“You can cure him?”
“Not I, no. But we will bring together Dumbarten’s finest minds to undo this dark magic. You have my word.”
Miceral’s ears turn red. He hadn’t meant to doubt the word of a high priest—the high priest—of Honorus.
“I never doubted you, Holy Father. I’m just—”
“Concerned for your life partner, I know.” Gedrin smiled and gripped Miceral’s arm again. “But now that I’ve explained things, I’d like to move him to the temple, if you’ve no objection.”
Closing his eyes, Miceral nodded. The temple might not have any answers, but it was a step forward. “Let’s go.”
ALTHOUGH HE’D agreed to move Farrell, Miceral refused to let anyone else carry him. Several times guards offered to take over if he grew tired. He politely, or as politely as he could, declined their help.
Father Gedrin talked the entire way to the temple, pointing out places and buildings like a tour guide. Although the priest clearly meant for it to be a distraction from the serious situation at hand, Miceral found it annoying. But he had paid enough attention to learn a few things about Dreth and Dumbarten.
The original walls, built to protect Dreth when Kentar warred with the other kingdoms of Dumbarten, now formed the boundary to the royal compound. Over the centuries, as Kentar united the island under its rule, the city quickly outgrew the walls. Now the bureaucracy needed to rule the kingdom required all the space in the old city and then some. Only the temples escaped eviction as the kings of Dumbarten expanded beyond the original palace.
As they moved closer to the palace compound, the homes became larger and more lavishly adorned. Private guards, dressed in the colors of the house they served, stood watch before gated walls. Most appeared bored, paying little attention until they noticed the high priest and his guards. Twice the king’s soldiers approached to inquire if the Holy Father needed help. Both times the captain of his guard dismissed them without explanation.
The palace guards waved them through when they reached the thick wall of the old city. Gedrin nodded to the soldiers as he passed, then continued his commentary.
The temples of the gods occupied a broad avenue that ran north from the gate. Like at Trellham, Honorus’s temple had been built in the center, with His Sisters to the left and His Brothers to the right. Here, too, the space between Honorus’s and Khron’s temples held no trace of the structure that Neldin’s house once occupied. In its place a barren, empty space, bound by a tall iron fence, extended from the temples on either side.
Constructed using different colors of polished marble, Honorus’s temple sparkled in the artificial lights that adorned the front. Massive, it befitted its status as the central temple of the patron deity of Dumbarten. Streaks of bright blue and green ran up and down thick columns that lined the front portico running the length of the temple. Two massive doors, hewn from a rich and highly polished pure white marble, were guarded by two pairs of temple guards.
Gedrin avoided the main entrance, leading them to the side of the temple, and touched his staff to what appeared to be a blank wall. The outline of a door appeared, and Miceral heard a faint click. The guard closest to the door grasped a ring and pulled it open.
Lights flared the instant the high priest stepped into the corridor.
“We’ll take him to the examining rooms at the end of the hall,” Gedrin said to the guard who had opened the door. The soldier nodded and led the way.
Emerson drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Miceral had forgotten the man had come with them.
“Something wrong?” Miceral asked.
“No.” Emerson shook his head quickly, his eyes darting toward the high priest. “It’s just been a while since I’ve been inside this part of the temple.”
The officer gave him a forced smile, but before Miceral could inquire further, a globe of light drifted closer, illuminating Farrell’s pale skin. Miceral noted the gentle rise and fall of his partner’s chest—the only sign of life for nearly a week. Emerson would need to face his demons inside the temple on his own.
Chapter Sixteen
THE HEALER gently pushed Miceral back. “Lord Miceral, please step away from the table.”
He knew he couldn’t help, but keeping his distance while others put their hands on Farrell went against his every instinct. How could they expect him to stand against the wall and just watch?
“A word, Holy Father?”
