"You have no idea," The second one echoed. His weathered, pig like face gave the impression he never thought farther ahead than his next meal. Pig face pulled a white stone from his pocket. His fellow did the same. "Someone would like a word with you."
Falletal took one look at the stones and sank to his knees, weeping. "I won't tell them nothing. Please, do what you want with the boy. Leave me be."
Keevan knew the poor Rhetan's mind was slowly falling apart, but the blatant act of cowardice stung all the same. The guards shrugged in indifference, each pulling a polished white stone from their pockets. A surge of panic sent Keevan scrambling back to the wall of his cell, straw slipping under his panicked feet.
To Keevan's elemental vision, he saw both receiver stones flare brightly with elemental energy. Strands of electricity, fire and water coiled down the guard's wrists, through their shoulders and into their minds. The elements surging through the stones were perfect mirrors of each other, handled by the same master.
If they meant him harm, their twin-like pulses could offer him a thin chance of escape. Particularly if the sender forgot he was occupying two bodies, not one. Keevan's concerns were for naught, since the guards did not attack. Instead, they raised their free hands, palm open, a gesture of peace.
"Relax, Keevan," They said, their stoic eyes contrasting oddly with their wide smiles. Keevan recognized Zerik's voice from his kidnapping the previous month. The sending left the guard's words hollow and mechanized. They set Keevan's teeth on edge. "If I wanted you dead, I'd already have your head rolling around at my feet."
"That was you in the dungeon earlier. You attacked Hadrian and Madol," Keevan accused, fists clenched, nostrils flaring. He released his elemental vision, hoping to see some clue in the expressions of the guards, mimicking the sender. "They were my friends."
"My subordinates allowed one of my blades to fall into weaker hands," The guards said in eerie unison, echoing Zerik's words. Their torches cast unsettling shadows on their polished black armor. The white stones glowed in their hands. They glared at Falletal. The Rhetan still writhed on the floor, muttering incessantly. "Timing is everything in my world. You nearly interrupted mine."
"Well, you're too late," Keevan snapped, surprised at his own bravery. The thought of Madol and Hadrian's battered bodies lying on Suadan stretchers sent his blood boiling. If he did survive this, he'd need all the information he could glean from Zerik. "I already warned the Malik about your swords. Clever trick, possessing people through receiver stones in the pommels of the blades. How'd you manage it? Now you're possessing two people at a time, no less. That should be impossible."
"One is only as powerful as one's friends," Zerik said, chuckling darkly. The guards stepped closer, walking in unison, eyes fixed on Keevan. "Grafting a Tri-Being's bones with Danica should be impossible as well. I heard you used your vision before the Malik. Tell me, what did you see?"
"Nothing good," Keevan muttered, stepping away from the bars of his cell. Another icy drop splattered onto his face, drawing a shiver.
"More specific," Zerik insisted, the guards he spoke through grinned slyly.
"Why would I tell you?" Keevan countered uneasily. "You kidnapped me and forced me to help you destroy the Watcher. I broke the Great Crystal to save my friends, because your man Kors put them in danger."
"You broke that relic in order to save your friend, Bahjal," The guards eyed the contents of the cell curiously. They glanced down at Falletal. "Where is she, anyway? I expected to see her here, pining away on the other side of the iron bars, holding your hand. Or perhaps breaking you out of here."
"No idea," Keevan said, wincing at the mention of her name. "She's got a lot on her mind right now."
"Well, I didn't come here to open old wounds, at least not those ones," Zerik said. One of the guards hung his torch in the latch adjacent to Keevan's cell. The other took a seat right there on the hallway's stone floor. "Have a seat, dear boy. I'll only be a moment."
Keevan turned back to the iron bars, but he sat out of arm's reach of the guards, just in case. Falletal scrambled to the corner of the cell, reaching around the iron bars in an attempt to touch the flames. He couldn't reach his goal, but closed his eyes and sighed contently, savoring all the warmth he could feel.
"What do you want?" Keevan asked, sitting cross-legged on the cold stone floor.
