by E. S. Bell
Jarabax sighed again. “Oh, such a gift as this…”
He let Selena and her companions out at the uneven shore at the edge of the ship graveyard. Once his men had pulled a safe distance away, he called, “A favor, remember. A small one, to be sure, but a favor nonetheless. I expect to collect when the time comes.”
Selena turned her back to him. “Come,” she said to Ilior and Svoz. “Back to the Wayfarer. It’s been a long night. I want to rest.”
“You seem a little chilled, Master.” Svoz put in as they picked their way over the rocky beach. He wore an overly wide smile on his human face that didn’t touch his strange silver eyes at all. “Perhaps you should warm yourself at a fire?”
“You shut up,” Ilior told the sirrak and the sirrak ignored him.
“But I suspect it would take a mighty large hearth to comfort you…”
Selena put her hand on Ilior’s arm and felt his muscles coiled to spring. “You know quite a lot about me, Svoz. Perhaps Skye told you…?”
Svoz held up a pale hand. “What transpires between my masters and I during our association is sacrosanct. I am forbidden to speak of my relations with my former Master just as I am bound to keep silent about whatever adventures you and I embark upon.”
“Then how…?”
“To one of my fiery disposition, the cold draft emanating from your chest cavity is obvious. As is its…otherworldly origination.” He pouted in mock sympathy and fluttered his eyelids. “Care to talk about it?”
“No,” Selena stated. “We’ll sort out our arrangement after I have had some sleep. Now be silent.”
“Haven’t you someone you wish me to dispose of?” the sirrak asked. “At least let us begin our relations with a demonstration of my loyalty?”
“You will hurt no one unless I tell you to,” Selena said. “And I can assure you, those instances will be very rare.”
“Very well. I can tell already this is going to be a tedious indenture.” Svoz heaved a sigh. “Former Master was much more fun.”
The Admiral’s Son
Admiral Archer Crane hated the smell of the city. Thousands of people navigating narrow streets and alleyways, stuffing themselves into immovable brick and stone boxes. Their odors intermingled and were held trapped by high towers and hills that kept the wind from cleansing it all away. Who could live like this, and why? There were hundreds of oceans on Lunos. “Seas upon seas,” as Skye had once told him while nestled snuggly in the crook of his arm.
Now she was out sailing those seas without him while he remained landlocked, biding his time, and surrounded by people so that he was never more than a stone’s throw from anyone. The stench of the city was always in his nostrils, instead of the salt and wind of the open sea.
Archer tugged at the high collar on his uniform as they made the journey up the hill from the quays to the Moon Temple. It was summer’s end but the heat was intense enough to seem as though the season were just beginning. He felt sorry for the four guards assigned to accompany him; they wore scaled plate armor over their linen uniforms and sweat beaded on their foreheads.
Selena Koren doesn’t know heat like this. If what Celestine says is true, she is never warm. Not in ten years.
“I can’t imagine it,” he muttered, “but Skye shouldn’t have sent her. It’s wrong.”
“Said something, sir?”
Archer looked around to Deke Targan, the head of his personal guard.
“Eh?”
“I wondered if you needed anything.”
Archer shook his head.
Talking to myself already? And just forty-three years old. Too young to go daft.
Thinking of Skye was the surest way to lose himself in his thoughts and he berated himself, vowing for the millionth time to let her go.
She’s already done the same to you.
Deke Targan cleared his throat. With his red hair and large, round eyes, Archer couldn’t help but compare the young man to a goldfish.
“What? Sorry, lad,” Archer said, forcing a laugh. “This heat is driving me mad. I need no escort from here, nor from here back to the Citadel…”
“We’ll be waiting here when you are finished, Admiral Crane,” Deke said, drawing himself up.
Archer rolled his eyes after he had taken his leave and entered the blessedly cool confines of the Temple.
He’s the best man I’ve got but not a lick of humor in him.
