Spirits of Light and Shadow (The Gods of Talmor)

by India Drummond

  “You just in?” Korbin asked, surprised at how relaxed the other man was.

  “Yeah, rode through the night. I’m exhausted.”

  “Get some sleep,” Korbin said.

  Deto nodded, then grinned. “I could say the same to you.” With a cheeky bow in Octavia’s direction, he said, “A pleasant day to you, good lady.”

  “Come on,” Korbin said to Octavia, shooting Deto the obligatory exasperated stare. He led the conduit out of the room by the hand, grateful that Deto hadn’t yet seen the posters bearing their names. This would certainly be the last time they could take shelter in an outpost.

  Once they were outside, Octavia dropped his hand and regained her normal, cool demeanor. “Don’t apologize,” she said as he opened his mouth to do just that.

  Hesitating only a moment, he nodded. “All right. Let’s go. And quickly.” Side-by-side, they walked toward the North Circle, trying to avoid the notice of the few people already on the streets: a baker, a laundress, a street cleaner, a lampsman, a farmer taking a cart toward the market square, a pair of priests, and a tired-looking comfort-girl. Soon, the city would be bustling.

  Taking the backstreets, Korbin guided Octavia toward Eliam’s house. “We’re almost there. It’s going to be okay.”

  She seemed to grow more uncomfortable with every step. Her doubtful look told him she already regretted her decision to follow him. He didn’t blame her. For all she knew, he was leading her straight to someone who would arrest them both. For a moment, he wondered why she trusted him at all.

  At the rear entrance to Eliam’s street, Korbin paused. “Stay here.” When she stiffened, he added quickly, “Try to look like you’re waiting for the butcher’s across the way to open. I’ll only be a moment. If I’m not back before they open…” What? She’s on her own? He couldn’t bring himself to say that, but he wasn’t confident what would await them at Eliam’s. If the senate knew Korbin was a rider, did they also know of his friendship with their youngest member?

  She pressed her eyelids closed and nodded. “I understand. Thank you.”

  He wanted to offer her a reassuring squeeze of the hand, but such a gesture hardly seemed appropriate. “No need to thank me, Senne. I got us into this mess.” Before she could agree, he ducked into the next street and moved toward the quiet path leading to Eliam’s manor.

  There were servants about, but none appeared alarmed when he showed his face. Instead he received the usual polite greeting and quick bow as they went about their business, careful not to interfere with his.

  “Is Dul Eliam up yet this morning?” he asked a manservant, who replied with a raised eyebrow, making Korbin feel a fool. Of course Eliam wouldn’t be up. Gentlemen of rank didn’t rise early unless they were as driven and obsessed as Korbin’s father.

  “I believe the Dul had a late engagement, sir,” he offered. “Perhaps it would be best to check in shortly before midday.”

  “Of course,” Korbin said, wondering if that late engagement had anything to do with his arrest warrant. He wandered away casually, resisting the urge to watch for the man to go inside. Instead, he relied on his hearing. When he could hear no more activity in the back garden, he returned to Octavia. She looked calm yet wary and uncomfortable in front of the butcher’s shop.

  He nodded to her and she stepped over, visibly relieved. Once off the road and on the access slip to Eliam’s, he took her hand, surprised to find her fingers trembling.

  At the last moment, he hesitated. Surely some of the servants would know about the arrest warrant. What if someone reported that Korbin had been there? All three of them could end up in even more serious trouble.

  He glanced at Octavia, watching her knit her eyebrows. “Come on,” he said. “We need to be quick and avoid the servants if possible.”

  She frowned. “I’m ready.”

  They slipped in through the back door, the usual morning clanking and chatter coming from the kitchen nearby. He led Octavia toward the main stair, knowing the servants would be taking their own passages to the main rooms. He was able to take her to Eliam’s study without being noticed, and he motioned her toward a chair.

  “Wait here,” he said. “If someone comes in, tell them to return later. Say it with enough conviction and they’ll believe you’re entitled to be here.”

  Octavia sat stiffly in her seat, looking as though she expected the ceiling to crash down on her and that she might bolt at any moment.

