Spirits of Light and Shadow (The Gods of Talmor)

by India Drummond

  On the second evening, Korbin did go out once to get food. When he returned, he found Octavia had set a table for them. She glanced up when he entered, her eyes narrowing into a frown. “I am going out after we eat,” she said. “As soon as the sun has set.”

  Korbin nodded. “Okay. Is this something you need to do alone, or can I help?” As much as he wanted to stand guard every minute, Octavia wasn’t a storybook damsel in distress and she wouldn’t thank him for treating her as one.

  “I had hoped we’d hear something by now,” she said.

  “Me too.” The lack of word from Eliam told Korbin this wasn’t going to be settled as quickly as he’d hoped. What bothered him more than anything was the uncertainty. “Are you planning to leave the city?”

  “No. My people had to travel a long way to get here. Some were fleeing persecution, some had homes or shops destroyed in the many Kilovian wars. Many conduits also fled. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are more of the Sennestelle in Talmor now than in Kilovia itself.”

  “Why? What happened? I thought all Kilovians had the same religion. Why would you have to leave?”

  She shook her head and picked up the bag of food, distributing the portions between two plates. “Kilovian leaders are no different from Talmoran politicians. They seek to control. They attempted to regulate conduits’ work and prosecute those they felt were practicing dark magic. Which, as it turns out, is any magic they don’t approve of. They demanded we track our clients and the requests made of us, in case any of them wanted inappropriate magic done.”

  “What did they deem inappropriate?”

  Octavia handed him one of the plates and they sat across from one another in the vast kitchen. “It might have been anything or nothing, but they expected us to spy on those they believed to be their enemies. Any conduit who didn’t comply was accused of practicing black magic.”

  “Is that why you left?”

  Octavia pushed her food around on her plate with a fork, wrinkling her nose at the hearty stew. Korbin chastised himself for not asking her what she liked before he went out. She took a small bite and chewed slowly before saying, “My mentor was accused. I could have stayed. In fact, he encouraged me to, but my own sister had been arrested, and my mother begged me to go. She hoped I would find a safer life.”

  “You have a sister? Is she all right?”

  “I have seven sisters and two brothers,” she said, then corrected herself. “Had seven sisters. Trinity was executed by the state after being accused by a wealthy lord for whom she refused to perform a curse. The truth didn’t matter. He had powerful friends, but she did not.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Korbin put his cutlery down. Suddenly, the beef seemed heavy and unappetizing. He wanted to ask if there wasn’t some magic by which the conduits could have defended themselves, but he supposed if they could have, they would have.

  “It was years ago,” Octavia said, but the quaver in her voice told him that it wouldn’t matter how much time passed. She’d never be over the loss.

  They ate the rest of the meal, what they could each stand to finish, in silence.

  Finally, she spoke again. “Do you have people who can aid you if Dul Eliam cannot?”

  Korbin shook his head. “Not really. I have been living in Chelotti Strand for a couple of years, but I don’t have any real friends there. I travel a lot with my work and keep to myself. The Talmor Riders won’t be able to do anything. They’re a government-run service. I have friends there, but I wouldn’t ask them to risk helping me, and they won’t offer.”

  “And what of the North Circle?” She gestured toward the wealthy quarter of town. “Surely you once had friends there.”

  “My father disowned me two years ago,” Korbin said. “All my friends but Eliam abandoned me. I have some money, left to me by my mother. Enough to disappear if I wanted.”

  “But you don’t want to go,” she said quietly.

  “No.”

  “Why not? What holds you here?”

  It was, he realized, a good question. He quickly dismissed the idea that it was his father and their unresolved difficulties. He reminded himself almost daily that this particular situation was unlikely to change. Even if he was willing to forgive, his father would always be the same.

  “Memories, I suppose,” he said. “My mother’s grave is here.”

