Of Seekers and Shepherds: Children of the Younger God, Book One

by G. H. Duval

  Siare watched her go in silence.

  No more, she thought; then, out loud, “No more.”

  It was a declaration, her voice devoid of emotion and her judgement final. She squared her shoulders and turned to face Culari and Wilha where they stood, silently, waiting for her to complete her duties. Culari said nothing, simply accepting her at her word. But Wilha nodded, the same feral need for justice mirrored in her eyes.

  Good, Siare thought, as she led them out and up without another word. With the Headmistress in agreement, no one would dare oppose her.

  As they exited the chapel, two black-and-silver-clad Steadies fell into step behind her. She sensed their surprise when she did not turn in the direction of her quarters, but rather moved in the opposite direction. She led them without delay to the nearly forgotten chamber that served as the Steading’s war room. She considered calling for Shavare to join them, but a brief touch on his mind told her he was with Mori, and she decided his presence could be spared for this phase of their war plan—mainly one of information gathering. There was one whom she must disturb, however.

  “Culari,” she said, finally breaking their silence as she unlocked the doors to the meeting chamber—her palm pressed against the symbol of the Firsts burned into the wood. “Please fetch the Ambassador.”

  It was not necessary for her to specify which Ambassador, as the emissary from Farkoast was not currently in residence, and they’d not hosted any state visits from Senechal in decades. Culari glided away.

  As she and Wilha entered the room, the guards moved past—one stopped before the hearth and the other stopped at the large table dominating the center of the room. The table and chairs were covered by canvas draping as were the smaller tables and chairs placed near the hearth. At the far end of the room was another set of double doors—notable as they were made primarily of glass—a luxury that spoke as much to their sense of security as Shepherds as it did to their wealth. The doors and the windows bordering them were hidden behind drapes.

  In moments, all the drapes pulled open and the canvas coverings rose from the furniture throughout the room. The cloths floated into the waiting arms of the guard at the table, folding themselves neatly as they went. Simultaneously, a fire crackled its arrival in the hearth, and each candelabrum along the walls winked into life, one by one. Both men turned to Siare and stood expectantly awaiting her approval. It appeared that even her stoic guards were not immune to a bit of posturing for her benefit.

  She nodded and murmured, “Excellent. Thank you, Shepherds.” Acknowledging the dismissal with respectful fists to chests, they returned to take up their positions at the entrance, pulling the doors closed behind them.

  Siare motioned for Wilha to join her at the table, taking the seat at the head. The two women clasped hands and linked minds. First, she needed reassurance that her most precious charges were recovering. Together, she and Mother sought the sleeping minds of the dozen Spirit Shepherds they had sent to Chen-yei to provide cover, and cleansing, for Shavare’s mission. It had been a great risk, indeed, to send so many of their most fragile Shepherds into battle—those not gifted with the natural, physical abilities of their brethren—the danger heightened as the battle would occur on foreign soil where Siare’s foresight would be severely limited. When forced to make the decision, she could not know how they would fare. Uncertainty was a rare, uncomfortable state for her, and she did her best to avoid it at all costs.

  Such were the stakes that they had resolved to take the risk. From the moment she’d confirmed that Shepherds had been responsible for the massacre at Shepherd’s Seek, she had resolved to spare no effort in finding and ending such madness.

  She and Mother had worked tirelessly to track the minds of the four, and after days of futility, finally conceded the truth: their abilities, even stretched to the limit, were simply not enough. As Siare had confessed to Shavare, it was Mina’s time now, and they would have to harness her if the crisis was to be contained. It had galled her to make real Lena au Terre’s fears—her excuses for having hidden Mina. Despite their concerns about Mina’s readiness, they had used her nonetheless. With Mina’s well of raw, untapped talent at their disposal, they succeeded in finding the errant four.

  Their minds had been even more fractured and broken than she had anticipated. She could not grasp them through their Aspect nodes as was her custom. She and Mother had been forced to improvise—fashioning a crude tether that they used to latch onto the least fractured of the four.