  “I’ll be right back. I promise. Nobody should come in here at this time of day.”

  He waited for her to nod before stepping back into the corridor. On the way to Eliam’s private rooms, he ran into two of the maids. One of them jumped with surprise. He held a finger to his lips and winked at her and she blinked twice, as though uncertain what to do. Had she heard about the warrant?

  The maid glanced at the other, who shrugged. “Good morning, Dul,” the second girl said. “Dul Eliam isn’t up yet. He asked to remain undisturbed this morning.”

  “I won’t tell him I saw you, then,” Korbin said with a smile. “Nobody will blame you.”

  The first girl appeared relieved. “Thank you, Dul,” she said, and the pair retreated down the corridor.

  Finally, he arrived at Eliam’s room and went inside. As expected, Eliam wasn’t asleep at all, but sitting at a desk in his receiving room. He looked pale and shaken.

  “Dear Spirits. What are you doing here?” He stood and walked over to Korbin and embraced him as a brother. “You’ve heard, I suppose.”

  “Yes. Thank you for sending Saqine.”

  “It’s not safe here. You should go.”

  “We need help,” Korbin said. “More than that, we need answers.”

  “We? So you have spoken with Octavia?”

  Korbin let out a small laugh. “You could say that. She’s in your study.”

  “What? By Ja’al. What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking that it’s my fault she’s in this mess. Mine, my father’s, and yours, albeit unintentionally. We have to help her. Surely you don’t support this criminal heresy nonsense? You know she only did what you asked her to do.”

  “Of course,” Eliam said. “I’m sorry. It’s been a very long night. For all of us.” He had the decency to look apologetic. After all, he was still free to be in his own home. After a brief pause, he said, “Give me a few minutes to change, and I’ll meet you in the study.”

  “Thanks.” Korbin gave a quick nod of acknowledgement and left Eliam alone.

  He retraced his steps to the study, and Octavia jumped when he opened the door. He was relieved to find her sitting exactly where he’d left her.

  She put a hand to her chest, as though trying to slow her heartbeat. “There have been many footsteps outside.”

  “Dul Eliam is on his way,” Korbin told her. He suddenly felt less certain Eliam would have the answers. He’d assumed his friend could easily put a stop to the warrant and clear everything up, but now he feared the solution might not be so simple. He hoped he hadn’t led Octavia into deeper danger.

  They sat in an unbearable, stretching silence as they waited. After what felt like an eternity, Korbin heard his friend’s voice filtering from down the hall, instructing a servant that he had a lot of work to do and didn’t want breakfast.

  In the brighter light of the study, Eliam looked even worse than he had in his reception room. The dark circles under his eyes were puffy and his few wrinkles appeared even more pronounced, as though he hadn’t slept for a week. His skin was pale, but he greeted the pair politely.

  Octavia’s mouth tightened. “Dow,” she said, putting a healthy measure of venom in the false name.

  Eliam closed his eyes for a moment. “I apologize sincerely for all of this. The fault is mine.”

  “What happened?” Korbin asked. “One moment, I’m doing exactly what my father wanted, taking him to a temple, and the next, there’s an arrest order hanging over my head.”

  “Someone at the t
emple issued a statement to the entire Council of Eight,” Eliam explained. “Including an accusation of black magic.”

  “Against me?” Korbin said in disbelief.

  “Someone in your father’s house gave the temple your name.” After a beat, he added, “Both of your names.”

  “How would they know her? Octavia never entered the house.”

  “I’m not sure,” Eliam said, “But Tarsten and I met there. We must have been overheard.”

  “May Usher take whoever did this,” Korbin muttered.

  “Once that information was submitted to the senate, it couldn’t be ignored.”

  Korbin’s chest tightened. “Did you at least speak for us? You control this city. You could have told them everything.”

  “Of course I tried, but you’re mistaken if you think I control anything. This city is my constituency, yes, but I’m no more than a junior legislator. Your father controls more of this city than I do.”

  Korbin sighed and glanced at Octavia before turning his attention back to Eliam. “So what happens next?”

