Still, there were worse jobs Gavin could have. A part of him wished he could just be an instructor like Wynn; his memories of sharing what he’d learned from Marcus as they traveled to Vushaar were some of the best he had. No matter how much he might like the idea of being ‘just’ a teacher, Gavin couldn’t shake another memory: the day Marcus told him what it meant to be Kirloth. He hadn’t seen it at the time, but there were some decisions only Kirloth could make, or at the very least, decisions no one should have to make. Was Gavin qualified to follow in the footsteps of his mentor? He wasn’t sure; he could only do his best.
* * *
Terris turned when the door of the study opened. He smiled as Kiri entered and closed the door behind her. He stood and met her halfway, pulling her into a tight hug.
“Hello, Father,” Kiri said, her voice slightly muffled by the hug.
For several moments, father and daughter stood in silence. Terris offered silent prayers of thanks that Kiri had survived and come home. The first moment or two of every meeting, Terris remembered how it felt to believe his daughter had died.
“Hello, Kiri,” Terris said at last, breaking the hug. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing, really,” Kiri replied. “I…well, I just wanted to see you. There have been mornings, even lately, that I woke up feeling surprised to be home.”
Terris nodded. “I know exactly how you feel, and you’re welcome to visit me anytime.” Kiri’s expression darkened for the briefest of moments, but Terris still noticed it. “What was that? Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”
Kiri sighed. “I miss waking up and seeing a stack of blankets on the floor beside the bed, too, Father.”
Terris frowned, not following her thought, but understanding came to him mere heartbeats later. “You miss Gavin.”
Kiri nodded and stepped back into her father’s embrace. “All I wanted was to be home and somehow remove the mark, but now that I am home and no longer have the mark, I realize I miss Gavin. I know it’s only been a week or so, but it feels odd not having him somewhere close.”
“Want me to let you in on a little secret…that isn’t so secret?” Terris asked.
“What?”
Terris leaned back far enough to make eye contact with Kiri and said, “It felt odd when your mother wasn’t close, too.”
Kiri worked her lower lip between her teeth as she gazed into her father’s eyes. After a few moments, she looked away. “Before he left, Gavin came to see me, and I wanted to tell him that I love him.”
“Did you?” Terris asked.
“No. I’ve never felt what I feel for Gavin before. I certainly didn’t feel this way about Thaddeus; that was adolescent infatuation.”
Terris chuckled. “If I may be so bold, I’m glad. Thaddeus…well, he didn’t suit you.”
Kiri’s lips quirked into a mischievous grin. “He wasn’t good enough for your little girl? Is that what you’re saying, Daddy?”
“Let’s just say I didn’t quite see him as your spouse, especially once you are Queen of Vushaar. I never felt he had the stomach to stand at your side through tough times.”
“And what of Gavin? Can you see him standing at my side?”
An image popped unbidden to the forefront of Terris’ mind. Gavin standing beside the throne, while Kiri sat in the full regalia of Vushaar’s monarch. His expression was hard and devoid of emotion. He held his right hand at chest level, cupped as if holding an apple. An orb of raw, seething power hovered over his palm, easily the size of a honeydew and colored gold, like the robes of his office.
“Kiri, I don’t see Gavin simply standing by your side,” Terris said at last. “As long as he favors you, I see all manner of threats vanishing in the dead of night, before anyone is aware they even existed.”
Kiri grinned. “Yes, it is like that around him, rather often in fact. What were you working on before I interrupted you?”
“I was reading over a petition from the Merchants’ Association. They’re asking for improvements to the roads between the province capitals as well as improving the roads connecting the larger towns to the province capitals.”
“Do we have the money for that?” Kiri asked, almost frowning.
