They tried to keep their minds off the strange event at the assembly of barons. The old woman’s trance hadn’t been some trick, as she still hadn’t recovered her wits. Corenn desperately wanted to believe the soothsayer had been drugged by an excellent herbal specialist, someone who wanted their plans to backfire or to deter them from their quest. She was searching for a plausible scenario, something a mere mortal could do.
Deep down she was afraid, though. To be able to possess someone like that could mean their enemy had immeasurable powers. Powers that were so dangerous they almost made the Züu seem laughable. Perhaps their foe could see them now through some powerful lens of magic. There was no way to know. All they could do was wait, and keep waiting.
True to form, Corenn and Grigán took advantage of the downtime to make some progress with their students. The warrior managed to teach Bowbaq a few moves with a staff and a mace, although the giant endured the exercises with a pitiable resignation.
As for Rey, he kept himself busy playing dice. He ended up making a few enemies among Séhane’s guards, winning a few too many large bets. None of the heirs could figure out why he persisted in playing for money when he had enough gold to buy himself a palace.
No fools, Grigán and Corenn also suspected him of making friends with some of Séhane’s handmaidens. Some giggles here and winks there were more telling than a signed confession. The heirs didn’t give a margolin’s ass how Rey spent his evenings, so long as he didn’t bring them or Séhane any trouble. Fortunately for Rey, the pervading sense of morals in the Baronies was loose in this respect.
The Day of the Horse, the ninth day of the Hunter’s dékade, came to break the uncomfortable laziness everyone had settled into. It was a special day: Léti’s sixteenth new year.
The young woman spent the decidays before the apogee praying and meditating, as the Eurydian cult encouraged. Léti wasn’t overly devout, but she always followed the rituals surrounding the new year scrupulously. They were meant as a sort of self-assessment, an evaluation of one’s actions over the past year, and a chance to decide on improvements for the coming year, with the Goddess’s help, of course.
Léti returned from her self-imposed isolation looking sad. Not much good had come to her this past year. She couldn’t see how she would do better in the future.
Despite her gloomy mood, her friends had decreed that it was her day. They all made such an effort to make her happy that in the end, she forgot her troubles for a while.
Rey offered her a performance of the classic comedy from the Upper Kingdoms, Favel’s Misfortune. There weren’t many lines in the play. It mainly relied on the main character’s ludicrous expressions. The actor had eagerly roped Yan and Bowbaq into the cast, providing them with only brief explanations on their roles, and the end result was a play that had very little resemblance to the original script. Rey had mastered his role superbly, and combined with Yan and Bowbaq’s clumsy improvisations, they managed to produce their desired effect: bring Léti to tears of laughter.
Next came the presents. It was a Junian custom for friends to offer gifts to those celebrating their new year, as a sign of affection. Séhane told her friends this little custom a few days before, and it had given them all the same idea. They surprised Léti by filling her arms with presents: some of them masked with wrapping, and others not.
Séhane gave Léti the painting of the emissaries, which had been hanging in the armory until then. The young woman would spend long moments every day contemplating it. In her eyes, the canvas was priceless, and she melted in thanks. But the gift giving had only just started.
Rey gave her a magnificent Lorelien rapier that resembled the one he had lent her before. Grigán examined the weapon apprehensively, but in the end could only agree: It was a beautiful sword crafted by a fastidious artisan. Despite Léti’s joy, the actor avoided Corenn’s disapproving looks.
Next, she examined the little horse figurine that Bowbaq had given her. It was a beautiful object, and she thanked him sincerely. The giant tried to explain, muddling his words the whole way, that the object wasn’t the real gift. It symbolized a promise, he said. He would domesticate any animal she chose. The young woman knew how long and difficult the process could be, even for an erjak. And she knew Bowbaq would build a strong and undying bond between her and the animal. It was a wonderful gift.
Corenn offered her a thick book that was beautifully embroidered and solidly bound. Léti flipped through it curiously, but there weren’t many illustrations.
“It’s beautiful, Aunt Corenn. But I don’t know how to read…”
“Ask Yan to teach you! I’m sure he’ll find the writing interesting.”
Léti nodded with a smile. Corenn had given her two good reasons to learn. Her aunt knew what she was doing, and she always seemed to get what she aimed for.
Next, the young woman opened up the heavy burlap sack that Grigán had offered her. She couldn’t hold back a shriek of joy when she discovered what was inside. Grigán had made her a black-leather outfit like his, minus the patches and twenty years of wear and tear. He had been working on the surprise for a long time. He had consulted one of the castle’s tailors to estimate Léti’s measurements, and then transmitted the specifications to one of the city’s tanners, who completed the difficult order.
The young woman admired the way the artisan had embedded plates of metal in the leather, reinforced the seams, and worked hard to make the outfit solid and sleek. She couldn’t resist the urge to try it on immediately and slipped it on over her clothes.
“You’re a real warrior now,” Yan teased.
“She could pass as your daughter dressed like that,” Rey remarked. “Any chance that was intentional?”
“I just wanted to give her something useful,” Grigán responded, defensively.
Still, the warrior blushed to his ears. The heirs had never seen him like that before. Léti gave him a warm thank-you and turned to the packet she had saved for last: Yan’s.
