The Temple of Forgotten Secrets (After The Rift Book 4)

by C. J. Archer

  He didn't look reassured, however. "The tales of your encounters with them in Mull confirm some of the stories I've heard. They're a nasty family with no morals and no one to rein them in."

  "They've been weakened after the village killed many of their men and took their grain," Balthazar said. "And the Tilting governor isn't in their pocket, unlike Mull's governor."

  "He's in no one's pocket," The high priest said wryly. "Sometimes I wish he was controlled by someone. He's a law unto himself. The sheriff gladly does his bidding and in the most brutal manner. In many ways, the two of them remind me of the Deerhorns. Their reasoning is twisted, they wield torture and cruelty like weapons, and their power grows stronger every day. The governor has all dissenters in his sights lately yet their numbers increase."

  "Are the dissenters responsible for the pamphlets littering the city?" Balthazar asked.

  "Not litter. Important political statements."

  "I saw one with the governor's bare arse hanging out of his pants."

  "Balthazar!" The high priest's gaze flicked to me.

  I held up my hands. "I've heard worse."

  "Much," Balthazar said with a smirk.

  The high priest shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable to have me exposed to crude talk. "The residents are tired of living in filthy, stinking conditions. They want industry moved out of the city to clean up the river. Fresh water, free for everyone, will go some way to appeasing them, yet the governor won't order it. He owns many of those businesses, as well as the land they rent. He'd lose money if they were forced out. The people will continue to press for change, however. There's talk of marching through the streets, demanding something be done."

  "This is beginning to sound terribly familiar," Balthazar muttered.

  "Thankfully Merdu's Guards are back in the city to protect us. Master Rhys will see that order is maintained and the governor's bullying curtailed."

  "He's distracted by his missing friend at the moment," Balthazar said.

  The high priest cocked his head to the side. "What friend? Who's missing now?"

  Balthazar waved his hand in dismissal. "A friend from outside the priesthood disappeared while Rhys was in Mull."

  The high priest blew out a measured breath. "That's unfortunate, but I'm glad it's not another priest. I couldn't cope if another friend went missing. When they told me you'd vanished, Bal, I'd never felt such panic." He tapped his chest. "It was like I was stabbed, right here."

  Balthazar rubbed his hand over the head of his walking stick. "Do you have any idea why I might have left? No one knows."

  "Unfortunately not. You never confided in me, which makes me wonder if you left of your own accord at all."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You always told me everything, Bal. We were—are—great friends. If you were leaving Tilting, you would have told me where you were going and when to expect your return. But you gave me no clue. You simply vanished. It's very unlike you. And the fact that no one knows where you went…it leads me to think you were kidnapped."

  I gasped. "But who would do such a thing? I assume there was no ransom note demanding payment for his return."

  "No one would kidnap a priest if they wanted money," Balthazar told me.

  "No note of any kind was found," the high priest said. "Perhaps your kidnappers weren't aware you were a priest until the morning. Knowing they wouldn't get much for you, they set you free, but perhaps the shock affected your mind. That would account for the memory loss."

  "There are no known cases of memory loss from shock," I said. At the high priest's narrowed gaze, I added, "My father was a doctor. He looked into the medical aspects of memory loss before his death."

  "What are the medical reasons for memory loss?"

  "A blow to the head."

  The high priest turned to Balthazar. "Perhaps they beat you before they released you."

  "Possibly," was all Balthazar said. "Your Eminence, do you know why I would have been researching Freedland's civil war before my disappearance?

  "Why do you ask?"

  "Brother Elliot said I was looking through accounts of the war. I thought the research might be linked to my disappearance."

  "Sorry, I can't help you." He twiddled his thumbs in thought. "You always discussed your research with me, but Freedland wasn't one of your interests. Not in the days before your disappearance or even the years before." He shrugged. "Perhaps you finally grew bored and simply picked a topic you knew little about for something to do."

