Born Of Fire And Darkness (Book 2)

by India Drummond

  The young woman eyed him as he approached, taking in his clothes and searching his face as though hoping to learn something about him.

  “This way,” she said, guiding him down a narrow corridor to a small room in the rear of the building.

  He’d hoped to find Octavia within, but he was disappointed. The room was empty and contained only two chairs and the dust on the bare wood floor. The woman pointed to one. “Please sit,” she said.

  “I need to see Senne Octavia.” He was tired. It had been foolish to come to her this way. Would she be annoyed with him for disturbing her work when there were clearly many demands on her time, likely from people who had legitimate need?

  “Yes, Dul,” she said. “Please sit.”

  Korbin did as she demanded, the rickety chair creaking beneath his weight. He was surprised when she sat opposite him rather than going to fetch Octavia.

  “Now, tell me what made you seek the Senne’s help today.”

  “It’s a personal matter,” he said. “I just need a few moments of her time.”

  “Of course. But it would help enormously if you could give me a brief sketch of the situation so I can see that she has all the appropriate information. The Senne is quite busy, so she’s asked me to speak to everyone first, to smooth the process.”

  Korbin had created a picture in his mind of what the meeting with Octavia would be like. He’d imagined she’d be happy to have a brief respite, that she’d see him walk into the community hall and smile as she came to greet him. He’d even had a silly fantasy of taking her somewhere to eat, to give her a break from her difficult day-to-day work. Surely it would be good for her to pause a moment. He’d thought, stupidly, that she’d prefer this to him coming to her house unannounced again.

  Now he felt ridiculous. “If you could just tell her my name, I’m sure she’ll see me. I’ve waited all day for a quick moment of her time.”

  The young woman sighed. A few strands of golden-brown hair had escaped from the tie that held the others tightly back. She tucked the strays behind her ear. “Everyone has been waiting all day, Dul.”

  It struck him then that this woman was probably the only person in Vol who didn’t know his name. It surprised him because of her connection to Octavia. But that told him that his friend didn’t talk about him. Perhaps she had put him and the events of the past winter behind her and the friendliness of their last meeting had been politeness rather than heartfelt sentiment.

  He wanted to leave but couldn’t. He had to speak to Octavia, and it needed to be that day. “I’ll wait if you’ll tell her I have a message for her.”

  “You can leave a message with me.”

  He considered whether to pen a note, but he didn’t particularly want anyone else to know their business. Instead, he reached into an inside pocket of his cloak and pulled out his identity token, not the shiny new one that marked him as a Dul and Eliam’s heir, but the old one, the Talmor Rider identity token Octavia had once soaked in her own blood to save Korbin’s life.

  “Give her this, please,” Korbin said and handed it to her.

  She eyed the battered disc suspiciously. “She has other people waiting. I’ll give it to her when she’s finished.”

  Korbin stifled his impatience. This had been his own bloody idea, and he could hardly blame the girl for doing her job. Octavia had told him once that Talmoran merchants and Dul consulted her from time to time, and with her newfound blessing from the emperor, her popularity must have soared. Judging by this woman’s expression, she thought most Talmorans to be wasting Octavia’s precious time. He could hardly blame her.

  “Very well. I’ll wait in the hall.”

  The woman clucked her tongue in disapproval. “You could return tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow will be too late,” he said firmly. “I’ll wait in the hall.”

  “As you prefer, Dul.” She said the title like an insult before jerking her head toward the door to let him know his time was up.

  If the situation hadn’t been so damned inconvenient, he would have found it incredibly funny. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been treated so rudely. Despite his weariness, it tickled him. He was so weary of people either being afraid of him because of who his father was, sucking up to him, likely for the same reason, or being so unsure of how to treat him that they avoided him completely.

  He stood and thanked her, his wooden chair scraping loudly against the floor. Back in the hall, he watched as, one by one, each of the other Talmorans were taken back. Some came out very quickly with thunderous looks on their faces. Likely they hadn’t been impressed with Octavia’s trainee and, as he had, refused to state their business to an underling.

