"You should be able to access another person's mind by now," Corvan insisted, the words rushing from his lips in spurts of spittle and anger. "You should be able to manipulate emotions, cast illusions, even access another's memories. Abyss take them, you should even be able to access the Varadour plane and control my powers."
Taken aback by the hurt in Corvan's answer, Keevan didn't respond right away. He mulled the issue over in his mind, trying to make all the pieces fit. The Scholar's Guild might have the necessary knowledge to weaken a Sight Seeker's powers, which the ancients texts pointed out were centralized in the eyes and brain. A sliver of curiosity crept into his mind.
"You mentioned the Abyss, earlier. What's that?" Keevan asked.
"It's the demon prison, at the center of the earth," Corvan said, rolling his eyes. "They haven't even taught you our lore, have they? They've made you a Tri-Being through and through, you just have different eyes."
"I've studied bits and pieces," Keevan said, squirming defensively. "The records are nearly a thousand years old and sometimes it's hard to tell if they're being cryptic or literal. Lots of metaphors and poetry mixed in with the facts."
"The Tri-Beings 'saved you', alright," Corvan insisted, ignoring Keevan's tangent, hate thick on his tongue, "They delivered a weakened Sight Seeker to Masha and Nariem, parents desperate for a child of their own. Think about it, Keevan, it's obvious. They had to see the fresh wound for themselves and over the years, when your powers didn't progress, they must have realized the cause."
"But, there's a healer they use to help me, Dara," Keevan replied weakly. "She's helped my eyes when I push my power to hard. She says I have blockage in my mind that prevents the power from..." He trailed off, glancing at Corvan in defeat.
"The truth," Corvan spat, "Is they have all the resources they need to weaken your powers and likely, to heal them. They keep you weak and reliant upon them for safety, to make you the Malik's personal advisor. Even your parents, Keevan, especially them. If you were at your full strength, you wouldn't need protecting, not even from me. You would be free to search for a way home and they would lose their precious 'son'."
"I... I..." Keevan sputtered. Every counter argument died before reaching his lips. Corvan's words made perfect sense.
"These people, Keevan, don't deserve your loyalty or your love," Corvan said, pointing upward to the ceiling. "I wish there was a softer, better way to open your eyes, but there isn't. Let's leave it all behind. We could leave Issamere, together. I'll tell you all about the country of our birth. We could find a way back home and, perhaps, patch up that blockage in your mind as well."
"If what you say is true," Keevan said, thinking aloud. The thought of leaving Issamere behind certainly carried a certain appeal. If his parents' had kept the nature of his mental block a secret all these years, then leaving them would not be so difficult. He thought of Bahjal, tucked away behind her books to sort out her inheritance. If she was leaving anyway, why not be the first to say good bye? "I need to talk to my parents about this. I need to know if what you're suggesting is true."
"What makes you think they won't just keep lying to you?" Corvan demanded, sighing in frustration.
"What makes you think they can lie to me? At least directly?" Keevan countered, pointing at his glowing eyes. "I can read deception well enough. They raised me. I know when they're lying."
"Very well, do what you must," Corvan said, shaking his head. "Meet me at the east gate, tomorrow. Either to investigate Zerik's new 'weapon' or to escape this Abyss-taken city. The choice in yours."
"I'm sorry, Corvan," Keevan said. "I'm sorry we didn't have the chance to talk sooner."
"We'll have time to talk more, later," Corvan promised, patting Keevan on the shoulder. "Either when peace is restored, Issamere lies in ashes, or we flee together, we'll talk again. Would you like me to guide you home from here?"
"Very well," Keevan said, "I hope you're wrong about my parents. But if you're right, let me warn Persuader Madol and Malik Morgra about the Danica swords, then my conscience will be clear to leave Issamere."
"That's it?" Corvan asked. "Wasn't there a woman? I seem to remember a woman in your life, the one with the whip."
"She... is getting ready to reclaim her inheritance," Keevan muttered, "and there were other difficulties in our relationship."
