Spirits of Light and Shadow (The Gods of Talmor)

by India Drummond

  “That is dark work indeed,” one of the other conduits said thoughtfully. “Senne Octavia is right. We are not safe here, nor prepared enough to deal with something of this nature.”

  Another chimed in as Octavia covered herself. “It’s bad enough the threat from Dul Graiphen and his temple, but to be attacked by one of the Sennestelle? It’s unthinkable.”

  Lettoria cleared her throat. “I think we should—”

  “I think we’ve had quite enough of what you think,” the round-faced conduit said.

  “Pendra,” Octavia began, her voice soft. “I understand the instinct to be angry with Lettoria, but we must work together if we’re to overcome this threat. We need every conduit available to help our people through this difficult time.”

  “I’m sorry, Senne. Of course you’re right,” Pendra said. “What should we do? What do you need from us?”

  “I believe if we work together, pool our resources, we can perhaps learn more of this dark conduit, his identity and perhaps location. He will not be expecting a coordinated response. Then, when we are finished, we should separate. Perhaps Dremmei and some of the other men can help you each find a safe house, since it may be unwise to show ourselves too much inside the city.”

  “You think we should stay in Vol?” Pendra asked, sounding alarmed.

  “If you wish to leave, no one will blame you. I would recommend the capitol. It will likely be one of the last places to feel Dul Graiphen’s influence, since I doubt he will challenge the emperor yet.”

  “Yet?” Korbin interjected. The others glanced at him as though they’d forgotten he was there.

  “I don’t think there are any limits to his ambition or to the hunger of the Talmoran Spirit he serves,” she replied.

  Pendra nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps the capitol is the best place for us. Forgive me, Senne. I understand your desire to stay, but what can we do against someone like Dul Graiphen, who can kill with this strange power granted by his god by merely flicking his wrist? And how can we serve our people if we’ve been arrested by his Red Manus?”

  “Go if you must. I know you will find a way to serve no matter where you travel, as you always have done. Will you stay long enough to help me cast a counter-divining against the dark conduit?”

  “A counter-divining?” Lettoria scoffed. “That will take half the night. If the need is as urgent as you suggest, surely we could do a sympathetic reading based on what you have already felt of him.”

  “No,” Octavia said sharply. “A sympathetic reading requires that we open ourselves to him. It would give him access to our essence. Such work should never be employed against a conduit.”

  Korbin could tell she was holding back much harsher words, but she stopped herself.

  “I agree that a counter-divining is time-consuming, but I believe it offers our best chance. If you don’t want to stay, then go. No one is forcing you. In fact, the men should go. They can begin the search for safe houses and return before dawn to take you to the locations they’ve found.”

  “But—” Lettoria began, but she was cut off by loud noises coming from up the road. It sounded like dozens of people on horseback.

  “Who is there?” Pendra asked and rushed to the window.

  Korbin reached out to her before she could pull back the curtain. “Stay back,” he said. “Is there another way out?”

  “Yes,” Pendra replied. “There’s a door in the back.”

  “We should go. Now.” He cast a worried glance at Octavia.

  “You brought them here!” Lettoria shouted the accusation.

  “Quiet!” Octavia hissed.

  Pendra grabbed Octavia’s hand and pulled her toward the back of the worker’s house calling, “This way, everyone.” Korbin followed quickly behind the two women, and the others didn’t hesitate.

  Unfortunately, there was no cover near the worker’s house except the hip-high dry stone dyke that surrounded the entire croft. Beyond it were grazing meadows and fields sown with winter crops.

  One of the younger women turned to him. “What do we do?” she asked as shouts of soldiers came from the road.

  “Run!” he said. “Head for the woods.” He had little hope they might make it.

  “Use your talents, sisters,” Octavia said. “Their minds are focused, so yours must be as well. Quickly.” She hiked up her long skirts and clambered over the wall. Once she was on the other side, she motioned for the others to follow. “Help them,” she said to Korbin.

  “Spread out,” Korbin said.

