Talon sat in one of two chairs, back straight, helmet resting on her thigh. Her gaze had been on the cabinet, but when Milo and Vellis entered, she got to her feet, bowing to the priest. When she straightened, Milo could see the shadows beneath her eyes. “Well met, Milo.”
Milo saluted her, hoping to conceal his sudden nerves. “Hello, Commander. Red sent me. Is that all right?”
Talon gave Milo a warm, if somewhat strained, smile. “If Serla Vellis has no qualms, then neither do I.”
The priest waved a hand. “The boy was at Parsa during Heartfire; that’s all I requested.” He made to sit, and then gave Milo a rueful look. “I’m afraid we’re out of chairs. Do you mind standing, my son?”
“Of course not, serla.” After hanging his weapons belt on an obliging hook as Talon had done, Milo tucked his helmet under his arm and stood in parade-rest beside the door.
“I could have a much larger office at the temple of the One,” Vellis continued as he slipped around behind his desk to sit. “But I prefer being closer to our citizens in need, who often find their way to Mara’s refuge. Besides, have you ever seen the passages beneath the temple? No? Well, the place is a regular rabbit warren. I get lost every time I visit.”
As he spoke, another Circle priest came to the doorway, bearing a tray, a steaming pot, and cups. Once everyone had a cup of tea, the new fellow disappeared as quickly as he’d come.
Talon took a single sip of tea and then cleared her throat. “I know you’re busy, serla. How may we be of assistance?”
“You can guess what we’ve called you here to discuss,” Vellis said to Milo.
The cup felt too delicate for Milo’s hand, as if he’d break it by touch alone. “With respect, didn’t Sergeant Stonewall write a report?”
“Indeed, he did,” Talon said. “And we have all studied it thoroughly. But Serla Vellis requested to meet one of the sentinels present – one of those tasked with guarding the mages.”
Oh, shit. Milo’s stomach plummeted to his knees. This was about his negligence in letting Mage Halcyon get harmed, wasn’t it? He opened his mouth to say he’d been punished, already; he’d been doing his punishment when they’d summoned him, for Tor’s sake! The proof stunk up the room.
“Be easy,” Talon said, more gently than she’d spoken before. “You’re not on trial, Milo. We’re simply seeking clarity on a few points.”
Milo relaxed a tiny bit and sipped the tea to try and collect himself before answering. When he was a little calmer, he related the mission as best he could.
“After I helped the blacksmith with the door, Flint and I started back for Mage Halcyon. We were talking and…” He winced at the memory, still painfully fresh even after almost a fortnight. “Someone screamed. I think it was Mage Halcyon, but it might’ve been the woman she was healing. Flint and I ran over as quick as we could, but by the time we got there, more villagers had surrounded them both. That’s when we realized the villagers had turned into thralls. We managed to stop one of them from slitting Mage Halcyon’s throat, thank Mara, but by then, the woman was… She was dead.”
Vellis exhaled. “And the mage?”
“Mage Halcyon was…” Milo’s heart hammered beneath his gear and he was, for some reason, loathe to speak the next words. “She was unconscious and wounded. Later, we learned that she had tried to use magic to defend herself against the thralls.”
“How?”
Why was it so hard to say this? He wasn’t in trouble and he was telling the truth. “I don’t know, exactly. I don’t understand how magic works. But she did something to that villager, then the woman…died. Just keeled over.” He shuddered at the memory. “We managed to push the thralls back so Sadira could come in. Mage Halcyon was covered in blood. She’s lucky Sadira is such a fine healer.”
“Sadira.” Vellis looked at Talon. “This is the mage who was exiled from Zheem?”
Milo started, for he’d never heard this story. But Talon only nodded. “Aye, but she’s docile. She’s never given me any trouble.”
“Until now, perhaps,” Vellis replied. “What happened next, Milo?”
