Here Shines the Sun (76 page)

Ralf nodded, but Rook could see his eyes darting about the shadows of the cottage.

“Are you okay, Ralf?”

Ralf’s head bobbed up and down.

Rook took Ralf by the shoulder. “Come on, Ralf. Come with me to the gate. I’ll meet this new Saint and afterward I’ll take you home. It’s getting late.”

Ralf pulled away from Rook and shook his head, the over-sized helmet twisting on his scalp.

“Ralf, there’s nothing to be afraid of. If the Saint meant us harm we’d certainly hear bolt-throwers by now. Come on.”

“It’s not that, Rook.” said Ralf, his eyes scanning the darkness around the cottage. He swallowed hard and moved closer to Rook, then he said in a small voice, “There’s something out here.”

Rook looked around but didn’t see anything. He thought guard duty was most certainly getting to be a little too much for Ralf and that he was just spooked by the arrival of a new Saint. Rook looked Ralf in the eyes and smiled. “Come on, Ralf. If there is somebody out here, then all the more reason I need an escort from one of our city’s finest.”

Ralf forced a smile. “Well, okay then, Rook.” The man took one last look around and then trundled behind Rook, doing his best to keep the brisk pace that Rook was setting.

As Rook and Ralf came upon the high wall of the city, Blake began running toward them. “Saint!” cried Blake. He was in his full armor with a bolt-thrower over his shoulder. “A Saint!”

“Who is he?” asked Rook, jogging up to him.

“Said his name is Adonael of the River’s Edge. Said he would only speak with Saint Karinael.”

“Where is he?” asked Rook.

“Outside the gate.” said Blake. “Won’t come in until he sees Karinael.”

“Well that’s a problem.” said Rook. He hurried the rest of the way to the gate with Blake. Atop the wall there were about a dozen knights with their guns trained down. In front of the closed portcullis stood about a dozen more with bolt-throwers ready. Rook pushed his way past them and saw the lone Saint standing beyond the bars, his hair shining like polished rubies in the torchlight. He was tall and imposing, but not quite to the same degree as Asteroth, with smooth, rounded Star-Armor similar to Cabiel’s. The Saint looked nervous, his crimson eyes darting all around at the knights on the wall. At his side he carried a star-metal sword in a scabbard as black as his Star-Armor.

There was something familiar about this Saint. Rook thought he had seen him before, he was certain of it. A memory of himself when he was just a boy stirred in his mind. And then he could place the face. This was one of the Saints who had come to slaughter the people of Caer Gatima. This was one of the Saints who had been with Ovid and Hadraniel that day. Rook forced himself to choke down his anger. He had forgiven Hadraniel, and he could forgive this Saint as well, provided he had been a friend to Karinael.

“Saint Adonael of the River’s Edge,” called Rook, coming up to the portcullis. “I am Rook Gatimarian. I speak for the people of Free Narbereth. Are you friend or foe?”

“I will only speak with Saint Karinael.” said the Saint, scanning Rook with his eyes.

“So you are a friend?”

“To Saint Karinael.” said the Saint. “Is she here?”

Rook looked at Blake and then back to the Saint. “Her friends are here. Saints Hadraniel, Asteroth, Cabiel, Loganiel, Sodiel and Ertrael. Will you speak with any of them?”

“I might with Ertrael, Hadraniel or Asteroth,” said the Saint. “But I do not know the others you speak of. These are strange times and I will not speak with a Saint I do not fully trust. Where is Karinael?”

Rook motioned with his hand to raise the portcullis. Gears began to clank and Rook slipped his way under them even as they rose. He approached the Saint alone. “Please, will you follow me? I will take you to Hadraniel and the others.”

The Saint eyed him suspiciously, his gaze alternating between Rook and all the knights beyond the wall. “Why can I not speak with Karinael?”

Rook breathed deeply. He looked the Saint in the eyes. “She fell in battle, against a Saint named Nuriel.”

Adonael turned his eyes down.

“I believe I have seen you before.” said Rook, and the Saint returned his eyes to him. “Ten years ago you were at Caer Gatima in Jerusa, with Saint Hadraniel and Saint Ovid. You slaughtered the people of my city.”

Adonael placed his hand on his sword but did not draw it. “In that case, you also know the one who killed Karinael. Saint Nuriel was there that day as well.”

