The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith)

by RJ Blain

  And, he didn’t know what Aria and Lord Gabriel meant to do with the girl. Aria paused at the door and glanced at him. Terin sighed, and at her commanding gesture, he stepped within the room.

  Like the bedroom, the chamber was small. It was barely large enough for three people to fit in. A table covered in fabric, shears, threads, ribbons, and jewels took up most of the space. A man clad in red leaned against the wall laden with bolts of dark fabrics.

  “Good morning, Terin,” the pale-haired man greeted. The man’s bright blue eyes left him and focused on the shopkeeper. “Aria, I’ll take charge of him. I’m sorry for disturbing your rest.”

  “The girl?”

  “Let her sleep. It looks like she needs it. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

  Aria dipped into a curtsy. “Yes.”

  Lord Gabriel smiled. When Aria was gone, the man pushed away from the wall and closed the distance between them in two long strides. A shiver ran down Terin’s spine to his toes.

  “You look well enough for someone who avoided a very unpleasant death not long ago, Terin.”

  Terin swallowed and shivered again. The first question to rattle around in his head spilled out before he could stop it. “How do you know that name?”

  “I know your name because I do. I don’t believe in calling people by a number. It’s a repulsive practice, don’t you think? My name is Blaise.” The man thrust his hand out. Terin stared, uncertain of what to do. When he didn’t move, Lord Gabriel took hold of his hand, lifted it, and gave it a firm shake. Lord Gabriel’s hand was cold. “I expect you to call me Blaise. Lord Gabriel, if you must. No sirs, no masters, no Citizens, or any other title like that. Understood?”

  “Yes, si—”

  A glare silenced Terin, and he cleared his throat. “Yes, Lord Gabriel,” he replied, watching the man circle around him.

  Blue eyes met his, fringed by untamed locks of sun-gold hair. Like Aria, Lord Gabriel was gentle but firm when adjusting the high collar of his doublet. “I’m going to give you a choice, Terin. Several choices. I’ll admit, this is crude. I haven’t had time to plan anything. While I could force you to cooperate, I won’t.” The man’s hand touched the golden collar around Terin’s throat. “I don’t want to do that. Will you at least listen to what I have to say?”

  Zurach hadn’t given him that choice. While he couldn’t force away his wariness, Terin nodded his agreement.

  “Good. Sit. I’ll talk. Listen. When you’ve made your decision, tell me. If you have a question, ask.” Lord Gabriel stepped away from him to return to where he’d been leaning against the wall. “Choice one: I return you to General Horthoe. You become his problem. You never see me, Aria, or that slave girl in the other room again.”

  Terin eased his way to one of the stools and perched on it. When he said nothing, Lord Gabriel nodded.

  “Choice two: I remove your collar, and I take you as far out of Erelith as I can get you. You’ll be on your own, free to do whatever it is you want to do.”

  There was another pause. Terin fidgeted on the stool, but he said nothing. Disbelief warred with hope, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to take the man seriously.

  It had to be a lie.

  “Choice three: I take off your collar and send you to a monastery, where you live as a monk in service to the Church until the day you die.”

  As he listened, he felt his mouth drop open. It wasn’t an ultimatum being offered to him, not like Zurach and Emeric had done. Once again, before he could stop himself, he said, “The collar can’t be removed.”

  It wasn’t just a statement; it was an accusation of the lie in the man’s words. He was being baited, trapped—there couldn’t be truth to what Lord Gabriel told him.

  Why else would a Citizen offer him any choice at all?

  “I’m not finished. Choice four: I kill you here and now. Of all of the options I’ve given so far, that might be the safest one of the lot.”

  Terin’s eyes widened. It was the lone solution to his enslavement he had ever fully embraced, but when Lord Gabriel offered it in a calm and neutral tone, all he felt was fear.

