The Matriarch waited until they were seated and served, taking a cup of kaffe for herself, before leaning forward onto her desk and meeting Allan’s gaze with a penetrating look. “To what do we owe this visit?”
“The formal reason for the visit,” Marcus said, taking the lead, “is to see how well you are settling in and whether there is anything more that the Needle can provide.”
The Matriarch held Allan’s gaze a moment, as if searching for a hidden agenda, but then turned to Marcus, bowing her head slightly. She’d had weeks to get to know Allan, Bryce, and the others, and after the exhausting walk from Erenthrall, she and her people had initially been elated to reach the Needle, but now that they were here and had had a moment to rest, their natural wariness had returned.
“We are settling in nicely, as you no doubt saw while passing through the streets we’ve claimed as our own here. And the provisions you provided on our arrival have served us well. For the moment, there is nothing more that we require.”
“Have you experienced any problems with the ley? The connection with this part of the city is tenuous, due to the shift in the relays caused by the quake and the chasm.”
“No, we haven’t. We are grateful for what access we do have to the ley, although many are still leery of it. We haven’t had reliable use of it since the Shattering. In Erenthrall, we learned . . . not to trust it.”
“Understandable. It couldn’t be trusted even here until recently.”
“Until the distortion over Erenthrall was healed, you mean.”
“Yes. The distortion disrupted numerous ley lines integral to the system. It created a blockage that, if left alone, would have caused serious damage to the city and beyond.”
“And did you think at all about what the destruction of the distortion in Erenthrall would do to those living there? Did you consider the consequences of your action? It left our enclave vulnerable, gave this Devin and his band of thieves and murderers and cannibals the opening they needed to attack us.”
“At the time, the quakes brought on by the ley and the reverberations they caused in the Tapestry were destroying the entirety of the plains. We didn’t consider anything except halting it before it destroyed us all.”
The two glared at each other for a long, awkward moment, and then the Matriarch snorted and waved a hand. “I suppose we shouldn’t argue over your intervention. The distortion had begun to collapse. Although there are some amongst my councillors who believe it was your interference here at the Needle that caused that collapse, that it was not natural.”
Behind her, Captain Lienta stirred, gaze cast down to the floor. Lienta had said nothing to Allan on their way here. It must have been kept between himself, the Matriarch, and her closest advisers. The fact that they’d discussed what had happened in Erenthrall and the actions of those at the Needle without him present shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. He thought of all the long conversations he’d had with Lienta and the Matriarch over the course of the march, both together and separately, the pleasant memories now somewhat tainted.
Hernande suddenly leaned forward. “There is some argument about that here as well. It’s possible that the collapse was initiated by Lecrucius’ use of the Nexus here in defense of the Needle. Or it may have been natural, but untimely. I doubt we will ever know. Yet Kara Tremain did seize control and heal the distortion before it could destroy us. No one doubts that here.”
The Matriarch raised her head. “So I hear. I’ve also heard that she is going to attempt to heal the distortion over Tumbor.”
“That is true. We plan on bringing down the distortion in two days. We’ve already begun preparations in the node. Commander Ty is making a formal announcement about it today to the people of the Needle, along with information about where those who wish to see it can go for a viewing. You and the rest of the Temerites are invited to join Commander Ty and the others on the tiers of the temple beneath the Needle.”
“Where will you be?”
“With Kara and the other Wielders in the node. We can’t control the Nexus from afar. We need to be there, in the pit, working the ley and the crystals that control it.”
The Matriarch’s lips pursed, her attention sliding to Allan. “And you?”
“I can accompany you, if you wish. Along with my daughter.”
“Before you make a decision, though, you should be aware that there is some . . . unrest in the Needle,” Hernande said.
Marcus frowned in disapproval, but said nothing.
“What kind of unrest?” Lienta asked, stepping forward protectively.
“Allan has already told you that we gained control of the Needle from Father Dalton and his Kormanley—”
“His White Cloaks,” Boskell interrupted. “We know of them. They used and abused many of the survivors of the Shattering in Erenthrall, turned us against each other.”
“So Allan said. When we took over here, most of those who already lived here didn’t care. Kara had saved the Needle from destruction after all. The quakes had quieted, then stopped. Most of the people were content to leave it at that, but not all. There’s a group loyal to Dalton that remains. They’ve been growing in strength and support since Dalton revealed a vision in which the Needle is attacked by two forces—dogs and snakes, one attacking from the north and the other from the south.”
The Matriarch shot a glance at Lienta. “We’ve heard of this prophecy. We’ve found symbols chalked onto the stone here across the chasm. One of the rooms here in this building had it scrawled across the entirety of the floor, as if it had been used as a meeting place.”
“It may have been,” Marcus said. “We’ve had little luck finding out who’s behind the group. They’ve been careful.”
“What about Dalton himself?” Lienta asked.
Hernande shook his head. “He has nothing to do with the group, aside from being the focus of their fervor. Since he revealed his prophecy, he’s been kept locked inside his rooms in the temple.”
“Are you certain? If you don’t know his accomplices . . .”