  She watched him closely, looking at him with an expression he couldn’t interpret. She didn’t seem to believe him, but he didn’t quite believe himself either. “I think perhaps it is hope that binds you to this place more than memories. Your mind knows you cannot return to the happiness of your childhood, but your heart longs for the innocence of the past.”

  Korbin considered for a moment, then nodded. He wasn’t sure he agreed, but he couldn’t come up with an argument that contradicted her.

  “I’m going to seek out community leaders and try to learn the fates of the other conduits in the city. Then I plan to visit my mentor. I will try to find someone who will shelter us. Kilovian culture demands certain protections of the Sennestelle.”

  Someone who will shelter us? He wasn’t sure at what point she had decided to trust him, but he was grateful. He needed to make this right, to pay the debt his father incurred by requesting her help in the first place. In the back of his mind, he also considered that someone had indeed invoked black magic against his father. He never had the opportunity to find out who was responsible, but the idea of running away after such an attack made Korbin angry.

  He’d been running far too long, and he didn’t intend to be chased away by one of his father’s political enemies. If only his father would emerge from the temple, he could put all of this nonsense to rest. Why was he not coming forward to clear Korbin’s name? The answer set heavily in Korbin’s gut, taunting him with the belief that his father didn’t, and never had, cared what happened to him.

  Korbin and Octavia washed the dishes and put everything away, erasing the traces of their presence. They’d be pushing it to stay another night, but he still held out hope that a messenger would arrive at any moment.

  When darkness fell, his hope faded.

  “Come,” Octavia said. “We will speak to some of my people. I want to determine if there is a new conduit in the city, one who could be responsible for the attacks on your father.” She paused. “When we invoke the power of the One, we touch all life. Negative forces can carry a great deal of power. Still, we are ethical in the way we use this influence. We have a code. I saw the items used against your father. These were objects crafted with a great deal of emotion. The conduit who invoked these links had a personal link to your father.”

  “She did?” Korbin leaned against the door jamb. “You’re certain?”

  “Or he. Not all conduits are female, although we do have an inborn advantage.”

  Korbin studied her face. He wondered if this is why she was allowing him to come, why she was sticking with him when she could easily run. She believed a conduit had wronged Graiphen, and by extension, Korbin. So perhaps this was her way of trying to make it right, to pay the debt. It seemed a bit crazy, considering he felt the same way—that he was to blame for her being in trouble. Whatever the motivation, he was prepared to accept it if it meant that she wasn’t going to leave him out in the cold.

  How could a conduit have had a personal vendetta against his father? Surely Graiphen would not associate with a Kilovian practitioner. On the other hand, the relationship need not have been mutual. His father was a well-known public figure. Anyone might have fixated on him. But that would mean the person who did this was unhinged to have gone so far.

  He considered asking Octavia about the theory, but decided to wait. If she was going to arrive at that conclusion, he’d rather she did so on her own. Suggesting a conduit was insane might insult her more than suggesting one of them performed black magic.

  “So where do we start?” he asked.

  “There are four other working conduits in Vol in addition to our m
entor, each in a different sector. We will need to speak to community leaders.” She hesitated. “I am trusting you a great deal, but I must if justice is to be done.”

  “You don’t have anything to fear from me,” Korbin said.

  Her eyes betrayed her doubt, but she nodded. “We should go.”

  They left the house, careful to do so quietly and making sure no one was watching. Fortunately, Eliam’s guest house was in a wealthy residential section of the city, which meant doorways were often not facing the street and there weren’t as many people loitering. On the other hand, the few people about were perhaps more likely to notice two strangers. Octavia pulled her cloak up to cover her features, and Korbin huddled close to her as though they were speaking softly to one another.

  Once they were out of sight of the house, he kept a more respectful distance. “Which way?”

  “South.” Her voice was so soft he barely heard her in the darkness.

  Just under an hour later, they were near the furthest city gate, approaching the crowded slums of Four Keithing. There was no cobble on the roads here, and Korbin’s boots sank into a deep puddle in the center of the street. He felt the cold and stepped quickly to pull his foot from the frigid slosh.

