by James Gurley
“Your lessons progress well, Tad, but your attention wanders too easily. You have reached a critical point in your training. Things that once seemed so difficult to achieve will now come effortlessly. Such powers as I suspect lurk within your young body require alert concentration and due diligence lest you lose control.”
Simios’s manner concerned Tad. The calculated deliberateness in his words revealed more than the words themselves.
“You seem concerned,” he replied.
Simios placed his hand on Tad’s knee and patted it lightly. “You are Terran, yet you have the powers of a Plin. Regardless of the training you have thus far undergone, you are still young. A Plin trains to become a Mage from birth. All Plin are Mages, but few become Watchers. You have the potential to become both. You have been the object of many discussions of late.”
This surprised Tad. “Oh? What has been said?”
Simios looked into Tad’s eyes and Tad felt a slight tingle in his forehead. He unconsciously raised a mental barrier to the Watcher’s probe and the tingle stopped. Simios shook his head slowly.
“You should not be able to do that. Few Plin can shield their minds against another’s thoughts so well.”
“I didn’t know I could,” Tad confessed. “It just felt . . . right. Was that one of your implanted devices?”
Simios’s smile suggested that Tad had a lot to learn about the Plin. “No, we can use them to keep in contact with each other, but I attempted to probe your mind using telepathy.”
“Telepathy? How?”
“Just as the Plin, and you to some extent, can access the energy fields of other spatial dimensions to move objects, conjure and defend ourselves, we can focus our thoughts and ride the energy fields that the human brain produces. The electrical energy is small, but echoes throughout the cosmos. It is not a true reading of thoughts, but of mood and emotions. Likewise, we can control these emotions. Your ability to shield yours is remarkable and unexpected.
“Our discussions have concerned your welfare and your potential. The intentions of the Council are not so benign. I fear that they will move against you soon.” He looked at Tad. “Do you have something you wish to tell me?”
“Yes. I have located the Sanctuary beneath Delphi.”
Simios stared at him. “What else?’ he asked.
Tad decided to reveal all. “Also the tomb of Saracen.”
Simios’s eyes grew large and he cupped his chin with his hand. “Ah, I see. What did you learn of him?”
“That he was Terran or Plin. His features were missing.”
“Who else knows of your discovery of the Sanctuary?”
Simios’s lack of curiosity concerning Saracen mystified Tad. “Sira was with me.” He paused. “Saxtos informed me that the body of Sira’s professor was discovered in a hidden observatory, perhaps the very one I found. I believe he suspects we were there.”
“It is as I feared,” Simios sighed. “The Council will undoubtedly use this information at their leisure and when it most suits them.” He glanced at Tad. “They probably have your movements under scrutiny to discover your coconspirators.”
“I’ve done nothing!” Tad exploded. “I saved the king’s life—twice.”
Simios waved his hand. “Calm yourself. I know you are innocent and I suspect the Council knows of your innocence, but you are a weapon, a knife at our throats, and they will use you to slice away at the Plin’s credibility, as well as draw attention to rebel activity.”
“The rebels do nothing,” Tad protested. “They simply sit and complain.”
He realized too late that he had slipped and revealed more than he had intended. His error did not pass Simios’s attention.
“There is much you have kept secret,” he admonished, “Even from me.” Simios shook his head. “You are very foolish, Tad de Silva. The Council wished to make of you a tool against the Plin. I warned you, but you failed to take heed.”
“I did not tell them about the king’s oracular pronouncement.” As he said it, he remembered that he had not told Simios about the king’s second pronouncement.
“No matter. I hope you have not sealed your fate with your deliberate secrets.”
“Sealed my fate?” Tad asked.
“A war is coming. I had hoped that you would content yourself with your task of aiding the king and not take sides in the conflict. Now, it is too late. The Council of Regents wants more power and knows that the Plin oppose them. You have made great inroads with young King Karal. I fear now it has been for naught.”
Tad sat back in defeat. He had behaved foolishly, and Saxtos and the Council had played him for the fool he was.
