Had she been the one who had left the note?
If so, why hadn’t she waited for him?
Listain took a deep breath and cocked his head to the side, studying Endric. “You’ve got the stink of ale on you, the kind that is only found in the lower sections of the first terrace. Your uniform is disheveled, telling me that you’re distracted. And you come early for a meeting. Since your promotion, I would not call you prompt.”
On the other side of the room, Pendin covered his smile with another piece of bread.
Endric looked back at Listain. “I was on the first terrace, looking for Senda.”
Listain stared at him, unblinking for a moment. “You will not find her there.”
That was something. “Then tell me where I can find her.”
Listain smiled slightly. “The message was for me, Endric. Besides, she’s on an assignment.”
“Care to share with me what assignment?” Endric asked.
“No.” Listain turned his attention back to the papers stacked on his lap and flipped through them, his eyes scanning the page before turning on to the next.
“I’m en’raen. Don’t you think I have a right to know?”
“We’ve had this conversation before,” Listain said. “What makes you think I will have changed my mind?”
Endric stared at him, not certain what to say.
“Dendril shared that Urik was sighted in Thealon,” Listain said. He sat up, leaning forward as he protected the pages on his lap. “Which is why you would like to find Senda. Unfortunately, finding her won’t answer any questions you might have. She has been away from the city long enough that she doesn’t know anything more than you do.”
Endric inhaled deeply, gathering his thoughts. Did Listain know about Novan’s visit? If he didn’t, maybe Endric had an advantage over the spymaster. The man traded in knowledge, so maybe he would trade for Senda’s whereabouts. “And now that we know where to find Urik, what do you think should be done?”
Listain met his eyes in a measured glance. “With this, it doesn’t matter what I think, only what the general decides.”
“You want to get to Urik too.”
Listain nodded.
“Have you shared that with my father?”
“The general knows my feeling on this matter.” It seemed all Listain was willing to say, a careful response and one that didn’t answer anything for Endric. If Listain wanted to go after Urik, why wouldn’t his father take that into consideration? The Raen was better connected than Dendril, his network of spies better able to flush out any news.
Unless word of Urik hadn’t come from Listain.
When Novan had come, he had wondered if the historian had appeared because he’d heard about Urik or because he brought word.
Maybe it was neither. Maybe Ur priests had shared where to find Urik.
That was possible. And even more difficult for Endric to chase down rumors himself. He didn’t have the same connections as his father within the church. As much as he might think about venturing to the temple, a replica of the Tower of the Gods in Thealon, he doubted that he would be able—or allowed—to learn much there.
The door opened again, and Dendril swept in along with the other two en’raen. Theran was average height and build, but Endric knew him to be whip fast with the sword and possessed of more endurance than most men. After Urik’s betrayal, Theran had been promoted, though Endric suspected he would eventually have reached the position. Fennah followed him, the highest ranking woman in the Denraen, and deadlier with the staff than any other soldier. Senda trained with her regularly, and lately had begun challenging her, but Fennah remained peerless. Few swordmasters would even be able to get close to her.
Dendril took the seat nearest the hearth and turned to look at the others. Of them, only Endric had brought his steward. “You may leave,” Dendril said.
Pendin saluted and disappeared from the room, casting another glance in Endric’s direction but not saying anything.
All eyes turned to Dendril. He’d called a meeting of the council and had brought them together. It wasn’t rare for them to meet like this, but it wasn’t common for them to do so outside of their routine times. For Dendril to summon meant something had happened.
“You have heard of the attacks?” Dendril asked Listain.
The spymaster nodded. “They are minor. The patrols take care of them.”
Dendril leaned forward. “Small? Any attack on the Denraen cannot be considered small.”
“We’ve faced raiders like this before.”
“Not raiders,” Theran said. The others turned to him, and he shrugged. “They’re not raiders. They call themselves Ravers. They’re organized.”
Dendril glanced at Listain and something passed between them, though Endric couldn’t read what it might be. “Lead a squad to investigate,” Dendril commanded Theran. “If this is nothing more than raiders, then we can eliminate the threat easily. If it’s something else…”
Listain pressed his lips together in a frown. “I have heard nothing but will ask my assets to investigate.”
“Good. Now, as to the real reason for the summons. Listain, care to share?” Dendril asked.
The spymaster shuffled his papers together and settled them on his lap. “Yes. Word from the south makes its way to us once more.”
Endric leaned forward. “The Deshmahne?”
There weren’t many of the Denraen who had faced the dark warrior priests and survived. They had destroyed an entire regiment of men sent to investigate, and when Urik had nearly betrayed them, few were involved in stopping them. It had been the Antrilii—his cousins—as well as the historian and the strange man known as the Hunter. Of the Denraen, only Dendril truly had any experience with them.
Listain glanced at Dendril before nodding. “The Deshmahne. They continue to consolidate power. They have recently claimed Voiga.”
“We have patrols in the south for this reason,” Fennah said.