  “This way.” Octavia led him into a side street that smelled of rot.

  Korbin wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but the air felt tense and quiet. No music poured out of the taverns; the usual night sounds seemed to have been stilled.

  Octavia put her hand against a large door and rocked her knuckles back and forth, creating a soft, rhythmic tap. The door opened and a figure peered from within the brightly lit crack. “Senne?”

  “Yes, child. I am Octavia.”

  Light spilled into the dismal street as he opened the door. “Come in,” he said but stopped short when he saw Korbin. “Who is this?”

  Octavia glanced at Korbin. “Someone to whom I owe a debt. Will you allow us to enter?” she asked, a slight challenge in her tone.

  “Of course. My apologies. These days turned dark quickly.”

  “Yes,” she acknowledged. “They have.” She entered, and Korbin followed closely behind. “I am seeking word of Senne Pendra. Has she gone into hiding?”

  “Yes, Senne Octavia,” he said bowing his head as he showed the pair into a meager sitting room filled with silent, watchful Kilovians. Korbin wondered if they were relatives or they’d come into some kind of gathering, but no one offered introductions.

  “Good,” Octavia said. “Does anyone here need assistance?”

  The man bowed again. “You’re kind to ask, but no. We are all well enough.”

  Korbin thought he saw a flicker of disappointment on Octavia’s face. She’d wanted to help.

  “What of the other conduits? Any word?”

  The man glanced at Korbin, then flicked his eyes back to Octavia. “None have yet been arrested.” He paused. “Is this the man called Korbin?”

  Korbin sighed. His name would be all over the city.

  “Yes,” Octavia said after a moment’s pause.

  “There is a reward for information about his whereabouts,” the man said. “And for yours. We thought you left the city when no one heard from you for nearly two days.”

  “A reward?” she asked, knitting her eyebrows together.

  “Fifty declani.”

  “Fifty?” Octavia gasped. “That would feed and house a poor family for a month. We should go,” she said to Korbin.

  “Wait,” Korbin said. “I thought Kilovians would protect a conduit at all costs. Surely no one here would give you up for money.”

  Octavia ignored the statement and looked at their host. “What have you heard?”

  “We’re in a difficult position, Senne. When an accusation comes from one of the Sennestelle against another, who are we to choose a side?”

  “A conduit accused us?” Korbin asked. “Which one?” He looked at Octavia and lowered his voice. “This might be the one we’re looking for.”

  “No,” she said with a sigh. She nodded to the man and the silent onlookers in the dank, crowded room. “Thank you for your time. We will be leaving the city as soon as possible.”

  “What?” Korbin couldn’t believe what she was saying.

  “Well, I will be leaving. What you do is your own concern, but it’s time for me to move on.”

  He didn’t understand the abrupt change, but he couldn’t argue with it, not with the hungry way the Kilovians were looking at him. They might not turn Octavia in, but nobody said they would protect him. For all he knew, the city watch would be on the street within minutes.

  She added gently, “Just until we clear our names. We cannot put these people at risk.”

  “I’ll go,” Korbin said. “If you’re safe here, you should stay.”

  She smiled at their host. “I won’t keep you any longer. Long may your fires burn.”

  “The power of the One forever guide you, Senne Octavia,” he replied.

  “One question before we go,” she said. “You know of the main conduits in the city, of course, but is there a new practitioner offering services to the community? Someone outside the Sennestelle, even?”

  “Outside your order?” the man asked, clearly confused. He looked to the others in the room and received blank stares in response. “I don’t think so, Senne.”

  “No rumors of a rogue, even? Someone young? Maybe it seemed like a prankster. Nothing harmful, just gifted. If there is someone new, they may not be under the protection of the Sennestelle. I want to be certain none of my fellow conduits are in danger, even if they aren’t formally trained.”

