The Eighth Warden Bk. 02 Ch. 23-24

"Our numbers should be equal for the initial greeting. I brought six with me, so ask Sir Barat and Priest Calwell to join us. I'll write a note for you to take to Priest Leonis, asking him his preference for a time and day."

"Yes, Your Highness."

A few minutes after the manservant had left, there was a quiet knock at the door. With no other servants in the suite, there was no one to answer it.

"Enter!" Rusol called out.

A young man with short blond hair came in, closing the door behind him. He wore the black robe of a priest of Pallisur, less ornate than Priest Calwell's. He didn't speak; he just stared at Rusol as if measuring him.

"Well?" Rusol asked, trying to keep his annoyance in check.

"Your Highness," the man said in a deeper voice than Rusol had expected, "it's good to meet you at last. This is a momentous occasion. It's not often I meet another warden, though I knew the time was coming soon."

Rusol took a step back before he realized it. "Leonis."

The man nodded his head just slightly in acknowledgement. "That is indeed the name I'm currently using. My tenth name, I believe, but I rather like it. And you are Rusol, heir to the throne of Larso."

"I expected to meet in a...more formal environment."

"We can do that later if you wish to keep up appearances, but I thought it best for us to get our own discussion out of the way quickly. To be honest, Fort Northtower is not as I remember it. There are far too many of the unblessed here. They should never have been allowed in the priesthood to begin with, much less to hold such positions of power."

"You've been here before?"

"Of course," Leonis said with a small smile, staring off into the distance. "Many times. I thought this visit would bring back good memories, but it's disturbing to see how far the Order of Pallisur has fallen. It was glorious, once."

"We have problems with the unblessed ourselves," Rusol said, hoping to draw the man out. Leonis didn't appear to know that Marten had been deliberately exacerbating the issue for years.

The priest shook his head and sighed. "A matter I'll have to deal with in the future, I suppose. Now, you don't strike me as the wizardly type, and I watched you in the courtyard. You were wearing metal armor. Elder magic, then?"

Something about the way Leonis spoke reminded Rusol uncomfortably of the First.

"Yes," he replied, readying a spell in his mind. "Is that a problem?"

"One must make allowances, though I never thought the House of Larse would allow witch blood to pollute its line. Still, very soon, that will no longer matter."

"Is that a threat?"

"A threat?" Leonis said with a laugh. "I have no desire to harm my own kin, no matter how distant."

"Kin?"

"Of course. Your man told you I was the high priest of Pallisur, didn't he? Who did you think I was? I may go by Leonis now, but my true name is Torwin Larse."

Rusol's eyes widened in shock. "I don't believe you. King Torwin died nearly sixteen hundred years ago."

"When I became a warden, I stopped aging. People eventually started asking questions, so I thought it best to fake my death and disappear. My eldest boy was well able to carry on the family line. Your family line." Leonis stepped over to the window and looked down at the courtyard. "What you call Larso was all untamed wilderness once, filled with the unenlightened and the uneducated. It was worse than the northern plains, with constant warfare. I chased out the barbarian clans and burned their witches. I built Telfort as a shining beacon to the glory of Pallisur. The people who remained either swore to my banner or were put to the sword. Through war, I brought peace, just as Pallisur decrees." He turned back around, his face shining with triumph.

Rusol knew the history of Larso, but somehow the tales that had seemed glorious in books sounded disturbing coming from this young-looking, fresh-faced zealot who claimed to be the person responsible. Were all of the wardens insane?

Whether Leonis was involved in Rikard's death or not, Rusol was more certain than ever about his plan to kill the man. But first, he needed more information. If Leonis was truly over a thousand years old, he was likely more dangerous than he looked.

Rusol said, "What did you mean about my witch blood no longer mattering?"

"Pallisur sent you to me, my son. You are going to help me change the world."

###

Chapter 24

"Change the world how?" Rusol asked, narrowing his eyes.

"You're a son of Larso," Leonis said. "You know the scripture. Magic is too dangerous to be allowed loose, uncontrolled. It's only safe when it's granted as priestly blessings."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Leonis smiled again. "What if all magic was priestly magic, given only to those the gods deem worthy?"