Cylinda’s request, spoken in barely more than a whisper, would have gone unnoticed but for Miceral’s enhanced hearing. The terse, almost angry tone alerted him to something important. Pretending to watch the healers, Miceral sat against the wall and strained to hear.
“Yes, Master Cylinda?”
“I fear that your healers won’t be able to help him.”
“These are cleric healers.” Gedrin kept his voice down, but the hint of annoyance still came through. “They might succeed where you failed.”
“Father Gedrin, listen to me. I recognized the spell. It’s one Kel devised.”
The answer surprised Miceral. Cylinda had never told him she knew definitely what happened to Farrell. He noted the skepticism on the priest’s face before he returned to his feigned indifference.
“And you know this how?”
“In the royal library at Yar-del, there was a book of magic. This spell was found on those pages.”
“Putting aside the obvious question, how does that help us?”
“Kel made a copy of the book and brought it to Dumbarten. He entrusted it to the safe keeping of the Order.” The last word was so soft, Miceral almost missed it.
He heard Gedrin gasp. “Order? I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Holy Father, you know what Farrell means to your Master. Now is not the time to pretend you don’t know of what I speak.”
“Master Cylinda.” Gedrin raised his voice, drawing attention to his conversation. The priest took Cylinda’s elbow and guided her to an empty corner of the room.
Miceral stood up quietly and moved toward the pair. As he neared where Farrell lay, a healer moved toward him, eyebrow raised. Miceral held up his hands and backed away from the table. He pointed toward an empty chair across from where the healer stood. Straining to be sure he didn’t miss anything, he sat down as quietly as he could.
“Whatever you think you know, you are mistaken,” Gedrin said, his angry words coming out louder than before.
“Father, there isn’t time to have this debate.” Cylinda took a breath, then exhaled louder than normal. “In the old High Temple of Honorus, well outside the city walls, there is a chamber few visit. Tucked away in a corner is a stone, rather ordinary except for how random its presence is in that room.”
In response to Cylinda’s slow yet steady words, Gedrin’s breathing became louder and quicker. No doubt if Miceral could check, he’d find the high priest’s pulse had quickened as well.
“On that stone are the names of Kel’s descendants. None of the names should be there because no one has been able to find a living descendant of Kel’s.”
“How can you know this?” With his back turned to the room, Gedrin couldn’t see Miceral and the others react to his voice. “Who gave you this information?”
Cylinda seemed unmoved by the accusation. “Surely you can see Honorus has touched me.”
“Of course, but—”
“Mine is the second to last name on the stone.”
Gedrin’s head recoiled and he took a small step backward. “That’s not possible. She’s—”
“His is the last.” Cylinda stared at the high priest, her jaw clenched. Miceral wondered if she had a spell at the ready.
Gedrin spun to his right until he could see Farrell. After a few heartbeats, he noticed Miceral watching. When they locked eyes, Gedrin’s grew wider.
Without a word to Miceral, he returned his attention to Cylinda. Before he could speak, she cut him off. “He’s a Muchari. You knew that. He’s heard every word we
’ve said.”
He pointed a finger at Cylinda. “You knew he was listening.”
“I did, but Farrell has shared everything with Miceral, as is Honorus’s desire.”
“Tread carefully, wizard. Do not add blasphemy to your sins.”
Cylinda snorted, her eyes losing a bit of their tension. “Sins? What we’ve spoken of has nothing to do with the temple. And I know Father Teclelion shared with you the circumstances of their union ceremony. So I think I’m on solid ground stating Honorus’s wishes regarding Miceral and Farrell.”
“Still.” Gedrin shook his head. “You should not be privy to such information.”
“Yes, I should.” She punctuated her words with a nod. “The person on that stone was very much allowed to have this knowledge.”
Silence followed, and Gedrin alternately looked at Cylinda and away. Finally, he tilted his head up with a purpose. “What is it you want?”
“A tome. I know the spell Meglar used, but I haven’t studied it. Before I attempt to undo it, I’ll want to study the components again.”