Her hands were almost trembling as she untied the fabric wrapped around a little object. Things between them had been much better since Léti’s conversation with Corenn. Nevertheless, the young man was still somehow distant. He had been upset with her on the day of the Promise and hadn’t shown any regrets about it. He was her friend, but wasn’t he more than just that?
As she opened the packet, she discovered a necklace. The links were finely crafted and from which hung a singular medallion: a shiny opal with a little golden scroll encased inside it.
“It’s pure silver,” Rey informed her. “What? Yan, you would have never told her yourself; I’m doing you a favor!”
Léti’s eyes welled up, and her voice was shaky as she thanked Yan, which embarrassed him.
“How did you get the scroll inside the opal?”
“Well, sort of by magic, actually,” he answered awkwardly.
It was the first time he had shown his power to someone other than Corenn, who hadn’t known about this.
Corenn gave him an admiring nod. At this point in his training, Yan was already capable of some surprising things.
Crépel’s arrival interrupted them. Only something important could bring him to disturb Séhane.
“Majesty. A Maz from Mestèbe requests to see you. I think she’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”
Hearing the news, the heirs all jumped up as if they were one being. They were all anxious to meet the woman as soon as possible.
Léti didn’t have the chance to ask Yan her second question. But she felt better when she realized it was probably better that way.
From that day on, she would dream about what Yan could have possibly written to her on that golden scroll inside her medallion.
Symbolically, Séhane received the visitor in the room where the surviving emissaries to Ji had first reunited a year after their return. Arkane of Junine, Tiramis and Yon of Kaul, Maz Achem, Reyan the Elder, Rafa Derkel, and the wise Moboq were today represented by as many descenda
nts, suffering from the same curse.
The stranger had refused to give her name, but the chamberlains, alert to the possibility of a visitor from Mestèbe, reacted quickly and informed the queen without delay. The heirs waited impatiently to meet this potential new member.
Their interview with the newcomer had to be kept a secret, and Séhane had sent away the guards. She counted on Grigán for protection, if the need arose. Though there wasn’t really much danger, the warrior proudly accepted the duty.
The door opened to reveal Crépel, who held it open for the visitor, and then Crépel left without a word, and all eyes fell on the new arrival.
If she wasn’t a Maz, she sure had the look. A long frock with symbols of the Goddess Eurydis covered her from head to toe. Her face was hidden by a dour, colorless Ithare mask, and her blonde hair rested on her neck, held back by a delicate ribbon. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry, and she was silent.
Séhane walked toward her with a greeting, “Welcome, speak without fear. We are all friends here.”
Despite her confident announcement, Grigán followed the queen closely, thinking it reckless to leave her exposed to this foreigner.
“Are you our correspondent from Mestèbe?” Corenn asked.
The Maz turned toward the Mother, and thought for a moment before responding, “Yes, it is I.”
“Understand, Maz, that we must take every precaution. We need to check to make sure you’re telling the truth. I don’t want to offend, but what did your message say?”
Seeing the stranger’s silence, Corenn added: “We all read it. We are all involved. Have no fear.”
“‘Your Majesty, if the name Ji rings like a curse in your mind, we can be of service to one another. Send a reply with the bird that I hope has survived the journey.’ That’s what I wrote.”
“Welcome, Maz Lana. That is your name, correct? You are Maz Achem’s descendant. An heir.”
Corenn knew the list of heirs so well that she had easily identified the stranger, even after only spending a few moments with her. And that was without the Maz having ever participated in the reunions on the Day of the Owl.
Still suspicious, Lana stayed silent.
“According to my information, you were killed in Ith,” Corenn continued. “By the Züu, I am guessing. I am happy to see that there was no truth to the story.”
Bowbaq added, “We escaped them too.”
Surprised, Lana asked, “You were all attacked by the Züu?”
Grigán responded, “Once or twice.”
Léti clarified, “I killed one. Rey killed two. Bowbaq, three, with his snow lion. Grigán’s already up to seven.” She pointed to each of them as introduction.
The warrior reminded her, “I don’t want you to keep a count like that.”
Lana stared at each of the heirs who surrounded her, wondering if she had fallen in with a group of madmen. These people seemed violent, far from following the Eurydis’s Moral. Inexplicably, she felt safe with them.
“I am Lana of Lioner of Ith,” she announced calmly. “It is true: I am Maz Achem’s descendant, and happy to finally find friends.”
They all commended her and introduced themselves. Hundreds of questions burned their lips. But for the moment, they simply tasted the sweet joy of this reunion, a joy that felt… familial.
Only Rey kept his distance, and he gave his reason when it was his turn to introduce himself.
“I would only like to make sure of one little thing. To see that the face underneath that mask isn’t a painted skull.”
“It’s a religious mask!” Léti said, offended at his suggestion.
“It is also a mask for mourning,” Lana added. “But this young man is right. I should reveal myself, if only to show my respect for Her Majesty.”
She untied the ribbon that attached the mask and pulled it off, finally exposing her face and letting her hair down.
