That wasn’t even the most troubling aspect of these Lashiin priests. What troubled her more was learning that these men seemed to have been abducting children throughout Paliis as well as elsewhere throughout these lands. Deshmahne children. Or those of the converted. They had done it under the guise of seeking to help and save the children from the evils of the Deshmahne, but from what Brohmin had shared, they hadn’t saved them at all.
“Most of them are gone,” Selton said. “Brohmin tells us that he removed most of the priests.”
Removed. An interesting way to phrase what Roelle suspected Brohmin had done. He would have killed the priests. That troubled her in ways that everything else they had done did not. If Brohmin was willing to kill priests of the Urmahne, how would they ever find a way to maintain peace?
Yet, she knew that Jakob had traveled with Brohmin, so it was likely that he served on behalf of Jakob.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to work through the details. Her mind swam, as it often did these days. The groeliin attack, and the poisoning she had sustained during it, had almost killed her. She’d been near death when she’d asked Selton to take her to the Great Forest, responding to a vision she’d had that told her that was where she would be healed. And indeed, Jakob had somehow found here there. None of the other gods had come to help her. Only Jakob.
But how could Jakob be a god? She’d seen him with a sword. She’d seen him fight, and kill groeliin. The gods wanted peace, didn’t they? She couldn’t think about it. Everything about this new knowledge troubled her.
But even after his efforts to heal her, she was still weakened and barely able to function. She’d gone back to Vasha, to her uncle, Alriyn, and tried to rest, but when Jakob came back to Vasha and presented her with this mission, she accepted without question. Selton made it seem as if she still led, but if she did, it was in name only.
“What do you think we should do?” she asked Selton.
Selton glanced over to Lendra. They had taken to making decisions without her. Roelle didn’t blame them. She had been distracted lately. When she wasn’t sleeping, she was wondering if she should be sleeping. She suspected she would have been better off—and maybe they would have been better off—had she remained in Vasha. Then again, had she remained in Vasha, she would have been subjected to the Magi teachings. She no longer felt like an apprentice. No longer felt like a Mage, for that matter.
Even while in Vasha, Roelle had felt drawn away from the city. Nahrsin had traveled north with the rest of the Antrilii, removing what groeliin threat remained. But she knew more groeliin would be in the far north, and she wanted to be there. To be in the fight. It was necessary, and she had to be honest with herself and admit that she enjoyed it.
“We’ve been following the Deshmahne throughout the city.”
“What have we seen?” she asked.
“They’re priests.”
“We knew that. They’re dark priests.”
“Not like that. They are priests, and they’re Deshmahne, but they’re acting differently than they once did,” Lendra said. “When I was in Coamdon, the priests were violent, and forcibly converted as many as they could. We’ve found no evidence of that.”
The stories Lendra had of the Deshmahne, before she had traveled north seeking Novan, had been filled with similar accounts. The Deshmahne had been known for forcibly converting people throughout the south lands. That was what Roelle had expected to find when she came here. Instead they had discovered something else. They had discovered priests who actually seemed to serve the people.
“We need to know if this is all some part of an act, or if they have changed.” Roelle turned her attention to the Deshmahne north rising near the center of the town. She had been awed like much of the Magi had been when they had first seen the north. It was an impressive creation, more so because they knew it had not existed even a few decades ago. It resembled the north in Thealon enough that it was unlikely to have been accidental. Power circulated around the north itself, an invisible presence, but one that she could feel.
“Jakob’s man seems to think this is the Deshmahne behaving with intent,” Selton said.
If Brohmin believed that, then she needed to at least consider that as a possibility.
“Where has he gone? We haven’t seen him in days.” Roelle had searched for Brohmin, knowing that if they were to do anything with the Deshmahne, it would be beneficial to have his support, especially as he seemed to have Jakob’s complete support.
“From what I can gather, he’s been seen in the north.”
The north? She shouldn’t question Brohmin’s commitment to what they did, but if what Lendra said about the Deshmahne was true—and they had forcibly converted others—then it was possible that even Brohmin had been forcibly converted.
Somehow, they had to reach him and find out whether he remained committed to their work.
How was she supposed to do that?
Her gaze remained fixed on the north. She was tired, more than she ever had been in her entire life, and she was thankful they weren’t being called on to fight a horde of groeliin at the moment. Given the injuries she had sustained, she wasn’t certain she would be able to withstand an attack like that.
Only, this was almost more difficult.
This involved planning, plotting, and thinking through problems in a way that required her to analyze and determine what would be most effective. If her mind were sharper, and not still working through the residual effects of her poisoning, maybe that wouldn’t have been such a challenge. Instead, she struggled.
Selton and Lendra watched her, concern on her faces. She forced a smile and nodded to both of them. “We should find Brohmin and work with him on this.”
Even as she said it, she felt as if she were telling them what they already knew. And if that was the case, what use was she? What value did she bring to their planning? What value did she now have?