  At first, it seemed the women were too frightened to move, and then in a burst, everyone ran. Korbin grabbed Octavia’s hand and they took off together, leading the way to the woods.

  Shouts followed them, and he could hear pounding hoofbeats. While they moved, Octavia spoke ragged incantations, much as she had done on the road from Vol. The other conduits did the same.

  When Korbin glanced back, he saw their efforts had not prevented them from being captured, however. Pendra was surrounded by three circling city watchmen. Her face was calm and she didn’t stop her chanting until one of them cuffed her hard on the side of the head. Alongside the city watchmen were interspersed red-robed priests with barbed clubs hanging from their belts. His first glance of the Red Manus.

  Octavia tugged his hand. “We must not be captured,” she shouted. They ran until they reached the edge of Ancothy Wood, and she urged him onward.

  Korbin didn’t want to think what would happen to those left behind.

  “How did they find us?” he asked as they scrambled over thick roots and past scratching branches.

  “I don’t know,” Octavia said. “We only told Sen Rhikar and Eliam of our intentions, but the Dul didn’t know the exact location. It may have been one of the others already here, of course. I do not know this man Dremmei. He was in the city today. He may have been followed back.”

  Korbin didn’t believe that, of course. If Dremmei had been followed, the Manus would have arrived before he and Octavia, and he felt confident they hadn’t been tailed that afternoon.

  The realization that they’d been betrayed made everything worse. He couldn’t suspect Rhikar. Although he was both a Kilovian practitioner and a man, Korbin felt certain Octavia would have sensed if he was the dark conduit.

  That left Eliam as the only person who had known their intended location. A sick feeling swept over Korbin. Please don’t be true, he said to the thought that invaded his mind and wouldn’t leave him.

  Chapter 17

  “Are they sure it was Korbin and Octavia?” Eliam asked, his heart sinking further into bleak dismay with every word out of Dul Tarsten’s mouth.

  “The temple claims that two of the captured witches confessed to being in league with them and that both were present at the croft where the fanatics were hiding.”

  “Fanatics?” Eliam raised an eyebrow.

  Dul Tarsten shrugged but looked slightly guilty. He’d begun using the language of the temple’s edicts without even noticing. “Devotees, conduits, witches. Whatever you want to call them.”

  “I still don’t understand why the prisoners were handed over to the temple. Are we no longer a city of laws?”

  Tarsten didn’t answer the question. They’d gone over it several times. Eliam understood; he just didn’t like the answers. The senate had always been a fractious group with shifting loyalties, full of men of wealth and ambition. The eight who made up the ruling circle of this province were no exception.

  Graiphen had somehow managed to straddle the line of government and religious power. He used his new position with the temple to persuade the rest of the council, bar Tarsten and Eliam, to vote to allow this Red Manus to question those captured at Dramworthy. It would, he’d argued, allow the council to keep their hands clean while ensuring the necessary information was gleaned in the quickest and most efficient way.

  Just remembering Graiphen’s tone at the meeting the previous evening made Eliam’s skin crawl. Every senator
had appeared equally uncomfortable. Only he and Tarsten voted to keep the prisoners in the hands of the city watch.

  Seba had looked like he wanted to support them, but he didn’t dare cross Graiphen openly. Eliam had argued that no one temple could be seen to have more influence with the council than the rest. To hand over the province’s system of justice to one would cause difficulty with the others.

  The withering glare he’d received from Graiphen had made his stomach clench. Eliam had not imagined the man could be more intimidating than he had been as head of the Council of Eight. All seven of the other senators seemed to feel the heat of Graiphen’s new-found influence, and in the end, only Tarsten voted with Eliam, and he did so reluctantly.

  “We’ve been reduced to hearing about decisions by temple messenger and gleaning what we can from veiled hints. This may be the quickest, most bloodless revolution in the history of Talmor.”

  “Be quiet, boy,” Tarsten said testily. He glanced around his study as though afraid the paintings on the walls might report what was said between the two men.