"That's impossible. The gods have no say over elder or arcane magic." He just barely stopped himself from mentioning demonic magic.

"There would no longer be any elder or arcane magic. All four sources of magic will be merged into one, and controlled by the gods."

Could that really happen? It would have been helpful to have Magnus or Kolvi listening in. Or even Jasper, though the old man only helped when forced to.

"Even if that's true," Rusol said, "why do you think I'd help you give the Church even more power than it already has?"

That was the most direct challenge he'd made to anything Leonis had said, but the man didn't seem to notice.

"No, not the Church—of course not. Not this sad, fallen order it's become. It will be Pallisur himself! He will decide who is worthy."

The man truly was a lunatic.

"And just what are the other gods going to be doing while all this is going on?"

Leonis hesitated, as if confused by the question. "I'm sure they're making their own arrangements. They're not our concern. All that matters now is the ritual. Pallisur told me to wait for this day. There are eight wardens now. Finally enough to cast the spell."

That drew Rusol's interest. "You're going to gather all the wardens together?" It would be easier to kill them if they were all in one place.

"No, no, that's not necessary. We just need enough strength to draw them all in. Besides the two of us, one more might be enough. I've spoken with the First—do you know him? He's considering it, but he's reluctant to travel. We could try gathering together in his dream world and casting the spell that way."

Rusol tensed. If the First were to tell Leonis that Rusol was demonborn, it could ruin everything. "You've talked to the First?"

"Yes, recently—just seven or eight years ago, once I knew all the pieces were finally coming together."

Rusol breathed a sigh of relief. "Does he follow Pallisur as well?" Hopefully the question wouldn't seem out of place. He needed as much information as possible before he made any moves.

"The First isn't a priest; he's trueborn."

"Trueborn?"

"A godborn who's inherited his ancestor's gift for divine magic."

"I didn't know that was possible."

"Yes, it's unfortunate, but it'll be corrected as soon as we complete the ritual."

"What happens after that?"

"We will be raised above all others, blessed with all the power of the four magics. All other mages will have to earn their blessings from the gods."

"We? The wardens?"

Leonis hesitated again. "The ones who participate in the ritual, at least. I'm not sure about the others—the visions are unclear. But it doesn't matter."

"Wouldn't it be wise to wait for more clarity?"

"No—Pallisur told me that this is the time. There are eight wardens now, and you've sought me out. It's all happening just as he predicted. But I don't know if the First will agree, so we should try to find another. I sent messages to Kono and the stoneborn woman, but I haven't received replies yet."

Kono sounded like a seaborn name.

"I don't know the other wardens," Rusol admitted. If Leonis could give him more information about each one, it would be easier for Yassi to track them down.

"I met Kono once, a long time ago. The stoneborn...I've only seen her in the First's dream world. She never told me her name, but the First calls her Three."

"That sounds like it'll take time to arrange," Rusol said. If he could get two or three of the wardens together, maybe he could kill them before they warned the others. He'd have to be careful, though—they were likely to be powerful, and whichever one had killed his brother would be even more wary than the others.

"Weeks or months," Leonis said. "Unless they can find a Traveler."

Rusol nodded. Once they'd assembled, his best bet would be to launch a surprise attack, catching them in between Kolvi and himself. But what if they had defenses against magic? Perhaps poison would be a better choice. He'd have to find one that acted quickly—Leonis might be able to heal a poisoning if it didn't kill immediately.

Would it be better to allow the ritual to happen first? Rusol could already use both elder and demonic magic. What would it be like to wield all four magics? No one would ever dare threaten him again. He'd no longer have to pretend to follow the teachings of Pallisur. He could be himself, and rule Larso without fear.

But no. The more power he allowed the other wardens to gather, the harder his task would be. He'd have to walk a careful line. He'd wait until the time was right, but not so long as to allow the ritual to go forward.

He smiled at Leonis. "We should begin our preparations now. What do you need from me?"

#

Leena dashed tears from her eyes as she trudged down the trail that led to the spot where her extended family camped during the dry season. She'd never made the trip as slowly as she did now, not wanting to know what she was going to find at the end.