Stomach in knots, Milo recounted the rest of the gruesome story, all the way through the second thrall attack his squad had faced on Heartfire night. He only faltered when he mentioned Stonewall picking up Mage Halcyon to carry her out of the temple. Stonewall’s relationship with a mage—whatever it was—wasn’t anyone else’s business, and besides, Milo still felt guilty for allowing Halcyon to get injured. Vellis seemed calm, only asking a few clarifying questions here and there as he sipped his tea. Talon’s tea sat untouched on the desk, the rising steam dissipating.
At last, Milo finished his tale. Silence filled the room until Vellis stirred, adjusting his seat. “Thank you, Milo. That was as your sergeant reported the affair. I must ask, though, did you see any evidence that the mages had something to do with the thralls?”
“No, ser. And I’ve fought thralls many times before, and the answer is always the same.”
Vellis nodded. “So we have gathered.”
Milo blinked at him. “So… You don’t think the mages started all this? Most folks believe that.”
“To our detriment,” Talon added.
The Circle priest considered. “The Pillars believe that the lack of response from the Canderi to our entreaties for a diplomatic solution to this crisis indicates that the thralls are connected to our northern neighbors. That, and the fact that the attacks seemed to include mostly Canderi warriors, with a few exceptions.”
“With respect, serla,” Milo said carefully. “The people of Parsa are more than ‘a few.’”
“Not in the larger picture,” Vellis replied.
How to make the priest understand? Milo thought back over all the thralls he’d seen – or even heard of. “About a month before Heartfire, my squad encountered an Aredian soldier who’d been...changed. And before that, my sergeant says he fought another Aredian-turned-thrall.”
Vellis’ mouth formed a sad smile, but his gaze was hard and his hands tightened around his cup. “I remember hearing of the soldier, but the matter was investigated and found to be a misunderstanding. Some problem with the poor fellow’s armor not fitting properly, and causing marks on his skin. Milo, as someone who’s fought the creatures many times, would you not agree that most thralls are Canderi.?”
“Err…” Milo bit his tongue to hopefully prevent another flush. “Well, aside from the poor souls at Parsa, I never really counted, serla. I…suppose so, but–”
“Then it is as the Pillars claim,” Vellis broke in. “Our esteemed leaders are trying to get Queen Solasar to agree. If—when—that occurs, we will surely be at war with the Canderi, and it’s likely that the sentinels will be called upon to an even greater degree.”
War. The word was a drum in Milo’s chest; the sound too large for his body to contain. He glanced at Talon to gauge her reaction, but she only watched the priest.
“To do what, serla?” Milo asked. “Fight the thralls?”
They’d been doing that for what felt like forever, with no luck. Unless… Had Talon told of Mage Halcyon’s hope of curing thralls? He glanced at his commander, but her face remained impassive.
“If the situation comes to war,” Vellis said, “mages are our only real asset against our foes. Magic is a tool, and any tool can be a weapon in the right hands. And who controls the mages?” He laced his fingers over his cup of tea. “Ah, I shouldn’t speak of such matters. Nothing’s set in stone, yet, but options are…under consideration.”
“But it may not have to come to war,” Milo heard himself say. “Serla, one of the mages at Whitewater Bastion thinks she can cure thralls.”
Talon gave him an exasperated look, but Vellis lifted a brow. “An interesting notion, especially since, if mages can cure thralls, it stands to reason they can create thralls as well.”
“I know the mage of whom Milo speaks,” Talon added. “She is not to be trusted.”
Milo blanc
hed. “She’s a healer, ser, like they all are.”
The commander gave him another look, one he recognized too well: pity. He could almost hear her thoughts. Foolish boy, to believe a mage’s lies.
Vellis seemed to feel the same way. “If we had a mage we could trust, it would be an idea worth exploring, but as it stands now, such trust is not possible.”
Trust? Milo fought not to point an accusing finger at the priest. Instead, he pictured Stonewall’s calm, stoic expression, and tried to school his own demeanor to match. “With the utmost respect, serla, the Pillars are considering using mages as…weapons against the Canderi. Between weapons and healers, I know which seems safer.”
The priest’s eyes narrowed at Milo, but his voice was cool. “The Pillars feel that mages are a last resort: a resource we should only exploit in times of dire need.”