“No, we can’t be certain. But Dalton has caused us no problems since being locked away, and Commander Ty has kept a guard on the door at all times. As far as we can tell, no one has visited him or spoken to him since he was secluded there.”
“So what have his followers done, then?” the Matriarch asked.
“They’ve been protesting mostly, demanding that we release him and let him speak. They started a riot in the square before the temple a short time ago, halted by Ty and the enforcers. Since then, support for their group has grown. We’re afraid that they’ll attempt something similar when we heal Tumbor. It’s the perfect opportunity to make themselves heard.”
“Like the Kormanley before the Shattering,” the Matriarch said.
“Yes. We’ve noticed the correlation.”
The Matriarch said nothing, thinking.
Behind her, Lieutenant Boskell cleared his throat. “We should stay here. Wait. We’ve only just arrived. We don’t know who to trust.”
The Matriarch’s lips twitched. She looked at Allan, even as she spoke to Marcus. “You said this was the formal part of your visit. Was there something else?”
“I’ve introduced you to my daughter, Morrell.” At her name, Morrell shifted forward in her chair and Drayden stirred in his position near the door. She’d been quiet the entire conversation, but her eyes had never left the Matriarch. “What I didn’t mention was that she is a Healer.”
The Matriarch’s brow creased in confusion, until the slight emphasis he’d put on the last word registered. Then her eyes snapped to Morrell. According to Freesia, Morrell hadn’t fully recovered from her experiment repairing the outer wall, but she was strong enough that she couldn’t be forced to remain at rest. Allan had been hesitant to bring her, but her obvious restrained enthusiasm now made him regret the protective
thought.
“Captain Lienta,” the Matriarch said, “I think it’s time for us to go for that walk we spoke of before they arrived.”
Even though the words were prosaic, Allan had spent enough time with the Matriarch to know that she was rattled. Without waiting for a response, she turned away, pushing back from the table in her wheeled chair, Janote coming forward to help her. Lienta gestured at Boskell, who nodded and departed, headed toward the outer room. Lienta then stepped forward, Allan and Marcus rising.
“Where are we going?” Marcus asked.
“To a balcony overlooking the chasm and the rest of the Needle.”
Lienta offered nothing more.
They followed the Matriarch and her assistant out through a side door, passing through a corridor with rooms off to either side before emerging out into late afternoon sunlight in the lee of the old mercantile. Allan shaded his eyes as he glanced toward where the black spire of the Needle glinted, the top of the temple visible above the surrounding buildings. They crossed a street thronged with Temerites, most at work repairing the mercantile or digging out stone from collapsed walls farther down the street, then entered another building, this one an old manse with a small outer courtyard containing unkempt trees and some small brush. Allan wondered why the Matriarch hadn’t used this as her residence, until they entered the lower floor and passed into the back rooms, where the entire northern corner of the building had crumbled into a pile of rubble. The southern corner remained intact, a staircase with deep steps leading up to the second floor. They ascended—Janote taking the Matriarch up in the wheeled chair, backward, step by step, Cory and Hernande helping—then headed down a small hall that ended in two double doors opening onto what had once been a grand sitting room with a bedroom off to the right. At the far end of the sitting room, an empty arched opening that had once held glass windows looked out onto a stone balcony. Allan could see the Needle and temple through the window as they approached, but when they stepped out onto the balcony, he realized the building stood near the edge of the chasm. It yawned beneath them, only a street and the stunted walls of half of another building between them and the drop-off.
On the far side of the chasm, the buildings of the outer city before the temple blocked out its base, those on the edge worse off than the manse they were in. Allan could pick out areas where the engineers of the Needle had demolished some walls and fortified others. The ragged edge of the chasm jutted out in one section, close to another section on the Temerite side, the gap narrow in comparison to the rest of the chasm. The sun glared down on the eastern edge, casting the buildings into stark gray angles and shadows, the whiter stone of the temple beyond and the Needle a sharp contrast against the blue sky scudded with clouds. People could be seen in the streets farther from the chasm’s edge, and a few were visible on the tiers of the temple—enforcers, Allan presumed, already preparing for the healing of the distortion.
“As you probably guessed by the lieutenant’s reaction, not all of my people are as willing to embrace the Needle as their new home as others. The White Cloaks were not welcome in Erenthrall after the Shattering. Their work there was destructive. Without them, we might have been able to rebuild Erenthrall as it was before. Instead, they drove wedges between the people who had survived. And all their actions were associated with the Needle. It’s difficult to let those connotations go.” She spun her wheeled chair around to face them. “Especially now that you tell me the Kormanley are still active here. Why did you not kill this Dalton as soon as you’d seized control?”
“The people here would have revolted,” Marcus said. “He’d saved most of those staying here, offered them refuge, fed them. We needed him alive, to keep control, at least until we’d proven that we could offer the same stability.”
“Which we have,” Cory said.
“But it hasn’t been enough,” Marcus added. “That’s why the healing of Tumbor’s distortion is so important. It will prove that we don’t need Dalton or his White Cloaks once and for all.”
“And can you do it? Can you repair the distortion around Tumbor?”
“Yes,” Cory said. “Kara says she can do it.”