“What can I do?” he moaned.
Simios shrugged his shoulders. “I do not know. The actors must await the final curtain to see how the play ends. Let us hope it does not end badly.”
Meran, true to her word, acted on her threat to Tad less than a week after his meeting with Simios. As Tad coached the king in a simple greeting he would utter from the Tower balcony for his fifteenth birthday celebration, two Saddir guards entered the room and stood at attention on both sides of the door. Tad was startled to see that one of them was the guard with which he had spoken months earlier about the Enclave. He glanced sheepishly at Tad before looking away. Following closely behind were Saxtos, Akalah and Meran. By their dour expressions, Tad knew they brought trouble. Meran’s dark eyes flashed anger at him while a smirk rode her luscious red lips. He turned from her intent gaze to Akalah, the Chief Regent. His face, too, bore ill tidings. When King Karal saw them, he whimpered and ran into a corner of the room, seeking shelter behind a potted plant. Tad stood his ground, trying hard not to reveal his nervousness.
Akalah spoke first. “Tad de Silva, it has come to our attention that you have kept several matters from us, matters of grave importance.” He waved to one of the guards, who rushed to the mural by the king’s bed and pressed the correct point to open the hidden door in the wall. It was obvious that someone had informed the guard of the exact location. Tad immediately glanced at Meran and saw her predatory smile. Perhaps that was the true reason for the visit to his room, he thought, and not my youthful charms. A second pair of armed guards stood inside the corridor on the other side of the secret door. Tad tried to show surprise as the door opened, but knew he had failed miserably.
“We have learned that you have long known about this secret entrance and have used it on more than one occasion. Finding a rebel’s dead body beyond this wall leads us to believe you are a conspirator in the plot to harm our king. Hiding this knowledge places you and us in an awkward position.” Akalah’s voice softened somewhat as he continued. “Everyone here is aware that you suffered greatly in your efforts to save the king’s life on two occasions, but in light of the evidence recently uncovered, can it be possible that you willingly suffered these injuries in order to further insinuate yourself into the king’s and our confidences? Some have suggested this.” At this, Saxtos turned away and slowly shook his head, but Meran continued to glare at him. “We feel it is necessary to the king’s welfare to remove you as his companion. The Council has notified Simios the Watcher of its decision. When our investigation has reached completion and your part in this affair is more fully understood, perhaps then we may change or modify our decision. Let us hope so. Until then...” Tad’s heart sank as Akalah motioned to the guards. “Guards, escort young de Silva from the Tower.”
Tad stood meekly silent, stunned by the accusations, not knowing how to respond as the two guards escorted him from the room. His feet moved mechanically, carrying him from the room, though his heart bade him stand his ground and face the Council’s contrived allegations. He looked back to see Saxtos holding King Karal by the hand. The young king cried and struggled in the Saddir’s grip in an attempt to follow Tad.
“Tad no go!” he screamed. “Tad no go!”
Tad felt numb. His mind refused to fully grasp what was happening. How could they think him guilty of conspiri
ng against the king, whom he loved like a brother? Did they truly think his efforts to save the king were a ploy? Then he thought of Sira. Did they know that she had accompanied him into the Observatory? She could testify that the body was not there at the time of their visit, but in doing so would expose herself to the same charges he now faced. He could not risk that. It would be better to face his problems alone than to involve her. Then there was the matter of the Sanctuary. If they investigated deeper and found the entrance into the caverns below, it would only further incriminate him.
What would his Uncle Wilbreth say? Or his Aunt Wilena? If he could not prove his innocence, everyone would think of him as a traitor and a rebel. Would they torture him for information? Would he tell them what he knew if they did? He knew he should warn Valcor but he remembered Simios’s warning that the Council was watching him. To warn Valcor would lead anyone watching him to the rebels and bring further shame, if that was possible. He had gone from hero to villain in one fleeting moment.
