Spirits of Light and Shadow (The Gods of Talmor) (9 page)

“Yes, Sen.” Lettoria bowed her head submissively.

“Still, the talk on the streets worries me,” Rhikar said.

“What talk?” Octavia asked.

“That one of the legislators was poisoned by a Kilovian
witch
.” Lettoria used the Talmoran slur, not even masking the glee in her voice.

Octavia blanched. “A senator?” Surely not. Dow had said the victim had been a powerful man, yes, but a senator? She never would have involved herself with that circle. Korbin didn’t seem like a senator’s son, but then, he was a bastard. Talmoran men took upon themselves the right to disown their sons, even though doing so went against the natural order of the One. A human being can’t disown blood any more than the earth can disown sunshine. Talmorans had funny ideas.

“You didn’t know?” Lettoria asked, her tone betraying her incredulity. “I’m surprised, considering your
reputation
.” She couldn’t have sounded more derisive of either Octavia or the esteemed way in which the community regarded her.

“Is a victim’s position now related to the magic wielded against him?” Octavia snapped.

“It certainly speaks to the quality of his enemies.” The corner of Lettoria’s mouth turned up in an unpleasant smile.

“That’s enough,” Rhikar said. “Lettoria, thank you for bringing this news. I need to speak with Octavia alone about her next steps.”

Next steps?
Octavia fought not to shudder. Who had she gotten mixed up with? She needed to find out what the rumors were, but she wouldn’t give Lettoria the satisfaction of asking. Silently, she thanked her mentor for sending Lettoria away.

“Of course, Sen,” Lettoria said. “Do you have further instruction for me in these dark times?”

Anger flashed in Octavia’s chest.
Dark times?
That was a bit overstated. This wasn’t wartime Kilovia.
Those
had been dark times.

“Just keep listening.” He opened his mouth as though to say more, but instead he shook his head. While he escorted the other conduit to the door, Octavia stretched her neck, trying to break the tension in her body. She didn’t like Lettoria, but she had never seen the other woman so aggressive.

The two voices filtered from down the hall, but Octavia couldn’t make out the hushed sounds. When Rhikar returned, his brow was knitted into a frown.

“How bad is it?” Octavia asked.

“Did you get paid when you finished the breaking ritual?”

She fetched her coin purse. “Half. The other half when they see evidence of recovery,” she said as she counted out Rhikar’s share. This split payment was the usual arrangement, and rarely would a seeker not pay the full amount. If she did get cheated, it was nearly always by a Talmoran, another reason she preferred working with her own people. Still, Talmorans desperate enough to reach out were unlikely to refuse to pay, for fear she would cast a spell to compound whatever problem had sent them to her in the first place.

“That’s a substantial sum,” he said. When she finished counting the coins, he watched her thoughtfully before saying, “Keep it.”

“What?” Octavia blinked. The contribution of one-tenth to one’s mentor was a tradition as old as those who channeled the One.

“You are no longer my student,” he said.

The words shocked her, and she sat back, her mouth agape. “What have I done wrong? I consulted you at every step. I followed the code.”

“What have you done?” He looked at her pityingly. “You have successfully performed magic that would have challenge even me. When I saw those poppets, I knew this would be your final test. It’s time.”

“But, Sen, I’m too young.” If he released her, she could take on students of her own. She might even move to another area to broaden her web of influence.

“Does the number of your days determine your talent, child?” His rebuke was gentle.

“No. Of course not. I’m just stunned.”

“I hadn’t planned to send you so soon, but the signs are there. You should take your earnings and go.”

“Where?” She hadn’t expected this.

“There’s always need at the capitol,” Rhikar said.

“Under Betram?” She’d met the senior conduit a long time past, but didn’t know him.

Rhikar shrugged. “Durjin is an immense place. I’m sure you can work out something with him. He’s aging as fast as any of us, and he has no students as promising as you. Your talents are extraordinary. You shouldn’t underestimate them.”

Octavia bowed her head out of habit, even though now, technically, she and Rhikar were of equivalent status. That would take some getting used to. Would she then be Betram’s equal as well? She supposed so, but would the man allow her to set up a practice in his city without a word of protest?