  The man chuckled. “Judging from your expression, you don’t seem all too pleased with that choice. Fine. Choice five: I change your papers and you become my slave.” Lord Gabriel’s expression twisted, as if the man had swallowed something sour. “Choice six: I remove your collar and you become the scion of my house. The slave girl in the other room becomes yours. Keep her, free her, do what you want with her—she’ll be your problem, not mine. You’ll appear in the records, she’ll disappear and have new records put in, and through me, you’ll have the wealth and power needed to make some difference for other slaves. You’ll be my son in all things except blood, and the only people who’ll know that isn’t the case is you, me, Aria, and that girl in the other room. So, what will it be, Terin?”

  Terin struggled to find words, but he couldn’t voice any of the questions stampeding through his head. Six choices and he couldn’t think about any of them. All of his attention focused on the man who watched him and waited for an answer.

  “Maybe this will help you decide,” Lord Gabriel murmured, once again striding to his side. Terin tensed at the feel of the man’s hands around his throat. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  A song was whispered in Terin’s ears and the melody eased the tension in his muscles. A hand slipped down to rest against his back.

  Without its support, he would’ve fallen.

  “Easy,” Lord Gabriel murmured in his ear. The power of the word lulled him with the same irresistible force of a Spoken order to sleep. Terin couldn’t form the scripture to counter it. The words slipped away from him before he could Speak them.

  A loud pop and rattle of metal against metal drew him from his stupor. The pressure of the collar around his throat was gone. Gentle fingers placed three curved pieces of golden metal in his hand.

  “Proof I can keep my word,” Lord Gabriel said. The man fell silent for a long moment. “Now you can decide without fear of rebuke, without pain, and without worry. What is your choice?”

  Terin stared down at the broken collar and trembled.

  ~*~

  Blaise kept still, one hand pressed to the boy’s back while his back, knees, and ankles throbbed from the effort of maintaining his position. Wings he no longer had ached along his shoulders and his spine hurt where the phantom pains of his tail stabbed at him.

  Without daring to reveal how much he hurt, he waited. He wanted to return to his favored spot, where he could feign indifference while the wall held him upright. When the boy’s trembling intensified, he ground his teeth. He remained motionless.

  Had he given Terin too many choices? Most of them weren’t good choices, but he didn’t know what else to offer without sounding insincere. The choice he wanted the boy to make bothered him almost as much as the one he expected would be made.

  Thousands of years hadn’t changed mortals much. They either longed for familiarity or desired the definitive escape of death.

  Neither one of those choices pleased Blaise. Both of them led to the same conclusion. With the Hand of God in the possession of those who wanted it used, he didn’t dare let the boy go.

  If Terin chose to return to General Horthoe, Blaise wouldn’t have a choice. In order to save everyone—and himself—he would have to sacrifice an innocent cursed with the Daughter’s green eyes. He’d have to do it while Aria watched and bore silent, sad witness to the one unfortunate enough to have touched the Hand of God. The boy had made only one mistake. The boy had survived.

  If Blaise lost Terin, he’d lose his chance to find Mikael.

  The unfairness of it all made Blaise’s heart ache.

  While praying was futile, Blaise did it anyway, hoping the boy would choose any other option than death or returning to General Horthoe. Any other option wouldn’t stain his hands with the blood of someone he didn’t want to hunt, someone who didn’t rouse his hunger despite the stench of fear
and old blood in the air.

  For Terin, if the boy made that decision, Blaise would do it as his true self, not disguised as he was in a human’s form.

  The temptation to deny the boy both of those choices rose from his chest and choked off his breath. It forced him to remain silent when all he wanted to do was convince Terin to do what Blaise thought was best.

  “Why?” Terin whispered.

  At first Blaise thought he imagined the whispered question, but the pair of eyes focused on him convinced him otherwise. The faint rings of blue and red tainting the green eyes faded away even as he met the inquisitive gaze.

  “Why do I need a reason to help someone?” he answered.

  It was the only thing Blaise could say without revealing the truth. Later, he could teach the boy the terrors of being Lucin’s host, and being the only person alive with any real hope of finding the Eye of God.

  It made him no better than the two men who possessed the Hand. It made him no better than the Emperor who held the Heart.

