“I… yes.” Gods, what else could he say? He wanted no part in this. A conspiracy to depose the High Cleric? Only Taehrn could be so mad. “Yes, I understand.”
Taehrn smiled. “Perfect,” he said. “Perfect…” His face took on a faraway look, the look of man imagining all the power and riches to come. He seemed lost in it a moment, and when his eyes returned to Jem, that smile was covetous. “I think this is the beginning of a very lucrative friendship, Jem. Your father and I were ever at odds… Our methods have always been simply… too disparate, I suppose, but I think that this shall be different. I think that you and I shall become fast friends.”
The hand squeezed on Jem’s shoulder as Taehrn stepped to his side and pressed his mouth to Jem’s ear. “And if not… well then, let’s just remember who it was that convinced you to sign that testimony in the first place. I do so miss your dear uncle, but alas, such is the price of power.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Loy stood on deck watching the wheat fields pass onshore. They had been traveling east on the Heart for three days and the entire stretch had been monotonous. The Trellish countryside had none of Lendal’s beauty. Here, it was all forest, farm, or empty hillsides. And villages. An absurd number of villages, all of them within sight of the river. Lendal did not have the population of the Trellish Peninsula, not even close.
This land was an ugly blight. It had no bold canyons, no vistas or plateaus. No great deserts. And worst of all, no godkind. The first full day of travel he had spent in meditation, trying to feel the aura of another god. Even now, he was searching, but he had not bothered to deaden his vision. Besides himself and Niece Kindrel, there was, and had been, nothing. He was beginning to think the entire continent was devoid of godkind, that he had been sent here as a hoax, perhaps to distract him from some important moment. Loy and Sister Spade were, after all, one of the strongest broods in all of Father’s stock, and many of the older broods were envious of their power. No doubt they had convinced Father to send Loy away.
Maybe this was some kind of test… he contemplated. If that were the case, Niece Kindrel’s presence was enough to test anyone’s will. She was indeed eccentric. The farther inland they went, the weaker her aura seemed, as if she had been pulling her powers from the sea itself; which was a mad thought, for the birthright did not work in such a way. The magic was something one was born with, based entirely on pedigree, its power independent of physical things. Indeed, Loy was stronger than most because his bloodlines were the closest thing to purity – because he was a Second, only two generations from the Mother herself.
However, Loy had heard of occasions where the birthright suffered from a failure of will. He supposed it might be possible that one’s aura might appear to fluctuate due to emotional distress. But then the question became, what was Niece Kindrel upset about?
Perhaps I should ask, Loy thought. He chuckled. Kindrel was an outcast and a Third. Her failings were none of his concern.
Besides, he joked to himself, it is more likely I simply confused her actual scent of kelp and dead fish for an aura. Now that was a thought.
The farther inland they went, the more her aura felt the way he had expected of a Third. It had felt very strong in the City of Trel, but that strength did not match her actions. He had not once seen her use the birthright, not even to light a candle or open a door. She seemed to live a life completely lacking in magical talents, which led him to surmise that she must be exceedingly weak. If it were not for the presence of her aura, he would think Kindrel were blighted like Sister Grain, completely devoid of both the magic and the nodes which made it work.
He had asked Kindrel why she did not use her powers, and of course, the accursed woman had responded by taunting him, saying, “But I do use my gift, Uncle. I’ve been using it all along.” After which she had moaned like a spirit – as if what she’d said had been profoundly spooky. More like profoundly stupid. She thought she could have the best of him, but she would not. Before this trip was through, she would learn how a Third should treat a Second.
