“Merciful Keeper! What is that?”
Artanna turned at the sound of the surprised cries and froze in horror. Through a broken window, something she’d never seen before flew into the Shrine. A glowing ball the size of a human head eased slowly through the air, woven, as it were, out of lightning itself—that’s how bright it was. Artanna even had to shield her eyes.
“My grandmother told me about those,” one of the soldiers shouted. “She said they’re messengers from god.”
“Everyone back!” Aldor roared, arms waving. “Get away!”
“Shit,” was all Artanna could say. She turned to Irital and quickly moved a piece of the altar table over to the niche where she was standing. “I don’t know what that thing is, but just in case, hide.”
Gregor pulled himself away from his battle with the doors and froze, his mouth hanging open in shock. The ball swam slowly through the air overhead, dipping lower and hopping back up, almost like a discerning glutton deciding which delicacy to begin with. The people below it tried not to move. Pressing up against each other or huddling on the ground, all they cared about was making sure the strange ball of light didn’t touch them.
When it got to the center of the hall, the sphere picked up speed.
“Open the doors, faster! Hack them down if you have to!” bellowed the duke.
“Oh, damn! Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Artanna howled. “Gregor, move!”
A glance back at Irital told her that the girl was following her instructions and staying hidden. The ball came closer, the air around it quivering and shaking, and suddenly dove toward the altar. Its trajectory took it directly toward Gregor and the clergymen crowding behind him.
Artanna screamed, pulled out her sword, for some reason, and dashed forward to cut it off. She had no idea what she was doing besides fulfilling her oath to Rolf and protecting his family at all costs. If it was what was needed, she was going to stand up to the wrath of god himself.
But the sphere was faster than she was. While she was still a few steps away, the ball of light hurtled by, singeing her brows on its way toward the duke’s chest.
“No!”
“Keeper, protect us!” cried Master Dararius, Gregor’s spiritual father and guide, as he stepped into the path of the sphere.
That was the last thing Artanna saw before the sphere exploded with a deafening roar. Stunned by the impact, she collapsed to the floor and dropped her sword.
“Duke!”
“Oh, god, Lord Gregor…”
She had no idea how much time passed. Her head pounded, her ears rang, and she could barely see. Through sheer willpower, the Hundred leader pulled herself up and noticed that her clothes were charred. The altar was destroyed, the statue of Gillenai was blackened, and the arm with the silver disk had smashed through several steps. The silver and azure on the pennants emblazoned with the Voldhard crest were black, as well, and the rest of the material was burning away. Fire engulfed the wooden beams.
Artanna somehow managed to take a few steps, forgetting about her sword. Where Master Dararius had stood, there was nothing left but a charred body.
Gregor was lying next to him wearing the silver embroidered doublet, his polished boots, and his father’s jewels. His skin was unnaturally pale, almost wax-like. Even his hair was suddenly gray—it was like all the color had been drained from the young duke.
Worst of all, Gregor Voldhard had long since stopped breathing.
“Oh, damn,” the Hundred leader muttered, staggering over to him.
A second later, the altar gates opened, and the crowd of panicked people knocked Artanna off her feet once again.
Chapter 46. Missolen
“After the letter found its way into my hands, I immediately wrote to Ellisdor, imploring the duke to shed light on the situation,” Ladarius said, arms spread wide. “However, I received nothing but silence. And neither Lord Gregor nor Lady Irital found it necessary to explain themselves here at the Ecumenical Court.”
“I find that suspicious in itself,” Ruvinius said, jumping in and wagging an enraged finger. “The innocent have no reason to hide from good people!”
Ladarius smiled gently, appreciating the Black Griffon’s fervor.
“We all make mistakes, and it wouldn’t be wise for us to pass judgement based solely on one letter.”
“Of course, Your Holiness. But by the Keeper’s mercy, we have a witness here with us today in this holy place. Is the Collegium permitted to conduct a public interview?”
“Please,” Ladarius said with a smile and a nod. “Bring the witness in.”