She felt shaky, unready. “What really happened today?” She wouldn’t ordinarily question him so closely, but he’d dismissed her as his student. He could now only make suggestions, not issue commands. “Is this about what Lettoria heard, or is there more?”

Rhikar looked as though he had to stop himself from rebuking her bold question. He might also need time to grow accustomed to a new relationship: that of colleagues. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “There is more. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Lettoria. Not yet. But I heard a rumor. Dul Graiphen Ulbrich has disappeared.”

“What?” She didn’t keep much track of politics, but everyone in Talmor knew that name, that face. She frowned, thinking of Korbin. Could he really be the son of the most powerful man in Talmor’s second-largest city? As far as she knew, Dul Graiphen had no bastards. That didn’t mean much. Talmorans had strange morals and habits. And who was this Dow person? Was he also a Dul? He certainly hadn’t been the merchant he pretended to be, but she figured him for a minor lord. On the other hand, compared to Dul Graiphen, every lord was a minor lord.

“What do you know of this?” Rhikar asked.

“Nothing,” she said in a rush. “I swear to you. Nothing.” Was this a coincidence? Perhaps Graiphen was not the victim of the curse she’d broken. Politics was full of intrigue and deceit. She didn’t want to be rushed out of town, severed prematurely from her mentor without being certain of the cause. “What else have you heard? Could these events not be unrelated?”

“The rumors are restricted to the whispers of servants so far. Nothing official has been announced.”

“No,” she said softly. “They wouldn’t unless they had to.”

“Still, I think it would be wise for you to lie low. If Dul Graiphen was the victim of the curse you unravelled, you may come to the attention of the conduit who bound him in the first place. I would strongly suggest either departing immediately or, at the very least, fortifying your defenses.”

Octavia sat for a moment, weighing the options. “I’m not running away.”

“I could bar you from practicing in the city,” he said.

She cast him a level stare. Was he really so afraid that he would force her to leave?

“Octavia,” he said gently, “You have been like a daughter to me. I do not wish you to come to harm.”

The words astonished her as much as they warmed her heart. Rhikar was not a sentimental man. If he said he thought of her as a daughter, he meant it literally. She took his bony hand and squeezed it. He blinked at the unexpected show of affection, but his surprise softened into a smile.

“I’m not running until I’m sure I have something to run from. These are only rumors. The incidents may not be related. And,” she said, “I’m not convinced I’m ready to move on. I still have much to learn.” She set the coins on the table, exactly ten percent of what she’d been paid.

With a resigned sigh, Rhikar nodded. He glanced away as though the sight of the money pained him. “Be careful,” he said.

“Always.”

Chapter 7

Dul Tarsten pled with the other members of Vol’s Council of Eight, avoiding Eliam’s eyes. “Of course I tried to talk sense into him, but there was little I could say. He insisted on going to the temple at once. He feared for his life.”

The remaining five members muttered.

“Naturally.” Dul Ursin’s long, thin face stretched into a pained grimace. “And who are we to thwart the will of our highest member or deny him the refuge of the Spirits?”

“Precisely,” Tarsten said. “I should reiterate that I have no formal evidence against his son. I believe the issuance of the warrant was premature.”

“Agreed,” Eliam said. “Although the Council of Eight has a right to do such a thing, I’m disturbed that I wasn’t consulted before the order was issued.”

Ursin spread his bony hands in a placating gesture. “Time was of the essence. All we want is to talk to the boy. But he must be prevented from going underground again. He’s been hiding nearly two years.”

Eliam fought a yawn. Dawn was still two hours away, and he had been summoned here at a most unreasonable hour. He did wonder why Tarsten had gone to Dul Graiphen’s home so late. Why had the elder Dul begged Tarsten to take him to the temple, and why had the temple issued this remarkable statement? Tarsten was either lying or obscuring the truth, but Eliam couldn’t yet determine where the falsehood lay.

He let his gaze wander the page in front of him. Written in an elegant script was the temple’s demand: arrest the witch responsible for Graiphen’s
condition
.

During the first hour of the meeting, the rest of the Council questioned Tarsten and him about what, precisely, Graiphen’s
condition
was. To his credit, Tarsten thought well on his feet, and gave reasonable explanations for everything, including the events of the previous evening. He expressed surprise at the mention of black magic, however.