Loy had to admit that his mood was souring. He was tired of this backwater and wished he were at home on his estate in Newfield, but the continent of Lendal was an ocean away. Tracker was no aspect for one such as Loy. He was good at sensing auras, but that did not mean he enjoyed doing it. He should be in a higher role. Order, Just, Mystic. These were the kind of roles Loy would be better suited for. He should be a pinnacle of the spiritual, or of law, or commerce. Instead, he was Tracker, whatever the piss that meant. At least it sounded somewhat ethereal and not purely physical. All in Lendal knew that the physical aspects, like Smith and Mason, were the lowest forms of godhood. If he could not be conceptual like his father, then hopefully his aspect would walk the line between the two, as Wanderer and Alchemist did.
Perhaps he should not doubt his role. It seemed to grow slow enough already – there was no need for the doubt to slow its development any further. One must trust their place, his father often said, those who do not, can never achieve godhood. Of course, it must be so. Father Order had no reason to lie to his children and doubting his wisdom would only serve to hinder Loy’s abilities further.
The scent of sea salt and fish oil barreled across the deck; Kindrel approached. Loy did not turn to greet her as she joined him.
“Are you ready to tell me what has happened to this land?” Loy asked.
“No,” she said. “Not yet.”
“You would have me fail out of ignorance,” he accused.
She studied him. “No.” A pause. “Actually, I would prefer you succeed.”
“Then why do you withhold your knowledge?” He made certain his voice sounded urgent and offended, but despite his efforts, she gave no sign that she cared for his distress. If pity did not work, he might need to consider other methods of convincing her to share her secrets.
“Perhaps I would have you learn on your own.”
Loy was a little taken aback by the answer. Though she was clearly a liar and a braggart, her statements continued to confound him; he had believed her refusal to have been made out of spite, not misguided stewardship.
Niece Kindrel waved a hand to the countryside. “It is a beautiful country, is it not?” she asked.
“I was thinking much the opposite,” Loy answered.
“Homesick, Uncle?”
Loy ignored her. She seemed rather fond of mockery and this was likely another attempt to get beneath his skin. She would do well living amongst the family. Not as well as he, mind.
Kindrel looked longingly into the Trellish countryside. “It truly is beautiful, but perhaps my judgment is tainted. You do not have the same nostalgic feeling of home as I have in this place.”
Loy had begun to fire back with an insult, but paused. Being the secretive annoyance that she was, Kindrel had yet to volunteer any information about herself. Perhaps if he played nice she would offer more.
“You are from this area?” Loy asked.
“No, I was born farther south, but I spent many years on this river.”
“Plying wares?” he said aloud. Like a common whore, he tacked on silently.
“Hah, in a way, I suppose. I was more a… privateer.”
“You were a pirate?” he asked.
“Sort of, but for only a short time.”
“Why would you lower yourself to thievery?” Niece Kindrel truly was a savage. In Lendal, godkind wanted for nothing. To have ruled Trel in such a way, the gods of previous generations must have been a baser folk.
“Well, I wasn’t robbing technically. I was robbing for a greater purpose.”
“When it comes to theft, there is never a greater purpose.”
“You are Just now?” she asked.
He stared at her shamefaced. It was inappropriate to assume another’s role, but had Loy been alive then, he would have held godkind to a higher standard. It was no wonder that Father had left this land behind.
“Fine,” he offered in a resigned tone. H
opefully, she would not catch that it was feigned. “How was this theft justified?”
Kindrel shrugged. “My true goal was to catch another pirate – a mortal in fact – that had been ravaging the river and the western coast. Somehow the man had managed to elude the gods, and he’d gained the ire of Mystic. She hired me to capture him.”
“And did you catch him?”
“Indeed I did. There is a city north of here, the city of the man’s birth, which was sympathetic to the man’s cause. I put together a crew from these men, and started raiding river merchants in his name, though all the merchants we raided were actually fake. Mystic set it up so she’d hire a ship, tell me where to strike, then my crew and I would take it. Unbeknownst to them, I’d sell the goods back to her. I can’t tell you how many times I saw the same chest of silk pulled from a different ship, but Galina always made sure to stock every vessel with a plentiful supply of wine, so that my crew never noticed we were stealing the same goods over and over. Finally, the man took notice of me and set up a meeting.”
