“This is Corthain Kalarien,” said Rachaelis.
The old woman sighed. “If you don’t want to tell me, you needn’t answer.”
“No,” said Rachaelis. “I’m serious. This is Corthain Kalarien. Magister Arthain’s son.”
The old woman’s eyes widened. “The Hammer of Dark River?”
“I am,” said Corthain.
The old Sister rose, and bowed. “I am Sister Maria, of the Temple of the Seeress, and I bid you welcome.”
“I thought the Conclave forbade the Temple from operating within Araspan,” said Corthain.
“Formally, at least,” said Maria. “Informally, they do not object. And the Adepts find it useful that we assist the poor of the city, of which there are many. So we take what opportunities we can to minister. But that is not important now. You…said someone wishes Rachaelis ill?”
Corthain looked at Rachaelis. “Do you trust her?” The old woman was not a Jurgur, and the Temple hated blood sorcery as much as the Conclave, but still…
Rachaelis nodded.
“Are you in some danger?” said Maria. “Perhaps we could shelter you.”
“I don’t think you could protect me from this,” said Rachaelis. “The Jurgurs want me dead.”
“It’s worse than that,” said Corthain. “Sister, what do you know of the Jurgurs?”
“I know that they worship demons,” said Maria, “and practice cruel blood sorcery.”
“The Jurgurs speak of something called an Urmaaghsk, a sorcerer possessed by a high demon,” said Corthain. “There is a blood shaman of considerable power in Araspan. Apparently he believes that by forcibly possessing Rachaelis with a high demon, he can create his Urmaaghsk, who will then lead his people to victory.”
“Is this true?” said Maria.
“As far as we can tell,” said Rachaelis.
“Merciful Divine,” said Maria. “There are some Jurgurs among the faithful here, ones who have turned away from the worship of demons. They have told me what the blood shamans are like, how they demand sacrifices of blood and flesh, how the Jurgur thralls live in constant fear of the shamans and the demons alike. It seems a cruel life.”
“It is,” said Corthain. “Blood sorcerers tend to be cruel and brutal. But Jurgur blood shamans are even worse.”
“I will speak with the Jurgurs among the faithful,” said Maria. “Perhaps they will have some insights.”
“Thank you, Sister,” said Rachaelis.
“In the meantime,” said Corthain. “We should leave. You are at risk, out here by yourself.”
“I can defend myself,” said Rachaelis. “I have so far.”
“True,” said Corthain. “But you had help at the time. And anyone around you as it risk. Including the good Sister and her faithful. Do you think they have the means to defend themselves from Urthaags and blood spells?”
Rachaelis blinked, and a guilty look came over her face. Clearly, she hadn’t thought of that.
“You’re right,” said Rachaelis. “We should go. Sister, thank you for your blessing.”
Maria’s fingers reached out and closed around Corthain’s hand. Her fingers were stronger than he had expected.
“Listen to me,” said Maria. “I have more resources than you think. And Rachaelis has been a good friend to the Temple, and a good friend to the hungry who depend upon us. If I can aid her, I will. If I find anything useful, how can I contact you?”
Corthain hesitated. Rachaelis trusted the old woman, and he doubted that a Sister of the Temple would aid a blood shaman. But if a Jurgur blood shaman decided to interrogate Sister Maria, she would tell everything she knew, no matter how hard she fought.
“Send a message to the Ring,” said Corthain. “To either the Adept Thalia Kalarien, or to Magister Nazim. Either one will know how to contact us.”
“I shall,” said Maria. “May the Divine go with you, Lord Kalarien.”
Corthain turned towards the door, stopped. “You said you support the poor of the city. How, precisely?”
“We give blankets and clothing,” said Maria, “for those in need, and they are many. We let beggars and the homeless sleep under our roof when the nights grow cold. Three times a week we serve a meal, and any may come and eat of it.”
“Such things must cost money,” said Corthain.
“They do,” said Maria. “Magister Arthain has decreed that a grain ration be given to the poorest families of the city, but it is not enough. Very often the hungry are forced to sell themselves into slavery to fill their bellies.”