The Black Griffon whispered something to Brother Lasius, who hurried over to the hall’s side door. The dignitaries present used the time to noisily exchange their impressions of what was going on. Fans were broken out, stiff necks and fingers were popped, quill pens scratched across parchment, and knightly armor clattered softly. Demos looked up at Umberdo sitting in the gallery. The heir to the Gatson throne was pale.
I don’t blame you! Quite the blow to your bride’s house. We’ll see what happens with the engagement…and your secret ambitions to unite Gatson and Highligland.
A couple minutes later, the side door opened once again. Brother Lasius whispered a few words in the herald’s ear, the latter nodding and gripping his staff with gloved hands. Brother Lasius was the first to come out. He was followed by a golden-haired Latanian girl flanked by Order warriors. Lasius slowly made his way up the steps, escorted the witness over to Ladarius, and pressed her down onto her knees. His Holiness permitted the girl to kiss his silver disk. Her pale face was slick with sweat, and she carefully patted her forehead with a used lace handkerchief. Unfeigned fear played in her eyes. The herald, having caught the Black Griffon’s eyes, grabbed the attention of the public with a hefty blow of his staff.
“Lady Adal Alavin, companion to Ambassador Irital!”
The Latanian made her way unsteadily over to the statue of Gillenai and swore to tell the truth. Scribes rustled papers, some sharpening pens or reaching for backups. Adal slowly approached the lecture and, for some reason, bowed once again to the Black Griffon. Demos, in turn, leaned back, cursed his stiff low back, took a drink of water, and watched the scene play out from behind half-closed eyelids.
Go ahead. Everyone loves digging around in other people’s dirty laundry, so give them what they’re looking for.
“Lady Adal,” Ruvinius started, his gentle tone surprising Demos, “could you tell us what happened that evening, sparing no detail?”
The Latanian took a deep breath and started her story without looking the Black Griffon in the eye.
“That day, the duke returned from his campaign to Rundkar. Lady Irital, the other girls, and I had gotten to Ellisdor a little before then. When my mistress got news of the death of the emperor, she gave us orders to prepare to leave, and the next day, we left the free city of Gorf. That’s where we’d been.” The girl pulled her lace handkerchief out once more and ran it over her forehead. “Lord Gregor arrived that day, though with your permission, I’ll skip directly to his evening visit. That’s when everything happened.”
“Please,” the master replied with a smile.
“Although Lady Irital and Lord Gregor knew about the death of the emperor, there was still a banquet thrown celebrating the return from Rundkar. My mistress wasn’t in the mood to celebrate, so she headed up to her chambers after spending some time in the main hall. She didn’t look well—she was pale, she spoke quietly, and her hands shook. I asked if she wanted me to brew some soothing herbs, though she asked instead for spiced wine.” The Latanian frowned as she thought back to the events of that day. “Soon, there was a knock at the door. I went over to open it and found Lord Gregor himself standing there. He asked to speak with my mistress alone, though I still wasn’t sure if I should leave the room.”
The Black Griffon’s eyebrows raised.
“Why is that?”
The witness turned to Eisval and explained, look
ing him in the eye.
“In Latanian tradition, unwed women aren’t permitted to be alone with men they aren’t related to unless there are witnesses present. Usually, during meetings like that, you have to have relatives, companions, or servants, at least. But the fact that my mistress is the ambassador means that she has special status and privileges. That’s why it didn’t bother me before when Lord Gregor took her on walks in the garden or, for example, they prayed together at the Shrine… When they sent me away, I didn’t even think they—”
“Did you remind Lady Irital of what should have happened?”
“I wanted to,” the girl replied, “but she insisted.”
Master Ruvinius tactfully waited for the scribes to hurriedly scratch away with their pens and then gave them a few seconds to rest. They popped their knuckles and worked their wrists.
“Thank you for your explanation, Lady Adal,” the Black Griffon said with a nod. “Continue.”