  That, too, Blaise would explain to Terin—in time. If they got that time.

  “No one’s that nice,” the boy whispered.

  “You’re right. I don’t know anyone like that—never have. Probably never will. I have things I want to accomplish. Having your help would make it a lot easier. I don’t want to see you put back in the Emperor’s hands. He’ll use you, and a lot of people will die because of it. I don’t want that, even if some of them deserve it,” Blaise said, rocking back on his heels, but careful to keep his supporting hand in place. The boy still trembled, and he wasn’t sure if he could let go without risking him falling. “I don’t want to force you.”

  “What if I choose to die?”

  The emotionless tone tore at Blaise’s heart. It was a question he couldn’t understand. What was it like to worry or hope for death?

  Was it a little like a human’s ability to love unconditionally because they didn’t live long enough to truly weary of the objects of their affection?

  Few things survived the true test of time, and an individual often didn’t. People changed in their short lives.

  “Then I’ll give you the sweetest death possible, and send you to His garden resplendent in glory,” Blaise whispered, and hated himself for speaking the truth, and for giving his word.

  Blaise didn’t change, and his word was never broken. Once given, he couldn’t take it back. All he could do was regret it for eternity.

  “You’re telling the truth.”

  “I am.”

  “Blaise doesn’t lie,” Aria said from the doorway, in the old tongue. “But I’d ask of you to consider any option but that one.”

  Terin’s baffled expression saved Blaise from his anguish. It held back the turbulent emotions within him. He forced a smile. “She wants you to reconsider that choice.”

  “I wasn’t considering it.”

  Blaise’s hand dropped from the boy’s back and he couldn’t manage to hide his scowl. Aria’s laughter was one of relief.

  “Cheeky,” she said, still in the ancient language of her birth. The woman met his eyes, and he hesitated at her sad expression.

  “I’m relieved to hear that,” he admitted. “What do you want to do?”

  “What will happen to the girl?” Terin asked, twisting around to stare through the dolls in the shop in the direction of the dark bedroom.

  Blaise followed the boy’s stare. From his place, he couldn’t see the bed or the girl’s form, but he could smell her presence. Her scent clung to Terin.

  “I don’t know.” In truth, Blaise hadn’t thought that far ahead, but he wasn’t going to admit that to the boy.

  “If I help you, can you protect her?”

  “I can try. It depends. Aria?”

  “Records I change, yes? New person he become, yes?” Aria replied in Erelithian. The woman’s smile relaxed. “New person she become, too. Can be done, yes.”

  “When Aria says it can be done, it can be done. Aria doesn’t lie. You worry about what you want to do, and you let us worry about the specifics.” Blaise rose to his feet and tried not to grin.

  The boy’s thoughtful expression elated him. With just a little more convincing, he’d have Terin. With the slave’s help, the real work could begin.

  ~*~

  Without knowing more about the blond-haired man and the silver-collared woman, Terin couldn’t decide what to do. Lord Gabriel seemed sincere—the evidence of that was in the gold weighing heavily in his hand.

  Aria’s concern warmed Terin as nothing else he could remember. Her eyes, like his, were green, but hers were a darker shade. The kindness in them soothed, where the icy blue of Blaise’s eyes pierced through him.

  The choice was Terin’s, and he didn’t know what to do. Dying wouldn’t help anyone. While he didn’t really know the pleasure slave, the only way he could ensure she didn’t end up back in the arena was cooperating with Lord Gabriel.

  Running away wouldn’t help either. If he ran, he could take her with him—if she cooperated. He’d seen too many obey their masters to their deaths to hold much hope in that possibility. The idea of abandoning her sickened him.

  If he escaped, it wouldn’t be alone. Two choices were whittled away.

  As a slave, even if he remained, he could do nothing.

  Another choice was whittled away.

  “Does she come if I leave Erelith?” Terin asked.

