Chapter 25
"Help!" Keevan cried again, banging his fists against the door. Only the din of distant battle and the cries of wounded soldiers answered his call.
His elemental vision flooded the room in pale blue light, tossing eerie shadows along the walls and ceiling. Keevan turned from the door with a groan of frustration, kicking at the latch. The tough wood only bruised his foot in reply, forcing him to hop around in pain.
This was the truth of his condition here among the Tri-Beings. He had no real power, none he could use for himself. Sure, he could walk others through elemental fields, but without command of his own, he was fragile and vulnerable. He returned to his bucket in the corner and held his head in his hands, fighting stubbornly against the gathering moisture in his eyes.
Corvan was right, if he couldn't even defeat an oak door, the Council wouldn't see him as much of a threat. He crossed his legs and groaned. His lack of food and overfilled bladder were both grating on his nerves now, adding to his helpless plight. It was embarrassing enough being found locked in a closet, but sitting next to a pail of your own urine?
Keevan let himself cry then, welcoming the warm tears. Corvan's advice didn't bring him any peace, not even comfort. There was so much more to life than safety. He longed to prove himself, to show his parents that he wasn't some porcelain doll they constantly needed to protect, but a worthwhile son who could if needed, watch over them. Reading elements his entire life wouldn't prove anything. He'd still be nothing more than a glorified scribe.
The ancient legends, tales of might Sight Seekers and Varadours, mocked him as he recalled their tales. None of them explained his powerless state, which according to Corvan, none of the Outlanders experienced. Perhaps he really was just a waste of flesh, some deformity no one would have any real use for. Nothing more than a charity case for the local people to dote on if they felt so inclined.
Amid his pain, he reviewed the faces of countless Tri-Beings he'd met. The Rhetans were the closest thing in Tri-Being society to him, from an elemental standpoint. But surely there was more to life than the contestant daily struggle for sustenance. Then again, even Haldran artisans like Nariem did little more than that. One could even say most Etrendi, with their purely selfish motivations and political aspirations, did little of real import in the city.
Then his memories caught on an image of Madol, in his Persuader uniform, tall and imposing. There was a Haldran, standing among, even above, the Etrendi. There was a man worth knowing. Despite his lack of elemental power, he still somehow survived in the Etrendi world. Thrived even. Keevan recalled the faces of Arnadi's guards as Madol ordered them about. The Persuaders carried the Malik's own authority in emergency situations.
"The Etrendi are strong, but in their strength they forget where true power comes from," Madol's words echoed through the halls of Keevan's mind. They filled every broken crevice wounded by abuse or despair and smoothed them over with a simple, powerful goal. "True power comes from the mind, for if you see or anticipate what others can't, you've already one."
Keevan sighed, looking around the closet yet again. "How would Madol escape?" He wondered aloud. "If he were armed only with my elemental vision, without even his physical strength, how would he get out of here?"
Taking a few deep breaths, Keevan took stock of his situation. The storage room's dried fruit stores were exhausted, thanks to Corvan's healthy diet. Mops and brooms couldn’t do much against steel locks and hinges. The bucket he sat on could give him some added height or support something heavy.
Getting to his feet, Keevan walked along the shelves, flitting through the piles of clothes, blankets and spare drapes. He took one towel and dried his hair and clothes a bit, which at least added to his comfort. His bladder swelled insistently, either he needed to get out quick or use one of the buckets.
Something nagged at Keevan, something familiar but just out of reach. Which didn't make much sense since he'd never been trapped in a broom cupboard before. He looked around again, beyond the shelves to the wall and roof, all stone.
There, a faint blue glow in the right wall, like a single strand of spider web stretching out under the stone. It reminded him of the Repulsor room's walls, though this Danica would function in the opposite way. It glowed so dimly he had to blink a few times to assure himself it wasn't an odd reflection from his eyes. He scratched at the glowing stone, blinking in surprise when a bit of the wall broke away beneath his fingers.
Mortar. Someone had laid a thin strand of Danica along the wall and covered it with mortar. It was certainly easier than removing the wall entirely and re-building it around Danica. What could it possibly be used for? He noticed it flowed from the upper floors to the bottom, with a similar vein mirroring it on the other side of the wall.