  “The best case for you is if we speak to Graiphen and he clears you of any wrongdoing. The Council will attempt to contact him this morning.”

  “What about me?” Octavia asked, her voice surprisingly clear and steady.

  Eliam looked away. “I’m sorry. That’s going to be more difficult. There is a rising tide of discomfort at your practices. I can give you money to help you get out of the city.”

  “I was paid for my practices,” she said. “Things I did at your request. I don’t need more of your money.”

  “This isn’t right,” Korbin said. “She didn’t do anything wrong. She doesn’t practice black magic.” His mind went back to the night when he found her working with the poppet on the floor and he’d interrupted a ceremony. Could he really assert with conviction what she did and didn’t do?

  “This work done against the Dul was accomplished by a talented practitioner,” she said. “One with a great deal of experience and power. I can assure you, none of the registered Sennestelle in Vol were responsible.”

  “You’re sure?” Korbin asked, and she answered with a flat stare.

  “There’s a registry?” Eliam couldn’t hide his surprise.

  “My people need me,” Octavia said. “You’re the second person to try to convince me to leave the city in as many days. But if Kilovians are going to be deprived of the help and guidance of the Sennestelle, do you really expect me to abandon them? To leave them to the mercy of those who would force them to take up the rituals of the eight Spirits? Can you not put a stop to this? You started this. End it, Dul. Please. I beg of you.”

  Eliam sighed. “I have a guest house.” He took a key from his desk drawer. “It’s shuttered for the moment, so I can let you stay for a short time.” He gave Korbin a level look. “A very short time. A day or two at most. If I’m discovered harboring you, I could face the emperor himself. Do you understand?”

  “Of course,” Korbin said. “Thank you.” He took the key and stood, and Octavia followed suit.

  “Stay out of sight. I’ll send you a message when I know something definitive. Lie low. If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow…”

  “Then we’ll look for other options,” Korbin finished for him.

  Eliam bowed to Octavia. “I’m very sorry to have brought this on you. I’ll do my best to clear your path.”

  With a frown, she nodded. “See that you do, Dul Eliam. The Kilovian community will not take kindly to the arrest of its conduits. You underestimate the consequences, I believe.”

  Eliam looked at Korbin. “Be careful, my friend.”

  ∞

  By mid-morning, a knot had settled in Eliam’s stomach and he barely kept down his coffee. He didn’t dare indulge in his usual mid-morning meal of sweet bread and salted meat. Instead, he tried to busy himself with the growing pile of papers and orders. When a servant announced Dul Tarsten’s arrival, the knot tightened. “Show him in,” Eliam said.

  “Certainly, Dul,” the servant replied with a bow and left.

  Eliam’s mind had been turning over the night’s events, and he no longer knew whom to trust. Tarsten had been Dul Graiphen’s ally for many years, but his behavior last night was strange. Why hadn’t he stood up for Korbin and decried the arrest warrant? He almost seemed ready to let Eliam take the blame, if need be. He knew how easy it would be for any condemnation to fall on him.

  When the door opened, he rose. “Welcome, Dul,” he said to the older man.

  Tarsten waved for Eliam to sit, a gesture which irked him. It was, after all, still his house.

  “What news do you have?” Eliam asked.

  “I’ve just returned from Braetin’s temple,” Tarsten responded with a scowl and sat.

  “How is Dul Graiphen?”

  “They won’t let us see him. Said the Dul is unwell and spending time in quiet contemplation and meditative healing with the high priests.” Tarsten made a face as though he’d swallowed something bitter.

  Eliam shifted uncomfortably. The Council had an uneasy relationship with the temples. At one time in the empire’s history, the temples controlled everything. Now Talmor had moved to a more democratic method of governance, with the priests having little room to interfere with politics. Still, they were not without power, having enormous sway over the common people. The temples were respected in political circles and their advice listened to, but only so far.

  “I have to ask,” Eliam said. “We’re sure he’s still there? After all, he begged Korbin’s help to get him away from his enemies. If we can’t see him at the temple, are we sure he’s not moved on?”