“And you took him then?”
“No, not quite. He offered me a place on his own ship. As his first mate. At Galina’s request, I accepted. It turned out that he had stolen an object from Mystic, one capable of making an entire ship disappear, and that was how he’d been evading the gods who’d tried so long to catch him. In the end, I retrieved the object, and him as well.”
“So, what happened to the man?”
“She married him, her First Priest, Rift.”
“Mystic?”
“Aye.”
“Nikom’s Blessing,” he swore. Without thought he added, “She must be wilder than you.” His loose manners did not have the expected effect. Instead of offense, Niece Kindrel laughed. Unlike every time before, this laughter was free of contempt, but still, it made him squirm. Even if it did not seem the case, Loy was certain that he was the heart of her mirth, that she was mocking his ignorance – the sour bitch.
“Gods,” Kindrel swore. “Finally a conversation between us that does not end in unpleasantness…” her words trailed away, surely in thoughts of vile schemes.
“Best we end it now.” And with those words, she turned and left.
Perhaps she had enjoyed this conversation, but for him, it had been rather one sided. She had shared much, but asked nothing of him. The selfish gnat.
That night, Niece Kindrel invited Loy to dinner, a courtesy she’d not extended since his first night aboard the ship – a dinner that had taken place in the mess with her mortal servants – but tonight, Loy had been invited to her cabin, a room larger than should be possible aboard the vessel. For such a simple-minded woman, the room was preposterously ostentatious. The wood floor was buffed, polished, and carved with an intricate script in some foreign tongue. Scrolls and tapestries hung on the walls, the tapestries, predictably, of various ocean scenes. The lone bookshelf had been converted into a trophy case and carried no books. It was filled with various objects, including what appeared to be a shrunken human head, the bone of some monument of a creature, various types of starfish, sand dollars and seashells, as well as several scepters, an ornate snuff box, and a handful of musical instruments.
When Loy arrived, she was already seated at the table, but as he entered, she rose to wait for him and they sat in unison – a surprising gesture from her.
“What are these things?” he asked, unable to keep the distaste from his tone. She either ignored his tone or did not notice it.
“Keepsakes, from my travels of the world.” Niece Kindrel retrieved a basket from the side table, woven from some sort of white material, and handed it to him. Only when he held it, did he realize it was stripped ivory. Not only was she using ivory as a serving dish, but… somehow, remarkably, she had kept it from yellowing. He chose a piece of bread from the basket and set it back on the side table. She offered him another dish, this one a polished silver disk inlaid with rubies around the edges. Unsurprising, this platter held fish. Her silverware was luxurious. Everything in this room was luxurious. Had it not all been placed together without an underlying theme he might have been impressed, but sadly, Niece Kindrel seemed as bereft of taste as she was ability. Still, he smiled when she offered him a bottle of Lendish wine, aged fifteen years. If this is what holding his tongue bought, perhaps he could continue to do so.
They ate quietly for several minutes. The food was decent, but not great. He found that without insults, he had little to say to his niece. She seemed to be deep in reverence of old memories, her eyes wandering around the room from item to item as she gnawed open-mouthed on bread.
Finally, she spoke. “Does Grandfather still adhere to apprenticeship?” she asked.
“In a way… Why do you ask?”
“I am simply thinking of past days; of my own apprenticeship. Who is your mentor?”
“I am apprenticed to Sister Wanderer.”
“You?” she laughed. “Truly?”
He gave her a hateful look. “It is as my role necessitates.”
Her laughter halted and she wiped her face with a napkin, as if hoping to hide her shameful display behind the cloth.
“I am sorry, Loy. I do not mean to offend. It is only that you do not seem the type.”
Even though he was inclined to agree, he could not let her belittle his talents, especially when she barely knew him. “I am quite capable, Niece, even if you are too stupid to see it.”
She shook her head. “I truly meant no offense. It is only that when you first set eyes on my ship you were stricken with horror and disgust.”