Archer found Celestine in her spacious offices on the third floor. The High Reverent stared out the grand, wing-shaped windows that overlooked the city and the bay beyond, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. After the adherent, Lanik, announced him and departed, Archer removed his red admiral’s coat that was heavy with excessive gold embroidery and tossed it unceremoniously onto the floor. The oversized gold sunburst pendant that marked his rank clanked when it hit bottom like an anchor. He slouched into the seat opposite Celestine’s immaculate desk and took up a chart that the High Reverent had apparently been consulting prior to his arrival.
“What’s today’s news?” Archer asked.
Celestine didn’t turn from the window. “I think you were right.”
“Of course I was. What was I right about?”
The High Reverent didn’t reply and there was a silence broken by the rustling of the chart in Archer’s hands.
“They are training peliteryxes today,” Celestine said eventually, her voice soft. “The sky is so clear, you can see them flying off the roof of the Guild all the way from Isle Parish. Come see.”
Archer regarded his friend for a moment. Celestine’s Aluren overtunic was impeccable as always, her knee-high black boots were polished to a bright sheen, her rich brown hair tied up smartly. The sun was high in the sky and Archer guessed that Celestine had arisen with the dawn, working on Temple affairs and Skye’s directives for more hours than Archer had been awake, and that she would continue long after the lamps had been lit.
Beyond her, through the window, Archer could see small dark shapes gliding across the sky, unfettered.
He looked back to Celestine. “You need to get off this island as much as I do. Care to take a sail with me? I’ve been meaning to go to Isle Dantis for inspections. That’s my excuse anyway. Damn good one, I think. No one will suspect a thing.”
“Impossible. Skye’s left us too much work to do.” Celestine sighed, ignoring or missing the lightness in his tone. She still did not turn. “How long would it take to sail from here to Isle Saliz? A month? Two?”
Archer tossed the chart down and sat up. “Not so long as that with clear weather. Why? You want to help Selena? Because I can have a quarto put together in three days.”
“No, it’s…impossible,” she said again. The High Reverent turned from the window and sat down at her desk. She smiled wanly at her friend. “The time to act in that vein was before I sent Selena Koren on the quest that will most likely kill her.”
“I’ll go myself,” Archer said. “I’ll leave now. This moment. Anything to get away from this damnable city.”
“The Western Watch can’t spare you,” Celestine said and sighed. “But it’s as I said; you were right. We should not have sent her. Or that we should not have sent her alone. Gods, Archer, I didn’t even give her an Alliance ship. I hired some stranger to take her.”
“You did what you thought was best. What was necessary.”
“Did I?” Celestine rested her elbows on the desk and rubbed her temples.
“You did what Skye decreed.”
“Aye. Skye also decreed we bolster the armada. We can’t spare an Alliance ship for Paladin Koren’s quest. No one would fault me for that. Would they?”
She looked so young for a moment, so desperate for someone else to tell her what was right and wrong. Sometimes, Archer well knew, the burden of making the final decision seemed as heavy as an anchor around one’s neck.
“It’s a Temple matter, Cel. You would know better than I.”
Celestine sighed and nodded abse
ntly. Her gaze fell on the chart. Archer could see she was looking at Isle Saliz. The jungle island shaped like a jagged hunk of broken bones, or a nest of sharp teeth.
“My thoughts are so clouded lately. I can’t seem to make any decisions without second and then triple-guessing them. But I confess, Archer, I was so ready to rid the Temple of Selena’s presence. Her wound is a stain, not only on her but on the Aluren as well. So long as the ‘Tainted One’ is among our ranks, we struggle to fill them.”
“Is that true?” Archer knew of the Temple’s dwindling numbers. Everyone did. But he’d never heard the blame laid for it at Koren’s feet alone.
Celestine raised her dark eyes to meet his. “Yes. And no. The Zak’reth killed us, Archer,” she said. “We lost so many Paladins to their fiery blades. But Selena’s wound is frightening. It’s a constant reminder of the Two-Faced God’s power. Of its wrath. I suspect not many wish to join us for fear of suffering a similar fate. Sending Selena away…it was like ridding the Temple of a shadow that dimmed every room with its presence.” She closed her eyes. “I shame myself even saying the words. I should have protected her. Defended her. But Archer…” She opened her eyes and they were shining. “I feel so relieved now that she’s gone.”