Rook wondered if she was the golden-haired Saint that day. She was the first Saint he had ever seen. He had been captivated by her beauty and the magic of her Caliber as it radiated from her body. She could have been an angel. But his awe had quickly turned to fear when she loosed her sword on the townspeople. Rook returned his attention to Adonael and said, “I was just a boy then, but Ovid left knowing my knife. He came here shortly after Karinael arrived, though he was no friend to her or the others.”

“Is Ovid here now?”

Rook shook his head. “I finished what I was not able to accomplish when I was a boy.” Adonael looked at him skeptically, but Rook continued, “If you are a friend to Karinael, then you are a friend to me and the others. Will you let me take you to them?”

Adonael regarded Rook for a moment. At length he nodded his head.

Adonael kept his hand close to his sword, scanning the ranks of soldiers with his eyes as Rook led him inside the city’s walls. Blake fell in beside Rook and leaned into his ear and whispered, “Want me to come with you?”

Rook shook his head and replied in a low voice, “I’ll have Ralf come with me.”

“Ralf?” Blake was incredulous; his whisper a little too loud, causing Ralf to look their way.

Rook looked toward Ralf and waved him over with a smile. “Do me a favor,” said Rook quietly. “Give Ralf a few days off. He’s spooked and I’d hate to see him have a heart attack. I’m taking him back home after this.”

“You sure? Ralf hasn’t spooked yet, and I sent him outside the city to scout with the others last night. He’s actually doing quite well.”

“He was pale and spooked at my house.” said Rook. “I think his nerves are getting to him. I’m sure he wants to put on a brave face for you and the others.”

“Alright, you’re the boss.” said Blake as Ralf rolled up to them. Blake handed Ralf his bolt-thrower and slapped the man on the shoulder. “Take good care of Rook and our guest.”

“I will, Blake. I will.” said Ralf with a nod.

Wanting to avoid as much attention as possible, Rook escorted Adonael through the dark roads of the city. Ralf tagged behind, the bolt-thrower at the ready and his eyes scanning every alley and rooftop with what Rook thought an uncanny amount of professionalism. The moon shone brightly in the sky when it could be seen between the tall buildings, and it was haunted by wispy clouds reflecting in its silver light. But for such a moonlit night, Rook had to admit there was a strange darkness about the streets and alleys. There was a chill in the air as well. It was not carried by the breeze, but instead seemed to be intrinsic to the shadows. Adonael appeared to be keenly aware of it, and Rook noticed the Saint was on edge, looking around the rooftops and alleys in the same manner Ralf had been doing back at the cottage. “Your city has an ill feel to it.” stated the Saint.

Rook looked back at Ralf. The pudgy man didn’t speak it, but Rook could see the concurrence in his pale face. Now he himself began to wonder if he had been too quick to dismiss Ralf. He was reminded of Sierla now, and how she had seemed to notice something out the bedroom window earlier. He began inspecting the rooftops and the shadows between streetlights more thoroughly. Blake had warned him that Grandon and his men were up to something and there was concern that he might launch an attack. Rook knew that the attack would likely be against him, and his mind began toying with the idea that Grandon’s men might be watching him now.

With a new sense of urgency, Rook cut back down to a main avenue that led directly to the church. He instructed Ralf to wait outside as he snuck Adonael into the building through the rear, near the clergy’s rooms to avoid any who might be in the nave praying near the altar, which seemed to be quite busy this night.

It was strange, but Rook thought the people’s faith in the Sleeping Goddess had increased since the Priest, his Oracle and Sin Eaters were removed. In the ten-years he had lived in Narbereth he had never seen so many people at the church, either by day or by night. There was nobody to read passages from the bible to them and nobody to shout at them from the pulpit, just lots of silent prayer.

And Rook thought that maybe that was the way it was supposed to be, for everybody to find their strength in the Goddess on their own. He certainly had. He had not been to a service since he was a boy in Jerusa; since that day his mother was taken from him. He recalled the day he was in the church with Ursula and the strange, old man with the sword through his heart came to him. Rook had asked him how anybody could know what was right, when nobody could even read the bible. The old man had told him that the beautiful thing about good is that you don’t need books or gods to tell you what is right or wrong; that the Goddess had placed all that knowledge inside every man’s heart. Rook liked that, and he believed it more now than he ever had. The knights who had turned against King Dahnzeg proved it. People knew what was right. But like the old man had also told him, sometimes good just needs a person brave enough to hold a light to evil.