  Balthazar sighed. "Elliot said the same thing. I never discussed Freedland with him, either. Tell me, Your Eminence, what do you know about magic?"

  I held my breath, not quite believing he'd finally broached the subject. I'd begun to suspect he wouldn't.

  "Magic?" The high priest looked taken aback. "Don't tell me you believe that nonsense about the palace's creation."

  "Lord Barborough believed."

  "Barborough is a crackpot. I don't know why King Phillip allowed him to be his representative in Glancia."

  I knew why but I kept my mouth shut. Barborough had forced King Phillip's hand, killing the man the king had originally chosen. King Phillip only agreed to let him come to Glancia because Barborough had promised to discover whether the rumors of magic were true or not.

  The high priest regarded Balthazar down his nose. "Tell me, Bal. Did the palace seem real to you? Was it solid?"

  "Yes."

  The high priest spread out his hands. "There you are. No magic, just efficiency and superior craftsmanship. Everything can be explained."

  Balthazar's hand rubbed the head of the walking stick faster. "What if I tell you I do believe in magic, that the palace was created by magic, the staff put there by magic. And Leon gained the throne through magic."

  The high priest stared at him as if he'd never seen him before then barked out a humorless laugh. "What evidence is there for any of it?"

  "None," Balthazar said.

  "Well, there you have it. Come, Bal, it's not like you to believe in something you cannot prove. You're a man who requires evidence."

  Balthazar's brows arched. "Then how do you explain my being a priest? Isn't the very definition of faith a belief in something despite a lack of evidence?"

  The high priest's lips flattened. "There are books about the god and goddess. Ancient books written by those with direct experience of the deities. You have some in your temple, and there are many more in the library here. The evidence is in those, and I urge you to re-read them." He suddenly sat forward, his palms flat to the table surface. "I know your memory loss has affected your mind, but trust yourself, Bal. Trust in the person you are—a man of reason and logic. You've never questioned your faith before, never believed in the Zemayan stories of magic. Doesn't that tell you something?"

  "It tells me that I am not the same man as I was when I left here."

  The high priest sat back and crossed his arms. "The very notion of magic is ridiculous."

  Balthazar's direct gaze would make most people look away, but the high priest held it. As affable as he'd seemed up to now, it was a timely reminder that he was used to dealing with powerful lords and fierce warriors, but he was also used to Balthazar.

  "You must have a reason for believing in it," the high priest said. "What is it? Tell me why you would set aside your very nature and believe in something most Zemayans no longer do."

  Balthazar plucked a nut out of the bowl and held it between his thumb and forefinger. "King Leon was like this nut. He wasn't special, just one of many."

  "I know he wasn't aware of his heritage. Not long after you disappeared, a document written by Prince Hugo Lockhart, many years ago, was discovered right here in this very temple. The document stated that he, Prince Hugo, heir to the Glancian throne, had married a woman in secret in Freedland and she'd given birth to a boy named Leon. Prince Hugo had entrusted the document to this temple, but the high priest at the time kept it such a secret that no one knew of its ex
istence. Prince Hugo died shortly after the boy's birth, and the high priest died shortly after Prince Hugo. The document was forgotten until one of my archivist's assistants discovered it. Despite my reservations about its authenticity, it was shown to King Alain who, I am told, found the young man named Leon and declared him the legitimate heir."

  "How did he find him?" Balthazar asked. "Where did he find him?"

  The high priest frowned. "I'm not sure of the details. It was a very confusing time. The point is, Leon knew nothing of his lineage." He indicated the bowl of nuts. "You're right. He was an ordinary man. None of this is in dispute, however. King Alain declared him the rightful heir and that is the end of that."

  "It is in dispute," Balthazar said. "Leon admitted to me, and others, that he found the sorcerer's magical device and freed the sorcerer from it. As a reward, he was granted three wishes. He wished to be a rich king. The sorcerer chose Glancia, creating a falsified document for your archivist to find, and made Mull a vital port where riches would flow in on the tide with new trade and increased taxes. Then the sorcerer built a palace nearby, where few could witness its rapid construction. It populated the palace with a thousand servants, but wiped their memories first so they wouldn't bear witness to the magic. I know this because I am one of the thousand, and I know every single other servant. None have a memory from before their time at the palace."