"You saw the Malik's danica implants," Zerik said, grinning wickedly. "You don't need to deny it, boy. I've puzzled over the mysteries of Morgra's accent to the throne for longer than you've drawn breath in this world. I didn't understand it myself, until he commanded you to not look on him with your power. Why did you refuse him? Blatant rebellion isn't your style."
"It wasn't blatant rebellion," Keevan hissed, scratching his head. "I was only trying to prove that the receiver stones were normal. Controlling people you 'send' must be from a relic on your end of the connection. I was trying to prove that when I happened to glance at Morgra."
"So, you are not traitorous, just sloppy," Zerik noted, his Beletokan messengers stroking their chins simultaneously as they mimicked the motions of the sender. "I always thought you were methodical, and surprisingly good at ruling your emotions, for someone so young. What changed?"
"You cut down two of my instructors, one of whom was the reason I joined the Persuaders," Keevan said venomously. "The guard you possessed took his own life afterward. He wouldn't live in a world-"
"Where he killed his kin, yes, I know," Zerik said, the guards waved their hands dismissively. "The southern tribes have an odd sense of honor. But, I couldn't choose who picked up my sword. Nor could I let Issamere go without its rightful ruler, just because a weak-willed Rhetan said too much."
"This isn't about one, loose lipped Rhetan," Keevan said, glaring at the guards. "This is about thousands of Rhetans out on the street, starving, because of events you put in motion. You don't care how many lives are sacrificed, as long as you can put Issamere under your heel."
Zerik sighed, staring off into the distance. For a moment, his guards sat perfectly still. The only noises were the hisses and sighs of the elementally starved. Shadows flickered around them like so many insects, swirling across the walls and floor.
"Do you know the history of the Persuaders?" Zerik asked. Both guards pulled a handful of linen from their pockets and slid them through the iron bars. Keevan pulled aside the fabric to reveal a glazed biscuit and a handful of nuts. For a moment, he wondered if the guards intended for the sender to give away their lunches.
"They're an independent organization devoted to finding and punishing the criminals of Issamere," Keevan echoed, recalling portions of the oath he'd taken upon admission at the academy.
"That was before the Malik took a personal hand in promoting its members," Zerik added, each guard raising a cautionary finger as he spoke. "Think about it. Just after his rise to power, he found a hard-working Haustran, willing to line his bones with Danica if it meant becoming a Persuader. He also recruited Hadrian from General Arnadi's forces, where the Rhetan was little more than a broad-shouldered grunt."
"What's your point?" Keevan grumbled.
"They wound never take action against Malik Morgra," Zerik said, glancing above them, toward the palace. "They owe him everything. Now, what could a Danica enhanced Malik do, with the city's best Persuaders dead set on protecting his reign?"
"I think you've been in exile I little too long." Keevan said, rolling his eyes. "You're just rambling now."
"Perhaps that was a poor analogy," Zerik admitted, looking around the dungeon for inspiration. "Here's a better one. What happens to anyone who speaks out against the Malik? Openly, I mean. On the street."
"I've never seen a crier who-" Keevan paused, thinking back. His thoughts jumped from the old, starving crier, to the look on Hadrian and Madol's faces and the gleam of their elemental fields when they were planning to torture Falletal. Boredom, with a hint of excitement. They'd tortured before, and often, for Morgra.
Dark thoughts flooded Keevan's mind. The Malik protected him against the Harbor Guild. For that gift alone, he expected Keevan's allegiance. But in good conscience, Keevan couldn't serve a man who stole the throne in the first place, torturing and likely killing anyone who opposed his reign. On the other hand, such a man could easily turn his wrath on Keevan's parents or friends. What other choice did Keevan have?
"That's all the answer I needed," Zerik said, both guards flashing confident grins.
"I didn't say anything," Keevan said uneasily.
"Your parents didn't teach you to lie, boy," Zerik said, something shifting in his tone. Pity perhaps, or even jealously. "You'd make a poor councilman. The truths are there on your face, for any with the skill to read them. Not unlike how we Tri-Beings feel when put under your elemental vision."
"My parents did a fine job," Keevan replied angrily.