In that Rook wasn’t sure he was the right man. Despite all that had happened and all that he had helped accomplish, he didn’t know if he could sustain holding that light. And besides, the light he held was tainted by the fires of Bulifer. That much had also been proven to him. Rook wasn’t exactly sure what the demon had in store for him, but he knew enough to know that it wouldn’t be for his benefit. Could he really be a hero if he was destined to help a villain? Rook often wished he could hold a light to his own self, but deep inside he was terrified of what lurked in the shadows. And chief among those frightening shadows was his sister, Ursula, who he had failed to protect. But he couldn’t think of that right now, so he pushed it aside.

Instead, Rook found himself wondering if Saints were given a heart that knew right and wrong. He had seen the terrible things Saints do to people. He had witnessed them slaughter an entire town as if its people were nothing but rats to be exterminated. Still, he couldn’t deny that not all were like that. Despite the briefness of their relationship, Rook knew that Karinael had been a good, loving person. Ertrael was friendly and kind. Karinael and her fellow Saints had even helped Gabidar deliver his shipments of food into Jerusa.

Yet, Hadraniel and these other Saints were still a mystery to him. They avoided everybody in town, including Ertrael. Karinael, more than any of them, had been the one to orchestrate the shipments with Gabidar. Without Karinael, Rook wondered if they’d all go back to doing what they did best? It was revenge, after all, that had brought them here in search of Ovid, rather than heading to Duroton as Karinael wanted. And he was reminded that Hadraniel himself had been one of the Saints he had witnessed slaughter an entire city with the help of the very Saint he was now escorting. He half feared what they might be up to. Despite having saved them from Ovid, he really didn’t know any of them very well. He didn’t even know if they still planned on going to Duroton, though part of him was curious about their mission there. More than curious, actually. Ever since he met Diotus, Duroton had been a subject of interest to him. A thought crossed his mind that he might even want to go with them.

But that suddenly made him feel selfish. Finding Ursula should be his priority. Finding his sister should come even before Free Narbereth. And now that he knew she was somewhere in Valdasia, could he really stay here? Another thought crossed his mind: perhaps he was slowly pushing Kierza, Sierla and Callad away because he knew his time in Narbereth was coming to an end. Now those frightening shadows were getting some light again and he pushed the thoughts away.

Rook led Adonael through the stone halls and to the church’s meeting room where Hadraniel and the other Saints often spent their time. As he neared the closed door he could hear them laughing. A brief image played upon his mind of him going into the room to find them torturing somebody, making a game of carving them up, piece by piece. They could be doing any number of vile things. Vile things were what Saints were known for. Steeling himself, Rook knocked on the door and entered.

It was a large chamber with a polished table down its center and a great fireplace at the far end. It was lit by numerous gaslamps on the wall, and though there were stained glass windows at one end, the Saints had broken out the glass on the face of Holy Father Admael and any that depicted an Oracle or Sin Eater. To Rook’s relief, the Saints were seated at the table, playing cards and drinking wine. Asteroth sat reclined at the head of the table, his feet up and resting on it as he held some cards in one hand and a chalice of wine in another. To either side of him sat Cabiel, Loganiel and Sodiel. Sodiel was laughing at something with Cabiel and Loganiel, but Raziel was further down the table sulking alone with a couple empty wine bottles on the floor beneath his chair and another one tipped over on the table beside him. They all stopped and their voices went silent as Rook entered, followed by Adonael.

“Adonael?” Sodiel stood up, followed by the rest.

Adonael nodded. His eyes fixed past them to a dark corner of the room. There, Rook saw the silver-haired Saint, Hadraniel, passed out on the floor. Beside him Rook could see an injector and a half-empty vial of clear liquid. It was that drug he had seen him taking before. Adonael turned his eyes back to the other Saints. “Hadraniel’s burns look terrible. Is he back to doing Ev?”

“We’ve all been through a lot, recently.” said Sodiel. “He’s coping the best he can.” Beside him stood Raziel and Rook thought he saw a flicker of anger in the Saint’s crimson eyes.

Adonael seemed to think better of his words and apologized, saying he had heard rumors of Hadraniel’s and Karinael’s encounter with Ithuriel. Then he said, “I also heard rumor that I might find you all here, though your numbers are fewer than what left Jerusa. I am sorry to have heard about Karinael. The news of her death is new to me.” He looked at Raziel. “And I am sorry about Gadrial. I found her bodysuit upon the river’s shore. I buried it beneath a peaceful willow for you.”