Trial of Stone

by Andy Peloquin

  At the tenth hour of the morning, they’d undertaken the solemn procession up the stairs to the rooftop sanctuary, the more sacred chamber in the Hall of the Beyond. They had passed beneath the gold sandstone statue of the Long Keeper and laid Suroth’s body atop the ceremonial altar in preparation for the ceremony.

  Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres had met them at the bottom of the stairs. “I owe your father my life.” Genuine sorrow had sparkled in his kohl-rimmed eyes. He’d even worn simple clothing, for a Pharus—a plain gold-threaded tunic over an ankle-length shendyt, with a narrow black mourning shawl draped about his shoulders and a finger-thick headband of solid gold, a far cry from his typically ornate headdress and conical crown. “He saved us all. I will not forget the debt I now owe him.”

  They hadn’t needed to hire dancers and mourners for Suroth’s ritual journey to his final resting place in the Keeper’s Crypts—hundreds of men, women, even children from the Artisan’s Tier, Defender’s Tier, and Keeper’s Tier had turned out to accompany him. Suroth might never have spoken a word, yet it seemed they had loved him nonetheless. Well-wishers had pressed condolences and kind sentiments on Briana. She could barely bring herself to nod.

  Now, as the people of Shalandra trooped into the sanctuary to bid farewell to Suroth, her red-rimmed eyes had a vacant stare, her brows hooded.

  The highest-ranked men and women in Shalandra stood silent vigil around the altar. Secret Keepers in dull brown, Warrior Priests in full suits of splinted mail, even Lecterns in long green-and-silver robes. The Venerated, the council formed of a representative from each of the twelve temples, watched over their fallen brother. Keeper’s Blades armed in spiked black plate mail and carrying huge flame-bladed swords took up position at the four sides of the altar. Callista Vinaus, the Lady of Blades and commander of Shalandra’s military herself, guarded Suroth’s head.

  Kodyn’s gut twisted at the black-robed priests that flanked the west side of the temple chamber. Six heavy-set men with double chins and sagging paunches occupied the front of their ranks. These Necroseti served on the Keeper’s Council. These were the men Suroth had died to protect.

  And Kodyn was all but certain they had a role to play in the Arch-Guardian’s death.

  Sorrow tightened Kodyn’s chest as a little girl, no more than three or four, slipped shyly up to the altar. She wore the simple brown headband of an Intaji, Shalandra’s artisan caste, and held a small stone figurine in her pudgy fingers. With a hesitant glance at Briana, she darted toward Suroth and set the statuette—the figure of the Mistress, goddess of secret trysts and whispered truths—on the altar next to him. One more treasure to accompany him on his journey into the Keeper’s arms.

  Briana turned away, a strangled sob escaping her throat. Aisha wrapped an arm around her shoulder for support and comfort.

  “I-I’m fine,” Briana said, barely above a whisper. “I just can’t…” She scrubbed the tears from her cheeks. “I can’t see him like this anymore.”

  “Of course.” Aisha nodded. “Let’s get you home.” They didn’t need to be here any longer—the Necroseti and the crowd of mourners would see Suroth to his final resting place in the Keeper’s Crypt.

  Briana allowed Aisha to escort her through the crowds, which parted to make way.

  One of the black-robed priests stepped toward her as if intending to have words, but Kodyn stepped in the way. “Whatever you have to say to Lady Briana,” he growled, “it can wait.”

  Councilor Madani’s kohl-rimmed eyes darkened. “Beware your tone, pup.” His thin mouth pressed into a tight line, which only made his hooked nose look even more like a vulture. “Your mistress has enough burden with the death of her father; I would hate to see her grieve an insolent bodyguard as well.”

  Kodyn straightened to his full height, looming over the priest. “You know where to find me, Priest.” He almost spat the words. “But remember that it was your Gatherers that did this, and the Pharus knows the truth.”

  Madani’s upper lip curled into a sneer. “We were in the Council Chamber when they attacked, beside the Pharus and the Arch-Guardian. The actions of those rabid dogs cannot be blamed on us. Perhaps, in a few years, your young mind will come to understand such intricacies.”