“And how should an acolyte of Wanderer behave?” he asked rudely, though he saw her point.
“Excited,” she said without hesitation, “at the chance to see the world, at the chance for adventure. But that is not how you behaved. You do not want to be here.”
“No.” A pause as he studied her. “I do not. I would prefer to be in Lendal, but Father has given me a task and I shall accomplish it.”
“A noble sentiment, if only slightly foolish. You will not find what you expect.”
Rather than call her a dirty, uncivilized defiler, he pursed his lips. He would learn nothing from insults, and to outmaneuver this enemy, he would need all the information he could gain. In time she would rue her brutish insolence.
Realizing that he could speak no further of his desires without the conversation ending in foul words, he redirected their bearing. “You know Sister Wanderer personally?”
“Yes, Harvest became my mentor at sixteen.”
“So early?” he asked. Even on the most trivial matters, she seemed to lie. Most were apprenticed and assigned their roles in their mid-forties. Loy was unique in that he had been assigned ten years early – a savant by most tongues.
“Early? Is sixteen an early age in Lendal?” The way she said it was overripe with feigned innocence. She knew the audacity of the claim she was making, but was pretending otherwise to make him seem small. Did she truly believe she could lie without his notice? He would not sit idle and accept her insults.
Loy shot to his feet.
“Do you think me a fool, woman?” he shouted. The question was rhetorical, but he was surprised how demanding his tone seemed. He spun on a heel and marched to the door, slamming it closed to punctuate his dissatisfaction.
Kindrel watched as Loy stormed from the room. She knew her uncle was prickly, but this was approaching the absurd. She’d barely said anything, and certainly nothing of offense. And that was the problem – the poor fool imagined insult with every word. If this was the way he always behaved, then it was little wonder that Nikom had sent him away. Letting out a slow, frustrated breath, she rose from the table and crossed to her bookcase. Their earlier conversation had convinced her there might be hope for Loy. Now, she was certain there wasn’t. He was too proud, and too ignorant. In an attempt to prevent it from repeating, Nikom had kept his children ignorant of Trellish history, but it only left them stupid.
Order, she mocke
d.
She pulled a scepter from the top shelf. As her favorite of the three, it had always calmed her nerves. The scepter represented kingship, and should she ever return to Kin’Ken, its people would recognize her as their god-king. She, Tyrena, and Harvest all had a similar collection of scepters – one scepter from each of the three tribes of the Kin-Ken-Ren. Because of the styling, this was her favorite. The Thoughtful lived up to their name, and had carved her scepter from driftwood. Even before she had recognized it herself, they’d believed her the god of the sea.
She still didn’t know what that meant. Not really. In the pantheon she was called Sailor, a title she felt better suited her. She thought often of those peoples, and those days that she, Tyrena, and Harvest had lived among them, but she knew they wouldn’t be the same today. Six hundred years was a long time, even for a stagnant people.
But they weren’t stagnant any longer. They’d had a patron the last four hundred years. Sometimes she regretted that choice. It was the reason she had not gone back since. Tyrena had promised to guide them into the future, and even though Kindrel loved her as a sister, she often had her doubts. She knew the Kin-Ken-Ren’s would be different from her memories, and she didn’t want to see the reality of that.
Although she didn’t wish to, Kindrel knew that one day she would have to go back; she had made Tyrena a promise. Grandfather may have sent her to help his boy, but Kindrel had her own reasons for being here, and those motives were primary.
From on deck, Kindrel felt the buffeting wall that was Loy’s unsubtle attempt at perquisition. Though crude, she had to admit that his method of sensing godkind was impressive. For most, it was a simple sensing of aural energies, but Loy could cast his own aura outward like a net, to try and feel farther. Her own energies traveled easily on this net, allowing her to expand her own senses. With better training, it could be a very valuable skill.
Death's Merchant: Common Among Gods - Book One Page 30