Keevan scratched his head, picturing the building as a whole, with its tall spires and weeping walls. He slapped his forehead and chuckled at the simplicity of it. The most powerful Suadans would attract gallons of water the second they focused on a problem of any importance. A thin ventilation system of Danica presented an effective, even beautiful way of sucking excess moisture from the Etrendi's upper quarters.
Again, his bladder nudged him angrily, threatening to spill its contents regardless of his feelings on the issue. A strange, rather ridiculous idea formed in his head and Keevan picked up the shaft of broken ceramic he'd tried to use earlier. Stone and metal locks were one thing, but mortar gave way rather easily under the broken handles' weight and sharp point. Keevan dug into the mortar carefully, watching the Danica's glow brighten as he peeled back one layer of mortar and then another. If he broke the vein, it wouldn't carry water properly, wasting his discovery.
There. He could see it now, a thin metallic finger of Danica ore stretching across the wall. He could even read its flow, from right to left. It was conveying water from the inside of the structure to the outside, a drainage system perhaps? The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Harbor Captains were among the strongest Suadans in Issamere and people who draw in that much water by merely thinking would need some way to vent the extra moisture, or risk purpose fever.
"Well, if you have to get someone's attention," Keevan muttered to himself. "Might as well make it memorable."
Scratching away enough of the vein to clearly read the Danica's flow, he pulled a bucket over and used it as a stepping stool. The crack stood at his chest level in the wall, and he couldn't very well direct his body's fluids that high up for long. Dropping his trousers, he stood above the crack and took aim.
"Here goes nothing," he sighed, first in fatigue and then in relief as he finally urinated. The warm yellow stream hit the wall and vanished into the crack with a sudden sucking sound, as if the Danica vein were thirsty. The next few seconds passed in quiet relief as Keevan effectively peed out a signal to whoever stood watch at the waste channel's end, the room reeked of ammonia now. He hadn't considered that the Dancia vein would only convey water.
"I wonder if anyone will notice," Keevan thought glumly. "Wish I'd thought of a way to deal with the smell, this is worse than sitting next to a bucket of urine."
*****
"I'm fine," Bahjal insisted, pushing Varta aside, the High Priestess' second in command. "Where's Keevan?"
They sat in the Harbor courtyard, twenty spans from the main entrance. The Harbor Guild Headquarters jutted up before her like a tooth of some massive creature, one accustomed to attacking, not being attacked. The Harbor Guards patrolling its exterior and the district wall sparked with visible static electricity. Whatever could singlehandedly take on a Suadan and six of their fellows demanded immediate attention and raised some very unsettling questions.
"The guards are searching the entire Harbor Guild," the elderly Suadan replied. The bells lining her dress chimed like a small applause, ever agreeing with her. "Now hold still, unless you want to carry those scars for your entire life."
"I don't mind scars," Bahjal countered, rising to her feet. "They
give you more stories to tell."
"My Lady," the Suadan insisted, waving over a thick-shouldered Belenokan. "It is by the order of the High Priestess herself. You are to remain here and heal while they search for Keevan and the intruder."
"She's not here. Nor could she have sent word so quickly. Don't toy with me," Bahjal snorted. Then she recognized the approaching Belenokan was Madol, the Persuader. She gulped nervously, trying to hide her fear. He didn't say anything. He just watched the exchange, listening, scanning her face with those piercing eyes. He was dressed as regular guard, with worn leathers and a harbor guildsman's sword, perhaps to sneak into the Harbor District unnoticed after the alarms were sounded. Varta didn't recognize him.
"I am her Second. Should emergencies arise, my word is equal to hers." Varta countered, standing to her full two span height, towering over Bahjal. "Now, you will behave and rest here or I will have this fine gentleman restrain you," Madol turned away from Varta, fully engrossed in the Harbor Guild's Headquarters before them, as if it were a book he was hastily skimming from page to page. Horns echoed through its halls as patrols cleared each floor. Metal clanged against metal where opposition or stubborn locks resisted the guards' search.