  Anger burned within Kodyn, but he pressed back on it, hardened it into a tight, bright core. Not at the insult—he could return the priest’s scorn a hundred-fold—but at the priest himself. The vulture-faced bastard had been behind the attempt to kidnap Briana the first time. Despite Madani’s protest of innocence, Kodyn wasn’t ready to believe that the priest had no hand in the attempt.

  Yet now wasn’t the time for accusations. Soon, Kodyn would be free to unleash his anger at these pompous priests, the ones truly responsible for so much of Briana’s anguish and loss. When that time came, woe to Madani and his cronies.

  “This will not go unanswered.” Kodyn fixed the Necroseti priest with a hard stare. “There will be vengeance. May the Long Keeper have mercy on the guilty, whoever they may be.” His tone of voice made it abundantly clear who he blamed.

  Madani bristled and opened his mouth to speak, but Kodyn turned on his heel and stalked down the broad stairs after Aisha and Briana.

  The view from atop the Hall of the Beyond was breathtaking, offering an unbroken view of the entire city. The four lower tiers looked like colossal stepping stones cut into the golden sandstone of Alshuruq, the mountain upon which Shalandra sat. Green and yellow farmlands spread out from the southern edge of the city.

  Yet the beauty faded beneath the pallor of his mood. At that moment, Kodyn had no eyes for gorgeous vistas or masterpieces of architecture. His mind was consumed by concern for Briana and anger at the Necroseti.

  The descent took them the better part of half an hour, each step downward accompanied by words of condolences from the people lining the staircase. Kodyn and Aisha supported the pale, tired-looking Briana until they reached the palanquin waiting for them on the Path of Gold.

  Aisha helped Briana climb into the litter, then glanced at Kodyn.

  “Go,” Kodyn told her with a nod. “She needs someone with her right now.”

  Aisha hesitated, as if wanting to say something. She seemed to think better of it and climbed into the palanquin.

  Kodyn climbed into the saddle of his horse and shot a nod to Rothin. “Let’s get her home.”

  The captain of Arch-Guardian Suroth’s private household guard called an order to the eight men he’d brought as the honor guard. They formed a protective square of gilded breastplates and stern faces around Briana’s litter, with Kodyn riding at the front, and began the long, slow march across the Keeper’s Tier back to the Arch-Guardian’s mansion.

  Kodyn’s eyes never stopped moving as he scanned the Path of Gold for any sign of danger. The Gatherers, a death-worshipping cult offshoot of the Necroseti, had been behind Briana’s kidnapping the first time—they’d hauled her north to Praamis, where he had met and subsequently rescued her. Now, they’d tried to kidnap her again, though it seemed they would settle for murdering her as well.

  Both times, the attempts had been made on the Keeper’s Tier, the uppermost of the five levels of Shalandra. The Keeper’s Tier, home to the wealthiest Dhukari, was supposed to be well-guarded, with guards patrolling the broad avenues and taking up station at the single gate that gave access from the lower levels. Yet somehow the Gatherers had gotten past—or around—the black-armored Indomitables at the gate. Kodyn suspected the cultists used the secret Serenii tunnels built into the mountain. The same tunnels he’d intended to use to steal into the Palace of Golden Eternity to get his hands on the Crown of the Pharus.

  Right now, all concerns for his Undertaking took second place to Briana’s safety. He knew he’d have to figure out another way to get into the Vault of Ancients—without Suroth’s help, it would be near impossible. Worse, he had less than three weeks until the Serenii-designed locks opened the vault, then it would be re-sealed for another three months.

&nbs
p; But that’s a problem for after I figure out what our next steps with Briana are. He had to make sure she was safe. And that starts with getting her home.

  Worry tied his stomach in knots as he rode, and his hand never strayed from the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist. His Night Guild armor—quality leather treated with one of House Scorpion’s special alchemical potions—could turn aside most attacks, but Briana wore only a gold-and-white kalasiris with straps of white leather. Vigilance would prove her best defense at the moment; his sword would turn aside the attacks her ornate cloth gown could not.

  Relief flooded him when he caught sight of the high walls of Arch-Guardian Suroth’s mansion a quarter of an hour later, yet he didn’t truly breathe easy until the steel-banded wooden gate shut behind him and the bare-headed Kabili slaves set the litter down.