Milo gaped at him, all hope of stoicism forgotten. Was this a joke? Was the slaughter at Parsa not dire enough for the Pillars? Talon’s shoulders sank a fraction, but Milo blazed with a fury that would have made Flint proud. “So innocent people should be left to suffer, because the Pillars fear a few more mages will escape their bastions?”
“If that is the One’s will,” Vellis answered. “Commander, remind your underling of his place in the One’s world.”
Talon shot Milo a quelling look. “Be still, Milo. Your part here is done.”
“Yes, ser,” he said as his heart hammered away.
She looked back at the priest. “Of course, we will do whatever we must to help the people of Aredia. But our efforts would be easier if the Circle publicly stated its stance on the mages’ non-involvement with the thralls. Our last hematite shipment might not have been lost if the common folk felt differently about sentinels – and mages.”
“People will believe what they want,” Vellis replied. “But that doesn’t make the truth any less—or any more—than what it is.”
“Of course, serla,” Talon said. “But many of the Parsan victims wore hematite. That alone proves that mages aren’t creating the thralls.”
“Or that hematite is no longer as effective as it once was,” Vellis replied.
Milo thought of Mage Sadira and a blazing campfire, and silently agreed.
“Either way, public knowledge of such a thing would cause bedlam,” the priest went on.
Talon’s voice rose with impatience. “If the Circle would at least acknowledge the fact that mages aren’t involved–”
Vellis held up a hand in a call for silence, and Talon snapped her jaw shut. Milo fought back the urge to stare. He’d never seen anyone treat her like…like she was a subordinate. As a member of the Circle clergy, Iban Vellis had authority over every sentinel in Whitewater Province. By extension, the Pillars—to whom Vellis must answer—could claim that same authority over every sentinel in Aredia.
The knowledge had never bothered Milo before now.
“Milo,” Vellis said. “The commander and I have additional matters to discuss. Please show yourself out.”
Milo looked at his commander before moving. Talon nodded to him. “Wait for me by the fountain. We’ll walk back together.”
He saluted her and Vellis, set his nearly-full teacup down and collected his gear. But when he opened the door, he caught the sound of footsteps pattering down the corridor. Had someone been listening? He considered following, but he’d pushed his luck enough today, so instead he went back to the quartz statue of Mara, thinking to take one last look before he and Talon returned to the garrison.
As he studied the crystal’s inclusions, the soft swish of fabric made him turn. A priestess stood about an arm’s length away, her white and black robe swaying around her legs. Pale spirals, swirls, and other patterns inked her dark-brown skin, and her eyes were swollen and puffy. “You were at Parsa,” she said without preamble.
Milo ducked into a low bow; she was a Cipher, after all. “Aye, serla.”
She swiped her cheeks. “Did you… You saw Cipher Telfair?”
Understanding swelled in his chest, and his words were suitably gentle, though nothing would make this easier to hear. “Yes, serla. She…was a thrall. But she’s at peace, now.”
“I know,” the Cipher said, sniffing. “I said the rites at her pyre. But she was… She was badly injured. Was she… Did she…?” She took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know what I’m asking.”
“Have you ever encountered a thrall, serla?”
The Cipher shook her head.
Milo regarded Mara’s statue again, focusing on the tiny rainbows caught within the crystal. “I pray you never do.” Should he go into more detail? He nearly thought not, then realized how he’d feel if he was searching for answers about Flint, or anyone he cared about. So he related the story of his Heartfire night to the Cipher, who listened in silence. As he had no way of knowing how long it would be before Talon met him, he tried to speak quickly.
“She suffered some,” he said at the end. “But not for very long, thank the One.”
“Thank the One,” the Cipher echoed, though she was weeping again, one hand pressed to her heart. “I’m sure I will, one day.”
To give her some semblance of privacy, Milo looked at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“What is your name, Ser Sentinel?”
He gave another salute, bowing deep. “Milo, serla.”