"I'm sure the inability to kiss without burning you played a part," Corvan said apologetically, tapping his mouth as he gestured toward the wound on Keevan's lip. "I imagine that's how you got hurt there, of all places."
Keevan gave him a measured glare, but his anger in his voice softened a bit. "You really have been watching over me all this time, huh?"
Corvan stood up, stretching. "We Outlanders should stick together. Seems like the best chance for both of us, particularly if we can fix your mental block. Make sure to ask your parents about that. It could be useful."
"Yes," Keevan agreed, through clenched teeth. "There are many things I'm anxious to ask them."
*****
The polished, white receiver stone left Zerik's right hand feeling numb and not quite his own. As the Stranger's hold over Zerik's body faded, his senses of sight and hearing returned. The cold, drafty cave he called home had not changed much in the last few months. A few stacks of parchment lined the far wall as Zerik recorded enemy movements and various plans.
A fresh set of candles lit his little cave with cheerful light, giving warmth that was almost as reassuring as the Stranger's news. A dark iron box lay open by Zerik's feet, revealing a black gauntlet, covered in runes. A bag of black sender stones lay alongside the container, mysterious void of their white, receiver counterparts. Zerik set his receiver stone aside, took the parchment in both hands and leaned back in his chair, savoring the words of his anonymous benefactor.
'Noble Zerik,
First, my congratulations on your work thus far. You've done more to undermine the Malik's reign in these short months than I could have dreamed. Continue harassing Issamere's food supply and point the finger of blame at Malik Morgra whenever possible.
I trust you will make use of the Danica blades I'm dispatching among your Rhetan followers. One is already in the hands of a capable agent, ideally positioned in the Harbor Guild to suit our needs. I took the liberty of adding something extra to the weapons. Stay close to the gauntlet and the sender stones I'm entrusting to your care. Follow the additional instructions I will send, and you will be well armed to take on Malik Morgra.
Have you any other concerns?
Your friend,
Stranger
Zerik set the parchment aside, picked up his sender stone from the desk, and closed his eyes. He felt his will stretch out across the miles into the Stranger's body, seeing through the mysterious Tri-Being's eyes. The Stranger sat in a non-descript tent, before a desk loaded with parchments, ink and quills.
Shaking his head, Zerik chuckled at the Stranger's care in concealing his identity. In the entire tent, there were no mirrors, nor ever a cup of water from which to glean a reflection. Even the receiver stone the Stranger held, through which Zerik momentarily controlled his benefactor, was anchored to the desk to make sure no one could simply command the Stranger's body to walk off.
At first, Zerik greeted the Stranger's aid with suspicion. As time went on though, with each gambit that paid off or donation of expensive Danica weapons, Zerik's trust in the Stranger became unshaken. Wielding the Stranger's body like a puppet, Zerik used his benefactor's free hand to pick up the quill on the desk and record Zerik's message.
'Stranger,
As usual, your aid comes not a moment too soon! Thank you again for your support. When I am Malik, your wish will be my command. I will deeply repay your unwavering loyalty and generosity. I've no idea where you gleaned the funds to gather so many relics from the Age of Tears, but I will be forever in your debt.
I will make good use of this gauntlet. I've waited long to cut down the Malik and his men with my own hands, figur
atively speaking. I do have a few more concerns you should be aware of.
Firstly, what course of action will we take, if Kade and his Priests of Raejin act against us? These Dancia swords are formidable, but there are only twelve of them, and Kade's men number in the hundreds. The Death God's reputation among the people, especially the Rhetans, inspires such fear that Kade's men will surely intimidate a riot into subservience.
Secondly, my agents report that the exile, Touric Paverone, has returned to Issamere. We were allies during the first years of my rebellion, but eventually we parted ways. His concerns never ranged outside the financial. I fear, for the right price, he might give to the Malik any information he might have gleaned during our association. Shall I send agents to detain him?
Always your loyal servant,
Zerik.
