“You surprise me, Champion,” she said. “Had you wanted, you could have denied me access to everything you are. Instead you opened yourself to me as a novice newly come to Her service must. From our contact you must know I can see what’s in a person’s heart.”
He nodded but remained silent.
“Do you want to hear what I saw?” She held up a thick hand covered in emerald-and-gold rings. “Most fear to hear an honest assessment of what I find. If you don’t wish to hear, I won’t force you.”
“Holy Mother, I opened myself to you so you could see what’s there and warn the world. Miceral, my children, my mother, my friends, all whom I hold dear, will be swept away if the Six are wrong. What you do with that information is up to you.”
“Your answer is in keeping with who you are.” Her smile faded. “You’re wrong, however. Though you seem sure it’s there, there’s no dark patch in your soul. What you call dark or evil is the fortitude to do what you must, despite how it horrifies you.
“It is the fear of failure that weakens your courage. You are open to Neldin’s advances because you fear what will happen if you lose. If you wish to deny Neldin, defeat your inner doubts. Those are what He will use to try to turn you. Trust not His promises, for they are lies, but you know that already. Let your heart show your mind you are a good man. Compassionate, concerned, loving, and giving, that is what I saw. Though Vedri’s blood flows in your veins, you are no child of his or his line. Believe that, and you will successfully resist Neldin.”
When she stopped speaking, Farrell realized he was holding his breath. He felt as if his soul had been pulled through his body and laid bare on the table. Filling his lungs, he sat back.
“Nothing we didn’t already know,” Miceral said and he squeezed Farrell’s hand.
“Thank you.” He bowed his head. “This was not what I expected when I arrived.”
“Sometimes we get what we need and not what we think we need.” She stood and walked to a tall bookcase. “And sometimes we get what we want.”
She selected a thin tome that lay flat on the shelf. When she returned, she offered the book to Farrell.
“What’s this?” He held out his hand and let her place the book on his palm.
“Mother Burcia came to Trellham to give me this. She said to give it to you when the time was right. I believe that time is now.”
The black cover appeared to be leather but was not, nor were the pages paper. He showed the book to Miceral. “Amazing, isn’t it? There is no leather or paper in the ocean, so they made books out of . . . whatever this is.”
They turned to look at Fridoa. She shook her head. “I don’t know either. I can’t read the writing. It’s like nothing I’ve seen before.”
Opening the book, Farrell flipped through the pages. Without knowing why, he realized he’d opened it upside down and backward. Holding it correctly, he turned to the first page.
“It’s a history of Rastoria,” he said.
Fridoa raised a thick eyebrow. “You can read it?”
“Yes, Mother,” Farrell said as he flipped through the rest of the book.
Miceral picked it up and opened to a random page. “How can you read these symbols?”
“I don’t know, but I can.” Farrell stared at the page. “Mother Fridoa, may I please see another book from your collection?”
“Which one?” Confused, she walked back to the shelves.
“Any one. I just need something to set next to this one.” When she gave him a book, he laid it next to the first one.
He looked at the pages side by side, shifting his gaze from one page to the other. “Incredible. Next to each other, I can see they are different. Yet when I read each by itself, they appear to be written in the same language.”
“Another side effect from Arritisa’s kiss?” Miceral asked.
Farrell shrugged. “She didn’t tell me what to expect.”
“Perhaps you have found your answer,” Fridoa said.
“Perhaps.” Farrell closed both books and handed her back the second one. He doubted the book had all the answers, especially since the Eye pointed him to the ruins of Seritia’s temple, but he was still glad to have it.
Lisle flinched as Farrell walked through a Door into the vestibule of their apartments.
“By the Six,” she yelled, putting a hand over her heart. “You scared ten years off my life.”
“Then I’d best find a way to get them back for you.” He waved his hand to close the Door and limped toward his room. “I’m sorry to do this, but I need to soak in my tub after the pasting I just got from Master Baylec.”
“Did that darn fool beat you again?” Disgust dripped from her words.
“Baylec keeps saying it’s for my own good.” He paused before entering their private quarters. “As I stand here, however, I’m hard-pressed to see how.”
Lisle walked toward him, motioning with her hand. “Lift the tunic and let me see what he’s done to you.”
He shook his head and stepped back. “I’m fine, Lisle. I didn’t even need the services of a healer.”
“Did my words sound like a question?”
“No, but—”
“Tunic off and be quick.” She reached for the hem of his shirt.
“Lisle!” Feeling his face flush, he held the material close to his body.
“Great holy Honorus, child! You act as if I haven’t seen you with your shirt off before.” She reached down again, and he used his hand to keep her away. “Need I remind you how many times I found you sleeping naked as the day you were born?”
His face burned now. “That was different. I didn’t plan to be undressed in your presence.”
“Last time before I do it myself.” She put her hands on her hips, ready to flay the shirt off him if he refused.
He pulled the sweaty tunic over his head. “What good is being king if I’m still ordered about, in my own rooms, no less?”
Lisle’s breath hitched as he exposed the multiple bruises he knew were there. “By the Six! That man is trying to kill you.”