  “We have to do something about this,” Eliam persisted.

  “No, we don’t. You don’t seem to understand. We’ve lost what influence we had. Our biggest strength before was our alliance with Dul Graiphen. Now that he’s Ultim Qardone Graiphen, he’s no longer an assistance to our cause.”

  “And what is our cause? Sanity?”

  “Talk like that will get you nothing but trouble,” Tarsten said, then added with a mumble to himself, “There’s nothing left but to do it.”

  “Do what?” Eliam asked.

  “We must inform the emperor.”

  Eliam blinked. The emperor was a reclusive figure in Talmoran life. He still held enormous power and sway, but his influence went beyond political power. He was Talmor. The senators always acted with the motivation of keeping their cities and provinces running in such a way that they didn’t attract the emperor’s gaze. Although Talmor had a representative senate, the emperor’s word was law and would instantly quash any illusion of democratic governance. The more reclusive and uninvolved he was, the better. If Tarsten wanted to involve him, Eliam could only assume the senior legislator saw no hope of controlling the situation.

  “Surely there’s another way,” Eliam said.

  “What way?” Tarsten shot back. “Braetin’s temple is effectively taking over the senate in Vol. You said yourself it’s practically a revolution.”

  “I was being dramatic,” Eliam said, knitting his brow. “Have you spoken to the other senior legislators?”

  Tarsten nodded reluctantly. “Only Dul Ursin seemed amenable to my words.”

  “Ursin? Since when have you two agreed on anything?”

  Tarsten snorted. “Since I agreed with his long-standing opinion that Graiphen is wielding too much power.”

  Eliam shook his head. “I wouldn’t like to see Ursin garnering as much power as he’d like, either. On the other hand, he voted with Graiphen last night to allow the temple to question the prisoners. If he believed Graiphen wielded too much power, why didn’t he support us? Seba looked like he wanted to join us as well. Why did they vote the way he demanded?”

  “Because a few days ago, Graiphen shot fire out of his hands and killed twenty people without recrimination. Only a fool would have voted against him.”

  “We did,” Eliam said, then nodded when he saw the look on Tarsten’s face that said they had taken a huge risk by doing so. “But surely Graiphen wouldn’t attack senators. That would be madness.”

  “Indeed,” Tarsten said, but his heart wasn’t in it.

  “What is Dul Ursin willing to do?”

  “So far, nothing,” Tarsten said. “He asked me the same thing. When I said I had no immediate plan for how to deal with Graiphen, he told me to come back to him when I did. I may speak with Seba, but he’s got even less influence in the senate than you do.”

  Eliam sighed and ignored the slight. “If anything untoward happens to the prisoners, we could use that as leverage to show that Graiphen can’t be trusted to uphold the law. That is our entire function in Talmoran society, Tarsten. Have you forgotten that?”

  Tarsten scratched his white beard and pondered. “That’s a fair point. But more importantly, we have to find something we can use to discredit Graiphen, to diminish his personal influence.”

  “I can’t believe it’s come to this,” Eliam said. “A week ago, he was our ally and we were working to save his position, his sanity, and perhaps even his life.”

  “I haven’t survived this long in the senate and garnered as much influence as I have by lamenting what should be. Instead I deal with what is. Graiphen has become a threat. Not just to you and me, but to Talmor itself.”

  “So how do we discredit him?” Eliam asked.

  “Someone attacked him with black magic. We find out who and see what they know. If we could somehow connect Graiphen with the practitioner, then that would discredit him both with the people, the senate, and even with the temple.”

  “But why would anyone believe Graiphen had ordered the attack on himself? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It doesn’t have to. People are scared. We don’t even have to find the same practitioner. It just needs to be someone people believe is involved with black magic. This isn’t about truth, but about reality. Graiphen is already suspected by some because of the accusations against his son.” Then Tarsten’s eyes lit up, and he glanced at Eliam.

  As though reading his mind, Eliam felt a shiver of dread. “No,” he said. “We can’t accuse Korbin and Octavia. We were the ones that involved them!”