  The man relaxed. “Of course, Senne. Very kind of you. But I don’t know of anyone like that. Maybe one of the others has a new apprentice?”

  “Perhaps. Fortunately, in that case such a person would be looked after.” She smiled again, and Korbin wondered how she could be so patient and generous at a time like this. “Thank you again.”

  The man bowed. He showed the pair out and seemed happy to do so.

  When the door closed behind them, Octavia moved at a quick pace, and Korbin hurried to catch up. “We need to get away from here,” she said.

  “You think they’d betray you?” he asked, incredulous.

  “If they thought I betrayed them? Perhaps. Someone has fed them lies.”

  “You know who, don’t you?”

  “I believe I do,” she said, her face grim in the yellowing lamplight.

  “So what are you going to do? Are you really planning to leave the city?”

  “Of course not,” she said. “Now we go visit my mentor. He will likely try to convince us to go, but he can at least tell us where the others are hiding.”

  “Do you think he will?”

  “Why wouldn’t he? He trusts me implicitly.”

  “What I don’t understand is why you want to find the others. Now that we know they won’t help you, wouldn’t it be better if we find a place to hide on our own? I can go to Eliam again. Or I can get some money in the morning. Buy us some new clothing and a place to stay out of the way of prying eyes.”

  “You can do those things if you want,” she said, directing him toward a surprisingly nice part of town, not a part of any immigrant quarter. “But with all the Sennestelle in hiding, that leaves only one conduit working in the city. Me.” She met his gaze. “And none of my people, or yours for that matter, have any defense against whatever that conduit may call from the power of the One.”

  “What do you think this person’s plan is?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, “But I doubt it is yet finished.”

  ∞

  A knot of uncertainty settled in Octavia’s stomach as she led Korbin toward Sen Rhikar’s home. Her mentor, or perhaps she should now consider him her former mentor, was notoriously secretive. His life in Kilovia had been difficult, and he trusted few people other than the conduits he trained.

  She glanced at Korbin. The two of them had incurred a debt
to one another. More precisely, the entire Sennestelle were obliged to his family if wrong had been perpetrated by one of their members. If a rogue practitioner had done this, then Korbin was the key to finding the criminal and putting an end to his vile practices. Although she wasn’t certain, she thought of this adversary as a man. She reminded herself to be cautious about that assumption. One couldn’t tell simply by the stitching on a doll whether its creator was male or female. Still, something niggled at her instincts. She’d have to consider whether she noticed something she wasn’t remembering, or if she simply projected a wishful idea.

  Korbin himself, although close to her age, was nowhere near her level of understanding or maturity. He seemed to have a good heart, but he tended toward carelessness and had devoted his existence to rebelling against a father who didn’t notice or care. His every move was one of spite while desperately wanting that same father’s approval. She hoped his quest to either destroy or rebuild his familial relationships didn’t interfere with her search for the dark conduit.

  That phrase stuck in her mind: dark conduit. Every practitioner had to open herself to both sides of the One, but whoever had done this was more than open. The idea made her shiver.

  “Are you cold?” Korbin asked.

  “A little.” It was a question borne of kindness, and she was curious what he would do to alleviate her discomfort. If he had no intention to do so, why ask? Talmorans were a strange people. Even after several years amongst them, she wasn’t comfortable with their social niceties and peculiar habits. When Korbin simply nodded, she said, “Here,” and she gave a subtle gesture to a fine tobacco shop on the corner.

  Korbin appeared surprised. “I’ve been in here before,” he said, as though that meant something.

  Octavia reached into a slot near the door and pulled on a lever. A bell clanked inside. “My mentor owns this shop.”

  “I think I remember a Kilovian working here. I didn’t realize he was the owner.”

  She didn’t answer. Few people expected an immigrant to own a shop. They would be even more surprised to learn he was a citizen of Talmor. Not an easy feat for one not born here.