Spirits of Light and Shadow (The Gods of Talmor) (26 page)

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here when I returned. I am glad you are, though.” He wanted to tell her a million things, how much he needed her, but the words evaporated on his tongue.

She stood in silence for a moment. “I’m sorry about Eliam. I was shocked to hear of his death. Were you there?”

“Yes,” he said, unable to keep his voice from cracking as tears welled. The images of his friends’ gruesome end flashed in front of his eyes again.

Suddenly, Octavia reached out and pulled him into an embrace. He knew she was still angry with him, but he accepted her comfort. It had been a long time since anyone had made such a gesture to him.

“Everything will be all right,” she whispered.

He pulled back a fraction to meet her gaze. “Will it?”

“Of course,” she said. “Events will turn out as they must.”

He didn’t understand what she meant, but even if the words were insincere, spoken only to comfort him, he appreciated them. He noticed, however, that she said they would turn out as they
must
, not as anyone hoped. Reluctant to let her go, he embraced her again and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t answer at first but after a moment, she stepped back. “It took a lot of courage to return. I saw you by the sea. You were free. And yet you came back. Why?”

The words echoed in his thoughts:
Because I need you. Because you’re my only friend.
Instead he said, “It was the right thing to do.”

She knitted her eyebrows and considered his answer but didn’t press for more. Even though she looked as though she had more to say, she simply nodded.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

“We can stay here for the moment. I told Brigid to stay with her mother for at least three days.”

“If the emperor has declared martial law, they will likely be longer than that,” Korbin commented.

“Agreed, but to be cautious, I think we shouldn’t stay more than a day or so.”

“So, what do we do now?” he repeated, still running over the previous day’s events in his head. “I am at a loss. Why Eliam?”

He sat down, putting his head in his hands. He was struggling to keep the tears from flowing. He feared that once they started, they wouldn’t stop.

“I am surprised, too,” she said. “I didn’t think the Red Manus had grown so powerful that they would act so boldly or publicly against two such powerful men. The streets were in chaos for much of the day and night.”

“If my father was trying to impress anyone by killing two senators, he went too far. He’s drawn the eye of the emperor.”

“It’s a strange and careless mistake for a man of his experience to make,” Octavia said, leaning on the chair opposite him.

Korbin shrugged. “There was a time I would have thought it uncharacteristic, but my father has lost touch with his sanity. He murdered twenty people only a few days ago. Are two more deaths really such a shock?”

“Perhaps you’re right.” She looked unconvinced. She opened her mouth to speak, but a loud rapping sounded at the door, interrupting her.

Korbin went to the window, peering beyond the curtain. “Curse the Shadows,” he muttered. Four red priests had gathered out on the street, two of them making their way to the back. At least none of them were carrying torches.

“Who is it?” Octavia rushed toward him. She paled when she saw the priests. She looked up at him, an accusation in her eyes. Once again, she believed he’d brought her trouble. He probably had.

The knocking sounded again.

“Go to the bedroom,” he said.

She hesitated only a moment before agreeing.

Before she left, he handed her his identity token. “You can probably make more use of this than I can.”

She accepted it and walked calmly into the bedroom, shutting the door slowly behind her. He wished he had half her nerve.

He took in a breath and went to the door, opening it wide. There were two more priests there who hadn’t been visible from the window.

“Yes?” he said.

A thin, older priest met his eye in a most pressing way. “Ultim Qardone Graiphen requests your presence at the temple.”

“Requests?” A hundred curses came to his mind, but he kept them silent.

“Yes,” the priest replied. “He said to tell you he was not responsible for the death of your friend.”

The denial was unexpected. “I’m supposed to believe you? You’re telling me your people acted without the Ultim Qardone’s approval?”

The priest licked his lips in a nervous way. “It was not the servants of Braetin who took the life of the young Dul Eliam.”

“He expects me to take his word for that?” Korbin said, trying to keep his voice down. He’d gone from terrified to furious in record time.

“It is not for me to say what the Ultim Qardone expects. I am charged only with relaying his request.”