Archer felt an uncomfortable twist in his gut. “Do you think Skye is right? Will killing the Bazira heal Selena’s wound?”
“Of course it will,” the High Reverent snapped, blinking rapidly. “Skye has the god’s ear better than any.” She took a steadying breath and smoothed her already smooth overtunic. “No, sending her was the best thing. For Selena and for the Temple. I pray that she will succeed and return to us whole and hearty. I pray for this every day.”
Archer held up his hands. “Is that enough to quell your conscience?”
Celestine narrowed her eyes at him. “You, Admiral, of all people should know that doing what’s easy, and doing what’s best for the greater good, are not always the same thing.”
“Of course I know that,” Archer said. “We don’t have the luxury of letting personal matters interfere with our decisions.” He found he was twisting his wedding ring around and around, and abruptly closed his hands into fists. “But I wouldn’t have sent the woman to her death.”
Celestine’s face paled. “You think that’s what I’ve done?”
“Did you?”
“No,” Celestine said. She drew herself up and became the High Reverent before Archer’s eyes. “It is dangerous, yes. But she is powerful and resourceful and driven to succeed. I have faith that she will.”
“There you go.” Archer sat back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. “Feel better?”
Celestine arched a brow at him. “Have I just had a lesson in diplomacy from the great Admiral Crane?”
“Tanner Gaines, a truly great admiral, once told me that the only way to lead is to pick one thing out of the swirling chaos, put it to rest, and then pick up the next.”
“Sound advice,” Celestine said, and sat down across from him. She still sat ramrod straight but Archer was pleased to see some of the tenseness leave her face and shoulders. “And now the next item in the ‘swirling chaos’ is the Bazira. They grow stronger every day.”
“I thought the Two-Faced God revered balance above all things,” Archer said. “The Bazira cannot grow too strong, can they?”
“They can,” Celestine replied. “The gods revere balance, not that of equivalent scales, but the constancy of a pendulum swinging back and forth. That is what High Reverent Coronus, in his great wisdom, taught us. The Aluren enjoyed an era of might and power before the Zak’reth war. Now the pendulum is swinging the other way, to the Bazira. Now,” she said with a shudder, “it is their time.”
“Then let’s go to war,” Archer said and pounded his fist on the table. “Force that damn pendulum back. And I’m only half-kidding.”
This coaxed a small smile out of Celestine but it faded quickly.
“I know you are weary of this island, Archer, but be careful what you wish for. My dream, and that of the entire Aluren faith, is everlasting peace. My one consolation is that Skye has contacted us at last with plans to achieve it. I trust the Guild is doing its part?”
Archer nodded. “Aye. They’ve been doing their part for ten years, since the Zak’reth blew us to bits. But the Order of Shipwrights complains they haven’t enough drafters. And now Skye wants to double production.” He pursed his lips. “It would have been good of her to at least tell us why. And I don’t see why Skye’s making these demands in the first place. Armadas are built for war, not ‘everlasting peace.’”
“I trust that Skye knows what she is doing,” Celestine said. “I believe she can Hear the god like no other. We must remember that as we strive to fulfill her directives. And I will try to remember that when I think of what Paladin Koren faces.”
Archer nodded absently. His ring spun around and around until he caught himself but it was too late. Celestine’s eyes were soft on his.
He groaned. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“I know it is hard for you, my friend,” Celestine said. “But what she is doing is for the good of all Lunos. She corresponded after four years of silence. That is a hopeful sign.”
“Aye. She’s not dead anyway. There’s that,” Archer said bitterly. But it was what her message was lacking that stung him to the core. He shook his head, not sure if he were more disgusted with Skye for her silence or for himself for holding on.
“If we’ve exhausted all topics of discussion, save my unmanly flailing for my absent wife, I’ll take my leave.”