"Fine," Bahjal said, sitting on the cobblestones with her legs crossed defiantly. "But once you've finished, I want to help with the search. My best friend is out there in that mess and I'm not going to abandon him."
"I admire your loyalty," the old Suadan said, shaking her head. She put her hands to Bahjal's face and closed her eyes. The pain subsided and a thin layer of water gathered around Bahjal's jaw and neck, prioritizing the worst of the burns.
Fear for Keevan ate at Bahjal from all sides, but she forced herself to not run frantically into the building. She was a Suadan, logic ruled everything she did, not emotions. That was how she hid her powers from Keevan all those years. Her sweet, wonderful Keevan. Where would the Varadour take him? What use would a powerless Sight Seeker be to him? Did he need a guide of sorts?
Keevan couldn't get the two of them passed the watcher, not alone. If the Varadour wanted Keevan as a hostage he could have just stood there and demanded what he wanted, holding a knife to Keevan's throat. Instead, he fled before the steam settled. What did that tell her?
"The Varadour's spent months knowing nothing but torture from the Harbor Guild," Bahjal muttered, trying to fit all the pieces together in her mind. Somehow, a rampaging Kors fit into the mix, but right now, Kors didn't have Keevan as a hostage.
"What was that?" Varta asked, now shifting her attention down to Bahjal's left arm. The scars weren't completely faded, but the edges were smoothed and the bright red color turned to a softer pink. They almost looked decorative now. Bahjal shivered as her freshly healed flesh responded to the Suadan's cool liquid.
"If you were trapped and tortured by Outlanders for months." Bahjal asked, examining the Harbor District from one floor to the next. "Then you escaped and saw another Tri-Being like you, a child. What would your first instinct be?"
"To get us both to safety, if possible," Varta offered. "A terrible thought that. You've such a lovely face, you should be associating with suitors and finding a man to settle down with, not chasing after intruders and consorting with an Outlander."
"You don't approve of Keevan living here with us?' Bahjal asked, trying to restrain the anger in her tone. After such a long and painful day, her emotional restraint was wearing thin.
"I think anything we don't fully understand is dangerous," the elderly woman added evenly, now working on Bahjal's left hand. Varta's efforts forced Bahjal to wince in pain as the Suadan woman shifted tendons and mended flesh. "Perhaps we could just exile the boy and let him carve out what living he can away from civilization."
"I don't know if he could survive something like that," Bahjal echoed thoughtfully. "Either he wouldn’t or we wouldn't. After a decade or two in the wilds, he'd likely return seeking retribution, like Kors."
"Perhaps," Varta said with a sigh. "But look at the trouble one Outlander is bringing down on us now. Is it any wonder the Harbor Guild works so hard to keep them from our shores?"
"I guess not," Bahjal agreed, pulling her hand away. She stretched the muscles, examining the still-healing tissues. She couldn't make much of a fist and the pain left her command of water was fuzzy and unreliable, but she could function. "All the more reason to find Keevan. If he decides to escape with this Varadour, I'm afraid of what such a man would teach Keevan in the long run. That boy's heart is too pure for something like hate and murder to root in him."
"Every criminal was once a helpless babe in his mother's arms,” Varta spat, gathering up her linen prayer mat and shawl. "Hate and murder can root in any man, given the proper motivations."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Bahjal sighed. "He's so-"
A cry of alarm and a gush of water jerked Bahjal's attention to a small vent alongside the Temple's far wall. A Runner lay struggling to get up amidst a deluge of water erupting directly from the side of the building, right along the wall of the Temple's first floor. The water struck in a steady stream, holding the poor Runner against the wall of the adjoining building. Sparks danced around him, along with wisps of steam as he finally managed to cook his way free of the strong current.
"What in the name of Suada..." Varta echoed, staring at the phenomenon." That's the disposal vein. It's not supposed to use any pressure, it's just a steady drain for the rain season. Who would be messing with Danica at a time like this?"
"Keevan!" Bahjal cried gleefully. The stream of water subsided as suddenly as it arrived, leaving Bahjal with a fierce sense of urgency. "He can see Danica veins, it has to be him!"
