His brother had given up that life to live among papers, scrolls, and dusty chambers long forgotten by people who had more practical concerns.
Balniss stuttered. “A girl, Taul. Goddess above.”
Despite all his talk of superstition, Balniss looked utterly disturbed. Even though a girl was not truly sacred until declared and anointed as an acolyte, the words of the old prayers were like a mantra in the head of Mornae men. The flesh of the acolyte is of the goddess. The flesh of any female Mornae. Another law, or rule broken when necessary—or inconvenient. Taul’s skin prickled and tingled like it had in the tunnels where Maunyn killed Ren. Terror threatened to overtake him, and he found no courage in the brandy like Balniss did. He snorted out a held breath.
“It must be done,” he said.
“Do you have any idea how it can be done?” Balniss asked. His voice was low, deflated. He’d lost his courage.
Taul leaned out from the booth and scanned the room. The tavern had grown quiet, and none sat close enough to hear. He swallowed the hard knot in his throat.
“I will go to those that have been doing this for a very long time,” he said.
Balniss scratched his head, the tattoos darkening under his fingers. “Now you play with a wicked fire. That fox will snap off its leg if trapped.”
“I know. But I have a command.”
Balniss downed his shot, eyes crinkling, and exhaled the heat of the drink. Taul let him think. That’s why he valued his brother. All that reading and pondering had to be of use. Balniss leaned over his growing collection of tumblers.
“If you do this, we must prepare,” he said. “You must let them know you back your request with strength. That they can’t bully you.” His eyes drifted up, prayerfully. “Because they will threaten and press you, threaten to take the very stones beneath your house. And they can! Remember that.” His hands rose in supplication. “Oh, to be a valley house with room to maneuver! Here we are beholden to a liege.”
The word liege was like a slap on Taul’s face. The Mornae had come to Vaidolin fifteen cycles ago to be free of such words, to live beholden only to their bloodlines, represented by their matron.
Indignation sprouted in him. “No one must know what they are up to,” he said. “The other high houses. How Hosmyr is surviving, I mean.”
He’d never thought himself rebellious, but Hosmyr, the name he so loved and respected, had pushed him to it. He felt ashamed now for holding it in such high regard.
“Neither do we. Not really,” Balniss said.
“You can find out though, can’t you? You have sources among the diviners?”
Balniss exhaled deeply, pushing back from the table and his drink. “Maybe. I can’t just ask questions about a high house. Not those kinds of questions.”
“Do what you can.”
Balniss’s eyes rolled up, already thinking of whom to ask. He was always strategizing. A wave of relief washed over Taul. It was good to have an ally.
“I think you ought to write a testament in the temple,” Balniss said. “It’s a sacred trust. No one would dare reveal it.”
“Another superstition?” Taul asked, grinning.
Balniss shrugged. “No one would know its importance until it was unsealed. If something should happen to you or Lor’Toshtolin, if Maunyn is the thing you describe, then you should have leverage. Only if needed.”
“And this voravin thing… will you look into that?”
Balniss frowned. “It’s a legend, an aspiration only. Everyone wants to claim a legendary bloodline. What use is it?”
“I think it will comfort Ryldia. You could look in the records for any sign of one?”
“I could.”
Balniss didn’t look enthused, but it would give him an excuse to visit the temple library and the archives of the other high houses.
“Carefully, though,” Taul said. “I have the feeling this city, all the crater, is a layered web of opposing forces. And we can’t know whence the spider comes.”
“The one you need to worry about is the prime consort. I fear he will come at you—in the darkness—when you least expect. And you are no warrior.”
Taul rubbed his chin and tugged on the silver tuft. He knew it, and hid his terror well. “There is one thing I have which he must respect,” he said.
“I wouldn’t trust that. Traditions fall away.”
“I am still the prime consort of a matron of Ilor’Hosmyr’s line.”
Balniss looked at him with a touch of pity. “Be careful, Taul. Go quickly to have the testament made.”
“Shouldn’t you come with me to have it written properly?”
Balniss hesitated, so unlike him. “No, you go. I will work on these other things. I’d rather not show my face in Daushalan’s temple.”
“As you wish.”
A chill rushed through the tavern. It was already night, and the patrons had returned to their work. The brothers parted in silence, with determined faces.
Three days later, they met again in the steward’s office of the valley estate. The fieldhands were out working. His fingers tingled with the desire to work alongside them. Already, he felt like a new man.
“There is a pattern here, then?” Taul asked, looking over the documents his brother had brought him.