“Perhaps across the long-term, yes, but they’re asking for work to begin all at the same time. I agree that we need it, and I also agree that improving our roads will make it easier for trade to flourish. I’m just not sure what priority it deserves, especially while we’re rebuilding from the civil war.” Terris shifted his attention back to Kiri, his expression thoughtful. “Come to think of it, this is an excellent opportunity for you to become better acquainted with the demands of the kingdom. I’m going to hand this petition off to you, and I’ll also give you the report on Vushaar’s budget prepared by the Exchequer. I’d like for you to read over both and see if you can devise a way to give the Merchants’ Association what they want without too much of an impact on our other priorities.”
Kiri started to smart off, but she realized this was exactly something she would be facing once she inherited the throne. Gavin had said she needed to get settled back into her life before he would discuss a betrothal, so this seemed like as good a place to start as any.
Chapter 24
“Thank you, Hartley,” Gavin said, passing the cleared dishes and utensils to the specter. The items were all that remained of a breakfast that would have put almost any gourmet to shame. “Oh, Hartley…is there a room somewhere in the Citadel for meetings of the Conclave of the Great Houses?”
The specter paused in its movement toward the kitchen and pantry, turned to face Gavin, and answered, “Of course, Milord. If you have a moment, I will be happy to conduct you there once I’ve settled the remains of breakfast, or, if you prefer, I can direct you there now.”
Gavin smiled. “Hartley, I would never dream of depriving myself of your company. I can wait for you to deliver that to the kitchen.”
A few minutes later, Gavin and Hartley were on the second floor of the Citadel, just a short distance from that floor’s access to the library. Like every other doorframe he’d seen, this one bore the Glyph of Kirloth in the center of the lintel and gave no indication of which room lay beyond. Hartley opened the door for Gavin before he could stop the specter. Stepping inside, Gavin found himself in a room almost identical to the meeting room he’d used many times at the Mivar Estate.
One major difference caught Gavin’s eye right away. The head of the table, where the Glyph of Kirloth was on Mivar’s table, bore no glyph at all. Gavin approached and brushed his fingers across the vacant space. The moment he did so, Gavin felt a deep THRUM through his skathos, and the table etched the missing Glyph of Kirloth into its surface.
“Wow,” Gavin said.
“This is the only table of its kind,” Hartley explained, from Gavin’s side. “Unlike the tables in the meeting halls of the estates, this table manifests the glyph of the current Archmagister’s House.”
“And the Archmagister has always been a wizard?” Gavin asked.
The specter nodded. “So far, that is the case, Milord.”
“Interesting,” Gavin remarked before he shook himself and returned to his purpose. “Can you arrange for a message to reach Torval, Sypara, Lyssa, and Carth?”
Hartley’s ghostly expression looked almost indignant.
“Right, sorry. Please coordinate with them to determine a schedule for meetings. I want to start working through the tax laws—well, any laws enacted by the royal family, really. Aside from the alliance meeting, that is my current priority.”
“Of course, Milord,” Hartley replied at once. “I shall see to it immediately.”
* * *
The days blurred into one meeting after another for Gavin. It wasn’t long until he was spending whole afternoons in the Conclave meeting room with the Dukes and Duchesses of Tel. Even when he wasn’t specifically working on the legal system, that project always seemed to swirl in the back of Gavin’s mind.
“Milord?” Hartley’s voice pulled Gavin out of his focus, and he looked up.
“Yes?”
“Young Wygoth asks if you have any availability,” the specter replied.
Gavin smiled. “Yes, of course! Please, send him in. Oh…and ask him if he’d like any refreshments.”
Hartley nodded once. “Of course, Milord.”
Moments later, Hartley ushered Braden into the study Gavin had claimed as an office. Gavin stood and met his friend with a handshake, ultimately offering him a choice in seating.
“How have you been?” Gavin asked, once they were settled.
“I’ve been just fine,” Braden replied. “I also have a proposed schedule for your alliance summit.”
“Excellent! When?”
Braden smiled. “How does next week sound? All participants have cleared their schedules, and I can provide transportation to minimize the traveling they have to do.”
Gavin nodded. “If the meeting extends past one day, we can either teleport them home or offer them rooms in the Citadel…and there’s just one last person to ask.”
