The Satiation of Power (The Chronicles of the Star Calendar Volume: II)

By Timothy Brommer

There comes a time in the history of all peoples, when events move with irresistible momentum. Nations clash. The innocent perish. Faith is questioned.

With the unwanted eyes of the Holy Tower fixed on Cheltabria, Heretic Priest Orius Candell hurries to forge the alliances needed to claim his birthright. While his father, Rodrigo Mendio, struggles against the tumultuous politics of Iningia and his contentious Royal Family. And with a death sentence looming, abandoned Tarik Torenyo must chose his fate.

Old secrets, seldom remembered or long forgotten, have reemerged to haunt those who buried them. They have returned when least expected, and during a time of great strife and conflict. The continent of Iningia stands on the brink of change, and Orius Candell wields the power to save the future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timothy Brommer
• Release date: Nov 23, 2011

Timothy Brommer

Author of Speculative Fiction Novels. My first novel THE HERETIC OF THE NORTH was published in 2004 by Runestone Hill. I re-released it as a self-published ebook version, along with my newer novels. Why do I write? Simple. I want to tell a tale that gives my readers the same satisfaction I get out of reading. If I satisfy you, then I have done my job. You can contact me at [e-mail]

Book preview

Prologue

Back on 17 Janoban, 229 A.G.S.

Weak moonlight lit the end of the sewer. The metal locking lever screeched as Sir Klas slid it through the eyeloop and rusty rings bolted into the ceiling.

They had to have heard that, he complained in Tradespeak.

He grunted, giving it a quick final pull, and Sir Roano hastily caught the metal locking bar before it struck the sewer’s dank stone floor. Together, the Knights of Ilyas carefully descended the sewer’s sloping outflow, the bottoms of their white surcoats floated on the stinking, thigh-deep water. They lifted the bottom of the square iron grate from the water, the corroded hinges wailed loudly. Klas propped it open with the metal bar, the end of which looped around the bottom of the dripping grate like a pivot. The Gudor River flowed by quietly outside.

Holiness, Sir Klas said. Roano is the better swimmer.

Find a boat. Serophia sat in the darkness up the sewer tunnel, a short distance away. Beside her sat the Sphere, wrapped in tent canvas attached to wooden poles. How long will we last on the run?

Outside the sewer, darkness enveloped the Gudor Valley. They had spent long, tense hours waiting there for sunset, amid the ever-present stench of offal and mildew. Rats scurried in and out of the river, swimming between the grate’s iron bars. In the dank darkness, Serophia silently prayed again for Rodrigo Mendio’s soldiers not to find them.

As the High Priestess of Golandar, she determined that, in the event of her capture, she would not grovel, nor show fear to her enemy. But she realized that hiding in a filthy sewer shocked her more than she would ever admit. She was used to being in total control of her life, but now she felt like a frightened fugitive.

Sir Roano, a young Azari Knight of Ilyas, slipped out of his surcoat and black woolen shirt beneath and removed his boots and stockings. He handed his belt and sword to Klas, but tucked his sheathed dirk in his trousers near the small of his back. Slowly, he slid out of the sewer, looked upstream to his left, and above him to where the city’s wall loomed. He then swam to the right along the wall’s submerged base.

Old Sir Klas grunted as he lowered the grate. Ghyo, guide my young brother knight through the darkness.

Serophia pulled back the canvas covering the crystal Sphere. Sir Klas, hold up the canvas to block the view of anyone looking into the sewer. She decided to take a risk. The noisy grate was definitely not favoring her side, and she felt an opportunity slip past her. The knight carried out her command.

She knelt facing Sir Klas, with her arms outstretched to either side of the Sphere, and allowed the Gift to flow from her chest, down her arms, to where it radiated from her palms in an amber light. The old knight’s eyes widened when a bluish-white light came to life within the center of the Sphere. As it intensified, a white mist swirled around and through the light. Within moments, the mist cleared and a female face became visible.

Sister Serophia, what need compels the use of the Sphere? a priestess on the other side of the link asked in a curt tone.

I must speak with the Holy Legate. Get him, she answered. She dares presume frivolous use of the Sphere?

The priestess bowed her head. High Priest Gaetan isn’t within the Holy Tower this evening. I have tonight’s watch.

Serophia flared her nostrils in frustration. Rodrigo Mendio has raised his hand against the Church. He seized the temple in Golandar. I am in hiding, though I have the Sphere in my possession, but I have not escaped the city. Find Brother Gaetan and tell him what has happened. I need his help to escape from Soriazar. Instruct him, no, inform him that I will contact him when it is safe to do so.