"I can't argue with that," Zerik agreed, his throaty voice sounded almost mechanical as the guards shared his words in eerie synchronization, chuckling grimly. "By all accounts, you are fair, honest and good at heart. You have your father's sincerity and your mother's wisdom. If Malik Morgra doesn't deserve the throne he's sitting on, why not join the men sacrificing their lives to wrestle him off of it?"
"Sacrificing?" Keevan scowled, he tried to glare at both guards simultaneously. They mirrored each other so perfectly, his gaze constantly jumped from one face to the other, as if talking to someone afflicted with a lazy eye. "What would you know of putting your life in danger? You haven't set foot in Issamere in years. You'll play with other's lives easily enough, but I've never seen you risk your own."
"Now who's the idiot?" Zerik countered, his eyes flashing angrily. A wave of heat emanated from the guards, a not-so-subtle reminder of the power this Etrendi wielded. "When I lost the throne, I still had enough resources to live in luxury. I had a thick mattress of goose down. Now, I curl up on a flee-ridden cot. You've lived in comfort and protection your entire life. Only a handful of allies have remained by my side, but the rest of Issamere wants my head. Do not speak of things you know nothing about."
"Don't give me those lies," Keevan spat, more of a growl than a sentence. "You've got powerful danica blades floating around Issamere as we speak. You have enough money and influence to recruit Etrendi to your cause and turn them against the Malik."
"Those weapons aren't mine," Zerik admitted easily, hands up in a defensive posture. "I have a supporter who funds my efforts. Who he is and where his gold comes from, I've no idea. But those resources are given for a purpose, a trust I won't undermine by turning his gifts to my personal gain."
"Believe what you will," Keevan said grudgingly, taken aback by Zerik's honest answer. "What is it you really want from me, Zerik?"
"I want to make you one final offer," Zerik insisted. The guards' jaws were clenched with Zerik's effort to restrain his emotions, forcing the words out in short, crisp, bursts. "My plans draw to a close and, now that you see Morgra's lie for what it is, I wonder if you'd like to put the rightful heir on the throne. I will see to it you are handsomely rewarded, even beyond what Malik Morgra is willing to give."
"Should I continue to support Morgra," Keevan echoed carefully, though his stomach lurched at the thought. "He would give me a rank above all of his Persuaders. Wealth, influence, protection... My parents would live in respect and wealth for the rest of their days. What are you offering me?"
"The truth," Zerik offered, eyes moist with sudden sincerity. Keevan wondered if summoning tears was a Suadan trick. They were just drops of moisture, after all. "For all your naiveté, you are an honest man. One I'm not afraid to restore his other powers to."
"What are you talking about?" Keevan asked, perplexed. "I can see others emotions and elemental fields. That's all. I've search libraries and repositories for years, digging up everything I could find about Outlanders."
"A most valiant effort," Zerik countered, the guards offered sly half-smiles. "You've looked for ways of healing your block somehow?"
"Of course," Keevan said dismissively. "I've been through the archives though. There is no record of any Sight Seeker with my condition..." Keevan trailed off, grimly realizing the truth.
"There it is," Zerik chimed in.
"Malik Morgra ordered them all hidden, didn't he?" Keevan sighed, scratching his head. "He's always been close to the scholar's guild."
"My guess is, they've already portioned off which books to show you, and when," Zerik estimated, shrugging helplessly. "They will teach you enough to keep you useful, once they're certain of your loyalty, but they will never give you all they have. Morgra would never arm someone with greater power than he himself wields. He won't give the people another face to rally behind."
"Rally behind?" Keevan echoed, laughing. His stomach still ached from the ingested danica, but he couldn't restrain himself from the statement's obvious mirth. "I've lived my life in constant fear of the Harbor Guild. I'm a hated Outlander many would rather see dead or at least exiled. Why would people rally behind me?"
"You are different, an easy thing to fear," Zerik corrected, raising a cautionary finger. "With the right message, you can also inspire. In fact, if you were to turn your full power to the issue of Narivatari, you'd be surprised how quickly the people would rally beneath your banner. Against the Council, Malik and priests' alike."
"Narivatari?" Keevan gasped, staring at the guards, mouth agape. "You actually think I could help a Tri-Being become an element? To ascend to the Gods?"