“In Callia, we hang slave traders,” said Corthain.
Maria sighed. “Would that the Conclave showed similar wisdom.”
Corthain reached into his cloak, withdrew a pouch, and handed it to Maria. “Well, perhaps this will keep a few people from selling themselves, perhaps for a little while.”
“You’re donating?” said Rachaelis, surprised.
“This is most generous,” said Maria. “Thank you. I confess…I would not have expected such a gesture from Magister Arthain’s son.”
“Good,” said Corthain. “I am not my father.”
“Clearly, you are not,” said Maria. “May the Divine go with you, Lord Kalarien.”
“I certainly hope so,” said Corthain. “I can use all the help I can get.”
###
They walked along the street in silence.
Rachaelis kept shooting sidelong glances at him. No doubt she expected him to lose his temper, to berate her for taking such a risk. Corthain did his very best not to smile.
“Well?” said Rachaelis.
“Well what?” said Corthain.
“Out with it already,” said Rachaelis. “You’re going to tell me what a stupid risk that was, how I shouldn’t have gone off by myself, how I should have told someone first.”
“You really should have told someone first,” said Corthain. “Think how upset Magister Nazim would have been if you had been gone when he woke up.”
“I couldn’t tell him,” said Rachaelis. “They don’t understand.”
“Understand what?” said Corthain.
“Why I go to the Temple,” said Rachaelis. “The Conclave is not on friendly terms with the Temple, you know that. Very few Adepts are devout. My father was, but he was a Magister, and respected. Magister Nazim prays to the gods his homeland, but the Conclave doesn’t care about that. And Thalia…I don’t think Thalia minds, but she doesn’t understand.”
“You felt the need to pray, given the dire circumstances,” said Corthain, “and so you slipped away to avoid criticism and ridicule.”
Rachaelis nodded. “Yes, exactly.”
“Except you weren’t going there to pray,” said Corthain.
Rachaelis blinked. “Then what was I doing?”
“That pouch you gave the Sister,” said Corthain. “It was on Harrow’s desk, in that warehouse. You took it before we left. I wondered why you’d bothered at the time, but now I know. You’d planned to give it to the Sister all along.”
Rachaelis opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“You’re very observant,” she said at last.
Corthain said nothing.
Rachaelis sighed. “Harrow made that money off the blood and misery of innocent people. It seemed only just that it be put to a better use.” Some defiance flared in her face. “I did what I thought right. I’m not going to apologize for it.”
“I see,” said Corthain.
“And you disapprove,” said Rachaelis.
“Not at all,” said Corthain. “You surprise me, in fact. I would never have expected an Adept to care at all for the city’s poor. Or for an Adept to stand up so strongly for what she knows to be right.” He smiled. “Magister Aramane would have been proud of you, I think.”
“Thank you,” said Rachaelis, voice quiet. “I…thank you. That is very kind to say.”
“But Thalia wants me to keep you alive,” said Corthain, “and I will keep you alive. So no more s
neaking off by yourself. Try this again, and I’ll tie you to a chair.”
“Are you serious?” said Rachaelis.
“Deadly,” said Corthain. “If I have to tie you to a bed to keep you from running off, I will.”
“A bed?” said Rachaelis.
“Or whatever piece of furniture is handy.”
“I’m an Adept. I could escape,” said Rachaelis.
“Not if I had Nazim and Thalia bind you,” said Corthain.
“Or…I could just…not sneak away again,” said Rachaelis.
“That sounds like a better idea,” said Corthain. “Very sensible.”
A bed. Why on earth had he said that? He ought to know better than to threaten to tie a noblewoman to a bed. The Divine only knew what she might think of that.
Corthain looked at her, this Adept who had crept away from her guardians to donate money taken from a slave trader to the Temple.
He realized that he had never met anyone quite like her before.
“What about you?” said Rachaelis.
“Oh?”
“Why did you give her money?” said Rachaelis.
Corthain shrugged. “It seemed like a worthy cause. Araspan had a lot of hungry people when I was exiled twelve years ago. It’s only gotten worse since then.”
“What do you think of the Temple?” said Rachaelis.