It had been four hours since she'd discovered her parents' home in Matihar had burned to the ground—the home where she'd spent her teenage years after her family had moved into the city. The neighbors had been shocked to see her. When she hadn't shown up after the fire, they'd assumed she'd been killed along with the rest of her family.

She'd left town in a daze, not bothering to return to her friends at the bakery. She hadn't even realized she was heading to the encampment until she was halfway there.

Ahead of her came the sound of voices—voices speaking Zidari rather than Sanvari. The camp was still there, at least. She picked up her pace and ran down the slope as it curved around behind a sheltering cliff. The tents she'd known all her life were there, but some were missing.

"Leena! Leena! Leena!" A small streak raced toward her, hugging her midsection tightly. Her brother Udit. He was alive!

Leena fell to her knees, crying even harder as she hugged him back. "Are Mami and Papi here too?" she asked, after composing herself.

Tears came to his eyes, and she knew the answer.

"Leena!" came a shout. "You're alive! We thought they'd gotten you!"

She looked up to find her uncle and former teacher, Rohav. Behind him was Grandmother Aruna.

Aruna leaned over to kiss the top of Leena's head. "Come Udit, let your sister stand up."

Leena got to her feet. "What happened?"

"Men in sand veils," Rohav said. "They came after all the Travelers and their families."

"But there's only you and me!"

"Not just us. Every Zidari camp, every city. Some of the camps were wiped out. Half of the Travelers are dead, as well as anyone else that got in the way. Rima..." Rohav paused to swallow his grief. He'd married Rima two years earlier, after his first wife had died of yellow fever. "Varush, Tovar."

"How did you stop them?" Leena asked. The Zidari weren't a violent people.

"They may have been looking for Travelers, but they didn't like Traveling." Rohav's face was cold and menacing. "Or maybe it was the landing they didn't like."

"What happened to you, Leena?" Aruna asked. "We rushed to the city as soon as Udit warned us, but your parents... We were too late. And then when you never showed up at your apartment or the camp, we thought you must have been killed too. I tried Seeking you, but I found nothing." Aruna had come from a Seeker family, but her own gift wasn't very strong.

"Udit warned you?"

"We think he Traveled."

"But he's only ten!"

Rohav shrugged. "Nobody saw him arrive, and he doesn't remember how he got here. We were still trying to save the injured, and hadn't realized anyone else had been attacked. He told us men blocked the doors and set the house on fire."

The tears welled up again, but Leena forced them back. "Men wearing veils came after me too. Humans, not dwarves or lizardfolk. I thought they were thieves. I couldn't get away from them, so I teleported. I ended up in Larso."

"Larso!" Rohav exclaimed. As a Traveler, he was likely the only other person in the family who'd ever been there and knew how far away it was.

"Why would anyone attack the Zidari?" Leena asked. "The empress protects us!"

"I don't know. We didn't even realize it was the Travelers they'd targeted until we spoke to the other families. Nobody knows who they were. There haven't been any more attacks yet, but some of them got away. They might come back."

"Have the Seekers found them? Or the Seers?"

Aruna scowled. "Something's blocking them. My family found one of the knives in a pile of old weapons in the marketplace, but everything else they've tried has been warded."

"What knives?"

"Each of the men carried a knife with a sigil on it," Rohav explained. "A snake. Kartik! Do you still have the one you took?"

Leena's cousin Kartik ran to his tent, returning with a sheathed blade. He passed it to her, ruffling her hair the same way he had when they'd played together as children. "I'm glad you're safe," he said.

She managed a smile for him, then pulled the knife from its sheathe. It was longer than a belt knife, single-edged but coming to a point, so it could be used for cutting or stabbing. There was nothing special about it other than the symbol of a snake etched into the handle. The man who'd stabbed her had used a knife, too, but she hadn't gotten a good look at it.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"We've asked around but nobody recognizes it."

Leena looked up, taking in the camp around her. Her aunts and uncles, her cousins and second cousins, young and old. They all wore belt knives, and a few had daggers or longer knives. There were old ceremonial spears propped up against some of the tents. Kartik wore a cheap-looking sword on his belt. Leena was certain he didn't know how to use it. Of everyone there, only Rohav was truly capable of defending himself.

The camp wasn't safe.

