Wrath of Lions (41 page)

“Though I would give good coin to see that,” said Cleo, leaning in toward his brother.

Laurel blushed.
Keep calm,
she told herself. They were just trying to unnerve her, tear down her confidence. It helped little, though, that she felt so stupid now, like nothing more than a damn foolish girl. Instead of defending herself halfheartedly, she sat down in the third chair and grabbed the carafe of wine. She poured an ample amount into the cup on the table before her, smiled sweetly at the brothers, and proceeded to swallow it down in one huge gulp. The mixed tartness and sweetness infused her throat and her sinuses, effectively diffusing the brothers’ off-putting smells.

“A girl after my own heart,” said Cleo. “A strong man accepts an insult with a swig and a smile that promises retribution later.”

“I am no man,” Laurel snapped, placing the cup back on the table.

“Obviously not,” said Romeo.

“I much prefer you to anyone else our lovely king might have sent,” added Cleo.

“I was not sent,” she said. “You retrieved me, remember?”

Cleo clapped. “Oh, Brother, she plays the game so well!”

“We’ll see about that,” said Romeo, his usually shrill tone lowering an octave. “Yes, Laurel, we sent for you, but only after discovering
you
were about to seek
us
out.”

“Is that so?” she asked. “How would you know? You haven’t been seen in Veldaren for months.”

“Ah, child, we have eyes and ears everywhere,” said Cleo, almost singing. “There is much we see and know, even in places you would least expect.”

“Such as where?”

Romeo waved his hand at her. “Forget that. The king wanted a meeting, and so he has one. Tell me Laurel, what does dear Eldrich want from us?”

She cleared her throat. This was it, the sales pitch, the same one she’d given all the others.

“The gods’ war is upon us,” she said. “Despite all promises to the contrary, our king does not think Karak will so easily defeat his brother. Should the war drag on, or in the horrible event that our Divinity loses, we must be equipped to provide for ourselves. In the event of that—”

“Stop.”

Laurel’s lips snapped shut, and she gazed from one brother to the other. Romeo was shaking his head, Cleo laughing silently to himself.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

“Do you trust Karak with all your heart?” asked Romeo.

“I believe in him completely, yes.”

To that, Romeo chortled.

“Of course you believe in him, girl. He is a god among men, just as real as my brother and myself. To not believe in him would be to deny reality.”

“Yet if we are to speak of belief,” Cleo chimed in, “tell me, do you believe in Karak’s
actions
, his
laws
, his
love for you
?”

“Yes,” Laurel said. “I thoroughly trust in the grace and wisdom of our beloved Karak. He is without error, without—”

Romeo slapped the table.

“I think we are done here. Cleo, fetch Mother to escort the councilwoman back to the village. Tell her to have Quester bring her back to Veldaren as soon—”

“Wait, stop,” Laurel said, accidentally knocking over her empty cup in the process. “Don’t send me away, please.”

“Then give us the truth, Laurel,” said Cleo. “Not practiced lies.”

Both brothers stared at her, seemingly without breathing. Her hands shook and her words caught in her throat.

“I doubt,” she said. “It hurts to say, but it is true. I doubt.”

“What do you doubt?”

“Everything.”

“Explain.”

She wavered for a moment, trying to think of what to say. Finally she gave in and hung her head.

“I don’t know how.”

Romeo leaned back and smiled, and Cleo clapped his hands once more.

“Excellent answer,” the older of the two said. “It is best to be honest about one’s feelings, especially in matters such as these. Otherwise you will be taken for a craven or a fool. We don’t think you’re either.”

Cleo took a sip from his cup, the wine staining his lips a sickish shade of purple.

“The truth is, Laurel, we understand how you feel. You might think otherwise, but it was difficult for us too when we discovered our god did not have our best interests in mind, as he has proven time and again.”

“How so?”

“Karak created Neldar,” said Romeo, “and all the people within its borders. He gave us all the knowledge we could ever wish to have, helped build our greatest city, spoon fed us his laws and decrees, and told us to name a king. And then he disappeared. Our young race was left alone with vast amounts of knowledge we could not truly understand or build on, expected to govern ourselves using contradictory notions and ideas we hadn’t the experience to justly value.”