  A few took longer, and by the time the last person had been taken back, darkness had fallen and the dirty oil lamps fixed on the walls were barely enough to illuminate the room.

  After a while, that final petitioner, an older woman who looked, judging by her clothes, like a merchant, emerged looking thoughtful but not displeased. A moment later, he heard the clacking of shoes rushing through the building. Octavia appeared at the door, her brown eyes wide in astonishment. She shook her head when she saw him. “I’m sorry. You’ve been waiting all day?”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  She turned a chair and sat across from him. “Why didn’t you just come to the house?”

  “You haven’t been answering my letters.”

  “I’m sorry.” She smoothed her long, dark hair. The dim light of the room made the circles under her eyes more pronounced. “I’d be annoyed with Liara for not telling me immediately you were here, but she’s under strict instructions to not give in to Talmoran noblemen. I’m afraid there are quite a few who think wealth or a title will give them preference over everyone else.”

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t have come here, but I needed to see you.”

  “I promise I will come to dinner soon. Everything’s just so—”

  “It’s not about dinner. It’s about that letter from the emperor.”

  She gave a puzzled frown. “I never received another message as I feared I might, so I put the incident out of my mind.”

  Korbin doubted she even bothered to carry her new identity token marking her as a citizen. “You might not have heard from the emperor, but I did.”

  “He wrote to you?” The lines on her forehead deepened. “About me?”

  “Well, about both of us. Octavia, I don’t know how to say this, but we must go to Durjin.” He reached into a pocket and retrieved the envelope he’d received the evening before and handed it to her.

  Her eyes scanned the page once, then again. He knew the words well, as he himself had read it countless times since it arrived. The tone was polite, but the intent clear.

  “Am I understanding this right? If we don’t go, you’ll be made a senator?” she asked, her tone incredulous. “Is that so terrible? It sounds like a veiled threat, but I don’t understand why it should be.”

  “This is a notice reminding me I am beholden to the emperor and owe him obedience and loyalty. I have no choice. I must do as he asks, one way or another. The intent is so much more than me becoming a senator or not.”

  “You may not have a choice, but I do,” she said and handed the letter back to him. “Unless you think he’ll have me arrested.”

  “As the letter said, my father is trying to have Seba released into his custody. You know what that means. This doesn’t worry you?”

  “It does,” she said. “Which is why you should go to Durjin and tell the emperor why allowing this would be a bad idea. He’ll listen to you. You’re a Dul.”

  “And you’re a conduit. It’s your advice he wants, your words he wants to hear.”

  “My people need me.”

  “Talmorans are your people now too, and we need you to help protect us from Seba.”

  She stood and spun, turning her back to him. Korbin thought she might walk away, but she started to pace. After a moment, she turned to him and
spoke. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “I understand. I truly do. I know you’re afraid, but—”

  “I’m not afraid.” Her tone had grown hard and she clenched her hands together in front of her. Her knuckles whitened under the pressure. Everything about her gave lie to her words.

  He softened his tone. “Octavia. This is me. I saw what my father did to you. Anyone would be frightened.”

  “I’m not afraid,” she repeated, but her words held little conviction. She looked around the room. “I don’t see how I can leave the city for weeks or even months, not when I’m the only conduit here.”

  “What about your assistant? Can’t she help?”

  “Some,” Octavia admitted. “Others can go to hospitals in an emergency. The Talmoran healers might not like our people much, but they won’t turn away someone who is dying.”

  “You’ll consider going then?” Korbin asked.

  She looked as though she might agree, but then shook her head. “What am I thinking? Of course not. I can’t go. Talmoran healers might be able to help with the sick, with the births and the elderly, but not with the death rites. And they can do nothing for those who need advice and meditations.”

