he used to fight the Tae’os Pantheon – all seven of them – all at once. But, what makes this Edon a god, then? I mean, you’re Rethri – don’t most of you think gods are just powerful sorcerers?” Jonan quirked a brow.

“There is a difference between gods and sorcerers,” Vorain explained. “And I’ve seen it. I’ve seen what Edon can do, and it’s far beyond anything a sorcerer like us could accomplish. If I earn it, he promises he’ll teach me someday, when I’m ready to control that level of power. But I have no illusions about that. No one shares that kind of power without a price. He might not ever tell me his secret – but he doesn’t have to. He’s doing good things with it. He’s helping cure the sick. What more could I ask of a god?”

Jonan pondered that for a moment.
Okay, so she’s convinced he’s legitimate. And, I have to admit, that thing where he disabled all the sorcery in the arena was pretty impressive. But there are other explanations for raw power – that Heartlance that Myros was carrying, for example. Perhaps he’s learned how to syphon power off from artifacts to cast spells. That could accomplish something on a similar scale.

“Would you mind satisfying my curiosity and explaining what types of abilities Edon possesses that convince you he’s a deity?” Jonan asked.

“I’ve seen him demonstrate things to me that are outside of the capabilities of ordinary sorcerers. I’m not going to tell you all about that yet – I still haven’t decided you can be trusted,” Vorain explained. “I’ve taken a terrible risk just by having this conversation with you, I hope you understand that.”

Jonan nodded. “Sure, you could have just killed me while I was sleeping or something. I appreciate that you didn’t. If you’re not a god, though, why does he claim that you are?”

Vorain scowled. “I don’t like it, but he promised the people of this city that they can become gods with sufficient work. He’s had to give clear examples every several years, otherwise people would lose faith in him.”

“So, he finds people who are supremely loyal – like yourself – to pose as his newly-ascended gods? That doesn’t seem quite as benevolent as you make him out to be,” Jonan insisted.

“He doesn’t like it, either, but he hasn’t perfected the process of making other people into gods just yet. And I think the queen is a real god, too,” she said, the last part in a whisper.

Jonan perked up a bit at that. “Queen Regent Tylan? You think she’s one, too, but you’re not sure?”

That changes things, if it’s true. I still don’t think any of them are gods, but if he’s managed to replicate whatever large-scale sorcery he’s using in order to fake his divinity using another person, that means the threat is broader than I anticipated. Maybe he has multiple artifacts, or whatever he’s using for a power source. What else could be used to power spells on the scale of what happened in the arena?

“I’ve said too much already. I suppose I needed someone to confide in, since I’ve been playing this role for so long. But you should leave, now. Get out of this city. Edon will take care of the children.”

“Is Edon Donovan Tailor?” Jonan asked.

She turned to face him, her eyes digging into his. “Where did you get that name?”

Jonan slid back on the table, bumping into the wall. “He was a scholar in Velthryn that talked about people having the potential to become gods. His theories were very similar to what Edon claims to be possible.”

“Why does it matter who he was?” She leaned closer to him, and his head began to feel heavy.

Resh, she’s not just trying to intimidate me, she’s using –

“Donovan Tailor visited Keldris about twenty years ago, offering godhood to King Haldariel. After he left, a group of Rethri disappeared. Edon visited Selyr about seven months ago, and similarly, Rethri disappeared afterward,” Jonan rambled, unable to stop himself. He started to turn his head away, realizing what was happening, but she reached up and gripped his chin, turning his eyes back to meet hers.

“Stop trying to turn your head. Tell me more about the Rethri that went missing,” she commanded.

Stop. She’s controlling
– “Over half a dozen Rethri were reported missing after what happened in Keldris. No clear connection between them; some young, some old, some male, some female. They were never found. Edon founded his religion about two years after that. After Edon visited Selyr, more than twenty citizens disappeared.”