Tad considered using one of the confusion spells that Theliolis had taught him to escape his escort, but realized that he had nowhere to go. He could not travel halfway across the country to his uncle’s farm in Casson, nor could he hide in Delphi. Even the Warrens would not be safe for him now.
The Sanctuary? It was a possibility.
Tad knew he could not risk the entrance in the king’s rooms even if allowed back into the Black Tower, but somewhere, possibly in the Garden District or in the maze of the North Tumbles, lay another opening to the underground city. With food, he could hide there for a long time. Perhaps he could even meet the mysterious inhabitants of the clean house. If they did not kill him outright, they could provide answers, if not complete exoneration. Before that, he needed access to a few books in the secret Library, if Simios would even speak with him.
Meran stepped in front of him as the guards escorted him out of the room. Her cold smile stabbed his heart. “See that he does not set foot on the steps of the Black Tower again under penalty of death.”
Her voice rolled down the corridor after him like a wave of hatred, echoing from the cold, dark stone of the Black Tower.
20
EJECTED
TO TAD'S SURPRISE, HIS DESTINATION WAS NOT THE DUNGEON. Instead, the two guards escorted him to one of the little-used rear entrances to the Black Tower and waited patiently outside the door for him to leave. His relief at avoiding prison and possible torture quickly faded, replaced by a sense of failure. In a way, expulsion was worse than confinement. He had come to think of the Black Tower as his home. Now, they had unceremoniously evicted him like a tenant behind on his rent. He stood on the steps for several moments, staring down the long, empty service alley, undecided as what to do, where to go. His feet refused to move, as if they knew his next step would be the first step on an unknown path not of his choosing.
His world, one he had thought built upon the solid ebony stone of the Black Tower, had crumbled, but the dust of that fall was not that which choked him, burning his throat. It was the barely suppressed sobs of a disillusioned young boy, a ‘country bumpkin’, as Sira had called him in jest, as out of place enmeshed in the drama and intrigues of Delphi as a priest in a brothel. Lacking any other place to go, he turned toward the Watchers’ Tower.
As he descended the first step, the Saddir guard with which he had conversed earlier spoke. “I am sorry, Tad de Silva—Tushima. Many of us know this accusation to be false, but we can do nothing. We do not name one Tushima lightly. Seek out Hanat and speak with him on this matter. Perhaps he can help.”
“Hanat? How?”
The guard looked around to see if they were alone. “He has many friends.”
The guard walked away before Tad could question him further. The sound of the door to the Black Tower closing was like the slamming a jail cell door, only with Tad imprisoned outside the Tower. As he slinked in shame through the city, he felt all manner of eyes upon him. He knew that he was being paranoid, but he felt as if the black mark of Cain marred his forehead – Traitor, Rebel, Failure. He moved through the city in a daze, barely aware of his surroundings, deaf to the vibrant clamor of the city. As he neared the Watchers’ Tower, he stopped and stared at it.
The Watchers’ Tower had once thrust whimsically above the surrounding buildings like an artist’s conception of a beacon of truth and knowledge. Today, it was an accusatory finger pointed straight at him. Riding the lift upwards, his stomach quivered and his palms began to perspire. As the door opened, Simios stood before him, a scowl deepening the crags of his ancient face.
“I warned you of the Council, but you ignored me,” he began.
Tad cast his eyes to the stone floor as if suddenly deeply intrigued by its pattern. He scuffed the toe of one boot across the grout line. “Why did they let me go?”
“To Watch you. They have been observing you since your arrival in the city. They believed you to be a plant by the Plin. They could not imprison you without inviting our ire and a public trial would leave too many questions unanswered. They used your clumsy attempts at deception against you and against us.”
Tad’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve been a fool,” he admitted.
Simios sighed. “To be young is to be foolish. You were outclassed by masters of deception and by people well versed in the manipulation of others. Do not regret your naiveté. Their move was expected. It simply came at an inopportune time.”
Tad cocked his head and looked at Simios. Had he misunderstood? “You’re not angry with me?”
