***
“You see now what I was referring to,” Master Bale said. “All this time it has been right there in front of us.”
Tiel frowned. He wasn’t certain he’d go that far. It was there, certainly, a vague and cryptic reference in an ancient scripture, not entirely dissimilar to those written by Osahn or Kastra or any of the other noted Edehan scholars. But it was also about as solid as the mud outside.
“I was hoping for something a bit more descriptive,” Tiel replied eventually, handing the book back. They sat inside the monastery library, just as they had been for most of the last two days. And despite pouring over all the Kirshane’s accumulated knowledge from the past thousand years, he was now even less certain of Bale’s claim that Rook still carried a fragment of Edeh’s soul. In fact, he was less certain about pretty much everything.
“You’ve been around the skeptics too long,” Bale scolded. “This isn’t magic, Tiel; it’s not an exact science. We’re talking about the writings of priests touched by the goddess in the aftermath of the Sundering.”
“Or maybe men and women who were desperate to write down what they knew their followers wanted to hear.”
Bale’s eyes narrowed. “Is your faith truly so weak that mere days with the faithless has clouded your mind?”
Tiel sighed. “My faith in Edeh is as strong as ever. It’s my faith in men that wavers. Let’s just say I have a lot of reasons to doubt recently.”
The old man turned back to the pile of books in front of him and slowly shook his head. “I told you before I was sorry for the deception. I’m sorry for a lot of things…” He took a deep breath. “I just wish you could understand the importance of what we’re doing here. If we can unlock this mystery, we might be able to heal Esharia—to put an end to centuries of violence.”
“I understand that part. And believe me: I want to see it too.” Tiel ran a hand through his short hair. “I’m just still a bit overwhelmed. The thought that the Kirshal is dead, that the Goddess would allow that to happen…”
“Edeh lies weakened in the Fane, waiting for us to restore her,” Bale said. “If she has given us another opportunity, we must see it through.”
Tiel nodded and closed his eyes. If the ritual worked, they would unleash the dormant power within Rook. What that meant, exactly, he wasn’t sure, but Master Bale and the others believed everything would be made clear afterwards. Tiel wasn’t convinced.
“Well, it looks like you have everything together,” he said softly. “Do you want me to go and get Rook?”
“They were eating not long ago. I’ll make the final preparations and we can begin in the morning.”
“The others will want to watch, you know.”
“And I will not stop them. Though I admit the thought of a Defiler being so close to a sacred ritual is…disturbing.”
“She won’t harm anything,” Tiel assured him. “Honestly, she might not even be there. I’ve barely seen her the past two days. Not that I blame her…”
Bale shrugged. “We’ve done everything we could to make her feel welcome. I’m not sure you can appreciate how difficult that is for us.”
“Considering you never told me about these Defilers before, no,” Tiel replied tartly. “But whoever or whatever you think she might be, you said yourself those memories are gone and can’t be restored. She’s not that person anymore.”
“But she has the knowledge,” Bale said gravely. “It is a dark and dangerous thing, and even if you believe she means well, all it takes is one misuse of power to threaten the Fane. From what you have described, she has already come perilously close.”
“I have no doubt she’d forget it if she could. But since she can’t, you’re going to have to live with it. She won’t stay here forever, you know. What do you plan on doing about that?”
The old man’s face darkened. Tiel had been wondering what would happen when the others finally decided to leave, regardless of whether or not Bale found what he was looking for within Rook. Would he be willing to let Selaste walk out the front door carrying this “evil” weaving technique with her? And if not…what would Tiel do about it?
Before Bale could reply, another monk stepped into the room, his features strained. “Master Bale, Segren and Yan haven’t reported in yet.”
The old monk frowned. “How late are they?”
“Twenty minutes, give or take.”
It wasn’t an abnormal delay for their scouts out here, Tiel knew. Given how remote Jehalai was, complacency had long ago eroded their promptness when it came to such things. But since Rook and the others had arrived, Bale had doubled the patrols and insisted they be more punctual than normal.
“Check on them,” Bale said. “We might as well be careful.”
“I’ll go,” Tiel volunteered. “I could use some fresh air anyway.”
Bale nodded at him. “Let me know as soon as you find out anything. And make sure both of them know to come speak with me when they get back.”
“Of course, master.”
Tiel was halfway to his quarters before he realized he had never gotten an answer to his question.
The Last Goddess Page 55