  He put the nut in his mouth and rose.

  I quickly got to my feet and followed him out, very aware of the man sitting behind the desk, staring at us. At the door, I glanced back to see the high priest looking as though the ground had fallen away beneath him and he was frozen in the moment before he fell through.

  It was only when I went to shut the door behind us that he rallied. "What happened to you, Bal? What did those kidnappers do to you?"

  Balthazar sighed. "Come on, Josie. There's work to be done."

  Chapter 16

  We dined in a private dining room at the inn that night. It had been a long and frustrating day at the docks for Dane and the others, with not a single person recognizing them. No one matching their descriptions had been reported missing either.

  "There is still much of the city to explore yet," Theodore said, trying to sound cheerful but failing. "We haven't exhausted all of our options here."

  Quentin hunched over his tankard of ale. "Maybe we should just go back to the palace."

  "You can go back," Dane said. "No one will think any less of you if you want to return."

  Quentin sighed. "You're not going back, are you?"

  "Not until I have answers."

  The lad straightened. "Me too." He downed his ale then called for another.

  Max pointed a chicken leg at Balthazar. "How did your meeting with the high priest go?"

  Balthazar shredded a piece of chicken off the bone and placed it with the others on the side of his plate. "He believes I was kidnapped and beaten up, resulting in my memory loss."

  "And the loss of your common sense too," I added with a wry smile.

  Quentin laughed, but when no one laughed with him, he shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth.

  "Was he able to tell you what you were researching before you disappeared?" Dane asked.

  "Unfortunately not," Balthazar said, pushing his plate away.

  I pushed it back again. "The high priest was right about one thing. You're too thin. Eat everything on that plate."

  "I'm not hungry."

  "I don't care."

  "I'm not a child, Josie."

  "Then stop acting like one and eat."

  Erik waved his half-eaten chicken leg in Balthazar's face. "Do not pick at your food. Eat like this, like a man." He bit into the chicken and tore the meat from the bone with his teeth. He chewed with his mouth open.

  "That's disgusting," Kitty said. "Just because you're a barbarian doesn't mean you have to act like one."

  "I am a Marginer, not a barbarian." He traced the line of tattoos across his forehead, leaving behind a streak of chicken grease.

  "Ugh," Kitty said, rising. "I'm retiring. Goodnight, everyone."

  Erik wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Do not go, Kitty. I will eat with manners."

  "My reason for going to my room has nothing to do with you and everything to do with being tired."

  "It's probably just as well," Dane said. "Rhys and his men are coming. We can't tell them about you. They're too loyal."

  "And honest," Balthazar added.

  Erik rose. "I will come. We play more cards."

  "I'm tired of cards," Kitty said.

  "Then we talk." He winked.

  "About what? We have nothing in common."

  Erik rolled his eyes. "When I say talk and wink too, I do not mean talk. I mean we should lie together."

  Kitty's eyes bulged.

  "It is a good time now," he went on. "Meg and Josie will stay here with their men, and we will be alone."

  "Erik," Dane snapped. "Kitty doesn't want your company."

  "She does." Erik sat again. "But she does not yet know it."

  Kitty made a miffed sound through her nose, turned, and strode out. Erik chuckled as he watched her go. There was a definite sway to her hips that had not been there before.

  Rhys and his closest advisers arrived just as our plates were being cleared away by the innkeeper's daughters. Balthazar's assistant, Elliot, accompanied them.

  One of the serving girls brought in a tray laden with cups. She set one down in front of each of us then flashed a smile at Andreas. He lifted his cup in salute.

  "We didn't order these," Theodore told her.

  Rhys studied the contents of his cup with a morose intensity, as if he could see his future in the clear liquid. "The innkeeper knows us. The first round is always on him."