“Milo. I’m Natanaree.” He guessed her to be in her early twenties. When their eyes met, her gaze upon him softened. “Thank you for telling me,” she said. “I have suffered many sleepless nights since they brought my dear friend’s body back.”
The words escaped Milo before he could stop them. “If I had my way, no one would suffer any longer. Ever.”
“A true devotee of Mara,” Natanaree said, a trace of wry humor in the words, despite the tears on her cheeks. “You’re a credit to your brothers and sisters in service.”
Throat suddenly tight, Milo mumbled a goodbye and slipped out of the temple, his sword heavy and awkward again as he trudged to the fountain.
To his consternation, Serla Natanaree followed. “Have I offended you?”
“No, serla,” he managed. “I’m sorry. I just…” He glanced around; they were alone out here. “Lately, I’ve felt like…like I’m not fit to be a sentinel.”
“Why?”
Milo hesitated. He’d probably already said more than was wise. But once formed, the thought swelled in his chest like a bubble of air breaching the water’s surface. He compromised by withdrawing his sword from its scabbard; not all the way, just enough so that the sunlight caught on the nicks and scratches unique to this weapon, marks that no amount of cleaning would ever scrub away. He had never minded that before Heartfire. Now there were new blemishes: souvenirs of Parsa.
The priestess regarded him before she placed a hand on his sword hilt, pushing it back into the scabbard. “Be patient, Milo. It may not feel like it now, but the One has a plan for you, and for all of us. But we must trust in the One.”
He met her gaze. “I will if you will.”
A small smile touched her mouth. “I’ll try.”
They looked at each other for a moment before she took one of his hands in both of hers. Compared to his broad palms and thick fingers, her hands were delicate as teacups; the inked whorls and flowers only added to the imbalance between them. Her skin was warm and soft in the way of one who had never held a sword.
“If you ever need anything,” she said quietly. “Send word to me.”
Heat coursed through him and he drew his hand back. “Thank you, serla, but I can’t write Aredian. Can’t even read it.”
Sorrow crossed her face, but she pushed it aside and squared her shoulders. “That doesn’t matter. Send word however you are able, and I’ll give what aid I can manage.”
“Tell Serla Iban Vellis to give our mages a chance to cure thralls,” he said, adding, “Please.”
Her brows knitted. “Cure thralls? Is that possible?”
“I know a mage who
thinks so, but Serla Vellis won’t hear of it. Mages aren’t causing thralls,” he added quickly. “A lot of the folks who’ve been turned were wearing hematite, which means mages are innocent. What’s more, if anyone can help thralls—like Telfair—it’s mages.”
He could practically see the gears turning in Natanaree’s head as stared at him. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said at last. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t hold on to hope. Iban has no love of mages.”
“I’ll welcome anything you can do, serla.”
She nodded. “Well, in any case, my initial offer stands.”
Milo frowned at her. “Why bother with me, serla? I’m sure you have better things to do.”
“I do,” she said. “But above all, I am a servant of the One, and therefore of all the One’s children.” When she met his gaze again, her eyes were filled with resolve. “If you need anything I can provide, send word.”
Milo still had his doubts, but it was foolish to turn down aid freely offered—especially from a Cipher—so he bowed once. “I will, serla. Thank you.”
Thirteen
Talon silently counted to five after the door closed behind Milo before she looked back at Iban Vellis. “Forgive me, serla. I didn’t mean to press you, but our need is very great.”
“I’m well aware,” Iban said, sipping his tea again. “But what concerns me is that you would have us publicly praise your sentinels’ ability to control mages, yet your own subordinate speaks of powerful unauthorized magic.”
“Halcyon acted in self-defense when the thrall attacked. Sadira aided her. Would you expect a threatened mage to behave otherwise?” A small part of her found grim amusement in the irony of her defense of Mage Halcyon – the root of only some of her recent troubles.
Iban regarded her. “Aye, so they do. I only hope, for all our sakes, that such reliance does not doom us all.”
“Rest assured,” Talon said. “I will deal with any mages who prove troublesome – as I have always done.”
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