"My Lady, you still need rest!" the elderly Suadan insisted, "Guard restrainer her!" Madol lumbered after Bahjal, mirth dancing in his eyes as if he weren't really trying to catch her. She danced aside.
"Wonderful, I might need another sword hand!" Bahjal agreed with a wide, toothy grin. "Come on, Keevan might need help!"
She sprinted into the Harbor Guild's Temple, Madol and Varta in pursuit. Bahjal swerved to the right the moment she entered, tracing her way along the outer hallway of the first level. One of the rooms on the right would face the far wall and Danica wouldn’t magnify a single vein unless its saboteur was very close... Keevan had to be in one of these rooms along the far wall.
""My Lady, it's not safe here!" Madol insisted, hauling after her, blade in hand. He caught her by her wounded shoulder, pulling her back a step as she winced in pain.
"Let me go!" Bahjal cried, trying to pull away. She fingered the whip in her good hand, but didn't uncoil it yet. Though Madol was twice her size, his efforts weren't violent, just firm. The message was clear, stop and listen. Not stop and retreat.
"I could care less about the Suadan's orders but there's a bloodthirsty Varadour around here," Madol insisted. "Slow dow. It could be an ambush. Listen."
"How dare you!" Varta sputtered, catching hold of Madol's free arm.
The Persuader turned, eyes cold and flat, Danica blade glowing orange with heat. "There's a dangerous fugitive here, Priestess," Madol advised. "You'd best leave the search to us. The High Priestess would be most grieved if some harm befell you."
Varta gulped nervously at those words, glancing around at the hall's abundant shadows. Finally, she threw her hands in the air in exasperation, hurrying back to the entrance. Self-preservation trumped duty in most of the Tri-Being elite. Madol shook Bahjal's shoulder, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. "You're not going anywhere without me. That boy has a lot of potential and I'm not about to let it get squandered. Let's go."
"Uh huh," Bahjal stammered, taken aback by his unanticipated aid. "I . . . I think Keevan's in one of these side rooms."
"These three don't even have locks," Madol said, leading the way. "Besides, dining rooms aren't the best places to hide, particularly if they have windows. It would be a small room, one easily overlooked and ignored after the initial search."
Bahjal
's hopes caught in her throat. There, beside a thick wooden door at the end of the hall, a wide broom lay jammed between the door's latch and the floor. The door trembled every few seconds, betraying a muffled cry that filled her with hope.
"Keevan!" she yelled, throwing her weight against the mop handle. It toppled under the strain, releasing the latch. Madol watched carefully from behind her, holding his sword at the ready.
"Bahjal!" Keevan shouted, bursting from the dark and wrapping his arms around her in warm hug. "You found me!"
"It wasn't too hard," Madol offered, sheathing his blade. Pinched his nose and gave Keevan a measured glare. "Waste veins don't often create fountains where they aren't intended. I'd ask how you managed it, but I can tell from the smell."
"I found a Danica vein in the wall," Keevan said proudly, pointing back into the closet. Judging by her bright smile, the scent of urine didn't bother Bahjal in the slightest. Then again, as a Rhetan for so many years, she was likely used to the odor. Keevan continued, "I figured if I put enough water through it, someone would notice and come searching. I didn't expect it to be you and Bahj though. Are you alright?"
"I'm healing," Bahjal answered. She held her left arm up for Keevan to examine. Pink blotches on her skin marked the ferocity of the detonation between her whip and a Belenokan's sword. "I had no idea Outlanders were so dangerous. I'd heard stories from the Harbor Guild, but I figured they were just rumors you know, to guarantee their place on the Council."
"All rumors have some truth," Madol echoed, scratching his head. "Right now, I'm more concerned about facts. What happened, Keevan?"
"Corvan just wanted to talk to me," Keevan said. "He'd been tortured by the Harbor Guild for ages. I think he just really wanted to see another Outlander, and someone who wasn't trying to hurt him at the time."
"Where is he?" Madol demanded, resting his hand on his sword blade. "If he comes quietly I might be able to afford him some kind of protection."
"He strikes you as the type who needs protection?" Keevan countered.
Unseen Secrets Page 24