Ursin tapped his copy of the letter demanding they gather immediately. Although no member would confess to being comfortable with what was tantamount to marching orders from one of the temples, none wanted to be the only senator who didn’t appear.

“This seems to indicate that you,” he said, indicating both Tarsten and Eliam, “were well aware of the accusations of black magic. There were questionable items found at the Dul’s home?”

Tarsten shrugged. “One of the servants did bring some items to our attention, but honestly, senators, who among us would believe such a ridiculous fancy? Black magic?” He scoffed. “There is no such thing. There is only the power of the Spirits and nothing more.”

Eliam nodded gravely, hiding his admiration. Tarsten had made a shrewd move. No one would dare admit the foreign religion had any real power, but none wanted to argue with the assertions made by Braetin’s servants, either. Eliam did wonder why the temple had sent the letter in the first place, and why, of all times, they would do so in the middle of the night when any decent person would be sleeping.

Ursin glanced at the other members as though gauging their reaction. Ivarly nodded at Tarsten’s assertions. Blackwater merely shifted. He’d never been a supporter of Graiphen or Tarsten, so his lack of response was no surprise. Junis had a noncommittal expression, and Seba seemed to weigh everyone’s words carefully.

“What happened to these items?” Ursin asked. “Perhaps we should see them and decide for ourselves. Really, Tarsten, you might have informed the Council immediately.”

“It pained me not to, my friend.” Tarsten’s expression conveyed deep regret. “Dul Graiphen swore me to secrecy. I realize now I should have, of course, but I hoped he would recover quickly.”

Dangerous
, Eliam thought. This story would only hold as long as Dul Graiphen was not there to challenge it. However, everyone knew of Tarsten’s support for Graiphen. Who would dare accuse him of any wrongdoing where the elder Dul was concerned? Still, the account disturbed Eliam. Too many things didn’t fit.

“And the items?” Ursin repeated.

“Destroyed,” Tarsten said. “Despite what the foreign cultists might claim of their power, we of Talmor know better.”

“What of the demands of Braetin’s servants?” another of the Eight demanded.

“Surely the arrest of Korbin and the witch Octavia satisfy their request?” Tarsten said, glancing to Eliam for support.

Seba indicated the paper. “What I find curious is that there’s no mention of how the temple came to accuse these two in particular. Until today, I believed the boy to be in the far reaches of the empire.”

“I’d like to know that, too,” Eliam said.

“It seems a member of Graiphen’s household claimed Korbin visited there recently,” Tarsten said carefully. “They also gave the name of the witch, whom they must have overheard him naming.”

Eliam shifted uncomfortably. Regret filled him. He should speak the truth.
Forgive me, Korbin.

Ursin glanced at Eliam and Tarsten in turn. “Even if we could be certain this particular witch is the one responsible, does it not disturb you to know that black magic has been practiced in your own constituency?”

“We still have not seen proof this is what occurred,” Eliam said, refusing to meet Tarsten’s glare. “Braetin’s servants assert this as fact, but there are eight temples. The senate must maintain its independence. We must wait for proof and not be seen to align with one faction.” The room went still. Perhaps calling leadership of the most powerful temple a
faction
hadn’t been wise. “I’m saying we shouldn’t focus too tightly until the truth is certain. The temple may be reacting to pressure from Dul Graiphen, and he, by their admission, is not of the soundest mind.”

Ursin frowned. “What are you suggesting? That we round up all the Kilovian practitioners in the city? Question them about their involvement and demand answers as to the practices of their cult?”

When a flurry of agreement went around the room, Eliam knew he’d trapped himself. “But of course, that would bring unrest to the immigrant community,” he cautioned.

“What of the unrest in the citizenry?” Blackwater asked.

Tarsten nodded. “We agree, senators. We cannot allow any harm to come to the citizens of Vol from the foreign witches. We have been accommodating of their ways, but they have attacked the seat of our power. This can’t go unanswered.”

“I suggest the orders go out at once, then,” Seba said. “We must get answers for the citizens of Talmor to assure them their legislators as well as their sacred temples will protect them from harm.”