The Demigod Proving (19 page)

Wrend didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t even know how to take the warning. Clearly, Naresh meant the last part of what he said, about burying the point of view, but concealing it was not the same as eliminating it, and having an opinion contrary to the Master’s probably wasn’t what the Master had in mind when he’d told Wrend that he had a lot to learn.

Was Naresh one of the rebels?

The thought came in a flash, and he immediately doubted it while recognizing its possibility. If his demigod siblings could join or establish the cult, an old priest could certainly join it. The Master should probably know about that.

Yet, Naresh had only encouraged obedience, and tattling would almost certainly condemn the priest to death.

Much to Wrend’s surprise, he couldn’t picture himself doing anything that would harm the old man. He felt too connected to him, and far too indebted to him. He was, in a way, Wrend’s friend. The casual, periodic connections they’d shared over the years had affected Wrend, made him view the old man as a mentor to trust and look to. Besides, Naresh had untied him, helped him get to the banquet.

“How did you do it, last night?” Wrend said.

During Wrend’s lengthy pause, Naresh had seemed to drift off, again. He opened one eye half way.

“Can’t you see I’m sleeping?”

“Last night—how did you break those ropes?”

He shrugged and snapped the reigns against the nag’s back. “I didn’t break them. I untied them.”

“You did not.”

“You were weak and nearly incoherent from the blow to your head. How can you say with any certainty that you remember what you saw?”

“I remember it distinctly. I was awake for several minutes before you came to me. I tried to free myself for a few minutes.”

He’d tried with Ichor, and only half an hour later had learned how to use the power. Did that mean he could use it at will—as much as or whenever he wanted? He itched to use it again, to practice applying it in different ways. He would have to talk more with Teirn about that—they’d talked about it briefly the night before, when returning to their houses with a substantially increased paladin guard. They could work through things together, figure out different ways to use the power.

“You pulled the rope apart like it was weak thread. And you kept me from falling into the river.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You can’t fool me. You were strong and alert last night.”

“Boy, I haven’t been strong and alert since the night I sired my last daughter.”

“You have children?” Priests never married, which meant that Naresh had either sired children out of wedlock—a serious crime—or hidden his past when taking the sacred vows. Either way, he’d sinned grievously.

Naresh gave him another sharp look. “I was being facetious. Now go away. You’re interrupting my sleep.”

He settled back on his seat, shifted away from Wrend, and closed his eyes.

Wrend stayed there for several seconds, riding alongside Naresh and thinking. But finding no answers, he decided to find Teirn and practice using Ichor.

Together, later that day, they witnessed something they’d never seen before.

Chapter 22: A mother’s counsel

Your best chance for survival in any situation and throughout life is to listen to your mother.

-Leenda

Wrend had never seen the sun set. Neither had Teirn. Night came quickly in the Seraglio’s deep canyon, providing rare glimpses of color from the sunset. So, the first evening out, they sat in silence on a rock atop a hill, where they could see not only the entire camp, but most of the valley spread out around them.

Shadows crept from the western mountains across the land. The indirect sunlight cast a soft glow over the world. Darkness consumed the bases of hills throughout the valleys, and sunlight crowned their tops. The sky turned orange where the sun had dipped below the mountains, and the clouds streaking from east to west assumed a purple hue.

In the morning they sat on the same rock overlooking the camp. They weren’t the first to arise; the paladins had never retired, and moved among the city of tents on errands. Serving girls scurried to-and-fro as the sky lightened and the sun came up over the horizon to lay its light across the land. The shadows retreated from the bases of the western mountains, creeping in the opposite direction they’d grown the night before. It was if they’d taken all night to move from one side of the valley to the other. The cycle made Wrend feel small.

When the tents started coming down, Wrend and Teirn went to help. It was their duty—the responsibility of every demigod—to serve whenever possible. They existed to aid the Master’s people in all things. Indeed, the Caretakers served the people throughout the countryside all day every day, helping them on their farms, in their shops, or with their herds.

The caravan set out an hour after sunrise, traveling without the Master at its head. He’d left in the night. A priest told Wrend that the Master had gone in search of the renegades.

Teirn rode with Wrend, but refused to discuss the proving. Wrend resigned himself to Teirn’s unwillingness to talk about it, and together they practiced binding Ichor to their bodies. Teirn seemed to be very good at it, already.

While most of the land was empty and wild, they passed through several small villages. People in red clothing lined the streets and waved carmine sheets or banners. They held up their babies for blessings. They waved at the Caretakers, and watched in muted fear as the paladins passed through in undead silence. Near the settlements, irrigation ditches fed fields of wheat, corn, alfalfa, and other crops. Herds of cattle and buffalo roamed many areas, driven by men or boys on horses.