“Karak either does not understand our plight,” Cleo continued, “or he does and he is simply curious as to how we will react. That means he is either unqualified to rule us, for he does not understand us…or that he is like a youngster who’s curious how an ant will walk if he tears off half its legs. Every bit of Karak’s doctrine is a negation. He says our hearts are unbound, yet if he is not first in those hearts, we are blasphemers. He demands we exercise our freedom, yet every principle he preaches leads to servitude in his name. It is ludicrous.”

“You don’t just doubt the Divinity,” Laurel whispered. “You
hate
him.”

Romeo shook his head. “You have it wrong. I too love the deity that allowed me to have life and bread and gold and land. More than anything. But I stopped
trusting
him long ago.”

“Such a sad time,” said Cleo.

“It was. It is
always
difficult when you realize your creator is bound more to a principle than to the people he made. All Karak cares for is order. Look at Karak’s law, Laurel. Take a look at the wording. His laws are presented without ardor, without room for interpretation. Order in all things is what Karak demands, his endgame. It is the
nature of his being
. And we firmly believe he will sacrifice anything to achieve it. Soleh Mori was the most cherished member of Karak’s First Families, yet he allowed her to die, and for what?”

“I don’t know,” muttered Laurel.

“No one does for sure,” Romeo said. “Though the rumors we hear claim her death paved the way for this war, a war to bring order to all of Dezrel. If Karak allowed his most beloved creation to perish, what assurance do the rest of us have?”

Cleo sighed, sounding almost wistful. “He is so unlike his brother. I have seen firsthand how much Ashhur loves his children. How he dotes on them, shields them from harm, and ensures that their lives are as perfect as can be. He created Paradise, and has done all he can to make sure it remains just that.”

Laurel’s heart began to race. “Are you saying you would rather Ashhur rule this land than Karak?”

“Not at all!” Cleo said with a hearty laugh. “Do you not see, Laurel? Both are entirely flawed. They are mirror images of each other, their people slaves to their different concepts of righteousness. One may treat his creations better than the other, but the final outcome of either philosophy is the enslavement of an entire race of beings.”

“But they are gods, and that is to be expected of gods,” Romeo said. “They exist forever. How could they possibly understand creatures that live a finite existence, that think and feel and desire and eventually die? Our souls might be immortal—at least, that is what they tell us—but our bodies will one day expire. What does a god know of that? We are destined to be instruments in their cosmic game and nothing more. I believe that fully.”

“But what of Celestia? She doesn’t control the lives of her elves. They are free to do as they choose.”

“So it seems,” said Romeo. “But the goddess also punished her people for not obeying her request—
request
, not order—by destroying their home of two thousand years, exiling them from the wasteland that became the Tinderlands. Celestia may not walk among the elves, but I assure you, they are just as much a slave to her whims as we humans are to our deities.”

Cleo took another sip of wine. “Nothing good can come from a land where gods walk the earth. I would argue that no good can come from a world where gods exist at all.”

“You can tell our lovely king that for us,” said Romeo.

Everyone grew quiet, Laurel uncertain of what to do next. Though their sermon had been difficult to hear, she could not deny there was truth in it. Ever since Soleh’s death, she’d been questioning Karak’s love for his people. The hangings, the stricter laws, not to mention the horror of the Final Judges. The cruelty and hunger of those lions, coupled with the dead eyes of the Sisters of the
Cloth, bore witness to the extremes Karak was willing to go to in his quest for order. Everything within her rejected it, even though the very notion of rejecting Karak filled her with fear. What would she be left with? A belief in nothing? Or would she perforce turn to Ashhur, a god about whom she knew nothing?

The bald brothers looked down at their cups, twiddling their fingers, until Laurel finally broke the silence.

“Do you wish to hear the rest of the king’s decree?” she asked.

“No. We reject Eldrich’s request,” he said simply.

“Wait…what?” she replied. “I haven’t even spoken the terms…”

“We will not prepare for the worst to happen. The worst has already happened. What we must do now is defend ourselves. We must take the reins of this life we have been given, rather than sit and wait for this war to play itself out. No Laurel, we must make our own path.”