  Nika.

  Her mind snapped back to the present, refocusing on her sleeping wards, and caressing their slumbering minds. They were safe, though they would need much longer to replenish the stores of power that had been used. She and Mother had barely completed their inspections when Culari returned, Ambassador Kerg in tow.

  “Your Eminence,” Kerg murmured reverently from the doorway.

  Despite the months that had passed, he still wore the traditional silk robes in red and gold of his homeland. Siare smiled with genuine warmth at this man she had not only come to rely on but of whom she’d become so fond. Like so many diplomats, he was thoughtful, soft-spoken, and measured—all qualities that Siare valued. But what drew her to him most keenly was the man’s utter sincerity and integrity. Those less familiar with him might interpret his mannerisms as soft—perhaps even weak—but she knew better. Kerg ian Maced, the voice of Emperor Baowin Dinh the Third, was a man of principle with a backbone of iron. She was counting on that strength now.

  She motioned for him to join her at the table, and he paused as he joined them, steepling his fingers and bowing to the Headmistress before taking his seat.

  “Have you had refreshment?” Siare asked, one last moment of respite hidden in formality before beginning the grave discussions ahead.

  “Yes, thank you, Eminence.”

  “Ambassador Kerg,” she began formally, holding his gaze. “There is much I’ve kept from you these last months. However, recent events have forced my hand, and now I must be transparent with you.”

  Kerg returned her gaze with eagerness. “It is my most fervent wish for you to call upon me just so, Your Eminence.” He delivered this in his clipped, staccato Kirin accent with such earnestness that Siare struggled to keep from smiling. She so enjoyed his mannerisms, but he would interpret any sign of mirth from her now as a lack of respect for his devotion to her and his duty.

  “I believe you, Kerg,” she said warmly, dropping the honorific. What she was about to share with him now required an intimacy that she would prefer he come by on his own.

  “A few months ago, I became aware that several of my children who had followed Verrider were slipping from my tether. There are only two reasons why a Shepherd I have marked would vanish from my awareness. The first is death. The second, that the Shepherd’s Aspect bond has been broken or disrupted in some way. The most common reason for this is that the Shepherd’s gifts are being used in violation of the prohibitions set forth by holy writ. Doing so poisons the Aspect nodes that connect us to our God, and it is from those nodes that our Aspect bonds flow. Do you understand?” She paused, knowing that she was referring to concepts only recently introduced through the education of his son.

  “I believe so,” Kerg said, though his voice was uncertain.

  “After probing, I found these Shepherds were still living, so the latter explanation was confirmed. Before the Headmistress and I could locate them and bring them home, we learned they had perpetrated an attack on a village on the border with Kirin. We realized, too late, that whatever was amiss with their bonds was far graver than we suspected.”

  Kerg blanched and audibly swallowed. “Pardon, Your Eminence,” he interrupted. “But is this…this…interference something that could happen to Mori?”

  Siare leaned forward to place a reassuring hand atop Kerg’s clasped ones. Ever so gently, she soothed that small part of his mind that was still animal; a sire’s instinct to protect his offspring.

  “I a
ssure you, Kerg. Mori is safe and in the best possible hands for his education. What happened with these four is something that has not happened since the earliest days of Ascension. I have never, in all my years of rule, encountered the like. I fault my own incredulity for not recognizing it sooner.” She drew a breath and sat back, trying to assume a height she did not possess.

  “Once we confirmed the attack, we tracked the four to Chen-yei, and the Formynder was sent personally to put an end to any further actions and bring them home.” She clenched her jaw to staunch the sudden anger that returned from that morning’s duties.

  “And he executed his mission perfectly. But, I learned several things during my husband’s mission. There are…concerns…remaining.”

  Suddenly feeling suffocated, she stood, trying to displace the pressure of her responsibilities and how she’d struggled to meet them, and circled the table.