"Whether you can, or can't doesn't really matter to me," Zerik said, shaking his head, "Malik Morgra fears what such promises could inspire, if you turned the hope of a nation against him."
"But you don't?"
"You are an honest man, first and foremost," Zerik repeated, nodding insistently. "Your power allows you to expose lies with ease. Quite honestly, I wouldn't keep anything from you. At all."
"So, you're offering me my freedom then?" Keevan asked, pursing his lips in thought as he glanced at the network of bars between them.
"No, don't be silly," Zerik chuckled, "By tomorrow night, the city will be in an uproar. It will be far too dangerous out there for an Outlander like you."
"The riots," Keevan said slowly, trying to anticipate the final stages of Zerik's plan. "They won't work."
"Why not?" Zerik asked, his upper lip curling in irritation.
"The temples will stand against you," Keevan insisted, folding his arms defensively. "The moment Raejin's priests step out of the spiked citadel, your rioting Rhetans will surrender and return to their homes. No one opposes the death God."
Zerik grinned, a sly, bone-chilling gesture. "There is a solution to every problem, my boy, even the worshipers of lightning and death itself."
Keevan squirmed uneasily under the rebel's confident grin. Staying in the dungeon was indeed sounding all the safer with each passing moment. Someone who didn't consider the death God a threat was either incredibly powerful or absolutely mad. In this case, Keevan got the impression Zerik was a little of both.
"Now, I want you to promise me that you won't escape or involve yourself further," Zerik said.
"I can't escape," Keevan pointed out, kicking his thick iron bars. They didn't budge. "Look around."
"That's what you think," Zerik said, shaking with silent laughter, as if someone mentioned a joke only he understood. "You can, though a heart as naïve as yours might find the price of escape a steep one. Promise me you will not escape. Stand aside. Let me take my rightful place as Malik. I will grant you the richest reward you ever received, for doing absolutely nothing. What's your answer?"
The torches flickered in the still air, giving the illusion of movement as the shadows danced across the walls, anchored in roots of iron or flesh. Keevan took another handful of peanuts, pondering. If Zerik was right about the Scholar's Guild, somewhere in their chambers lay a stack of books waiting to open Keevan's block.
Zerik was skilled at reading what peopl
e truly wanted, which partly explained how he'd managed to survive all these years quietly opposing the Malik. Every word of advice Keevan had ever gotten from Bahjal and Madol suggested Zerik would make a worse Malik than Morgra, but they were Morgra's agents, so were their words really a surprise?
"I don't have all day, boy," Zerik growled in caution. His voice sounded like gravel grating against steel. "What's your answer?"
"I need to think on it," Keevan suggested. "It's not a decision one should take lightly."
"Very well, but consider this," Zerik said, pointing at the ceiling above. "Should you openly support Malik Morgra further, or interfere with my plans, I will deal with your life in the same fashion I've dealt with Morgra's rule. I will destroy you slowly, painfully, and thoroughly."
"I understand," Keevan echoed. His mind briefly touched on horrific scenes of the damage this well financed rebel could do to his, if hard pressed. The images were not pleasant. He felt like an insect, trapped between a heavy glass and the kitchen table, while some shadowy figure considered crushing him.
"Then farewell," Zerik said, offering a slight bow in respect. "And choose wisely."
The glow of the receiver stones faded. Both guards shook their heads in confusion for a moment, collecting themselves. Their eyes settled on their half-eaten snacks, sitting on Keevan's side of the iron bars. They glared at him angrily.
"I don't think on an empty stomach," Keevan offered with a shrug.
"What is a pack of peanuts compared to gold," The eye scar guard said. He glanced around the weeping dungeon's confines and shuddered, "Let's go. Job's done."
"Agreed," The second guard said, a stubborn pout still lingering on his lips. "Enjoy the dark, Sight Seeker."
"It's not the dark that worries me," Keevan echoed thoughtfully, still sitting on the cold stone floor before the iron bars. Even as the guards retrieved their torches and continued their patrol down the corridor, he didn't move. His thoughts were too focused on the decision at hand to take note of the freezing Tri-Beings reaching for the guards as they passed, or shudder at another icy drip of moisture seeping down his back.
Splintered Loyalties Page 24