“After I got downstairs, I realized that I’d forgotten my wool scarf in my mistress’ chambers. I wasn’t going to interrupt their conversation, of course, so I decided to sneak into my room and get a different one. And that’s what I did. But that’s when I became an unwitting witness to that…” The Latanian paled even further. “…that scene. Happily, my presence remained a secret.”
The Black Griffon turned back to his scroll.
“Master Dibrion’s letter mentions service windows. You used one of them?”
“Yes, they’re in all the rooms. You can close them from the master’s side, though Lady Irital had apparently forgotten to do so that night, which is how I heard and saw everything.”
“What did you see happening?”
“When I got to my room, I immediately saw that the windows were open, so I did my best not to make any noise—I didn’t want to disturb their conversation. But then, I heard sobs. Lady Irital was crying, and Lord Gregor was reassuring her. I looked through the window and saw them hugging. And then…”
The Latanian fell into an embarrassed silence. A flush spread across her pale cheeks.
“Please, Lady Adal,” Ruvinius said, gently touching the wide sleeve of her dress. “This is very important. For the love of all that is holy, be strong.”
“Then… Then, Lord Gregor started kissing Lady Irital.”
Many people in the hall leaned forward in anticipation of the salacious details, and some women covered their faces with their fans, leaving uncovered nothing but eyes bright with excitement.
“Was there anything else?” Ruvinius stepped closer to the witness, his eyes fixed on her.
“Yes… They kissed for a long time, and then Lady Irital started undressing.”
The noise in the hall picked up to the point that the herald was forced to bellow another demand for quiet. Demos studied Ladarius’ reaction, noticing that the great master was watching the Latanian girl with an expression of serene complacency. It was like he was at a usual church service with not a drop of surprise, indignation, or rage.
Damn director.
“What did Lord Gregor do when Lady Irital started undressing?” Ruvinius asked. He glanced past the witness as Ladarius.
Lady Adal swallowed nervously.
“First, he hesitated, but my mistress was insistent. Finally, His Grace gave in and started undressing, as well. He said something, though it was too low for me to hear it. And then…” For the first time, the Latanian looked Ruvinius in the eye. “Your Eminence, everyone here knows what happens when a man and a woman get undressed with nobody else there. All I can say is that that was what happened. And the next morning, I saw my mistress trying to clean a bloody stain out of the sheet.”
When she finished, the girl hid her face in her hands and broke down in tears. Shouts echoed around the arches in the Great Shrine. The dignitaries spat curses, the divine scourge was called down, and women gasped in horror. Others asked for more details in loud voices. One young woman, overcome by emotion, theatrically fainted, her servants quickly swarming around her. Enrige sighed, shook his head, and silently emptied an entire glass of wine. Serhat clucked his tongue and smiled maliciously.
By the Keeper’s pants, what are you so giddy about? I happen to know a certain story about you and your twin nieces, and I think everyone here would be rolling around the floor if I told them about your miserable attempts to satisfy them.
Demos snuck a glance at Eisval. The king was overwhelmed, the rage completely gone.
Once the initial emotions were released, savored, chewed through, and spat out by the crowd, the noise died away, lost in the soaring ceiling. Master Ruvinius returned to his interrogation.
“Did you see what happened after that…act, Lady Adal?”
The Latanian drew her handkerchief across her brow once more, crumpled the lace in her hands, and replied.
“Once it was all over, the two laid there silently for a while, and then they started discussing their future. Everyone knew about Lady Irital’s mission, and after the death of the emperor… But they didn’t want to separate.”
The scribes rustled around with their papers and pens again, sensing a long stretch of work coming up.
“And what did they say?” the Black Griffon asked insistently.
“Lady Irital said she was prepared to turn her back on her oaths and mission,” the witness replied, her voice sinking to a whisper. “Then, His Grace told her that he wasn’t going to let her go anywhere, and that Lady Irital would only be empress if he became emperor.”
A deathly silence fell at the foot of the gigantic statue of Gillenai.
“Forgive me, Lady Adal,” Ladarius said, brows raised. He leaned forward, grasping the skirts of his long robe. “I don’t think I quite heard the last thing you said.”