“I donate to the Temple in my domnium,” said Corthain. “They look after the poor and the hungry. They’re not always so selfless, though. I’ve known some High Brothers and High Sisters who were just as cruel and arrogant as any Adept. But the lowborn Sisters and Brothers, for the most part, are good and devoted people. As to the Seeress and the Divine…do I believe in them? I don’t know. I suppose it would be pleasant to believe in a benevolent Divine. But the world seems too cruel and wicked a place.”
“Cruelty and wickedness are made by men,” said Rachaelis.
“So are justice and peace,” said Corthain. “I haven’t seen much justice or peace in my life, but what I have seen has been made by men. So that is why I gave money to your Sister Maria. If anything is to be done, then I must do it, rather than waiting for the Divine to do it.”
Rachaelis laughed. “And I did it because the Divine would have me do it.”
Corthain snorted. “We seemed to have reached the same destination in the end.”
He looked at her again. Yes, he would do his utmost to keep her alive.
###
“Where were you?” said Magister Nazim. “Luthair said you had stepped out…”
“We did,” said Corthain. “I wanted a look around the Inn, to make sure no one was spying upon us. Considering that I’ve already run into one apprentice blood shaman, I wanted an Adept with me in case I ran into another.”
Rachaelis shot him a grateful look.
Nazim nodded. “Sensible.”
A silver flash, and Thalia appeared in the room. She had abandoned the leather armor of a mercenary for an Adept’s red robes.
“Well?” said Corthain.
“Good news,” said Thalia. “Lady Anna is holding a banquet tonight. And we are invited.”
“A banquet?” said Rachaelis.
“Yes, I just spoke with her,” said Thalia. “Lady Anna invited me to her banquet. And she’s most interested in meeting the Conclave’s newest Adept. That’s you, Rachaelis. And I can bring a guest…which means you, Corthain. And while we’re eating Lady Anna’s food and drinking Lady Anna’s wine, we can have a look around. See if we can find out why she’s buying so many Jurgur slaves.”
“Is that wise?” said Nazim. “If Harrow’s records are correct, then Lady Anna while have hundreds of Jurgur slaves at her tower. Anyone one of them might be an Urthaag, or try to attack Rachaelis on sight.”
“It’s worth the risk,” said Rachaelis. “If Thalia can bring a guest, so can I, and you’ll be with me, Magister. And I doubt that the Jurgurs would try anything with so many Adepts present at the banquet. Harrow was the only connection we had to the blood shaman so far, and we need to follow it.”
“I agree,” said Corthain. “Lady Anna may be secretly cooperating with the blood shaman. Or she may be under a compulsion, the way Harrow was. Or she may know nothing about it, but odds are that one of her Jurgur slaves does. We need to investigate, and this banquet is the ideal opportunity to do so.”
“Very well,” said Nazim. “How do you suggest that we proceed?”
Corthain thought it over. “I have a plan.”
Thalia laughed. “So quickly, brother?”
Luthair snorted. “My lord domn is good at improvising.”
Chapter 6 - Thoughtmeld
“You cannot possibly expect me to wear this,” said Rachaelis.
She stood in Thalia’s rooms at the Ring. Thalia had insisted that Rachaelis could not wear leather armor and a ragged cloak to a noblewoman’s ball, nor could she attend smelling of the Red Water Inn. So they had astraljumped back to the Ring for a bath and appropriate clothing. Rachaelis had intended to change into one of her red Adept’s robes.
Thalia had other ideas.
“Adepts wear their robes at formal occasions,” said Rachaelis.
“What?” said Thalia, pins in her mouth as she adjusted Rachaelis’s hair. “This is a formal robe.”
“It’s not a robe,” protested Rachaelis. “It’s more of a…a gown, really.”
It was red, true, and trimmed with black around the collar and the hem. But it hugged her torso and hips far more tightly than any Adept’s robe. It also left her arms bare. The skirt hung loose around her legs, brushing against her feet in the ridiculous sandals Thalia had made her wear.