  Aisha leapt out before he’d fully dismounted, and one look at the tightness of her shoulders told Kodyn she’d felt the same nervous tension he had. Yes, she was taking her role of guardian very seriously.

  The Briana that emerged from the litter bore little resemblance to the young woman that had laughed and danced among the Dhukari in the Palace of Golden Eternity just a few nights earlier. She looked more like the Briana he’d rescued from the Gatherers: almond eyes red-rimmed from crying, her kohl streaked by tears, her hair rumpled. Yet sorrow hadn’t diminished her beauty; if anything, the evidence of her emotions only deepened her maturity and grace.

  Nessa, the grey-haired Steward, bustled out of the mansion’s front door. “Come, my lady,” she said in a soothing voice. “Let’s get you in a bath then bed. You’ve had enough to deal with for one—”

  “No.” A hint of iron had returned to Briana’s voice. She brushed away her tears, a spark of defiance shining in her eyes. “I will not lie in bed, not while my father’s murderers are free.”

  “I am told that the Keeper’s Blades slew all of the Gatherers in the palace,” Nessa said.

  “But not all of the Gatherers in Shalandra.” Briana’s face hardened. “Not the ones who ordered the attack, or the ones responsible for the Gatherers in the first place.”

  Nessa’s brow furrowed, and her eyes darted around. “Beware, my lady. The Keeper’s Council has eyes and ears everywhere.”

  “Good!” Briana straightened, her face creased with anger. “Let them hear me! Let them know that I’m going to make them pay for what they did to me, and to my father.”

  Nessa’s expression grew tight. “Anger is a part of the mourning process, Lady Briana, so we will say that this is simply your grief talking. No one, not even your father, was foolish enough to move against the Necroseti. They are more than just the most powerful men in Shalandra—they are the Keeper’s voice and will on Einan.”

  “Then the Long Keeper is served by cowards and fools!” With a snarl, Briana stalked into the house.

  Surprise rooted Kodyn to the spot for an instant. He had seen Briana’s strength before—she had recovered from the traumatic ordeal of captivity by the Gatherers—yet this new display astounded him. The fearful girl he’d met in Praamis had disappeared, replaced by a defiant young woman. Her resilience of spirit spoke of deep reserves of inner strength, but his job of keeping her safe would be much more difficult if she took on the Necroseti.

  He hurried into the mansion a step behind Aisha, and the two of them moved quickly to match Briana’s stride. The Shalandran girl fairly stomped up the stairs toward the second floor.

  “Nessa wasn’t wrong,” Kodyn said. “The Necroseti are too powerful to go after directly. Your father knew that, which is why he didn’t attack them head-on.”

  Briana whirled on him with a glare. “Don’t tell me you’re about to try and convince me not to go after them or the Gatherers that did this!” She gestured around her at the blood that stained the pristine white carpets covering the staircase.

  “No.” Kodyn shook his head. “I came to Shalandra to make sure the Gatherers never came back to Praamis, and this makes it perfectly clear that they need to be dealt with once and for all. But if your father couldn’t find them, even with all the resources at his disposal, I’m not so arrogant to think I’ll miraculously succeed. And I’m not stupid enough to charge at the Necroseti like a mad warrior jousting a windmill. I’m just saying that we need to be smart about what we do. We need to find a way that doesn’t get us all killed.”

  Briana scowled, but Aisha spoke first. “He’s right. We’re exhausted, and it’s going to be nearly impossible to think straight. We need to plan, but first we need food and rest.”

  “You want to sleep now?” Briana’s eyebrows shot up.

  “If we want any hope of making a plan that works, yes.” Aisha’s jaw took on a stubborn set. “And you know I’m right.”

  Briana looked ready to shout, to rage, to attack Aisha, but Kodyn was fairly certain it was more due to the overwhelming flood of emotions. And it was to be expected, given what had just happened.

  “If we’re going to have any chance of taking on the Necroseti,” he told her, “we’re going to need all the help we can get. That means the Secret Keepers, and the Pharus, if we can get in to speak to him. But there’s another place we can look for help.”

  Briana’s brow furrowed, and even Aisha seemed curious.

  Kodyn met their eyes with a firm gaze. “We can use the power of the Serenii.”