  “The emperor won’t listen to me without you there, backing me up. If Seba falls under the power of my father’s temple, under Braetin’s influence, because I couldn’t convince them of the dangers, I’d never forgive myself.” He hated to manipulate her, but Seba must not be allowed to be possessed by the Spirit of Shadow.

  Octavia nodded in exhausted defeat, as though a weight had landed on her shoulders. “Very well. I agree that can’t happen. If you cannot do this, then I must.” Her tone was bitter and angry.

  Her accusation stung. She couldn’t seem to understand that if the emperor told Korbin to bring her, he had little choice. If he showed up without her, the consequences would be worse for him than not showing up at all. Making Korbin a senator would be the least of his worries if the emperor believed Korbin showed him deliberate disrespect or ignored his commands.

  “We can leave tomorrow,” Korbin said.

  “Tomorrow?” she said. “That’s not enough time. I need a week to prepare Liara. A week at least. A month would be better, but I know that’s unlikely to suit this emperor of yours.”

  Korbin resisted corrected her by saying of ours. “My father is in Durjin doing everything he can to have Seba released sooner rather than later. They’re delaying Seba’s sentencing, waiting for our testimony. We will go, give it, and come back as soon as possible. But we can’t wait a week. Even if we leave tomorrow, that’s at least another week that my father has to convince everyone to do as he wishes. He is persuasive, and I would bet anything he’s not pleased at being held at bay.”

  “Very well,” Octavia said, sounding more tired by the moment. “Send someone at first light. I’ll be ready.” She turned and walked back to the rear of the hall. “Liara!” she shouted, leaving Korbin staring after her.

  Chapter 6

  Graiphen stepped across the temple complex, following the acolyte of Pang who had brought him the goddess’ request for him to attend her. The slow pace gave him time for reflection.

  Every day, he’d petitioned to see the emperor again. Every day, he’d been turned away. He had, however, appeared before the senate. As he had suspected, they were not inclined to put a former senator to death, no matter his crimes. Many of them had known Seba personally, and they remembered him as a mild nothing of a man. They believed he must have been influenced by the corrupt magic of the One and that he hadn’t been in his right mind.

  If not for the emperor’s inexplicable show of favor for Octavia, the Kilovian religion might have been outlawed completely because of Seba’s actions. Graiphen would have found that an acceptable response.

  Considering that the senate was disinclined to act, he couldn’t understand why the emperor hesitated to turn Seba over to the temple, but there was nothing he could do about that. The day would come when the emperor didn’t think himself above the Spirits, but for now, Graiphen had to bide his time.

  The senate’s timidity played into Graiphen’s hands. It meant that he could wait until the emperor came to his senses. Braetin would not be so patient, but here in Durjin, she could not occupy his body and invade his thoughts. When he returned to Vol with her prize, she would be pleased, forgetting how long she’d had to wait. He’d learned that the gods’ concept of time was different from any person’s.

  The acolyte led Graiphen under the tall white spires of Pang’s temple, down through the maze below and into the inner sanctum. When he passed under the archway, he noted the room had undergone a transformation.

  It had been, he recalled, decorated in a soft, feminine manner before, but now opulent decorations filled every nook. The sparkling golden and gem-encrusted statues and ornaments looked gaudy to his eye, an ostentatious show of wealth by someone with little taste or reserve. People buzzed from one place to another, all dancing attendance on Kiarana. She sat, her back straight and proud, on a draped settee in the center of the room, rapaciously soaking in the attentions.

  One woman sat next to a small basin, drying Kiarana’s feet. Another poured a glass of deep red wine. Others fussed over cushions and another over Kiarana’s sheer dress. One young man adjusted some drapery under her critical eye. All those near the former acolyte whirred in a heightened frenzy of activity.

  When Graiphen stepped forward, her eyes fastened on his. He bowed to Pang, who had inhabited the woman’s body ever since he’d loosed his seed within her.

  “Lady Pang,” he said.

