Giren was furious, but the binding held him. “She declared at two years old before the village priestess, may the stars keep her.”
“She’s dead?” Ren asked.
The matron’s eyes widened hopefully.
“No one could contradict us,” she said. “It was just her.”
“Scrolls? Ledgers?” Ren asked.
Giren scoffed. “She was a valley priestess. A nomad, even? We indulged her desire to have us declare early.”
“Good,” Ren said. “Are we agreed?” He needed to press the matron before Maunyn dominated her thoughts. “Just think about how well you will educate your sons once you lift this burden from your house. I hear tuition to Isiltrin and Isilmyr is ten silver talents a year. Not to mention the admission fee.”
That fee was really a bribe, and everyone paid it these days. She nodded slowly. Her mind was a whirlwind, but she was coming around.
Ren sat back to await her decision.
“We will make the exchange at midnight,” she said coolly. “You will hand over the sheets and the silver to our agent in the village.”
“My agent will hand over one third of the debt,” Ren said. “You will deliver the boy to the village mill. Once I see him there, another of my agents will turn over the next third and the silver. When I am certain of… our safety, you will receive the next third. You have my word.”
Ren smiled serenely as she agreed, ring-to-chest. This was convenient, as his shadow power was waning and the illusion fading. He was so close now to making amends. Soon the boy would be in a good house, in a house that needed him more than anything. The goddess dawn was four days away. Glancing at the statue, he promised he’d find a secluded place, strip down, and bear her judgment. He’d bathe in her light and open his putrid little heart to her purging power.
Then he’d leave Vaidolin forever.
He rose and straightened. “May the goddess… and the Voice,” he nodded toward the vase of daisies. “May they favor this house.”
Another little reminder of their lack of devotion couldn’t hurt. He bowed and left, shadows quivering. Only a mile away did he go behind a tree and, shaking, crumple to the ground.
Then he laughed.
“I will save them,” he said. “I will save them all.”
He patted the envelope with the silver-white hair he’d found in the Rilanik. He still had the report to write. That would be his parting gift to his ungrateful master.
“Yes, indeed. I’ll save them all.”
47
The arched trellis was heavy with clusters of nut berries. Many had already fallen, creating a walnut-brown blanket at their feet. Stars peeked through the bunches and browning leaves. Summer’s Lion had given way to the autumn’s Owl.
Balniss listened intently as Taul explained all that had happened since they’d selected the devices in the vault.
Taul was excited, if not nervous about what could happen. If this backfired, Hosmyr would crush his house at the next audience. His mind whirled with possibilities. Vakayne might take them in, if only for the orchard. Such a shift would shake Vaidolin to its roots. Never had a significant orchard, grove, or vineyard changed allegiance.
“Do you see the import, brother?” Taul asked after a long silence. “The Darks, the high matron, Ilor’Hosmyr… and the children. Taking hair? Why? To verify the goddess-light? I saw it all, I tell you. He told me all!”
Balniss paced, tapping at the berries and watching them fall.
“Relax, brother,” he said. “Take your ease. I’m not sure you saw all that. The evidence is weak. Mostly your word against… against a high consort, and a high matron, if it truly goes that far up. You know some folk think Mornae hair has magical qualities. Their bones crushed into powder enlivens…” He paused. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they are trading in such things. It makes perfect sense and costs them nothing—the hair at least—and there are buyers from far and wide at the border camps for anything. Certainly, anything we make.”
“But he told me himself what they do,” Taul said. “He was relieved to share it.”
“Because of the acolyte. He’s imagining all kinds of offenses now. The burden of such a crime… and can you imagine the repercussions? Zauhune makes war on Roturra in the goddess-court for a crime—not even a murder—committed over two cycles ago. If Hosmyr ordered the death of this acolyte…”
“I think it was an accident.”
Balniss shook his head and sighed. “A pitiful loss. So fine a young woman. So promising. The last thing we need as a people is the loss of capable priestesses.”
They exchanged pained looks.
“Capable?” Taul asked. “You mean true?”
It was something men whispered about, though Taul had no reason to doubt the truth of Ryldia’s priesthood. The consort binding was real; he knew it absolutely. The invisible web binding house members to herself also seemed stronger since they’d moved to the valley. Whether she could summon the Dark or call down blue fire, he couldn’t say. With her delicate form and manner, it was unimaginable.
“And why not?” Balniss asked. “I am certain the goddess lies dormant in many, as with us. We could be sorcerers, you and I.”
Taul raised his brows.
“I didn’t say it would be easy, brother,” Balniss said. Was he contemplating advancing in the diviner’s guild? “The practice could cost us our lives. Much as it does that young knight fighting in the court.”
“Either way,” Taul said, undeterred by his brother’s caution. “I can meet this man and receive a child, outside the customs and accords, outside the law.”
Balniss shrugged. “What law? The accords are just agreements. A Mornae has no law but the law of getting what power you can. House above all, remember?”
“You’ve always respected the accords, laws, rules—whatever you want to call them.”
“I respect them. I see their importance. But you implied you could not act outside them, and I merely point out that you can. As Mornae, nothing binds you ultimately except the law of thriving.”