  Chapter Two

  Evren’s gut tightened as the deadbolt thunked open. He leapt to his feet and positioned himself between Hailen and the door. “Remember,” he growled, “let me do the talking.”

  Blinding light flooded in as the door swung open. Evren tried to blink away the pain, but his eyes had grown accustomed to the pitch blackness within the storeroom where he and Hailen had been locked away for hours—how many, he didn’t know, but enough that he’d been able to catch a nap—in the darkness.

  The minor concussion didn’t help. He’d been struck on the head while trying to slip past the Indomitables guarding the Defender’s Tier. The dizziness and nausea had diminished, though the ache remained.

  The Hunter always said I had a hard head.

  He reached for his daggers, only to remember that Lady Briana’s bodyguard—that tall, pale-skinned Praamian—had taken them. Yet that didn’t stop him from clenching his fists and squaring his shoulders. He’d won enough battles bare-handed not to go down without fighting.

  The moment a hand grabbed his right arm he swung with his left, a quick hook aimed at his opponent’s jaw. Pain flared through his hand as his knuckles slammed into a hard skull. The grip on his arm fell away and the man staggered back with a grunt, but before Evren could lash out at the next blurry figure, two more men seized him.

  “Cease your struggling before you end up dead.”

  Evren recognized the voice—it belonged to Rothin, the captain of Arch-Guardian Suroth’s household guard. The man that had imprisoned him here on Lady Briana’s orders.

  His eyes had adjusted to the light enough to make out the blurry forms of four guards in their bright gold breastplates. Two clung to his arms while a third leaned against the door frame with a hand pressed to the side of his head. Rothin’s broad shoulders and strong-featured face loomed in his vision, and Evren didn’t need his eyes to feel the cold steel resting against his throat.

  “What do you want?” Evren snarled.

  “Lady Briana commands your presence,” Rothin said. “Both of you.” His voice held no anger or malice, only a tone of stern authority. He’d been present when Evren warned of the Gatherers’ attack.

  Let’s just hope that means he doesn’t think I’m a traitor or spy.

  To be fair, he’d likely have come to that same conclusion himself, given how they’d been discovered in Arch-Guardian Suroth’s private office, with one of his most valuable possessions clutched in Hailen’s hand. I’d probably have arrested me, too.

  He relaxed and dropped his hands. “Then let’s go.” No sense fighting, not where Hailen could get hurt. The
boy had very nearly been killed the night before by Snarth, one of the Mumblers working for Killian the blacksmith.

  The guards half-led, half-hauled him and Hailen out of the storeroom, down the servant’s corridor, and into the main room of the mansion. The eyes of Suroth’s servants followed their journey up the stairs, and Evren could hear their whispered gossip. Doubtless they were trying to figure out what Evren and Hailen had done to earn the ire of Nessa, Briana, or Suroth himself.

  Evren’s curiosity blazed bright as the guards marched him not into Lady Briana’s private chambers, but into the very same study where he and Hailen had been discovered the previous night, just after the assassination attempt.

  Lady Briana sat behind her father’s vast wooden desk, in the straight-backed leather armchair. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her kohl smeared and faded from crying—Evren had heard of her father’s murder in the palace—but her expression was an unreadable mask of calm composure.

  Her two bodyguards—the pale-skinned Praamian and the fierce woman with skin darker than Evren’s own—hovered behind her like mother hawks guarding a hatchling. Given what had happened, Evren didn’t begrudge them their caution.

  “Thank you, Rothin.” Briana inclined her head to the captain of the guard. “You may leave them with us.”

  “Of course, Lady Briana.” Hesitance echoed in his voice, yet he simply bowed and turned to leave. The guards released Evren and Hailen, then followed their captain.

  Silence hung thick in the study for long seconds after the door clicked shut behind the departing guards. Three pairs of eyes bored into him, but Evren stood tall, defiant. He hadn’t let fear of anything—not the Lecterns in the Master’s Temple where he’d served as apprentice, not the monsters roaming the Empty Mountains, not even the Hunter of Voramis, the legendary assassin that had become his trainer and mentor—shake him for years. He’d be damned if he showed a Dhukari girl or her bodyguards even a hint of worry.

  “What is your name?”