“Patrols are tasked with maintaining peace,” Listain said. “The Deshmahne act quickly and then retreat before they draw the attention of the Denraen. This was how they were able to remain hidden for as long as they did. They made certain not to draw attention to themselves.”
“And this has changed?” Fennah pressed.
Endric was pleased that she was the one to question. He knew that she’d served in those southern patrols, just as he knew that she had been selected for the Denraen in Masetohl, a mountainous city in Liispal. She’d remained in the south for most of her time in the Denraen. Had it been him asking, and pressing, about the Deshmahne, both his father and Listain would know the reason.
“Peace has persisted,” Listain said. “Those who lead have not.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“They have replaced the priests.”
Fennah shrugged. “Most in the south would not be bothered by that, especially if the reports that I’ve heard are true. These priests are more present than the Magi.” When Terran started to speak, she cut him off, shooting him a hard look. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. The Magi never travel to the south. They barely have a presence in the north. Those places that still claim a Mage advisor are fewer and fewer. Were they to reestablish their purpose, I think the south would fall back into line, but they allow the priests to serve as their influence.”
Dendril rested his arms on his legs and nodded. “I have shared the same concern with the Council of Elders,” he said.
Listain pursed his lips. “And what has the Council responded?”
Dendril grunted. “They have not responded to me. They have no reason to do so.”
“Other than our shared interest,” Listain said.
Dendril tipped his head, the slightest of nods. “Other than that.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, looking from Listain to each of the en’raen. His gaze lingered on Endric the longest. “I think we need more oversight in the south,” Dendril went on. “Perhaps the Denraen need t
o demonstrate our role more effectively.”
“I’m not sure that will make any difference,” Fennah said, “but I will go if that’s what you’d ask of me.”
Dendril seemed to consider. “You would be valuable,” he started, scratching at his chin. Endric had a sinking feeling that his father would require him to go. It would be a way to remove him from his search for Urik, especially if Urik was in Thealon and he sent Endric south. “But what we need is information. Listain,” he said, looking to his Raen. “I think for this, you will be needed. You have assets in the south?”
Listain nodded. “I have many assets. Visiting the south would allow me to work on others as well.”
Endric allowed himself to relax. Listain leaving was a mixed blessing. The spymaster certainly would be the first to learn about Urik, but he would also know how Endric snooped around. He’d already proven his observational skills, and he had only noted Endric for a moment.
“Good,” Dendril continued. “You will take Endric with you. He has rarely spent time in the south. As en’raen, he will need to understand the terrain that we operate in.”
Endric didn’t say anything.
His father removed him from the city. Not only from the city, but by sending him south, he neutralized his ability to do anything about Urik. It was a different kind of lesson, one with a forced patience.
Listain wore a sour expression. Endric rescuing him from Urik and whatever he had planned might have changed the dynamic between them somewhat, but he still didn’t care much for Dendril’s son. “Do you think that I am the best person for this?”
Dendril smiled. “I think you are the only person for this,” he said. He glanced over at Endric and then back at Listain, waiting for either of them to speak. When neither did, he went on, “Now. We need to discuss the planned promotions…”
Endric stopped listening. Not only was he not going to have a chance to learn more about Urik and find a way to be involved in his capture, now he was getting sent from the city… and away from Senda.
He would have to find her, and quickly.
Could he?
6
The night was dark. A thick bank of clouds hung overhead, obscuring much of the palace of the Magi in dense blankets of moisture. The air here carried with it some of the chill from the northern mountains and a bite from the snow and of unseen ice.
Endric sat upon a rock that wasn't nearly as old as the rest of the mountain. The buildings that had become the ruins had been built by the ancient gods, brought to this place when Vasha was still little more than an idea. That the Magi had chosen this place was not a coincidence. The city had long been a place of power. Endric understood that better now, especially since the attack. He had seen the teralin sculptures, prized possessions of those earliest Magi, possessions that once had belonged to the gods if the historian was to be believed. Endric had no reason not to believe him.
He stared at the palace, noting the lights in the lower windows, the only windows he could actually see. The clouds obscured the upper windows. He had a memory of another night, one similar to this where blue light flickered in those windows and power had been thrown around by the Deshmahne.
Endric stared at the rocks, thinking about what they must've been like when the gods had been here. Whatever purpose they had in choosing this mountain, this place must have been important. There was nothing but the remains of that time here, and a soft tingle that worked along his skin when he sat here.
An occasional star glittered in the sky, managing to sneak past the clouds. The full moon reflected off the clouds, giving off something like a bright light in the sky with almost an ethereal quality, and Endric could almost believe that the gods sat in the heavens above as the Magi taught, watching over them.
“You come to the ruins again?”
Endric sat up, startled. He could see the tall, slender form of Mage Tresten, dressed in his simple gray robes. Endric noted that they were the same color as the Denraen clothing. The older Mage had a warmth about him and seemed to wear a floral fragrance, something he didn't notice on other Magi he'd encountered. It gave him more of a regal air.