Simios smiled. “No, lad. Much of this is my fault for keeping you in the dark. The Council has finally made its move to seize control of the king and we can do very little about it at this time. Your dismissal was a message meant for me. To object too seriously would side us with the rebels, or so would be their claim. People distrust the Plin enough without inviting further suspicion. No, we must bide our time and Watch.”
“But the king?”
“Come. Walk with me.” Simios placed his arm around Tad’s shoulder and guided him through the maze of desks, many occupied by diligent Plin feigning fascination with their books, but with one ear cocked to overhear the conversation. Simios stopped in front of one of the windows looking out over the city. The Black Tower loomed like a silent reminder of the power of the Council. “The king is safe,” Simios continued. “They will not harm him, at least not for a while. You, on the other hand, do present a problem. The Council suspects that you are more than you seem.” He smiled wryly. “As you are. Your defense against Meran’s obvious Lilith charms was a topic for heated discussion in the Council chambers. I believe it to be the catalyst for their actions. They suspect our hand in this.” He clasped his hands behind his back and shook his head. “No, they cannot harm you outright, but they cannot afford to let you run around loose as a rallying point for others. For your safety, you must leave Delphi.”
Tad’s heart sank. His legs refused to support him. He sank unsteadily to one of the cushioned couches beneath the window. The city seemed to shimmer. He realized he was crying. He began a protest, but Simios held out his hand to silence him.
“It will be for a short while only. I will Watch the king. They cannot deny me occasional access to him.” He sat beside Tad. “I fear for you. Leaving the city could have a two-fold purpose – to remove you from immediate harm’s way and to allow the Council to feel less pressured to act rashly. With you away, cooler heads, such as Harriman, might prevail.”
Tad was surprised. Harriman had seemed Akalah’s staunch ally. “Harriman?”
“Yes. Councilman Dubar Harriman is no fool. He plays Akalah’s dull tool, but his mind is sharp. He keeps a low profile both in the Council chambers and in his position as Chief of Security, but he must realize now is not the time to blunder about blindly. If the Council is not behind the attacks on the king, then he must wonder who is. He must also consider the possibility that you might be the real target. If so, his next question would undoubtedly be why.
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“I see his hand in the discovery of Professor Liess’s body in the hidden chambers and the part it played in incriminating you. He tests the Plin’s involvement with you. Defending you places us at odds with the Council.”
Simios continued, “There is another reason we would like you to leave Delphi. We ask you to seek out a disturbance in the fabric of spacetime we have sensed for many years. It originates here on Charybdis, in Valastaria, and is very powerful. I believe it is connected somehow with the myth of the High Gate of Tomorrows.”
“The High Gate of Tomorrows,” Tad repeated. “What is that?”
“Legend says it is a crack in time, a doorway into the future, or many possible futures. An Oracle, such as King Karal, may witness the future yet cannot change it. Beyond the High Gate of Tomorrows, it is said one might, if he were powerful enough, shift our timeline to avoid the return of the Veil.”
Hope bloomed in Tad’s chest. “Is this possible?” he gushed.
Simios shrugged. To Tad, it seemed a gesture of hopelessness. His hope died. “I have doubts, but even so, such a powerful node in spacetime can have many uses. It is worth investigating.”
“Why, then, have no Plin ever sought it out?”
Sorrow swept Simios’s face. Sadness filled his words. “A few have. None have returned. I fear that our kind cannot fare far from Delphi. Our past is here, as is our future. Of those few that attempted the journey, some went mad, some simply vanished, and one that remained has not been heard from for many years. Our ability to communicate with one another does not extend as far as Valastaria. Alas, I fear if anyone makes such a journey, it will not be Plin.”
Tad remembered King Karal’s last visionary utterance. It had spoken of a journey. The thought of leaving all he had come to hold dear troubled him, but he had left everything behind for a new beginning once, so why not twice? He might face dangers, but knew that Simios would not willingly send him to his death. He brushed away his tears and summoned his courage.