Chapter Five
Roelle sat in the dingy tavern with a mug of ale sitting on the table in front of her. Selton sat next to her with Lendra. They had brought Desmond with them, one of the warrior Magi who had progressed rapidly through their ranks. Desmond had not been a Mage Roelle had known well before leaving Vasha. She had fought alongside him many times over the months since then and had developed a growing respect for his sword work. He was skilled, and if given enough time and practice, she suspected he would continue to improve, and might one day rival her.
Maybe he already did.
With her weakness, Roelle was a shell of the warrior she once had been. Her strength waned quickly, and she barely had endurance enough to last more than a few catahs before she faltered. There was none of the same speed and none of the same power she once had managed so easily. She tried not to let it bother her, but how could it not?
“You’re sure this is the place?” Roelle asked.
Desmond nodded. He had been the one to gather the information on where Brohmin had been. Why would Brohmin—a man who served Jakob—choose a tavern like this to frequent? Why would the Mage Elder accompany him here?
Roelle looked around. Bawdy music played in the back of the tavern, the stringed instrument dancing with a vibrant energy. Perhaps at another time, she would have been more interested in dancing along with it, though perhaps not. Roelle had never been one to favor taverns. There were some among the Magi—especially those who had trained with her—who enjoyed taverns and enjoyed the chaos and music and taste of ale. She had never been that person.
One of the waitresses brought out plates of food and set them in front of the four of them. They were steaming platters, the meat slathered with gravy, and the carrots and potatoes on the plate appearing more weathered than anything. There was little about them that looked appealing. Her stomach still rumbled, betraying her hunger.
Selton leaned over and nodded to her. “You need to eat. You won’t regain your strength if you don’t.”
Roelle closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Should she share with Selton that she had begun to wonder if she would ever regain her strength? She had been healed, and she would survive the attack, but it had left her lessened.
At least she still lived.
It was a reminder she needed to give herself often. She would much rather still be here, living to fight, and living to serve, than to have been slaughtered by the groeliin. That didn’t change how difficult it was for her to go on.
She cut a hunk of meat off and took a bite. She chewed slowly. The meat was chewy, and there was an unpleasant texture to it, but Selton was right. She did need to eat. If she didn’t, she would continue to grow weaker, and would then be of no benefit to the cause.
The door to the tavern opened, and she glanced up, looking to see whether Brohmin would enter. She had seen him enough times that she would recognize him, and if not him, she would recognize the Mage who traveled with him, but it was neither.
Two men entered, each wearing dark-colored robes, their hair cut short. They were different from most of the customers in the tavern. They paused and looked around.
There was something about them that made her uncomfortable, though Roelle wasn’t entirely certain what that was.
“Roelle?” Desmond asked.
She realized that she had turned completely toward the door. She would draw attention to herself, which was something she did not want. Their height already made them stand out, and the Magi worked to stay as concealed as possible, but it was not always effective. They didn’t need to draw attention to the fact that there were now Magi in Paliis.
Eventually, there would be more. Her uncle intended to send more of the Magi south, to attempt to influence as they once had, but they would appear with more fanfare, and with Denraen support. If nothing else, the fact that Roelle and the soldiers with her were armed made them appear less like Magi. That was exactly what she wanted.
“I thought you said all the priests of Lashiin were gone,” she said to Selton.
“All the priests should have been gone,” he said. “Brohmin said that he had eliminated the threat.”
Roelle nodded toward the men. They had taken a seat near the door and sat with rigid posture as they watched the patrons of the tavern with a suspicious eye. It was the same sort of expression that she had when surveying the tavern.
“We don’t know that those are priests of the Lashiin,” Selton said.
“What else would they be?” Roelle asked.
“I don’t—”
Another man approached the table, staggering as he did. The priests watched him but said nothing. “You don’t belong here,” the man said. There was a slur to his words, and he struggled to stay on his feet.
“We belong anywhere we are called to serve,” the nearest priest said. He had a long face, and eyes that were piercing. His voice was rough, as if he had screamed—or served as a soldier, she realized.
“I’ve seen your kind around Paliis,” the man said. “You’re the kind who been snatching up children.”
The other priest shifted in his seat. Roelle noted a flash of steel beneath his robe. “We serve the gods. What do you serve?”
The man grunted and staggered toward them once more, but tripped and fell forward.
The first priest grabbed him before he could fall and propped him up, setting him into the chair opposite him. The two priests pulled chairs up, blocking the man from moving. There was something about the posture that was threatening.
“You don’t belong here,” the man said.
One of the Lashiin priests grabbed the man’s hand. There was a gleam of metal from a ring on the priest’s finger. “As I said, we belong wherever the gods call us to serve,” the priest said. “Perhaps it is you who does not belong.”
The man sputtered, and then he began twitching, his body convulsing, and he fell back in the chair.
Roelle darted forward, reaching the man and quickly assessing his injuries. His entire body quivered, shaking with whatever was happening to him. It was a full-body convulsing, and his breathing even slowed, forcing her to check to see if he had swallowed his tongue.