“How?”

“Can we trust her?” asked Cleo, turning to his brother.

“Of course we can,” Romeo answered. “She is Cornwall’s daughter, and Cornwall is the most noble and trustworthy of us all.”

“Is this true, Laurel? Are you as trustworthy as your father? Will you swear that the words we tell you will not leave this room?”

“Yes,” she said, puffing out her chest. “Now please answer my question.”

“Which was?”

“How will we make our own path?”

Cleo chuckled. “By making sure both gods lose.”

She shook her head. “You make it sound so simple. We are human, and they are gods. They each have nations sworn in allegiance. What could we possibly do to influence them when they could so easily destroy us?

“They are few, and we are many,” answered Romeo. “We are fluid, and they are stagnant. Our lives are irrelevant, while theirs have swayed nations. Think on it, Laurel. The termite works in the
dark, building its nest in the wood, breeding there, expanding its family. We do not notice them in our homes because they are small and hidden. Yet those same termites can cave in a roof and tumble down walls. Just a termite, something you or I could crush underneath our heel, can wreak unimaginable destruction.”

Cleo grinned, nodding vociferously.

“You’ve already begun planning,” said Laurel, amazed. Her heart began to beat out of control.

“We have,” said Romeo, “and that plan is underway. We have made our
own
pacts with the other merchant lords. Even Matthew Brennan has agreed to our terms. We have formed alliances even in Paradise, and our spies have infiltrated Karak’s Army, working to weaken it from within like the lowly termites we are. The pieces are moving, the betrayals are coming, and soon important people will die…and it will all lead to our freedom from those annoying brother gods.”

“How can you be so sure about that?” asked Laurel.

“Because when the people see how little their gods care, when we show them we can control our own destiny, they will turn their backs on Karak and Ashhur. Once that happens, whichever deity survives this war will have two choices: end it all, or set us free.” He laughed heartily. “Either way, we will no longer be in chains.”

Cleo perked up. “So listen closely, Councilwoman. We have a new message for you to bring back to King Eldrich. He might not like hearing it, but he is a puppet of Karak as well, and should understand what we say more than any other man in this realm. When our plan comes to fruition, we will be the ones in power, the ones who hold the materials of life at our fingertips, the ones who can sway the people. Remind him that if men can turn their backs on something so powerful as a god, what hope is there for a king?”

Laurel leaned back in her chair. “I would say no hope at all,” she said. “Do you think this plan of yours will succeed?”

“Of course,” said Romeo with a grin.

“Why?”

“Because we have the support of the most powerful men in all of Neldar behind us, including your father.”

“
I
speak for my father.”

Cleo laughed. “And you are still here, listening to our gravest secrets without running away. I would say that is a telling sign in and of itself.”

Even with uncertainty swelling inside her, Laurel nodded. “It is.”

“Are you with us?”

“I am.”

“Then this is what I would like you to tell our dear king…”

C
HAPTER

21

B
oris Marchant entered Velixar’s pavilion, dragging behind him a man older than sin. The man’s hair was long and white, brittle as straw in the middle of a drought. His face was creased and wrinkled, his gait stooped and painful to watch. Velixar looked up from what he was doing and gestured for the soldier to deposit the man in the chair opposite his writing desk.

“What are your plans for him?” Boris asked, a queer sort of curiosity shining behind his deep brown eyes as they flicked toward the journal that lay open on the table. He rubbed at the teardrop scar on his cheek, as if impatient. Velixar took that to mean the young soldier was eager to learn. In fact, with his curly hair, thick build, and flawless skin, Boris reminded him of Roland. A wave of both revulsion and longing washed over him. He forced himself to veer toward the latter. Roland had been a good apprentice. Perhaps Boris could take his place.

“Do you have duties to tend to?” he asked the soldier.

Boris shook his head. “Too many men fell ill, so camp has been set for the afternoon. The practitioner thinks it may be heatstroke and scurvy. Captain said we are only a hundred miles from the
Wooden Bridge, and since the rejoining is not for another week or two, we’ll remain here to tend to our sick. ‘Let no one be left behind needlessly,’ he said.”