“The ruins are a good place to gather your thoughts,” Endric said.
Tresten smiled. He weaved around the rocks, coming to sit next to Endric. He did so with a certain elegance, one that made it seem as if he were as comfortable along the rocks as he would be sitting on a throne. “Many fear the ruins. Do you know what the Magi think?” Endric shook his head. “No. I didn't think that you did. Few have an understanding of the ruins, and even those who do think that what they know is more than what is real.”
“I see the ruins as a peaceful place. There is a certain sort of comfort to them.”
“Do you?”
Endric shrugged. It was hard to explain why he felt comfortable in the ruins. He knew there were superstitions about them, many shared by the Denraen he now commanded. He suspected that most within the Denraen would see his sitting in the ruins as dangerous, as if he risked angering the gods, but why would the gods mind if he sat in their ruins and stared at their heavens? They no longer chose this place as their own. For that matter, they no longer chose any of the lands of this world as their own. According to the Magi and the priests of the Urmahne, they had ascended into the heavens. If they did watch over them, Endric liked to think that they wouldn't mind that he chose the remnants of their old home as a place he chose to meditate and reflect.
But then, Endric was one of the few Denraen who struggled with his faith. After losing Andril, he questioned whether the gods cared anymore for what happened. Did they watch over like the priests and the Magi believed? Or did they simply remain distant, disinterested in what happened?
“You look troubled,” Tresten said.
Endric nodded.
“Is it command? Many men struggle with the weight of command. I know your father especially struggled, especially when he first assumed his role. You would not be the first young soldier to struggle with what was asked of him, and I doubt you will be the last.”
Tresten looked upon him with an expression of concern. It was an expression that left Endric feeling inadequate. Why should this Mage care about him? Why should this Mage be concerned?
“It’s not the command. I've been at it for nearly a year, and it does get easier the longer I serve.”
Tresten smiled and reached his bony arm across the distance between the two rocks and patted Endric on the shoulder. “Good. I fear the Denraen will need a man capable of command in the years ahead.”
“My father is capable.”
Tresten smiled. “Your father is capable. Eventually, he may find himself called in a different direction. Another will need to assume command of the Denraen. One who understands the risks and the dangers we face.”
Endric sighed. He prayed that day was long off. He suspected Listain did not want to take over for his father. There had been a time when he thought the spymaster had some jealousy over the role Dendril had for him, jealousy that Andril would one day serve as general of the Denraen, but the more that Endric served on the inner circle of the Denraen, the more he understood that Listain only served as Raen because Dendril asked it of him. The spymaster had no desire to lead.
Which possibly meant that Endric would one day assume control of the Denraen.
Was that what he wanted?
Could he refuse?
It was to have been Andril, and there were times when Endric wondered whether losing him had been the greatest blow to the Denraen, the largest betrayal that Urik had made. He had not only stolen Endric's brother and Dendril's son, but he had stolen the next man to lead the Denraen, the man who was to have guided them through the next generation of challenges.
Endric sighed. “My father shared word that Urik was sighted.”
Tresten glanced over at him. His long face twisted in a slight frown. “We haven't heard any word of him for months.”
It was Endric's turn to frown. He hadn't rea
lized that there had been any word of Urik before now. Was that something else his father had kept from him?
Endric dismissed the thought. It wasn't as if his father tried to prevent him from knowing. He had shared the discovery himself. It was more that he wasn't ready to know. Perhaps he still wasn't. Wasn't his father right in thinking that Endric would do something impulsive? Didn't a part of him still want to race out of Vasha and search for the traitor?
“He heard Urik was in Thealon.”
Tresten tapped his cheek thoughtfully. “The priests would likely welcome him. Urik was nothing if not a man of faith.”
“He was faithless to the Denraen.”
“Perhaps. Yet he did share with us the concern of the Deshmahne. He did reveal the depths of their treachery. And he revealed to us a danger to the city.”
Endric stared at the sky. Sometimes it would be easier if the gods truly watched over them. They might be able to provide guidance, let him know what it was that he should do.
“It's because of Urik that we no longer mine the teralin,” Tresten said. “It’s been a dangerous ore, one that should've abandoned long ago, but there have been traditions. Traditions are difficult to break.”
“I didn't realize the teralin was no longer mined.”
“No longer mined, and the remaining shafts have been secured. The safety of the city is paramount, Endric. I believe you understand that.”
Endric nodded. It would have been difficult to maintain security of the city with access to the mines. Few but the master miners knew the way through the mines, but the Magi had long valued the teralin, using it in their ceremonies, claiming they needed it to reach the gods.
“So the Magi will no longer speak to the gods?”
Tresten smiled. As he did, a slight glimmer came to his eyes. “The Magi have never needed teralin quite the way most believe. It was time that tradition ended. The ore is too dangerous.”
“Why dangerous? I understand that it can be charged—Novan demonstrated that—but there aren't many who could use it.”
Soldier Sword (The Teralin Sword Book 2) Page 5