The Latanian squeezed her already useless handkerchief in her fist and repeated herself a bit more loudly.
“Gregor Voldhard said that Lady Irital would only be empress if he became emperor.”
Interesting. Why didn’t you mention that when we were getting you ready for the interrogation?
“Conspiracy!” someone in the hall shouted.
“Treason!” came the reply from the galleries.
Demos stared unblinkingly at Ladarius. The great master still maintained his astounding serenity.
What else do you know that I don’t?
“Lady Adal,” the head of the church said, “could you explain what that means?”
The girl smiled sadly.
“Do I really need to tell you, Your Holiness? Everyone knows that Lady Irital stayed in Ellisdor while Lord Gregor left for Missolen, where he announced his claim on the throne. We stayed with our mistress in the castle, where we were guarded like crown jewels.”
That’s for sure.
“Still, there was an attempt on Lady Irital’s life, was there not?” Ruvinius asked.
“There was. Two, in fact. The first time, she was poisoned; the second time, it was an assassin. An Ennian mercenary, Lord Gregor said.”
“Yes, His Grace wrote me and accused Lord Demos of the attempt,” Ladarius replied with a nod. “He pointed to the chancellor’s mother’s connections. The Collegium completed an investigation that found the accusations to be unfounded.”
That’s the first I’m hearing of that. Thanks for letting me know.
“But everyone in the castle was sure the Devatons had sent the killers,” Lady Adal said. “If it weren’t for the monk appearing like a blessing from god, my mistress would be dead right now.”
The Black Griffon spun around on his heels and stared at the witness.
“What monk? You didn’t mention him before.”
It looks like the surprises aren’t just for me.
“Brother Aristid, Your Eminence. He called himself an itinerant brother of the church and spoke quite a bit about his travels to distant lands, where he learned the art of healing. First, he jumped in when Lady Irital was just about dead from the poison, then later, when the man with the sword show
ed up, Brother Aristid was in my mistress’ chambers and defended her. He was able to hold the assassin off long enough to prevent more bloodshed.”
Ladarius and Ruvinius exchanged intense looks. Demos couldn’t help but notice that the Latanian’s story had them both alarmed.
“You said he’s traveled a lot…”
“Yes,” the girl replied with a nod. “Brother Aristid told us how he spent some time in Ennia, where he studied medicine. It was thanks to what he learned there that he was able to identify the poison and find the right cure.”
A chill emanated from the great master. The good-natured mask had slid off his face, revealing a mixture of rage and…fear. Demos watched his changing expression with interest.
“Thank you, Lady Adal,” Ladarius replied with an icy tone. “You’re free to go.”
That’s strange. They ran the girl and everyone else here through the ringer for a good hour, going through every detail of the scandal, but they lost their nerve the second she mentioned some monk. Who is that Brother Aristid?
The Latanian curtseyed and left with a swirl of skirts, escorted by a convoy of brother protectors. Ladarius stood up from his throne and approached the lectern.
“We’ve heard enough today,” he called out to the elites loudly. “Given the evidence brought forward by the witness, not to mention the fact that the Duke of Highligland and Irital Urdanan failed to heed the call of justice, the sentence will be read in absentia. Gregor Voldhard is accused of betraying his oath and abasing his honor, and he will be excommunicated from the church of the Keeper tomorrow and sentenced to death. Irital Urdanan, bearer of the Mark of Gintare, is accused of betraying her holy oath, forfeiting her honor, and defying the will of her protectors. She will be excommunicated from the church of the Keeper and sentenced to death for violating her vows. May the justice of god be executed in the heavens and on earth!”
Chapter 47. Ellisdor
Irital screamed when the shock wave very nearly killed her with her own hiding place—the altar table shattered, though she was able to drop down to the ground. She had no idea what happened to Gregor. All she knew was that there had been a deafening roar and a flash of light so blinding that it was as if the Shrine had been hit by a hundred bolts of lightning at once. Blinded by the sphere’s explosion, she fumbled around the remains of the niche and tried to pull herself to her feet.
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