  “The first, and most obvious, is that whoever—whatever—was behind the attack on the Aspect nodes is still out there.” She paused, looking back at Wilha and Kerg where they remained seated, watching her.

  “In fact, it was present—at Chen-yei—when Shavare arrived. I touched it briefly before it felt me and blocked me somehow.” Her brows creased as she recalled the touch of that alien mind. The same touch that had stung her when she’d reabsorbed the node-opals of the fallen Shepherds.

  “It was not a beast, nor was it the sentience of plant life our Earth Shepherds sense. But it was definitely not human.” She turned her full attention to Kerg. “Can you think of anything fitting that description existing in your homeland, Kerg?”

  His eyes widened as he said, “Not at all, Eminence.” He was clearly baffled by the question. “If you felt something that could think, and it was not beast nor plant nor man, what yet remains?”

  “The Fae, Kerg,” she said, flatly, daring him to contradict her.

  Kerg half rose from his seat, perturbed. “Your Eminence, I risk you insult as surely as I would seek my own death. But…the Fae…these are myths, Eminence.” He glanced from her to Wilha, desperate for one of them to confirm his statement, clearly hoping this was some misunderstanding or fault of translation.

  “Kerg,” she spoke patiently, regarding him sadly. “They most certainly are not. I’m afraid your idea of the world will need to be broadened again, my friend.” Kerg sank back into his chair, trembling.

  “Why do you suspect Hirute gave us these abilities?” she asked, gently. “Could we have stood a chance against those others left to our own devices, do you think?” She did not expect him to answer, and he did not try. “And the Great Shepherd succeeded in His work. We humans have prospered such that we dare to scoff at those who ruled Avelare for eons before we ever existed.”

  She let him take it in, walking quietly about the table for the span of several breaths.

  “While those who deny Hirute yet benefit from His protection, even His benevolence has limits. He cannot intervene on behalf of those who flatly reject Him. And,” she continued, stopping at the far end of the table to lean against it. “It appears practices in Kirin extend far beyond the dabbling in the arcane we have long suspected. Perhaps, there is a contingent among your people that has discovered the Fae. Perhaps they are working with them or are being influenced by them.”

  Kerg shook his head, spreading his hands helplessly. “I’m afraid such realms elude me, Eminence. I am not certain how I can benefit you in such things.” What he did not say, and what she did not need the use of her Aspect to hear, was his wonder that the matter should be discussed at all. He could not accept what she was telling him. Yet, there was something more. An avoidance to this topic—a defensiveness in his demeanor that she had not witnessed in him since their first meeting.

  “Perhaps you know more than you realize, Kerg.” She rounded the table a second time and retook her seat at its head. She waited until he met her gaze.

  “You should know that I sent a dozen of my children—au L’espris—to support the Formynder’s mission. Their task was to ensure that any memories of the destructive Shepherds—and the work done by Shavare to end it—would be purged. Among other things, they learned that the people of Chen-yei were not surprised to find Shepherds in their mist. They were not surprised that these Shepherds were angry and vengeful. They assumed, you see,” she paused for effect, letting her words play in the space between them. “That the nation of Kirin was being invaded—punished for its act of abducting Shepherds.” Kerg started then stilled, looking away from her.

  “What can you tell me of the other Shepherds among your people, Kerg? Mori was not alone in his expression, was he?”

  Kerg closed his eyes and tucked his chin, seemingly depleted. “No, Your Eminence. He was not.” He gathered himself, reopened his eyes, and turned in his seat to face her more squarely.

  “It is why I hid him and jockeyed to gain assignment to Coerdom,” he explained. “There were rumors, whispers, that children had been found—an increasing number of them over the last several years—who exhibited strange abilities. They claimed to hear voices, claimed that trees and animals and water and the very air around us were speaking to them. At first, I and the majority of my peers dismissed these missives as pure nonsense. Fictions intended to distract. But the Emperor’s advisor—his Guwèn—did not discount them so easily. He did it quietly, but he investigated. By the time I learned that such children had been found and were, indeed, speaking truth, Mori had begun to display such signs himself.” He paused and took a steadying breath, the memories clearly disturbing to him.