  Lord Gabriel shook his head. “No, it’ll be hard enough getting you out alive. You’re wanted by the Emperor. If we’re caught, you’ll live, and the rest of us, well, let’s just say I doubt the Emperor’ll be happy with us.” The man glanced over at Aria. The woman shivered and rubbed at her arms.

  Terin sat straighter and narrowed his eyes. His choices were whittled down to three. “How does being this so-called scion avoid the Emperor from finding out? How does becoming your son prevent it?”

  Lord Gabriel remained silent, and the man’s blue eyes darkened to a steely gray. It was as if storm clouds brewed in the gaze meeting his.

  “No,” Aria replied. Terin jerked at the sound of her voice, and he twisted around to stare at the woman. “Noble house no like children and family killed. Or slaves. Get mad. Revolt.”

  “Aria, aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” Lord Gabriel grumbled.

  The woman muttered something in the melodic, throaty language Terin couldn’t understand. Whatever it was she said, it forced a laugh out of the red-clad man.

  When the man smiled, it was so warm and full of affection Terin held his breath in fear of his presence defiling the moment.

  ~Father,~ the calm, gentle voice murmured in Terin’s head. Like Lord Gabriel’s smile, the word was so full of warmth and contentment Terin didn’t know what to do. It spread through his chest and held him in so soothing an embrace his body relaxed. He sighed.

  The presence within him was still and quiet, but he sensed it as warmth deep within his chest. Of the malevolent presence, there was no sign.

  “I’ll leave you to think about it,” Lord Gabriel said, rising to his feet. “If you want to leave Erelith, put the collar on the table. If you want to remain a slave, put it back on. The pieces will fit back together.” The man paused and echoed Terin’s sigh. “If you decide to throw your lot in with me and see what we can do together, throw it on the floor. I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

  Lord Gabriel dipped his head in a nod and left the room, pausing to wait for Aria. After flashing Terin a smile, the slave woman followed, leaving him alone to decide his fate.

  Chapter 14

  Blaise perched on the edge of the bed and stared down at the girl he’d rescued, marveling at how his spontaneous decision to save them both had worked so well in his favor. While she was pretty, there wasn’t anything special about her. Had the fire in her eyes in the Arena been what had captured the boy’s attention, or was it something else?

  Was it something human he couldn’t understand?

  �
�Confused, yes?” Aria asked, leaning against the door. Her smile was gentle.

  “You don’t have to try speaking in Erelithian if you don’t want to,” he said, trying to gather his thoughts before answering the woman’s real question.

  “Learn, I will.”

  “It’s been fifteen years, hasn’t it? Since you came here. Stubborn, I’ll give you that. Just like you, to understand languages so easily yet struggle when trying to speak them.”

  “Don’t care.”

  Blaise shrugged, turning from Aria to touch the slave girl’s cheek. He pushed stray strands of her hair away from her face. Finger-shaped bruises darkened her skin around her throat, parallel with the golden collar.

  She didn’t stir at his touch. That would come later, after Terin made his decision. After her wounds, like the boy’s, had time to heal.

  After Blaise’s body, too, healed.

  “She’s lucky to be alive,” Aria whispered.

  Blaise nodded his head and glanced to the main room of the shop. Through the dolls, he caught a glimpse of the boy seated on the stool in Aria’s workshop. “Perhaps it’s better we talk like this,” he said in the ancient language of Aria’s birth. “The men who had her intended to sacrifice her to the Hand of God, Aria. They would’ve too, if I hadn’t risked Lucin’s wrath.”

  “That’s why you were hurt? You fought Lucin? Blaise! You wouldn’t have just died.” Aria’s eyes widened and she gasped, staring at the girl on the bed. “No. Wait. No. Surely not her, a vessel?”

  Blaise shook his head. “No, the boy’s the vessel, Aria. They were going to use the two to test Lucin’s power. Of that, I’m certain.”

  “Impossible!” Aria scowled at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Impossible,” she repeated.

  “Why do you say that? I saw it, Aria. He held the Hand. That boy’s not Obsessed. If he isn’t a vessel, then I don’t know what he is.”