  “All the better,” Tarsten said. “That means no one else knows the truth.”

  “No. It’s not right.”

  “Is it right to allow the temple of Braetin to take over the senate, the city itself? Do you think Graiphen’s little demonstration of power at the Centennial Square yesterday was the last of its kind? That those citizens were the last to die at his hands? That these prisoners captured yesterday will be the last to be taken and tortured in the name of justice?”

  “No,” Eliam reluctantly agreed. “What if we enlist Korbin’s help instead? He and Octavia might be able to lead us to the person who did actually attack Graiphen. Perhaps if he did it once…” He let his voice trail off.

  “Are you suggesting we get him to attack Graiphen again? That we consort with practitioners of a false god?”

  “No,” Eliam said quickly. “Of course not.”

  Tarsten appeared somewhat mollified.

  “I’m simply saying that no one would blame us for wanting to find this person. It would appear for all who observe that we’re supporting Graiphen’s efforts, and would take the heat off after we disagreed with him in the senate last night.”

  “When in fact we’re going to use this person for our own ends?” Tarsten scratched his beard again, something he often did when deep in thought.

  “To gain information,” Eliam said.

  “Do you know where Korbin and Octavia are now? The missive from the temple said they eluded capture.”

  “No, but Korbin trusts me. I could draw him out of hiding.” He paused. “I want your word that nothing bad will happen to either of them if I do this. He might be Graiphen’s son, but he is my friend, and I owe him my loyalty. I will not see harm come to him because of my actions.”

  “Of course not,” Tarsten said. He reached over and patted Eliam’s hand enthusiastically. “This is good, my boy. It gives us an option other than involving the emperor. What we learn may give us something to draw in Dul Ursin’s support as well.”

  Eliam nodded. “I’ll have to think of exactly how to reach out, but it shouldn’t be difficult. Korbin trusts me and my faithful servants. If he’s in the city, or even near it, he’ll come to us once I send out word using my people.”

  “Don’t waste any time. We have no idea when Graiphen will act next, and I doubt very much that he’s being idle. The entire nation may
be at stake.”

  Eliam didn’t quite trust the gleam in Tarsten’s eye, and he prayed to the Spirits of Light that he wasn’t making a huge mistake. At this point, however, he didn’t have a choice.

  ∞

  Sometime near midnight, Octavia knocked on a weatherbeaten door just a few streets down from her now-abandoned flat. Korbin carefully watched the quiet street.

  He had to admit he’d had second thoughts about returning to the city, but now with the arrests of so many at Dramworthy Farm, he had more trouble weighing on his mind than before, even more to atone for.

  Octavia had questioned him relentlessly about whether or not they’d been followed, about who he might have spoken to in the few moments they weren’t together. Like him, she seemed to be trying to work out how they had been betrayed. By the look on her face, she blamed him. She never said so, but she didn’t have to.

  No one answered the door. Octavia glanced his way, clearly worried.

  At that moment, he came close to offering to leave, to go it alone. He needed her protection; that much he understood. Another attack like the one he’d suffered previously, and he’d likely not recover. But if it had been Eliam who had brought the city watch and the Red Manus down on them, had them followed to Dramworthy, Korbin would never forgive him, or himself.

  Octavia knocked again, rolling her knuckles on the wood. After a few moments, footfalls approached, night slippers sliding along the floor. The door opened a crack. “Senne?” a man said from within.

  “Yes, Navetta,” she said. “My companion and I need shelter. Two days. No more.” None of the formality Korbin would have expected, no blessings or Kilovian sayings, just short and to the point.

  The man at the door also seemed to notice her grave and terse tone. “You have done much for my family,” he said after a few moments’ pause. Octavia waited patiently while he considered, but Korbin’s skin itched with the need to get off the eerily quiet street.

  Finally the man opened the door. “I have a new baby,” he said.

  “I know,” Octavia replied. “Do you not recall me coming two days after the birth to tend to Brigid when she couldn’t rise from the bed?”