  Tarsten narrowed his eyes. “I hadn’t considered that, but even if he has left, there’s nothing we can do without challenging the temple. I’m not going to be the one to do that. If there’s one Spirit the people are still frightened of, it’s Braetin. Those priests haven’t lost their touch. Just a few weeks ago I heard rumors of them starting up some of the old practices, asking followers for sacrifices. They convinced many to bring others to do the same, claiming it would lessen their own nightmares and struggles. Seems theism is on the rise in Talmor.”

  Eliam was surprised to hear him talk this way. It felt dangerously close to heresy. “So what now?”

  “Braetin’s priests want to question any Kilovian practitioners we locate.”

  With a shudder, Eliam shook his head. “We can’t allow that. They’d torture them.”

  “Can we stop them?” Tarsten asked. “Think, boy. Do you want to be the one to explain to your constituents that our highest ranking official was targeted by a Kilovian witch, and you’re protecting the ones who did it, refusing to allow them to be questioned?”

  “When we find the person responsible, we will question them.” He paused. “What of Korbin?”

  “Have you seen him? Do you know where he is?”

  The light in Tarsten’s eyes made Eliam question his motives. “Of course not,” he said. “He’d be a fool to come here.”

  “Graiphen always told me that boy was a bad seed,” Tarsten muttered.

  “We brought him into this,” Eliam said, exasperated. “He was living a quiet life until I asked for his help.”

  “Are you certain of that? How do we know this Octavia woman wasn’t the one who performed this black magic?”

  “Because I went to her.”

  “Or so she wants you to think.”

  Eliam slammed his palm on the table. “Do you hear yourself? You sound as paranoid as Dul Graiphen in one of his mad fits! You approached me. Do you suspect me now, too?”

  Tarsten looked at him with a shrewd glare, then slowly shook his head. “No. You’re right. Of course, you’re right. I’ve grown distrustful of everyone.”

  A thought occurred to Eliam. “Have you searched your house? To look for dark articles? If Graiphen was targeted by a political enemy, it may be one you both share.”

  A green pallor crept over Tarsten�
�s skin. “Do you think…”

  “I don’t know,” Eliam said. “I’m planning to comb through my home from top to bottom.” He hadn’t actually thought of doing so until that moment, but it couldn’t hurt. “We should be vigilant.”

  “Of course. You’re right again, my boy.”

  Eliam hated being called boy, but he knew Tarsten was doing so out of habit. He’d probably still be calling Eliam that in forty years’ time.

  “Has the Council considered approaching the other temples?” he asked.

  “As if problems with one isn’t enough?” Tarsten said.

  “If as you said, Braetin’s priests are gaining strength, the other temples won’t like it. The power of the eight Spirits in part comes from their balance. Would the others really be happy with Braetin’s priests controlling the most powerful legislator in Vol?”

  Tarsten’s color began to return as he latched on to the idea. “No. No they wouldn’t. We could perhaps convince them to help us negotiate, to at least see Dul Graiphen, make sure he is there of his own free will. We have only the word of a servant that his estranged son took him there. For all we know, the boy might have led him anywhere.”

  “But we have the missive from the temple,” Eliam reminded him.

  “That piece of paper isn’t proof. Anyone could have written it.” Tarsten’s eyes darted as he considered. “This is good thinking.”

  The sense of dread returned. Eliam didn’t, under any circumstances, want to be credited with suggesting Braetin’s temple was issuing untruths. Still, the other seven temples could give the Council some leverage and help relieve the pressure. What they couldn’t help with is the plan to round up conduits. He only hoped he could sort out the situation before Korbin and Octavia were arrested. He mused again that this entire situation could be avoided if only Graiphen would speak up. What was going on inside that strange, black temple?

  Chapter 9

  After a day hiding out in the dark and dismal house, Korbin was climbing the walls. He’d stayed close by rather than prowling the streets as he might have done if he’d been alone. On the first night, they’d explored the house, deciding where they’d each sleep and how to manage without any light. They’d settled on inside bedrooms on the second floor with an adjoining door between them.