“They’ll heal.” They always did.
“How is beating you to a pulp supposed to help you?” she asked. “If he thinks it beneficial to know how much it hurts to be struck repeatedly by a large stick, tell him I can beat him a time or two if he’d like.”
The image of what she said made him laugh. Every bruise ached when he did, and he grunted. “Master Baylec tested my new reflexes. The only way to learn what I can do is to push me as hard as he can. Believe it or not, I stopped many more than hit me.”
“Not enough,” she said.
“I was actually pleased with how it went, until now.”
“Oh my Gods!” she shouted when his back was to her. “How did he not break your spine?”
“Does it look that bad?” He turned like a dog chasing its tail in an attempt to see the bruises.
Lisle slapped his shoulder. “Stop trying to hide it from me.”
“I’m not.”
“I’m calling Master Heather to come check your injuries.”
“No! Please don’t do that. I don’t need a healer.”
“None of your lip!” She pointed her finger at him and closed one eyelid. “Go get clean while I fetch the healer.”
Annoyed, he tossed his shirt onto the floor, intending to leave it there for her to see when she returned. Before he walked into the bath chamber, he snapped his hand and made it disappear. He’d heard enough for one day.
Master Heather poked and prodded him but found he hadn’t needed her help. She then chided Lisle for overreacting and “wasting her time like this.” When he stepped in to stop the lecture, Heather glared at him until he reminded her Lisle thought of him like her child. She smiled, Lisle about cried, and he finally got his bath.
After he washed, he settled back into the hotter than usual water and opened the book Fridoa had given him. A few dozen pages in, Miceral came home.
“Farrell?” Miceral called o
ut.
“In the tub.”
Miceral smiled when he walked in, but his shoulders drooped just a little.
“Long session?”
“A bit.” He leaned against the doorway. “I don’t know how Father does it.”
“Me neither, but I’m glad he handles it so I don’t have to.” He put the book on the shelf and scooted forward. “A nice bath will help you relax.”
“You’d need to get out for it to be relaxing.” Miceral pulled the shirt over his head and shut the door. “What has Lisle so riled up?”
“Master Baylec left more than a few bruises today.”
Miceral sat on the edge of the tub and pulled off his boots. “What possessed you to show them to her?”
“You act like I had a choice.” Farrell put his arms on the lip of the tub and leaned forward. “She even called Master Heather.”
“Ouch.” He touched his index finger to an angry red mark on Farrell’s upper arm. “That looks like it hurts.”
Farrell glanced at the bruise. “Should have felt him give it to me. How come he’s so much faster than you?”
“I hold back.” He shucked his pants and climbed in behind Farrell. “He really did beat your tail good, didn’t he?”
“I thought I did pretty well until I got home.”
He leaned forward for the soap and cloth and turned around. Miceral held out his hand, but Farrell shook his head. He lathered up the white cotton square and rubbed it across Miceral’s chest and shoulders. Before Miceral could rinse, Farrell ran his free hand over the soapy hairs covering the tight muscular chest.
“This isn’t going to help either of us get clean.” Despite his protest, Miceral didn’t attempt to stop him.
“True, but I’m enjoying it.” He continued for another few seconds and then motioned for Miceral to turn around. “Getting back to my question, you hold back?”
“I don’t plan to, but I can’t attack you like I want to kill you. Baylec has no problem with that.”
“Clearly.”
“Baylec has been training young Muchari for centuries. He’s developed the ability to know exactly how much force he can use. It’s a constant criticism of his when assessing my classes.”
Farrell finished washing Miceral’s back and wrapped both arms around his partner. Pulling them together, he kissed the back of his slightly damp hair. “I prefer not to come home one giant bruise like today.”
“I prefer that, too.” Miceral put his arms over Farrell’s and hugged.
Farrell pulled the water up around them and used it to rinse off the soap. When he released it, they stayed pressed together until Miceral spun around. He held out his hand for the soap. “Your turn.”
“I’m already clean.”
“So?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I wasn’t dirty, either.”
Farrell handed over the bar and wet cloth. Miceral did little washing and quite a bit of massaging. That, plus the warm water, helped relax Farrell’s sore muscles.
“Master Baylec said your reaction speed is amazing. Only his experience keeps him from getting badly beaten.”
Farrell laughed. “He lies. I barely touched him today, and when I did, he punished me with some of the hardest hits I took.”
Miceral traced a pattern on Farrell’s back. “He and I discussed that as well. How long did it take the bruises he gave you the first time he tested your new powers to heal?”
The change in subject threw him, but Farrell considered the question before answering. “Maybe a day for the soreness to go away, another two days for the marks to disappear. Why?”
“Is that normal healing time, or did you help them along?”
“They were minor bruises; would have been a waste of energy to heal them.” He twisted, trying to look at Miceral. “Why are you asking?”
“Baylec thinks you heal faster than normal. He also thinks your body is tougher and you have a higher threshold for pain.”
“He said all that?”