“Oh?”
“Yes,” Gavin answered. “I should’ve thought of it sooner, but I’d like Ovir to attend as well.”
Braden responded with an understanding nod. “That makes sense. Besides, it’ll give Ovir and Roth a chance to catch up. There’s no way to know how long it’s been since they were face-to-face.”
“In that case, we might as well go visit Ovir now,” Gavin said, pushing himself to his feet.
Braden blinked. “Uhm, do you want me to deliver your invitation?”
Gavin frowned. “Why? I’ve been to the Temple before.”
“Gavin,” Braden said, his tone very similar to a patient parent addressing a clueless child, “the Archmagister doesn’t go to people. People come to the Archmagister. You’re the last of the Divine Emissaries.”
Heaving a sigh, Gavin grimaced. “I don’t know why people keep calling me that. Bellos hasn’t spoken with me since offering me the job.”
“People have referred to every Archmagister after Kirloth—I mean, Marcus…uh, Amdar …whatever—as the last of the Divine Emissaries. During the Founding, almost all the new gods—at least those who accepted a mantle of divinity after the Godswar—named an emissary. Those emissaries worked together to rebuild the society that the war shattered. No other position among mortals is chosen by the gods anymore; the Archmagister is the only one.”
“Not even the Royal Priest of Tel?”
Braden shook his head. “Not as far as anyone has said.”
All of his interactions with the individual Bellos had identified as Valthon flitted through Gavin’s mind. “Heh…knowing that old rascal, I bet he meddles behind the scenes.”
Braden looked a little wild around the eyes when Gavin referred to Valthon as an ‘old rascal.’
Gavin merely grinned. “He is certainly an old rascal, Braden. Take a moment to examine his statue in the Hall of the Gods when we get there. The old man’s a mischievous imp.”
“Uhm…I always thought that was just the sculptor’s interpretation.”
“The first time I saw it, I thought the same,” Gavin said, “but Dakkor’s statue looks entirely too much like the man who visited the Council meeting during that mess with the Guild of Shadows. I’m not so sure those statues were ‘sculpted.’”
* * *
The Temple of Valthon looked just as Gavin remembered it from before his trip to Vushaar. But then again, he suspected it hadn’t changed much across the thousands of years it had existed. The acolyte in training occupying the greeter post looked up as Gavin led Braden up the steps. There was a look of incredulity as his eyes opened wide, and he almost leapt from the chair to kneel before Gavin.
Gavin fought the urge to sigh. Yes, it was good for the people to respect the office of the Archmagister, but that didn’t mean Gavin enjoyed everyone bowing and kneeling to him, and he sincerely hoped he never started.
“Please, return to your seat,” Gavin said.
“Uhm…ah, welcome to the Temple of Valthon, Milord,” the greeter stammered as he returned to the chair behind the desk. “Is this your first time visiting us?”
Gavin smiled. “Not exactly. I believe you have a standing order that Gavin Cross, Head of House Kirloth, is always to be permitted access to Ovir?”
“Yes,” the young man replied. “I was informed of that during my orientation as a greeter.”
“Excellent,” Gavin remarked and pointed at his medallion. “I am Gavin Cross of House Kirloth.”
The young man’s eyes focused on Gavin’s medallion and, for the second time, snapped wide. “Forgive me…uh, Milord. I didn’t notice.”
“It’s quite all right,” Gavin said. “My associate and I have business with Ovir, so I shall wish you a good day.”
Without waiting for the young man to reply, Gavin led Braden past the greeter’s desk and into the Temple. As they passed through the Hall of the Gods, Gavin stopped and gestured for Braden to examine the statue of Dakkor. Just as Braden approached, the statue winked, and Braden almost jumped back.
“Yeah,” Gavin said, “I think there’s more to all these statues scattered around than anyone realizes.”
Braden turned to regard Valthon’s statue before glancing around to all the others, his eyes just a bit wild. “Do you think they’re all…”
Gavin shrugged. “No idea.”
