“So that is a law.”
“It is a law of nature. Our nature. To strive, to fall, to fail, to thrive,” he said, quoting the motto engraved over the gates of Isilayne.
“To die as well. Isn’t that implied?”
“And be reborn again. However you choose to see it, there is a hierarchy of natural laws, laws which govern the Mornae in the same way nature hems in the crow and beetle and yak. Yet our laws are different because unlike the yak, we can see when we cross the barriers, when we press the edge of our nature. And lo, we become something more.”
Taul shook his head. “So, I can take the child without guilt, without concern for the goddess’s wrath?”
“Who said anything about guilt? As for the goddess’s wrath.” He scoffed and batted away the thought with a lazy hand. “What are your highest obligations? Work back from those. Fulfill those, and everything else will fall into place.”
“My consort,” Taul said softly.
Balniss smiled. “It is the deepest part of you now. It is one part of your path of perfection.”
“And the others?”
Balniss stared at him. “For you? The orchard.”
“Not the spear?”
Balniss shook his head. “Not every path can be equally strong. There is a hierarchy.”
“I should make the trade?”
“If he’s already done the deed, the boy is houseless now. You can’t allow him to remain in that state. That would be another injustice. What are you paying?”
Taul shook his head. “Nothing at all. He says he must make amends. How is it amends to take someone else’s child?”
Balniss glanced upward, hands open to the sky. “The goddess knows.”
Taul chuckled nervously and only laughed when Balniss did. It was a common Mornae saying when one wanted to act against custom or tradition.
“Do what you must, brother,” Balniss said with a chuckle. “Strive mightily! The goddess favors those who do.” He tapped a bunch of berries and watched the ripe ones fall.
When the amusement died down, Taul asked, “What do you make of the Naukvyrae?” He didn’t lower his face at the mention of the secret society. He mentioned it without fear, as if the Naukvyrae were a children’s story and meant nothing.
Balniss frowned. “The Naukvyrae? In Hosmyr territory.”
“They are real, then?”
“Of course they’re real.”
“I thought perhaps it was another part of Maunyn’s ruse to place the blame elsewhere or frighten the low born. Or both.”
“You’re certain the rogue said he left their symbols behind?”
Taul tapped fingers to his right shoulder as if swearing to the goddess. He pulled it down, almost blushing. It was hard, though. The need to adhere to the so-called rules, their many rituals, was strong in him, and he had a tough time thinking otherwise.
“Perhaps you could look into it all?” he asked. “The rogue’s story suggests a pattern… perhaps throughout Vaidolin. There must be records or threads you can follow.”
“To what end?”
“The truth, brother. The truth of what is happening. Don’t you want to know why they are doing it and at such a scale?”
“And what of it? Now that you mean to do it, you’ll be a party to it. The only benefit I see is that you might gain leverage against Maunyn and the high matron.” Balniss’s brow arched, impressed with his younger brother. “I see.”
Taul grinned. “Thrive, brother. Thrive.”
“I guess I can contact some friendly diviners.”
“Discreetly.”
“You mean to go through with it?”
Taul grasped his knees and exhaled loudly. “Yes. It may be my only chance. While this man is so eager. Everything may change now. And as you said, if he’s done the deed, I must do right by the boy.”
“They seek for the acolyte’s killer day and night, even with Kiseyl hounds.”
Taul nodded. “That’s why it must be soon.”
“Nothing good comes of rushing. Even blessed Savra took a hundred years to set her mind to coming here.”
“I don’t have her time. I only have mine.”
Balniss nodded.
Taul leaned back, thrilled and excited. “And you’ll teach him, won’t you?”