Those men had killed her parents because of her—because she was a Traveler. Udit was safe for now, but if he was a Traveler, they might come back for him.

The Zidari weren't a violent people, but sometimes exceptions had to be made.

"I declare blood feud," Leena said.

#

"I just heard you haven't made plans to leave tomorrow," Corec said to Sarette and Gregor. "I know we had to give these folks a day to rest, but aren't we running low on supplies?"

Sarette grimaced.

"It's too dangerous," Gregor said. "What if there are more snow beasts coming? Give me a few days to scout the trail first to make sure it's safe."

Boktar had been close enough to overhear, and spoke up. "We're not leaving? I was just out looking over the supplies with the women who've been doing the cooking. We've only got about four days of food left. We need to get back to Jol's Brook as fast as we can. Elmsford, actually, so we can stock up."

"Four days?" Corec had known things were running low, but hadn't realized how bad it had gotten. It would take longer than that to reach civilization. "Why didn't anyone tell us?"

"They were more concerned about getting away from the snow beasts. Today's the first day they had a chance to take stock."

"Shavala's out hunting again."

"Even if she gets a deer, or another elk, it won't change things by that much. We still need to hurry."

Corec nodded, thinking. "Elmsford is eight days away if we're lucky, but people aren't going to move as fast if we put them on half rations. What if some of us run ahead with empty sleds, then meet up with everyone else however far along the trail they've managed to get? You, me, three others."

"We'll have to, I think," Boktar agreed. "We won't make it back to them in four days, but if we leave our armor behind and both groups make good time, maybe we can do better than eight. Shavala and Gregor can stay with the group and continue hunting."

"We have to tell them," Sarette said to Gregor.

He scowled but didn't reply.

"Tell us what?" Corec asked.

Sarette said, "We'll be all right. I just got word this morning—there'll be a relief patrol here in three days. Ten sleds of food and blankets, plus some spare clothing and extra snowshoes."

Corec stared at her. "What are you talking about? Got word from who?"

"We have watchtowers throughout the mountains. I signaled for help the day after the blizzard ended."

"Watchtowers?"

"They keep an eye out for fires or lost travelers, and they can send messages back and forth." She retrieved two small mirrors from her pocket. "I can signal them with these if the sun's out, or a campfire might work in an emergency. There weren't any High Guard soldiers near enough to help with the snow beasts, but the towers found a patrol near one of our mining towns. They stopped there to pick up supplies, and now they're on their way."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

She looked down. "I'm sorry. It's against the law to mention the towers to outsiders. Besides, I wasn't sure until today that it was actually going to arrive. I can only sense the weather two or three days out, and I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up."

Corec frowned. She should have told them, but it all came back to his discussion with Katrin and Shavala over how to organize each person's responsibilities. Sarette and Gregor had handled all the decisions regarding traveling in the mountains. He and Ellerie had both taken a step back, not wanting to interfere with their expertise. But if the group was going to continue traveling together, they'd all have to do better at determining when something was important enough to discuss with everyone.

That discussion could happen later, though, when Gregor wasn't around.

"Then if you're certain the supplies are going to arrive, let's go tell the cooks before they cause a panic," Corec said.

#

Using the writing stick she'd borrowed from Sarette, Ellerie sketched the last of the symbols that had been carved into the side of the building. This one was a stylized image of the sun.

Then she sighed. Did the symbols even mean anything? If they did, the stormborn historians likely had a full record of them already. She was hardly breaking new ground here. The symbols weren't writing—Ellerie was familiar enough with how the Ancients wrote from the books she'd seen. A few of the markings repeated across multiple buildings, but many seemed to be unique. Perhaps they were simply a form of art.

They reminded her of the symbols carved into the wooden buildings in Snow Crown, though those were typically smaller. If that's all they were, though, Sarette had mentioned that it would be difficult for an outsider to interpret them. In Snow Crown, a commonly recognized symbol might indicate a particular type of business, but most were private messages to family and neighbors, representing events like the birth of a child, the death of a loved one, or sometimes simply a design that someone came up with and wanted to show off.

If that were the case here, no matter how many sketches Ellerie made, it was unlikely she'd learn anything new.