Stepping out of the Stranger's body, Zerik's sight returned to the chilly cave as he set aside the white sender stone. He stood up, stretching his aging muscles. He took a sip of water from a cup on the desk. The liquid soothed his dry throat and helped to calm his nervous mind. They were so close to achieving their goals, after a decade of planning. His mind ran over every strategy and counter-measure, struggling to anticipate and counter every foe that could turn his plans to dust.
After a minute, Zerik sat back down at the desk. This time, he picked up the black receiver stone and grit his teeth against the foreign sensation of someone else taking over his body. Zerik couldn't see or hear what the Stranger did through Zerik's body, but Zerik could sense the Stranger's emotions.
This was another reason why he held the Stranger in the highest respects. Despite the high stakes of their plans, the lives won and lost with each gambit, Zerik never felt anything but calm logic from the Stranger. No matter the news, this Tri-Being maintained a level of emotional control only the Suadan High Priestess could match. Zerik's hate and drive always pushed him to overplay his hand, but with the help of the Stranger's calming influence, they would finally bring Malik Morgra to his knees.
Zerik felt the Stranger relinquish control again. Blinking in confusion, Zerik glanced at the candles with a measuring gaze. At least an hour had passed, but only a few new paragraphs lay on the parchment. Inspecting the room, Zerik found more messages folded up under the gauntlet, detailed instructions in the weapon's use and maintenance. Then Zerik turned to the parchment on the desk, and the Stranger's final response.
'Noble Zerik,
You are right to worry about Kade's influence over the people, but you may set aside those concerns. Should Kade decide to oppose the rebellion, I've invested a great deal of contacts and resources into making sure he dies before the very eyes of the people he tries to subdue. The death of a Tribunal member will show the people just how powerful we are.
As to Touric Paverone, I've been in contact with him as well. You are right, our goals and his do not necessarily align, but I'm confident he will not oppose us. In fact, I've given him a special task involving the Outlanders. I'm confident he will play his part quite well.
Continue focusing on the destruction of Malik Morgra's reign. Focus on stealing or destroying as many Etrendi storehouses as possible. Once we've brought the entire city to the brink of starvation, they will have no choice but to recognize you as their true Malik.
Then our new world will finally arrive!
Stranger.
Chapter 11
Kade paced the length of his quarters, pausing at the open doors of his terrace, overlooking Issamere. "The situation is getting worse. My latest reports indicate Zerik is arming specific rebels with Danica weapons. Old, powerful ones."
"Enough to face an Etrendi?" Lanasha asked, sitting at his desk, the pinnacle of serenity. "I find that hard to believe. Where would a destitute rebel find such weapons?"
"It's clear he's had help recently," Pyran Ignius huffed, standing with his back to the glowing coals of Kade's fireplace, holding his hands behind his back. The dancing shadows cast from Kade's random array of candles make the Beletokan High Priest look particularly menacing, as if his copious scars and prickly demeanor didn't already suffice. "Someone of incredible means is backing him financially. I saw the same scenario in the war. Some noble wants a resource the enemy has, so they find a few disheartened rebels nearby and fund their efforts."
Kade's quarters were one of the few places in Issamere fully void of prying eyes and attentive ears. The Suadan and Beletokan temples were often swarming with envoys, servants and runners from every Etrendi of Issamere. But none of them passed through the walls of the Spiked Citadel. Here, the High Priests could speak frankly, without fear of their deliberations reaching the ears of even the strangely well financed Zerik.
"We're not talking about giving a dozen vagabonds steel swords and calling them patriots," Kade countered, looking out over the quiet city. Hundreds of little Danica globes burned red, like countless unblinking eyes staring back at him. The night's shadows once cast a serene light on Issamere, now he wondered if the haze were actually a burial shroud. His acolytes were busy enough with the dead to make suggest as much. "This financier seems to have a limitless supply of gold and Danica relics. More even, than the richest Etrendi families."
"What about Arnadi?" Lanasha offered, stroking her hair as she thought. "His family did its share of looting among the Southern Tribes. Perhaps they stumbled upon more wealth than anyone realized?"
"Doubtful," Pyran huffed, "If General Arnadi possessed the kind of wealth we're talking about, he wouldn't use to it to fund an exiled, former Malik. He'd go after Morgra personally. That's his nature."