“And that’s entirely the point,” said Thalia, sticking one final pin in Rachaelis’s hair. “All your life, you’ve either worn the gray robe of an Initiate, or the red robe of an Adept.”
“So?” said Rachaelis. “They’re warm. They cover everything that needs to be covered.”
“So you haven’t had a chance to enjoy yourself,” said Thalia. “And one of the best ways to enjoy yourself is to make yourself look nice.”
“If you say so,” said Rachaelis, dubious.
“I know so,” said Thalia, ushering Rachaelis towards the mirror. “See for yourself.”
Rachaelis blinked. She barely recognized herself.
“This is impractical,” said Rachaelis. “I need to be able to move around.”
Thalia gave her a look.
“But…yes,” said Rachaelis, adjusting the skirt, “it does look nice.”
“You do, don’t you?” said Thalia. “And I thought that you would want to look good tonight.”
Rachaelis blinked. “Why?”
Thalia grinned. “You mean you don’t…oh. You haven’t realized it yourself yet, have you? Never mind, then. You’ll figure it out soon enough.”
“Realized what? Are you trying to confuse me?” said Rachaelis.
“Yes,” said Thalia, looking in the mirror and adjusting her hair one last time. She wore a red gown of similar design to Rachaelis’s, though hers dipped far lower in the front than Rachaelis would ever have been comfortable wearing. “Shall we?”
Rachaelis nodded, and put on the belt with her sicarr and her father’s cortana. “Let’s get on with it already.”
Thalia nodded, put her hand on Rachaelis’s shoulder, and astraljumped. When the silver light vanished and the world stopped spinning, she found herself standing in the twilight streets. The Ring loomed overhead, and the towers of the noble Houses rose around her. The nearest tower stood two hundred feet tall, sheathed in gleaming green marble, lit with strategically placed spelllamps. More spelllamps lit the grounds, where Adepts in their red robes and nobles in their finery stood chatting.
“House Marinius,” said Thalia. “And…ah. There are the others.”
Magister Nazim and Corthain waited by the gate. Nazim had changed to his robes, the black stole around his neck, and leaned upon his cane. Corthain wore the black coat and boo
ts of a Callian domn, sword at his belt. Between the Adepts’ robes and the bright finery of the nobles, he stood out like a raven among flowers.
There was no sign of Luthair. But that was according to plan.
“Brother,” said Thalia. “You’re looking well.”
“Why, thank you,” said Corthain. “As are you.” He looked at Rachaelis for a bit longer. “And you as well.”
“I…thank you,” said Rachaelis.
“Well,” said Corthain. “Shall we pay our respects to Lady Anna?”
Magister Nazim held out his arm, and Thalia smiled and slipped her arm through his. Rachaelis hesitated, then put her arm through Corthain’s. Even through the sleeve of his coat, it felt heavy with muscle. Hardly surprising. She had seen him plunge his blade through a Jurgur with a single stroke, after all.
Rachaelis slipped, stumbled, caught herself.
“Are you all right?” said Corthain.
“I’m fine,” said Rachaelis. “I’ve just…never done this before. Walked arm in arm with someone.”
Corthain smiled. “I’ll walk slowly, then.”
They passed into the grounds. A slave in an embroidered orange tunic hurried up to them. “Your names, my lords and ladies?”
“Adept Thalia, of House Kalarien, and Magister Nazim of the Conclave,” said Thalia.
“Of course,” said the slave. “I will show you to Lady Anna at once.”
Lady Anna was in her forties, Thalia had said, but she looked like a woman in her late twenties. She wore a blue gown with black trim, tight across the hips, the neckline almost inappropriately low. A striking silver bracelet wrapped around her left wrist, studded with sparking rubies. Her hair had been piled in an elaborate crown, and jewels sparked on her neck and fingers, and also in the hilt of the elaborate cortana at her belt.
“Thalia, my dear,” said Anna, kissing her on the cheek. “So good of you to join us.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” said Thalia. “This is Magister Nazim of the Conclave.”
“You do me honor,” said Anna.
“And these are our guests,” said Thalia. “The Adept Rachaelis, of House Morulan, and newly raised to the Conclave.”
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