Marcus hesitated, but said, “We’ve made improvements to the Nexus here, made it stronger.”
The Matriarch glanced from Marcus to Cory and back again, but turned to Morrell next. “So you’re a Healer?”
Morrell stepped forward, confident, one hand reaching out toward the Matriarch. Lienta tensed. But she caught herself and bowed her head, although Allan wasn’t convinced she was even aware Lienta was there. “Yes.”
“And what exactly does that mean, child?”
“I can heal people. By touching them.”
Cory shifted to her side. “It’s true. She healed my foot after it was crushed beneath a boulder during one of the quakes. I should have lost my leg, if not my life.”
“And she’s healed many others besides,” Hernande added. “She’s even changed some of the Wolves back into their human forms—those that wished it. Drayden here is one of those.” The Matriarch considered Drayden, standing back from the others, as Hernande continued. “A few had sunk too deeply into their animal forms, their humanity lost. Those she could not help.”
Morrell raised her head again, chin lifted. “I might be able to heal your legs,” she said boldly. “If you’ll let me touch you, I’ll be able to tell.”
The Matriarch drew in a shuddering breath, one somehow filled with dread and hope and a deep-seated longing. She exhaled slowly. “Do you know how long I’ve been in this chair, child? Most of my life. I was twenty when the carriage I was riding in was attacked, the driver killed immediately. The horses panicked and bolted, while the guards held off the attackers. My retainer and I were thrown about the carriage, out of control, until it hit something in the road. We were flung off a ridge, tossed down a steep slope into a ravine. My retainer was killed. I barely survived. When my escort of guards finally found me and pulled me from the wreckage, I discovered I could no longer move my legs.” She dropped her gaze to her lap. “They never did find out if it was bandits or an orchestrated attempt on my life by another holding. There was no one left to question.”
She looked back up, her hands smoothing out the cloth of her dress. “The point being, child, that I’ve lived thirty-three years without the use of my legs. I’ve grown used to living without them. I’m not certain I’d remember how to use them even if you could heal them.”
“So you don’t even want me to check?” Disappointment tinged Morrell’s voice, along with confusion.
“Not right now. I’ll need time to think about it. It’s . . . it’s a big decision.”
Morrell nodded as if she understood, although it was clear she didn’t. She turned stunned, hurt eyes on Allan. He reached out and drew her close, kissed her forehead. “Don’t fret,” he said quietly. “You rattled her. She needs time to adjust.”
The Matriarch had turned back to Marcus and Hernande. “As for the ceremony you have planned, I believe that the Temerites need to show our thanks for the help in escaping Erenthrall and the refuge you’ve provided here at the Needle. I will attend.” When Lienta began to protest, she raised her hand to forestall him. “Along with a contingent of my guards, including Lienta and Boskell. And Janote, of course. We would appreciate your company, mentor, and your student, as well as you and your daughter, Allan.”
Hernande bowed respectfully. “Cory and I would be delighted. Unfortunately, we’ll be needed in the node with the Wielders, to help with the ley.”
“Morrell and I would enjoy the company, as long as you bring along some of your kaffe.”
The Matriarch laughed. “When you first drank of it on our journey here, you despised it.”
“As you said then, it is an acquired taste. I appear to have acquired it.”
“I see. Janote, make note of it.”
Marcus
and the rest turned to leave, ushered out by Lienta’s guards.
Lienta stood next to the Matriarch on the balcony as they watched Allan, Marcus, and the others go. When they were safely out of hearing, he murmured, “I’m surprised, Matriarch.”
“That I would attend the ceremony? Why would I not? I thought you agreed with me that an alliance with Commander Ty and Kara Tremain would be beneficial. Although I admit I hesitated upon hearing that the Kormanley were still active.”
“I meant I was surprised you declined the girl’s offer.”
“Ah.” The Matriarch remained silent a long moment, her hands fidgeting with her dress, but finally she sighed. “I gave up on ever having the use of legs again more than thirty years ago. The claim that she could heal me—” Her voice cracked and she raised a trembling hand to her face, shielding herself from them before forcing herself to continue. “It came as a shock.”
Janote stirred. “As you said, you haven’t had use of your legs for decades. I doubt you’d be dancing a sailor’s jig any time soon.”
The Matriarch barked an unsteady laugh. “Like in my wild younger days, before my marriage and slow submersion into politics? No, I’m certain it would be a struggle. Everything in life is.”
“So you’ll consider it, then?”
The Matriarch sobered. “I’ll consider it. But it’s not a decision to be made lightly. There’s too much hope and fear involved.”
“Have you found someplace to hide the package yet?”
Marc’s cheek twitched, the only outward sign that Armone had startled him. “Not yet.”
He turned from his perusal of the activities surrounding the large square beneath and on the first tier of the temple. Servants were scrubbing the stone, the mosaic with the central sun coming to startling life with vivid blues and greens that had been dulled by a coat of dirt and grit since their arrival. Others were hanging banners and folds of cloth from the tier’s edge, while yet others brought out tables that would eventually hold food and drink. A few chairs had been arranged in strategic locations, but the majority of the people allowed onto this tier would have to stand.
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