"So, who does that leave us?" Lanasha asked. Her ebony hair only had a few silvers of grey, sparkling in the firelight. When Kade first saw her, he was touched by her beauty. After working alongside her in the tribunal, a union of himself, Pyran and Lanasha, He found that her mind impressed him the most. She was the youngest High Priestess in six hundred years. That took some impressive maneuvering with the Suadan ranks.
"Someone outside Issamere's borders," Pyran growled, glancing at the fire behind him. The coals flared to new life at the High Priest's bidding. "Someone with immense wealth and great motivation for dethroning Malik Morgra."
"Someone from the High City?" Kade wondered, a sickening lurch settling in his stomach. "Surely not the Great Malik himself? If he had issue with Issamere's Malik, he could just declare a new one and be done with it."
"Unless there's something stewing in the High City," Lanasha worried, a touch of frost on her tongue. "I've heard of other Maliks using Danica to enforce order in their own cities, though they don't depend on it as much as Malik Morgra. Perhaps someone wants the issue of Danica to take center stage in the High City?"
"Ensuring a riot and arming them with Danica weapons would certainly qualify," Pyran said, scratching his thick beard. Beletokans prided themselves on wearing thick clothes and thicker hair. The greater the insulation, the stronger command of fire needed to maintain emotional control. "If this gets bloody, we're going to have to make a choice."
"Morgra or Zerik," Kade echoed grimly. "It's unheard of. No temple has ever given a Malik military support against his own citizens. We select the Malik, we nurture his citizens, that is all."
"With Suada's aid, it will not come to that," Lanasha insisted, sharing a nod of support with Pyran. "The Danica globes themselves are quite fragile, spun glass supporting a thin weave of Dancia. Their amplifying effect on the size of a Tri-Being's elemental field is impressive. Our acolytes' reach can cover a city block, thanks to these devices. We can manage the moisture and warmth within the city, and thereby the hearts of the people during this crisis, assuming they don't starve to death before it ends."
"Which brings us to our other problem," Pyran echoed quietly, this thick voice thin with restrained anger. "Someone is stealing or flat-out destroying the Etrendi's food stores. I've enough for my priests and acolytes, but no more."
"Malik Morgra sent envoys to the coastal cities," Lanasha recalled, smil
ing uneasily, "They should be here within the week. We need only keep the city under control for a few more days."
"Hope for the best, Lanasha," Kade countered grimly, "But plan for the worst. If it gets bloody, what will you do?"
"My duties are first to my fellow Suadans, and then to the people," Lanasha said, sitting up so straight and with such poise, she looked like a Malik for a moment. "If riots do ensue, I will close my gates and await its end. Afterward, we will tend to the wounded, and you to their dead. That has always been our custom."
"This won't be thousands of Rhetans turning on the palace, with only a few hundred casualties," Kade said, raising a finger of caution. "These people are starving. They will turn on neighbors, old enemies, every Etrendi family and anyone with enough wealth to afford a meal. Issamere itself could die."
"All the more reason to keep our gates closed and help to rebuild it after," Pyran insisted, folding his arms defiantly. "That is the role the temples have always played. I will not send my best guards into the very bloodbath you just described, on the off chance they can restore a little peace."
Kade sighed, rubbing his temples. There was another option, a choice that meant putting every leader in the city at the risk of demotion. The rest of the tribunal wasn't willing to risk the loss of their wealth and status. But in Kade's eyes, what other choice did they have, if that action meant saving thousands of lives?
"Let us hope your Danica globes do the job," Kade grunted.
"They will," Pyran insisted. He stood so still, in the flickering yellow light he looked more like a statue than a person.
"Of course," Kade agreed with a slight bow. He couldn't let them suspect the alternative rolling around in his mind. They'd remove him from office on the spot. "I will help however I can."
Chapter 12
Corvan's allegations still echoed fiercely in Keevan's mind as he pushed open his front door. Soot covered leathers hung over the back of a chair against the dining room table, Nariem was taking a break from his labors in the forge.
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