She was a divine beauty. Prettier even than Léti, Yan conceded to himself. But her extra charm came from the years she had on Léti; the Maz bore the look of a more mature woman. Léti would have the same look one day.
“Reyan! So you don’t have some joke for us this time?” Amused, Grigán observed the astonished look on the actor’s face. The Lorelien tried to recover his countenance, but it was too late. The heirs had read the emotions plainly on his face. Surprise. Admiration. Desire.
“I hope you will not be angry with me, Lana,” he stammered awkwardly.
From that day on, Yan felt closer to the actor, for Rey had just fallen in love.
They had many things to discuss and decided to start with Lana’s story, before the rest of them briefly recounted their own. The Maz’s tale was enough to fuel their conversation until late into the night. She had stunning information to share.
She told them about her passionate search into her ancestor’s past. How she found out about Maz Achem’s puzzling experience on Ji. About how Achem had come back to Ith a changed man: a furious reformist of Eurydis’s teachings.
“He wanted the Eurydis cult to be more expansionist, more aggressive. He felt that the conversion of the known world’s civilizations to the Goddess’s Moral was happening far too slowly.”
“I don’t see how that alone could have justified taking his title from him,” Corenn remarked, who was familiar with each emissary’s history.
“Achem advocated a crusade. A crusade for Eurydis. A crusade against the demonist cults. Can you imagine a Maz asking the Grand Temple to raise an army in order to fight a war with the followers of K’lur, Phiras, and the other dark gods?”
The heirs stared at her, horrified. Lana had just let them in on a very important secret, one that lined up with one of their most pessimistic theories. The place on the other side of the portal was indeed the land of demons.
For a fleeting moment, they all considered sharing what they knew about Ji, the portal, and the other world, but quickly remembered that they were bound to their oath, the promise. Besides, they had only known Lana for a few decidays. Perhaps later on…
Lana could sense their turmoil, but she continued with her story. She had yet to reveal the most important part. “I didn’t discover much more through my research. With time, I lost all interest. Until the day my parents fell deathly ill.”
She let the silence hang in the air, not only out of respect for the deceased but also to compose herself. “On his deathbed, my father made me promise to burn Maz Achem’s journal if it ever fell into my hands.”
The heirs stared at the Maz, hanging on her next words. This latest bit of information provided so much hope that no one dared ask the question they were all burning to ask. Séhane, who was less interested than the others until now, took the initiative. “Have you found the journal?”
“No. I’m not even sure it exists. I thought I would find it in Mestèbe, but I was wrong.”
“How can you be sure it contains anything of interest anyway?” Grigán asked. “It’s quite possible Achem didn’t write anything about Ji.”
“Reports from Ith say that he read a few passages from his journal to the Emaz priests. Supposedly, that’s what prompted his expulsion from the Temple.”
“It could just be a bunch of theoretical ranting,” the warrior countered.
“Do you really think so?”
Grigán didn’t answer. He wanted to believe this journal was their best hope just as much as the others did, but he was afraid to be let down again.
Corenn’s instinct told her that it held the answers to all their questions. Maz Achem had recorded everything, breaking his promise of silence. That would mean that for 118 years, their promise was an orphan, abandoned from the start by one of those who had first sworn it. “Mestèbe wasn’t your only hope, was it?”
“You’re right, Corenn. I know who can tell me whether it exists and where it’s located.”
“Who, besides a dead Maz?” asked Rey.
“A god.”
“Right, of course!” the actor joked. �
��Why didn’t we think of that sooner! Maybe he could even introduce us to Eurydis. We could empty a few bottles of wine over a game of dice. Why not?”
“I’m serious,” Lana continued. “It’s obvious you don’t have faith, but there are gods living in our world, hidden among us. That is a fact, Reyan.”
“My mistake! If you also have his exact address, I’ll gladly follow you there. I’ve seen so many strange things with this group that nothing can surprise me anymore. I hope it won’t be too expensive at least?”
“I’m talking about Usul.”
Rey became serious again. He hadn’t heard many positive legends about Usul.
“The god of the Guoris people,” Grigán commented. “The Land of Beauty.”
“Have you been there before?” Lana asked hopefully.
“I have a friend there, but the native people don’t let anyone set foot on their Sacred Island. Assuming a god really lives there, you could never see him.”
“We must try,” Corenn decided. “Lana is a Maz. That might impress them.”
“It’s not like they’re a bunch of naïve savages,” Grigán explained. “Even though they don’t travel much, they have almost as many warships as the Loreliens. The Sacred Island is better defended than the Great Island itself. It’s too dangerous.”
“And assuming we can meet Usul, by some miracle, and that he really does know the answers, who’s to say he would give them to us?” Rey asked.
“You’re right, Rey, there are lots of holes,” Lana conceded. “But I don’t see any other solution. I need your help.”
They considered the soundness of her observation. Before Lana showed up, they were at a loss. The hope she brought into the picture, however small, and however dangerous, at least offered them some small chance.
“I vote that we go,” Corenn decided. “Many of our questions have remained unanswered for too long. If we manage to meet with Usul, he will also be able to tell us our enemy’s name.”
The heirs nodded silently in agreement.
Their quest was about to become even more difficult.
The Orphans' Promise Page 21