“Attempt?” Miceral didn’t mean to speak the word out loud. As all eyes in the room turned toward him, he stood up and moved closer. Keeping his voice low, he asked, “Once you have the book, why can’t you fix this?”
“Because there isn’t a counterspell in the book, just the spell itself. I’ll need to figure out how to save Farrell on my own.”
“Not so, Master Cylinda.” Gedrin tilted his head to the side. “We shall all help you save the Chosen.”
“Who are you?” Miceral asked when Father Gedrin left.
Cylinda shook her head. “Remember what I told you on board the Seafoam Rose. Knowing can be dangerous for you.”
“And yet you told Gedrin.”
“It was the only way.” She shrugged. “And he is the first Prelate of Honorus. If anyone can be trusted with my secret, it’s him.”
“You trust him more than me?” Even as he spoke the words, Miceral realized how ridiculous it sounded. But if the High Priest could be told, she could tell him.
“No, of course not. But Honorus is unlikely to punish His high priest.”
“Farrell’s life depends on you, and you think you can keep secrets from me? That’s unacceptable.”
“Miceral . . .”
“No!” He snapped his finger toward the wizard’s face. “Why did you let me hear what you told Gedrin if you didn’t want to tell me? He’s my life partner. I have a right to know.”
Cylinda shifted her gaze over his shoulder. When Miceral turned, he saw Emerson and Peter staring at them. Before he could return his attention to the wizard, she grabbed him by the arm.
“Come.” She tugged him lightly. “This is not a discussion for everyone’s ears.”
Without waiting for his response, she opened a door and led the way out. After passing several doors, Cylinda opened the fifth door on the left. She never looked inside but motioned for him to go first.
The room was empty except for two small stools and several pegs. Miceral watched Cylinda wave her hand in front of the door before she approached him.
“This will suit our needs.” She waited for a moment, but when he didn’t speak, she nodded once. “What I tell you goes no further than this room. Not even to Farrell.”
“I won’t promise that.”
“It wasn’t a request.” Her eyes narrowed as her jaw tightened. “There will be no debate. Either you swear or I leave. Agree or don’t, but those are my terms.”
“You don’t get to dictate terms like this is a contract negotiation.”
“Yes, I do!” She moved closer, her body ready to strike. “You have no idea the stakes involved. Not just for me, or you, but for Farrell and the world. You want answers? Fine, but they come with a price. Either you pay it, or find the answers on your own.”
From how Farrell talked about her, Miceral knew Cylinda to be powerful and determined. She never raised her voice, but he’d never doubted her talents or resolve.
“And before you start thinking you can decline and let Farrell ferret this out later, forget that notion. Once I cure him, you’ll never see me again. Count on it. As powerful as Farrell is, I promise you, Honorus will ensure he never finds me again.”
“You’d abandon us?”
“Yes.” Her voice wavered, but it only added force to her word. “I’ll have no choice.”
The regret he heard made his choice. “I agree. I swear by Lenore I’ll not reveal what you tell me until either you release me or you tell Farrell.”
“Very well.” Rather than appear to gloat, Cylinda sighed, as if she had hoped Miceral wouldn’t agree. “Before we start, know that there is much I cannot tell you. The Six have forbidden me from speaking of some things, and no amount of protesting from you will give me the ability to answer some questions.”
“That sounds very convenient.” He didn’t try to hide his skepticism.
“Quite the opposite.” She turned away and faced the wall. “Most of what I will tell you, Farrell is not permitted to know. It is why you had to swear an unbreakable oath not to repeat what I tell you.”
“Unbreakable oath?”
Miceral saw a twinkle of amusement in her eyes when Cylinda looked at him again. “Don’t sound so distraught. It is the Six, not I, who bind you to your word. Besides, I can’t see you swearing a false oath, so what is the issue?”
Her words calmed Miceral’s sense of outrage. He never planned to break his oath, so it mattered not that it could not be broken. “There is no issue. Just tell me who you are.”