  Kiarana never took her eyes off Graiphen as she snapped her fingers. “Go. Everyone.” Her voice thrummed with power as though two sets of vocal cords vibrated at once. Within seconds, the room emptied.

  When the two were alone, she said, “Even though you are rough and hardened, you are beautiful in your own way. I tend to prefer youth and suppleness, but I admit you stir something within me.” She smiled lasciviously. “Perhaps it is merely the challenge I adore. The chase.”

  He bowed his head politely. “I am flattered.”

  Kiarana threw back her head and laughed. “You are not. A man like you does not succumb to flattery, so I would be foolish to employ it. A man like you appreciates nothing but power.” Her blue eyes glittered.

  A flicker of impatience rushed through him. “Why did you call for me, Lady Pang?”

  “There is someone I want you to meet. But before I introduce you, I think I wish you to pleasure me. I am worshiped day and night by many willing servants, but it is you who occupy my thoughts.”

  He realized she’d switched tacks, attempting a more subtle form of flattery. Interesting. What did she want? “My lady, I have done as my mistress required of me.” He knew better than to underestimate Pang or any of the Spirits, but he belonged to Braetin, a pact even Pang must honor.

  Kiarana leaned forward in her seat, her round cleavage nearly spilling over the top of her dress. “What if I could offer you a new accord?”

  “An accord?” He hesitated. He had no desire to stand in the middle while Pang and Braetin fought for dominance. No sane man would.

  “Yes. A bargain. I offer you something you want, and you give me something I want.” Kiarana licked her lips.

  “What do you want, Lady Pang?”

  “You.” Kiarana’s voice warbled, stretching out the word.

  “I am but a man. What use could I be to you that a hundred other men could not be, and they more willing and eager, they untied to another mistress. Or is that the allure? Is it that you wish to take something away from Braetin?”

  Kiarana laughed deep in her throat and stood. She crossed the distance between them with long, languid steps, her sheer gown sweeping the floor. “Braetin is weak,” she said. “Even with the energy I provided her, she is not what she once was. For obvious reasons, I did not give her enough to restore her completely. It will take her years to recover.”


  Graiphen furrowed his brow. He’d lost consciousness and not seen the method Pang had used to restore his mistress. “But she is feeding. More come every day to offer themselves to her.”

  “And if that stopped, she would die.”

  The word hit him hard. Die? He had been taught from childhood that the Spirits were immortal. Ever since he’d seen their true forms that day in the rift room, he’d considered their origins and nature. The temple scrolls had taught him nothing that would explain what he’d seen. Speaking of anything that happened within the inner sanctum was forbidden, which made inquiries unwise.

  “Some of my brethren are dead already, doomed by the acts of one of our own. When his people expelled us from this world, only the strongest survived. Me, your mistress, and two others.”

  Four of the Spirits were dead? Graiphen took in the news with quiet alarm. After a moment, curiosity got the better of him. “Which of your brethren survived?”

  “The ones you call Usher and Slondaemon. But Braetin would never call them forth.”

  “Why not?” Graiphen’s mind reeled. Of the eight Spirits of Light and Shadow, four were dead. Usher, the Spirit of Shadow who was said to guard the human dead, and Slondaemon, the Spirit of Shadow whose realm was disease and decay, were the only survivors.

  Kiarana shrugged. “I suspect she finds me less of a threat. She never did understand the power of love and light. Perhaps she thought I’d be easier to betray once she returned to full power.”

  That, Graiphen thought, sounded exactly like the way Braetin would have made the choice. He’d known no pact she had made that she did not later betray. Some found it a difficult concept. How they could follow a god they could not trust? Graiphen understood that it taught her devotees to always be useful, to never rest on their laurels.

  Kiarana went on. “Even knowing what she has in mind for me, I accepted her offer and gave her what she demanded in exchange for what I wanted. Now I’m planning for the moment she will try to do away with me. She will not find it easy.”