After giving Braden a few more moments to contemplate the possibility of the gods watching everywhere one of their statues existed, Gavin turned and headed off toward the main areas of the Temple.
It didn’t take them long to find Ovir, and the old priest smiled at seeing Gavin in the gold robes of the Archmagister. He didn’t say anything, though, beyond inviting Gavin and Braden up to his residence with an offer of refreshments.
“Well now,” Ovir said, once they were all seated, “I do believe you’ve received a promotion.”
Gavin scoffed. “Some days, it feels like a sentence.”
“I have no doubt that it does, my boy,” Ovir agreed. “So, I’m not about to suggest that the Archmagister’s time isn’t supremely valuable, but I am glad to see you returned from Vushaar intact. What brings you here, if I may ask?”
“Braden has been organizing a meeting of various members of the old alliance for me,” Gavin answered. “Everyone has agreed to meet next week, and I realized I wanted to invite you but hadn’t spoken with you about it. I’m sorry that it slipped my mind and for the short notice.”
Ovir scoffed. “If something like this is all that’s slipped your mind, you’re doing a far sight better than I would be in your place. I’m sure you have all manner of messes to clean up, given how long the royal family had unrestricted authority over Tel. As for the meeting, I would be honored to attend. I can hand off my participation in the daily services here to one of the senior priests on any days you need me.”
“Thank you, Ovir,” Gavin replied. “We’re planning to begin at the morning bell of the first work-day. I’m hoping it won’t last the entire week, but like you said, there’s no way to know for certain.”
“If I may ask,” Ovir began, “who else is attending?”
“Vushaar is sending your brother Roth as their representative,” Gavin answered. “Othron has agreed to attend, and the dracons are sending an ambassador to Tel who I think will double as their representative.”
Ovir blinked. “The dracons will attend?”
“Sorry,” Gavin replied. “I probably should have mentioned that they apparently called another Grand Moot and revoked their decision to withdraw from the world.”
Ovir stared at Gavin in silence for several moments before he closed his eyes and shook his head. When he focused on Gavin once more, he said, “I never realized we were living in such momentous times. First, Bellos names a new Archmagister, and then, the dracons return to the world. It’s enough to make an old man wonder what will come next.”
>
“Reclaiming Skullkeep,” Gavin replied. “That’s why I’m pushing this alliance summit so much. We all need to start building toward that goal, and once we achieve that, I want to send a diplomatic mission through Hope’s Pass. It’s long past time we investigated the possibility of opening a dialogue with the people who live beyond the Godswall Mountains.”
“You certainly don’t dream small,” Ovir remarked. “Do you think they’ll talk to us?”
Gavin shrugged. “There’s no way to know until we ask. For all we know, the people over there want to communicate with us but have either been afraid to reach out to us or can’t get past Skullkeep. The Necromancer has been a source of all kinds of unrest and threats to everyone on this side of Hope’s Pass, so we need to deal with him or it or them, no matter what. But once we have, why not send a delegation through the Pass to say hello?”
“You make an excellent case, Gavin,” Ovir responded. “The more I think about it, the more I feel like we should be ashamed for allowing the situation to remain as it has for so long. Valthon never intended it to be a permanent exile when He raised the mountains; that’s why he created Hope’s Pass in the first place.”
Gavin shook his head. “There’s no reason to feel ashamed, Ovir. I’m sure it was a combination of many factors, not the least of which being fear of the people who remained loyal to Lornithar and His pantheon. For that matter, I freely admit that the chance exists it will all be for naught; I just think they deserve an opportunity to prove otherwise. Even if there isn’t some sort of grand reunification, I’m sure there are ways we could improve each other’s lives…simply through trade and communication, if nothing else.”
Ovir’s expression became somber. “I remember what it was like to feel that kind of hope.”
“Then, you owe it to yourself to feel it again, my friend. Hope is one of those things that makes life worth living.”
Chapter 25
Archmagister Page 15