“There is no shame in missing your wife,” Celestine said. “Were I in your shoes…” She cleared her throat. “She will return and you will know happiness again.”
Archer didn’t say anything. He knew Celestine envied his marriage. Or the idea of it, as that’s all he felt he had left. Sometimes the High Reverent let her officious mask slip to reveal the lonely young woman beneath. And more often than not, he was the only one there to see it.
“Tell me something good,” Archer said, offering a jovial smile. The kind she complained she so rarely saw anymore. “Tell me something good about Connor.”
He watched his friend turn her head and straighten a paper that was already straight.
Archer slumped. “Ah, gods, now what?”
“Don’t be like that,” Celestine said. “Your son is exceedingly intelligent. The sharpest student we’ve ever had…”
“That’s what you say every time. He’s the sharpest student who can’t heal a bruise. Who can’t muster a flicker of light.”
“He is trying…”
“Why can’t the god Hear him?”
“And that is what you ask me every time, and the answer is always the same.” Celestine folded her hands on the desk. “I don’t know.”
“But you should,” he snapped. She flinched and Archer cursed himself. “I’m sorry. I don’t care, really, except that he wants it so badly. But I guess the god doesn’t want him.”
Celestine sighed. “Connor is exceptional. His swordcraft is ingenious. I don’t know why the god is deaf to his prayers.”
Archer snorted. “I do.”
Celestine reached over and clasped the Admiral’s hand. “I’ve told you, his illness shouldn’t preclude him from becoming a Paladin. The god doesn’t demand perfection.”
“No, it demands more than that. Connor and Selena Koren are living proof.”
He could see his words offended and that a rebuke was on Celestine’s lips.
“I’m sorry. Again.” Archer tugged his collar. “This heat…”
Celestine put on a smile. “Connor tells me his training with the Alliance corps is going very well.”
“Aye. Master Wharton reports his weapons training is exceptional, and he has tremendous proficiency in archery, tactics, and all the rest.” He waved his hand.
“There is your good news! He will make a fine sailor. An officer, doubtless. Taking after his fat
her—”
“Aye, except for the small fact he doesn’t want to be an officer in the Alliance, he wants to be a Paladin. He wants to sail around Lunos, healing the sick and defending the weak, or so he tells me. Told me. He doesn’t speak of it much anymore because he’s too embarrassed by his failures.”
“He’s not a failure,” Celestine insisted, “but he has not yet been called into service by the Two-Faced God and so it’s probable he won’t be. That is the truth of it. And don’t think I’m pleased about it. We need as many able-bodied people in our ranks as are willing. The fact that Connor has the passion for it but not the ability galls me terribly. We need him. I need him. For your sake, he is more than welcome to stay among us, but I don’t believe it will do any good. His destiny lies elsewhere.”
“Try telling him that,” Archer muttered.
“Stubborn, is he?” Celestine raised a brow. “Wherever does he get it from, I wonder?”
Archer Crane laughed despite himself and then rubbed his eyes again. “Oh, Cel, all I want is a reason to sail. Nothing too elaborate. Perhaps an uprising. An uprising would be nice. A small one but far enough away to keep me from Lillomet for a season or two. Or three.”
Celestine smiled and rose from her seat. “Come. Watch the peliteryxes with me. Doing so brings me peace. Perhaps it will for you.”
The Admiral rose and stood beside the High Reverent at the window because he knew it would please her. Isle Parish’s northernmost tip nearly brushed Isle Lillomet; only a narrow channel separated them. The Guild’s tall, square-shaped towers sat at the edge of Parish and were visible from the Moon Temple on Lillomet. From the Guild’s squat rooftop, peliteryxes were in training.
Archer thought Celestine’s eyesight must be extraordinary, as the birds were mere flecks of dark against the blue of the sky to him. Watching them did not bring him peace. They served to remind him how fettered he was to the ground, to his duty, when in truth he wanted nothing more than to sail after Skye, even if it meant leaving the Western Watch forever.
I am the best protector of the realm, and also its betrayer, if given half the chance.