  "That's generous."

  "You protect him," Dane said, nodding. "You keep troublemakers from his door. The free drinks are his way of thanking you. Now I know why you recommended this place."

  Rhys didn't look up from the cup.

  "He's a good man and runs a clean, honest inn," Rufus said. "Both are hard to find in this city. They need to be protected or we're left with bad men running dishonest businesses."

  Quentin sniffed the contents of his cup and wrinkled his nose. "It's strong."

  Vizah chuckled. "It'll put hairs on your chest, boy." He downed the entire contents of his cup.

  Quentin followed suit, only to immediately suffer a coughing fit.

  Erik clapped him on the back then downed his own drink in its entirety. Vizah looked impressed.

  I sipped and my eyes began to water from the strong, bitter taste. I looked to Meg, to see what she thought of it, but it was hard to tell. She cradled the cup in both hands, hunching over it in an attempt to hide the birthmark on her face from the priests. Just when I thought she was growing more comfortable with it, I was reminded that she was only comfortable in the presence of familiar friends.

  Rufus turned to Balthazar. "You didn't return to the garrison after your meeting with the high priest."

  "I wanted to spend time with my friends," Balthazar said. "Josie and I explored a little of Tilting before coming back here."

  "The high priest summoned Rhys this afternoon," Andreas said. "He wanted to hear Rhys's account of the palace."

  We all looked at Rhys. "And what did you say?" Balthazar asked.

  Rhys set down his cup without taking a sip. "With regards to magic, I told him that all the servants claimed to have lost their memories, and that you told us what the king had said with his dying breath. I told him the nobles never mentioned magic. Not once."

  "What was the high priest's reaction?"

  "He wanted to know whether I believed you. I said I was convinced that you all believed in magic."

  "And then?" Dane prompted.

  Rhys lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug. "And then we moved on to politics." He sat forward, his full attention on the conversation for the first time since his arrival. "Th
e Deerhorns have been telling the masters of the city's religious orders that the Duke of Gladstow would make an excellent king. The only order they haven't spoken to is ours."

  "They know we won't support them," Rufus said. "Not after what we saw in Mull."

  "And the priestesses?" I asked. "Have the Deerhorns approached them for support?"

  "There are only three orders dedicated to the goddess in the city," Rhys said. "They've spoken to two. The mistress of the third order, Hailia's Handmaids, despises Lady Deerhorn."

  "She must be wise," Theodore said.

  "Will the other orders support Gladstow and the Deerhorns?" Balthazar asked.

  "It's not yet clear. They never outwardly like to show who they support."

  "Some will have made up their minds already," Andreas said. "But some will wait for the high priest to guide them."

  "Who will he support?" Dane asked.

  "Buxton," Rhys said.

  Balthazar nodded. "Josie and I had the same opinion after our meeting with him. King Phillip is certainly not his favorite choice for ruler and he dislikes Gladstow and the Deerhorns. He sees them as too powerful and corrupt."

  "How much does it matter who the orders support?" Max asked. "Aside from Merdu's Guards, they are not fighters."

  "It matters because many people will be guided by the priests," Rufus said. "They trust us to support the right side, the side of good."

  Rhys picked up his cup again and swirled the contents. "It's not just the religious orders the Deerhorns are petitioning. They're trying to build support among the nobles and merchants too. The lords have private retinues they can use in battle if necessary, and the merchants have money to pay mercenaries."

  "Is Buxton petitioning anyone?" Balthazar asked.

  "Not to the same extent. He hasn't approached any of the orders, for instance."

  "Is that because the high priest has already told him he supports his claim?"

  Rhys met his gaze. "The high priest doesn't confide in me."

  "He should," Dane said. "You're the master of the most powerful order in Glancia.

  "On the entire Fist," Vizah pointed out.

  "If the high priest commits Merdu's Guards to fight for the Duke of Buxton, will you do so?" Balthazar asked.