  “I inquired after the fate of those children. Discreetly, of course, and what I learned was…chilling.” His eyes were pleading. “I could never confirm any of it definitively without exposing my family. I was told the children were being retained in the care of the Emperor. Most likely to be studied by our mages. I could not risk such a fate for Mori.”

  “Of course not,” she agreed. “If the reaction of the people of Chen-yei to the arrival of my husband and his Guard was any indication, you are not alone in harboring and actively hiding Shepherds in Kirin, Kerg.”

  His gaze sharpened at this. “It is illegal to fail to report any such…abnormalities…to the authorities. On penalty of death. Many eagerly reported to the palace, which is how we learned of it at all. I assumed that my defiance, as a man of means and influence, was isolated.”

  “Perhaps you are correct in that. But we now know, for certain, that you were not unique, nor is Mori. So,” she said, squaring her shoulders and placing her palms down on the table before her. She decided now was not the time to address his failure to share all that he had known. Now, she needed his aid, and besides, she already knew why he had not told her. He was afraid of what she would do to his homeland. More accurately, he was afraid of what her Formynder would do.

  “It seems we have a complicated equation to solve, Kerg. One: how to find the creature that I sensed in Chen-yei and stop it? Two: how to find the Shepherds being held by the Emperor and free them? Three: how to do all of this without causing an international incident and sparking a war the likes of which we have not experienced in centuries? The Formynder and I have rallied the Great Houses, and they are ready to support us as we have need. But even that understanding is vulnerable. We dare not tally. Have you any thoughts, Ambassador?”

  Kerg nodded soberly. Surprisingly, his fear abated somewhat. This sort of maneuvering was where he was at his most comfortable—a practical set of problems set in a world he understood. “Were your Spirit Shepherds able to contain what occurred in Chen-yei? That is…how much time do we have, Eminence?”

  “They reported successfully cleansing the villagers’ minds. However, there may have been a few who eluded them by escaping before the cleansing was complete. Making matters worse, we have reason to believe that there were attacks on other villages leading up to the confrontation in Chen-yei. Word may already be spreading, Kerg. I cannot see your lands as I can my own, so I can’t be certain
of the extent to which we’ve been exposed. But I am certain that we’ve not much time at all.”

  Kerg moved his steepled fingers to just below his chin and for several moments said nothing. Siare let him be while he considered their problem. Overall, she was rather impressed with his ability to absorb all that she had forced upon him in the span of less than an hour, especially in light of his confession of having withheld information from her. No small feat!

  “There is but one solution, Your Eminence,” Kerg said at last. “You must bypass whatever stands between you and my people, for it is my belief that my Emperor is largely ignorant of such matters. He does not rule as…intimately…as you and your Formynder. I feel it is time for Emperor Baowin Dinh the Third—Keeper of Imperial Truth, Commander of the Eternal Horde, Lord of Ten Thousand Years, and Son of Heaven—to meet, in person, First Seer Siare—Honor of Coerdom, Mother of Humanity, and the Voice of Hirute.”

  He rose fluidly and bent deeply from the waist, executing the most formal of Kirin bows.

  “Your Eminence, I look forward to showing you the wonders of my homeland.”

  Twenty-Five

  “Demand not that which I hold secret. For yours is not to know. Yours is to wait, in faith, for all to be revealed in My time.”

  –Helig Ra’d, Teachings of the Great Shepherd

  It was cold and dark: two of Mori’s least favorite things.

  He pouted as he followed his father to the main courtyard just inside the Steading’s entrance. He was too old for such foolishness, but he couldn’t hide his disappointment. He understood why his father must go: it was his duty, and Mori was proud that his father was respected and trusted by the Firsts. But like his mother, Mori shared the concern that the Emperor would learn of Kerg’s shift in alliance; in protest, she had said her goodbyes in their apartment and refused to see him off.