It made Wrend feel insignificant. No one waved at him or knew his name. He had no idea how these people lived day to day, what their lives entailed. He knew in theory how their cities and farms functioned—his education had included that—but he couldn’t fathom what life was really like for them, eking out a survival. He’d lived a protected life. The world had much to offer that he’d never even heard about. He was naïve, unlearned.

On the morning of the third day, he searched out Rashel, hoping to talk with her about the proving.

The previous night they’d camped at the mouth of a canyon. During the night, low clouds had rolled in, concealing most of the mountains and casting a general shroud over the world. Smaller side canyons, with battlement-like rock formations, lay covered in the mist. A light rain fell from time to time.

Wrend found Rashel ahead of the wagons and paladins, riding a tawny mare alongside Calla and half a dozen other mothers. He soon made eye contact with her, but rode nearby, not wanting to pull her away if she wasn’t willing to talk. He waited for nearly an hour, watching the side canyons fall behind by one by one.

In each of the side canyons, rocks jutted up and out of the green vegetation. The copper-colored stone loomed like castles over the road. Higher up, the clouds concealed the stones’ details, revealing only their basic shapes. Periodically, a cloud would shift and a sentinel of stone would emerge, only to be engulfed again a moment later.

The misty rain and foggy surroundings seemed to oppress sound. Aside from the clop of horses’ hooves on the stone road, and the quiet hiss of light rain, the land lay in silence, as if animals and birds waited to emerge until the clouds went away.

Eventually, Rashel drifted away from the other mothers into relative seclusion. She wore a brown riding skirt and a white shirt with a trunk of a tree embroidered in gold. Wrend pulled his blood bay mare next to her, and the two of them rode about thirty feet to the caravan’s side, off the road and through the grass. Here in the canyon, they’d left the sagebrush behind, trading it for scrub oak and wild grasses and flowers.

She gave him an expectant look from beneath her white, wide-brimmed hat.

“You’ve moped around since we left the Seraglio. What’s the problem?”

He shrugged and looked to his left, up at the rocks in a side canyon. “You heard what happened at the feast?”

“Of course.” How she raised her eyebrows in humorless disdain annoyed him. That—and her exasperated tone.

“I made a mistake. I’m lucky to be alive”

She reached over to pat his hands, which rested on the pommel of his saddle holding his reigns. “Oh, poor baby.”

He growled and started to lift his reigns to pull way. He didn’t need this. He’d come for support, not derision.

“Oh, stop it.” She leaned over further and grabbed his arm. “He didn’t kill you. You’re fine.”

“For now.”

“That’s all that any of us can say. Who knows if or when we’ll push him beyond his limits. It’s the nature of our god.”

“My time may be limited, anyway.” He didn’t know how much he could tell her, but decided to take a risk. “Either Teirn or I will die at the end of this test.”

“Yes, that’s what I understand.”

“You knew, already?”

She considered him for several moments then looked away.
 
“I did know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was forbidden.”

“That didn’t stop Calla from telling Teirn.”

“She told him?”

“Years ago. It’s put me at a disadvantage.”

“That little sneak.” She looked toward the group of mothers and shook her head with a calculating expression. “What else did she tell him?”

“There’s more to tell?”

“No. Nothing more.”

But she said it too quickly. There had to be other secrets.

“I don’t want to be part of this proving. I don’t want to be his heir. Will you help me convince him?”

“You can’t dispute god’s will. He’ll have an heir.”

“Fine, but why does one of us have die? I'd be fine to let Teirn be the heir.”

“That’s a poor idea. It should be you.” A sardonic smile touched her lips. “Despite what his mother thinks.”

“You know who his mother is?”

Just as the Master didn’t let children know the identities of their mothers, he kept mothers from knowing who any of their children were. It prevented inappropriately strong bonds from forming.

She responded with a guilty shrug and glanced away.

“It’s obvious that she’s Calla.”

She gave him a sharp look. “I can’t comment on that.”

Now that he’d breached the taboo subject, the floodgates opened. “And it’s just as obvious that you’re my mother.”

The comment made him feel little again, like a child seeking comfort in the arms of the mother he most liked.

Surprise washed over her freckled face. “Of course I’m your mother: I’m the mother to all demigods.”

“That’s not what I mean. You’re
my
mother.”

Again, she stared at him without speaking.

He steered his horse around a young clump of trees with trembling leaves. She still hadn’t spoken by the time he came back to her side. He decided to lay all his theories on the line. What did he have to lose, at this point?