Miceral nodded, turned him around again, and resumed massaging Farrell’s shoulders and back. “When you changed clothes, he noted your bruises had healed already. His had not. Twice during your training he felt sure he’d broken one of your bones, yet the healer found nothing. He also said he hit you hard enough to make a seasoned veteran cry out, but all you did was grunt. It’s probably why you have more bruises today.”
“He wants me to cry?” That explained why Baylec hit him so hard at the practice they’d just had.
“Not cry, cry out.” Miceral pulled him into a hug. “We both know you’re tough. Your wizard training has given you a high pain threshold. But even battle-hardened soldiers will scream if struck in a sensitive place. You just grunted.”
“Does he think it’s a problem?” If Baylec’s observations were correct, he had changed. Had his body changed so much he might lose the ability to feel?
“No.” Miceral kissed the back of his head. “At his core, Baylec is a teacher. He needs to know your limits to train you properly. I also think there’s a level of curiosity. You’re a unique student.”
Farrell laughed. “Just because I’m unique doesn’t mean I want to leave practice one big bruise.”
“Let him know. I don’t think he’ll continue if you object.”
Farrell sat quietly, enjoying the moment. Miceral’s hands were strong, callused, and scarred, yet gentle when he touched Farrell’s skin. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“Yes, but you can never say it enough.” Miceral squeezed a bit tighter.
“Good, because I like telling you.” He ran his hands over Miceral’s legs, feeling every muscle and tendon. They held each other a bit longer. “We ought to get dressed before the children come home.”
Miceral let him go. “Probably right, but this was so nice. We don’t get time alone like this too often.”
Climbing out of the tub, Miceral’s hand landed on Farrell’s book. “Did you learn anything from this?”
“So far, it’s just what it says, a history of Rastoria.” Farrell got two large towels and gave one to Miceral. “Arritisa created the Arlefors much like Lenore and Honorus created the Muchari. Arritisa was leading them to Rastoria when you arrived.”
Miceral rubbed the towel through his hair. “So nothing that helps you answer Arritisa?”
“I’m not sure.” He wrapped the towel around his waist and picked up the book. “The Eye showed me Seritia’s temple when I asked for help. I want to see what’s there before I speculate any further.”
“You’ll know soon enough.”
“Right.” They would visit Seritia’s temple in two days. “I want to speak to Jolella before we go. Are you up for a trip to Agloth tonight?”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“I’ll ask the librarian and her staff to search the archives,” Jolella said after Farrell explained what the Eye had shown him. “I’m not aware of anything, but if there’s something there, Sister Ellen will find it. She’s been toiling in the library since before I was born.”
“I realize I’m shooting arrows blindfolded, but I thought it worth asking.” Farrell accepted a plate of eggs, cheese, and bread from a young sister. Although it had been dinner hour when he and Miceral left Haven, it was early morning in Agloth. “Thank you.”
“I regret not having something more substantive for you to eat,” Jolella said.
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Miceral shot Farrell an angry look. “We should have asked in advance.”
“No, you should come any time you feel I can be of help.” She motioned for the novice to set her tray down and leave. “That and I always enjoy seeing you both.”
Farrell resisted the urge to give Miceral an I told you so look. Mostly because his partner was correct. They should have asked before they showed up. “I can use the Eye, if you think that would help.”
He instinctively reached toward the pocket holding Honorus’s Gift.
“I don’t think it will—help, th
at is,” Jolella said. “The information shouldn’t be hard to find, unless the Blessed Mother doesn’t want you to find it. In which case the Eye will be of no use.”
“I think that’s correct,” Farrell said as he poured himself and Miceral some chilled fruit drink. “The part about if She wants it hidden, the Eye won’t help. Only you can say if the search will be easy or hard.”
Jolella smiled and offered them a seed cake. “Sister Ellen and her staff collectively know every book in the library. While they might not know every word on every page, they know the subject matter of each. But I’ll ask her before you leave if she would like your help.”
Farrell took a bite of the cake and moaned. “These are wonderful. Can your cook send my staff the recipe?”
Jolella laughed and held out the plate again. “I will see it makes its way to you.”
Sheepishly he took two more. “Regardless of what Sister Ellen finds, will you come with us when we visit Seritia’s temple? We visit the day after tomorrow, which is tomorrow afternoon for you. I think.”
“I had not planned to attend.” She nibbled at a seed cake. “None of the other first prelates attended your visits. It might embarrass Mother Yelsma.”
Farrell put down his fork and wiped his mouth. “If this sounds rude, I apologize, but I don’t care if I hurt Mother Yelsma’s feelings. Together, you and I have found answers where none were obvious. Your presence might prove the difference in whether we find what’s there or not.”
“What makes you think I can help you?” Jolella asked.
“If something’s hidden in Seritia’s temple—or the ruins of Her temple—who better to detect it than Seritia’s high priestess?” Farrell asked.
“Mother Yelsma should be able to sense whatever I can,” Jolella said. “She may even be better able, as she was there when the temple was destroyed.”
“Are you certain?” Miceral asked. “Farrell’s right, you do work well together. He and Mother Yelsma might not.”
Champion of the Gods Box Set Page 158