Korbin sighed. “Do I have any choice?” At least if they’d come to arrest him, he’d know where he stood. Either way, he expected the same outcome.

An unpleasant smile quirked up on the priest’s face. “We all have choices, Dul Korbin.”

Korbin felt a strange shift, as though the priests were bracing themselves for something. He didn’t see any point in fighting them. Even if he could get away, where would he go? And if he did run, they would likely go after Octavia. He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could and stepped forward.

“The woman—”

“Isn’t here,” Korbin said, cutting him off.

The priest turned and made eye contact with another of his fellow disciples, who responded with a slight nod. “I’m afraid the Ultim Qardone’s orders were to bring her as well. We would be remiss if we didn’t search the house. Its owner was quite explicit when he indicated we would find you both here.”

Navetta?
Korbin hadn’t expected the Kilovian to turn them in to the Red Manus, but he didn’t blame the man for trying to protect his family. “Do you not accept my word that she has gone into hiding elsewhere?”

“Dul Korbin,” the priest said gently. “We know she is inside. We’d hate to have to hurt either one of you. Your father asked us to avoid drawing unwanted attention.”

Octavia’s voice sounded behind Korbin. “It’s all right,” she said. “I’m ready.”

Korbin hated the defeated tone in her voice, but he agreed they had little choice. He took her hand and she squeezed it, giving him a grim smile.

He turned back to the priest. “Let’s go, then.”

∞

Graiphen sat perfectly still in his seat, trying to meditate but finding it difficult to focus. His mistress was distant today, which was both a benefit, because his inadequate attention would displease her, and a detriment, because he felt powerless without her presence.

The deaths the previous day had him more rattled than he wanted to admit. Someone was trying to sabotage the rise of Braetin’s temple by sowing distrust. The attack was ridiculous. Anyone who understood the inner workings of the temple and the goals of its followers would know they wouldn’t tie down and set alight two prominent and popular figures in such a meaningless way.

They problem was that only servants of the temple would understand the mistress’ needs. The deaths of the acolytes in Centennial Square weren’t random, but necessary. The onlookers who were caught up in the fires were mere accidents and those trampled were unfortunate. Their deaths didn’t mean anything to the mistress directly, except that they added to the frenzy of emotion, which fed her needs.

Graiphen stood and paced, unable to control his frustration. He’d been wrong. He was sure of that now. He had assumed Dul Ursin was behind the attacks on him. They’d been rivals when Graiphen was merely a Dul, sometimes bitter and contentious ones. But he knew Ursin’s character, and Graiphen couldn’t imagine the man ordering Eliam and Tarsten’s deaths.

And Seba? That nobody? Head of the Council? That made even less sense.

Just as he was running over these thoughts, the door opened. “Ultim Qardone, your son and the witch have been found.”

“They’re being brought here?”

“Undoubtedly,” the priest said with a bow.

The answer annoyed Graiphen. Why couldn’t the man just say yes or no? He nodded sharply and returned to his seat, reminding himself to stay calm. He wasn’t angry with the priest but rather with the circumstances.

He should have been in a position of power with Korbin. After all, the boy hadn’t done as Graiphen so reasonably suggested. Instead, he was reduced to asking a favor, something which irked him at the best of times.

“Very well,” he said, shutting his eyes and focusing on his goals. He would have to remain composed if he was going to win the boy’s trust. And hers, of course. Not that Graiphen would address the witch directly.

Another quarter hour passed before his door opened again. By that time, he felt more centered. The same priest came in, followed by Korbin and a small, dark-haired Kilovian woman. The first thing Graiphen noticed about her was her unwrinkled, unblemished skin. Perfect, as though she never frowned or smiled, never indulged in any vice that would take a toll on her body.

The second thing he noticed was the way Korbin simultaneously hovered protectively and yet tried not to show it. The charade, Graiphen was certain, was for her benefit, not for Graiphen’s. Was it respect or fear that held the boy back? The two concepts were closely intertwined, but not the same. Graiphen respected a few, but feared no one.

“Father,” Korbin said. “They tell me you
requested
my presence.”

“I didn’t kill Eliam. That fact must be understood before we proceed.”

