“What does this mean for our project?” Julissa asked.
Gishna smiled at her. Oh, my girl! Yes, you are ready. Back to the important matter.
“It means we will be open to any advance from Vakayne or its bloodhouses, but with eyes wide open, my dear. We must protect our own. The day may come when we flee out the east gate to the safety of our ancient heritage like that unruly house… Lor’Toshtolin.”
Julissa patted her hand. “They are not so unruly, mother. They’ve cared for Zeldra for all these cycles. Surely there is old magic in them to maintain it.”
“Yes,” Gishna said pensively. “Old magic.”
“What did I say?” Julissa asked.
“Has the seer gained your confidence?”
Julissa blushed.
Gishna wagged a crooked finger at her. “Control that, my dear. There is something unnervingly charming about their kind, isn’t there? I don’t know what it is. He’s nothing to look at.”
“It’s the power,” Julissa confessed. “When I’m around him, I crave to know what he knows.”
“To abandon your duty and go beyond this world.”
Julissa gulped.
“Don’t worry,” Gishna said. “You’re not the first to feel it. You won’t be the last. Prepare yourself before collaborating with him. Remember, you are the master, and he is the tool. I want you to let him think you are his pupil. Understand the script he uses. Pilfer his notes, set your diviners to work on deciphering it. We have resources beyond Mornae lands.”
“Why doesn’t he just tell you?” Julissa asked.
“Like a matron, he keeps his secrets. Better than a matron, I think. They are of a different origin, daughter. Always remember that. Their power sits on a different axis… neither moon nor stars… something deeper and darker.”
“What power?”
Gishna felt a terrible craving. “Death. Death, my girl.”
The room chilled.
“And life,” Julissa said.
Gishna swallowed and nodded, trapped in a mental web.
“Yes, yes, of course,” she said. “Life, too. They are masters of that as well.”
“We’ll redirect the project, mother. We’ll find another remedy for what ails us. We don’t need Vakayne. We didn’t before, did we?”
Gishna shook her head. Julissa was right.
“Quite right,” she said. “Our ancestors entered that valley alone, and it’s their blood flowing in those trees… not Savra’s.”
“Should we be giving away our land, mother? Even if we are getting valuable bloodlines for them?”
“Yes, the trades are a problem. A sign of my desperation. Happily, those recent properties have found their way back to Hosmyr houses.”
“We have three outstanding requests. Should we cancel them?”
Gishna considered for a moment. “No, proceed with the trades. We need more remedies at our disposal. And this contact has value.”
“You suspect the Naukvyrae are behind it?”
Gishna turned to her daughter, amazed at how easily she uttered the name.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”
“Then we proceed as before,” Julissa said. “There are two others the seer mentioned. I’ll arrange those as well. They will bear fruit in two or three years.”
Gishna nodded. Her daughter was becoming a matron before her blinded eyes. She peered out her left eye through a tiny speck of vision. Julissa will need to be enough. Even so, she prayed: Goddess above, give me one more day.
51
Days later, as his matron’s command burrowed into his every moment, Taul met Balniss at the tavern near the scriptorium, where his brother earned his keep as a notary.
There were only six public notaries in all Halkamas with goddess-light sigils, and only thirty in all Vaidolin. They commanded blue fire, a miniscule amount, to scorch parchment with their unique mark. They functioned as witnesses to important acts. While it may have seemed logical to form a guild, they’d not. Diviners knew the danger of organizing themselves. The high council could misconstrue it as an attack on the Fifth Accord. It had happened before.
It was a quiet tavern situated just off the east road near the Hall of Blossoms, the courtyard of Ilor’Hosmyr citadel. Scholars, scribes, seamstresses, tailors, and weavers from nearby shops filled its booths. It was a quiet place for quiet people.
They sat at the rear of the establishment, removed from the other patrons, and sipped hard apple cider laced with spices. Taul swished the liquid in his mouth before swallowing. The apples were from Lor’Sutaer’s orchard. It was near Zeldra, but young. He’d thought it healthy, but as the cider swirled in his mouth, he sensed it lacked something. The other patrons wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t the taste, it was fine in that regard, but Mornae didn’t drink merely for taste or the alcoholic effect. It was the goddess-power they sought. The alcohol just helped preserve the liquid. Sutaer’s orchard was rotting, its effect waning despite the cider’s bite. Taul motioned to the serving boy for something stouter.
“It will please you to know that Pemzen has no mental defect,” Balniss said. “I’d say he was far ahead for his age. He knows glyphs, even obscure ones, and numbers. He’ll be keeping your books by five.”
He chuckled at his own joke and downed the brandy as soon as the waiter set it down and asked for another round.