Selton appeared next to her, looking down at the injured man. “What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. Something the priests did, I suspect.”
Selton frowned and checked the man’s pulse briefly. “What would the priests have done to him?”
She wished that she knew. She looked up, but the priests had disappeared.
Roelle swore under her breath before standing and looking around the tavern. They couldn’t simply have disappeared. They weren’t like Jakob.
“Lendra. Desmond.”
They both hurried over to her, and Roelle realized that she had used her commanding voice. “Watch him, and help him if you can.”
“Where are we going to go?” Selton asked.
“We’re going to see if we can find where those priests disappeared to.”
Roelle hurried to the door of the tavern and glanced out it, but saw no sign of the Lashiin priests. She turned, looking back inside the tavern, but saw nothing that would indicate where they might have gone.
The kitchen.
She hurried toward the back of the tavern, toward the door that separated the dining area from the kitchen. Selton joined her, and she nodded to him. He pushed the door open, and they paused.
In the kitchen, they saw two cooks on the ground, both convulsing the same way that the drunken man had been convulsing. One lay near a spilled pot of soup, the liquid streaming across the ground. The other lay near a pair of knives. It was almost as if the cook had attempted to reach for one of the knives to slow down the Lashiin priests.
“At least we know they came through here,” Roelle said.
Selton grunted.
There was a door leading to an alley, and they found it cracked open slightly. Roelle unsheathed her sword, and Selton copied her, and then he pushed the door open.
The humid night air pressed into the kitchen as he did.
She listened but heard no sound of movement. She dropped into a ready stance and spun out into the alley. She saw no sign of the priests.
Selton stood next to her, and she glanced over, noting the way his jaw clenched. She was familiar enough with that expression to know his frustration. She felt it as well.
“Where could they have gone?” Selton asked.
“They shouldn’t have been able to simply disappear,” Roelle said. “We need to find them.”
Not only did the Lashiin priests appear to be using some ability that allowed them to trigger illness, but seeing the flash of steel beneath the robes led her to worry that maybe the priests were something other than simply priests.
What if they were soldiers?
It surprised her that the Urmahne seemed to be making moves now. They served the same sort of peace that the Magi had long served. Was it possible for these priests to have changed?
It was possible. Roelle had changed. Other Magi apprentices had changed.
She had come to the south lands not wanting to engage with the Deshmahne in attack. Jakob had suggested that they find a way to maintain peace and to reach out to the Deshmahne priests and find some common ground. With the High Priest missing, they hoped to have an easier time of it. And from what they had seen, the calm they had experienced within Paliis, she had believed that it was possible.
But all that would change if the Urmahne began an attack.
Did the Deshmahne know what was taking place? Were they aware that the Urmahne might be attacking?
It ran the risk of renewing the tensions between the north and the south. When the Deshmahne had been defeated before, she had hoped that would be the end of it and had feared that if tensions built anew, the pushback would come from the Deshmahne. She never would have imagined that the Urmahne would be the ones to renew the conflict.
“You seem troubled,” Selton said.
He walked back into the kitchen, where they found the two cooks sitting up. Both were
rubbing the backs of their necks. Whatever had happened to them was temporary. At least there was that. She hoped the drunk man out in the tavern would recover as well.
Had she not rushed to his aid, and allowed herself to be distracted, she might have been able to follow the priests more easily. Instead, they had escaped her and had avoided her attention. Had they known that she was a Mage?
Doubtful. At least that much she thought remained concealed.
When they entered the dining area, the music had resumed, the same buoyant sounds returning to the tavern once again. Lendra and Desmond sat at the table, the drunk man sat on a chair opposite them. When Selton and Roelle appeared, they looked up expectantly, and Roelle shook her head.
They had missed their opportunity.
When she took her seat, she had the growing sense that she might not get that opportunity again. If the Lashiin priests were willing to attack, and if they were continuing to encourage war when others would avoid it, she had to find a way to stop it.
If only she knew how.
Chapter Six
The interior of the House of the Yahinv was comfortable. Isandra sat on the second level, the plush chair she sank into cradling her, a crackling hearth in front of her feeling homey. So different from Vasha, from the formality of the palace. She felt truly at home here.
The copy of the mahne rested in her lap. She had read through it twice since Rebecca granted her access, something that still surprised her. It was possible that she would not have been granted permission to be in the House of the Yahinv. She was not Antrilii, and she certainly was not one of the Yahinv, so for her to be allowed to spend any time here was a measure of trust.
“Have you discovered what you seek?” Rebecca asked.
Isandra closed the mahne and let out a steady sigh. “The sections that were missing from our copy are not quite what I expected.”
Rebecca sat across from her and chuckled, resting her hands in her lap. “The answers to mysteries are never quite as exciting as you believe they will be. Sometimes, it is simply a matter of finding the answers so that you no longer have to question.”
The Last Conclave (The Lost Prophecy Book 6) Page 5