Cylinda’s lips flirted with a smirk as she inclined her head slightly.
“Some background is needed, so have a bit of patience. Kel founded the Order shortly after he left Yar-del. Its purpose has been to keep tabs on Neldin’s followers against the day they rose up again.”
“Neldin has no followers,” Miceral said.
“Yes, he does. Meglar and his family are just the most visible examples.” She walked over to a stool and sat down. Using her hands, she smoothed the creases in her pants until they disappeared. “Kel knew that Neldin could never be truly defeated, only stopped for a time. Three millennia is an eternity to us, even to wizards who live for centuries, but to the gods?” She shrugged.
“So who was—is—in this Order of Kel?”
“Originally, the kings or queens of Yar-del and Dumbarten, the first prelate of Honorus, and a handful of wizards and military people. Kel’s heir was the titular head of the order.”
“And Dumbarten’s kings accepted that?”
Cylinda chuckled. “No, they were less than pleased, but in the two thousand years since Kel left Yar-del, every king or queen except two had been a grand master wizard. The two exceptions were so close it didn’t make a lot of difference.”
Miceral leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms on his chest. He tried not to frown at her attempts to divert the conversation. “How is all this related to Farrell’s name and yours being on the stone?
“A wizard is taught the value of patience, Miceral.” The left side of her mouth curled up. “Just as one doesn’t rush a complicated spell, important information must be given in whole.”
Cocking his head to the side, he glared at her attempt at humor. “Spare me the wizardry lesson.”
Cylinda raised an eyebrow. “Although Kel left Yar-del and never returned, he did make appearances in Dumbarten for centuries. He would show up without warning and disappear just as fast. Just when folks assumed he’d never return, he’d turn up.”
“Farrell seems to believe he’s alive.”
“I’m inclined to agree with Farrell. Kel’s book would be proof enough, but he’s left other evidence that he’s still among us. The last known contact with Kel came more than five centuries ago. One day, members of the order found a stone in the meeting room as well as a door in what had been a solid wall of rock and earth. Under the stone was a message.
“The stone would list t
he names of all his living descendants, but only his successor could enter the room.”
The reminder that Cylinda was a descendant of Kel stifled his next question. Anger boiled in him, threatening his already fragile control of his emotions. “All this time and you never told him? Did you ever think about how much it would have helped to know he had at least one relative still alive?”
She walked over to face the blank stone wall. “Every day since I arrived.”
Though she spoke in barely more than a whisper, Miceral heard every word. “How can you claim to care about him when you let him suffer like that?”
“Things are never that simple, Miceral.” Slowly she turned, tears at the corners of her eyes.
“Oh yes, I forgot. Honorus ordered you not to say anything.” Snorting, he shook his head. Miceral had expected answers to make him feel better, not worse. With every word, Cylinda fanned his anger until now it burned fiercely and hot.
Instead of flinching under his harsh words, Cylinda narrowed her eyes and her jaw muscles tightened. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, so I’ll forgive you for your sarcasm. Everything I’ve done, everyone has done, has been for the sole purpose of preparing Farrell to face Meglar.”
Miceral had heard this justification before. “The notion that this is for his benefit wears thin. Nothing would have been better for him than to have his friends and family to support him.”
“I know how much you love him and that you think you know what’s best for him, but you weren’t there,” she said softly. “The Farrell you know, the one confident in his abilities, the one who looks for answers himself rather than seeks others to solve them, the one who has only himself to depend on, did not exist ten years ago. We did what we had to do.”
After pushing himself off the wall, Miceral flung his arms wide. “Honorus isolated Farrell for his own good? That’s what you want me to believe?”
“Farrell has never been alone, nor has he been without help or guidance.”
“Ridiculous.” He waved a hand at her and started for the door. Part of him wanted to leave, but he didn’t have his answers. “You still haven’t told me what I’ve asked.”
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