“Straight to the point, then,” Korbin said.

Irritation prickled at Graiphen’s skin. “Do you want tea and cookies? To talk about the weather?” he spat.

“No,” the witch said calmly. “Let’s talk about Dul Eliam.” She held herself with perfect poise, but Graiphen could feel her fear just under the surface, thudding with the pulse that quivered in her throat. The knowledge aroused him.

Graiphen didn’t meet her eye, wouldn’t acknowledge her. He was prepared to ask for her help through Korbin, but he would only go so far. “Have you heard about Seba?”

Korbin nodded. “This morning. I never knew him, but I was surprised.”

“But you did know him. We entertained all the Council many times at the manor. You just never paid attention.”

He waited while Korbin cast his mind back. The signs of him searching his memory were played out on his face. The boy had certain talents, but he never would have succeeded as a politician. He didn’t hide his thoughts well enough.

“I can’t really place him. He was never one to stand out, I guess.”

“Exactly,” Graiphen said. “I wouldn’t have thought he’d have it in him to make a play for leadership within the senate. The most peculiar thing I remember about him is his taste for foreign cigars. He is a thin, bookish man who rarely spoke up. He couldn’t be bought and although he could be agreeable on the surface, he had a stubborn streak. He was the one legislator who sided with Ursin nearly as often as he sided with me.”

“He walked the middle ground?” Octavia asked. “A moderate?”

“No,” Graiphen said, forgetting for a moment he’d determined not to speak to her. The question intrigued him. “I wouldn’t call him that. He always claimed he was voting the way he thought would benefit his constituent region the most. It didn’t matter if the legislation was radical. If he believed it would serve his little segment well, he would be in favor.”

“He sounds honest,” Octavia remarked.

Graiphen wasn’t going to acknowledge that nonsense. As though honesty had any value on its own. What good was honesty if it wasn’t useful? He turned to speak to Korbin, but the witch continued.

“Did he hate you?” she asked.

“Hate me? He was pedantic and dull. I never paid him much attention. A year or so ago, his wife died, and he became even more remote than usual. I don’t see why he should hate me. He was practically irrelevant until yesterday.”

Korbin glanced at Octavia, and she responded with a slight shake of the head. Graiphen didn’t understand the exchange, but he found their subtle communication curious. It showed a deeper connection between the pair than he expected. What was the woman up to? He’d have to be more on his guard.

“Why should we believe you about Eliam?” Korbin asked.

“What possible reason would I have for ordering his death? What would I gain except discontent in the community and the attention of the emperor?”

“You’re worried about discontentment?” Korbin laughed.

Graiphen felt as though he’d lost control of the conversation. “Only a fool would want the emperor here.” Since when did Korbin feel so ready to criticize him? There was a time when he would never have spoken to Graiphen that way, no matter how much he clearly despised him.

“He is coming then?”

Graiphen nodded. “He arrives tonight. The temple received word this morning.”

“What do you want from us, father?” Korbin asked.

“I focused all my attention on Ursin being the one who attacked me, but my inquiries have led nowhere. His servants have been questioned, discretely, of course, but the efforts have borne no fruit. With Seba’s sudden rise, I find myself wondering if underneath that calm shell, he must be more. I need to know before tomorrow, when the emperor will appear in public.”

“Seba?” Korbin said. “You think he was the one who ordered the attack on you? Why would he? What proof do you have?”

“None,” Graiphen said. “The temple does not wish to engage in another deep investigation on the matter. After Eliam and Tarsten’s deaths, the others are afraid to anger the Council. They say it’s too soon.”

His bitterness came through in his tone, but he couldn’t hide it. It was the first time the other brothers in the temple had refused him anything.

“And you want us to look into it?” Korbin asked. His disdain was evident, and Graiphen wondered if he’d miscalculated in his approach. Perhaps he should have begun with a stronger line. But he knew his son, and the boy had always resented Graiphen’s strength. Now that he saw weakness, though, he appeared to have even less respect.

“I am aware that the woman has an understanding of the type of curse placed on me.” He wouldn’t say her name, but he resisted calling her
witch
to her face.