Yes - the priestess answered, but Serophia dropped her arms and cut her off. The light within the Sphere winked out. Rodrigo, should I survive this, our dealings are far from over. I’ll not rest until you’re off the throne.

She rose, but kept her right hand glowing with the amber light. Sir Klas, you have witnessed something you may never speak of. Swear now, on Pain of Death, that you will keep your silence.

I understand, Holiness. I swear. The creases alongside his aging mouth and eyes deepened. They emphasized his conviction to honor his oath.

"This is His greatest treasure. It has value beyond compare. You will kill anyone, or destroy it, rather than let it fall into Temporal hands." Ghyo forgive me if it comes to that, for Gaetan will not.

An hour passed before Roano returned with a small boat - containing a dead body. Klas help me.

Groaning, Klas muscled open the grate. Did you have to kill him?

The knights pulled the dead body from the boat and carried the man up the slope into the sewer. The deceased’s body reeked of sour wine.

I’ll pay penance for this violence, Roano said, but this drunk cried out and tried to run when I approached him. I knifed him in the back.

At least you had the sense to lay him face down so he didn’t bleed all over the boat, Klas said.

Your penance can wait, Serophia interrupted them. Ghyo has a way of understanding such things. Put the Sphere in the boat.

The knights struggled to lift the Sphere above their shoulders to keep it out of the water. The river bottom dropped off sharply just outside the grate.

Is the City Guard patrolling the wall tonight? Klas whispered.

Not that I could see, but Eo’s Stillborn Son is still low in the eastern sky, so I kept close to the wall in the shadows.

Klas knelt in the dirty water as he pulled the boat closer to the sewer grate. Holiness, sit on my shoulder, and I’ll help you into the boat.

Roano crawled inside the sewer and picked up his dark shirt. Holiness, please put this on over your vestments. It will hide the white of your gown while we’re in the boat. He handed it to her and put on his boots. Klas removed his surcoat.

Serophia cursed Rodrigo as she pulled the wet shirt over her already dirty gown. Dust from when she triggered the ceiling in the library to collapse covered the gown’s delicate white silk. She had almost waited too long to trigger the trap. Two Trackers nearly made it across the room before the stones crushed them.

Sir Klas helped her into the boat, while Roano kept it from rolling over. Then the knights closed the grate and scrambled in after her.

We should go directly across at this point, Roano whispered. We have to pass by the docks and waterfront if we go downstream. There are many people out tonight, more than usual. I could hear angry arguments, some in favor of the king’s violence against the temple and others against it. It’s Ghyo’s will that they paid me no notice.

Go, Serophia commanded.

Less than halfway across the river, the little boat glided out of the moon shadow cast by the city’s walls. The sounds of Golandar’s vibrant nightlife drifted across the water to them. Crowds of Azaris milled about in the lantern light of the whitewashed bars and brothels along the riverfront outside the walls, but the farmland on the river’s opposite bank lay dark and quiet. A pale half-moon hung just above the Alcazar’s high, steep cliffs.

Roano and Klas turned the boat downstream before they reached the western bank and followed the current as it flowed north. The city’s noises and smells gradually faded behind them.

We will continue until we reach Ceya, Serophia said. There is a church there. We need to be off the river and in hiding by sunrise. Being outside the city only gave her a little relief. Its fifteen miles to Ceya.

She looked over her shoulder. Torchlight wreathed Golandar’s closed northern gate. The gates are never closed. The Trackers and the City Guard must be tearing Golandar apart in search of me.

The oars’ hypnotic swishing though the water soon lulled her into drowsiness, and the day’s stress caught up with her as the night’s peacefulness sapped her strength. As they paddled, Klas and Roano’s deep, muffled breathing gave her a constant sense of comfort and protection, though hunger twinged at her stomach. It soon became difficult to keep her head from bobbing. She knew danger lay not far off, but the warm summer night wrapped around her like a soft blanket and beckoned her to shut her eyes. Then her feet turned cold.

Blessed Ilyas, we are sinking. The bottom of the boat had filled up with water to her ankles.

From behind, Klas tapped her on the shoulder with a hard object. Holiness, take this and bail.

Anger seethed within her and she curled her upper lip. Serophia turned and saw Klas held a small wooden pail. Manual labor is beneath me.

Please Holiness, he said. We can’t slow down. The two of us have to row.

Serophia huffed and grabbed the pail, but without another word, she bailed water from the boat – for three hours.

We’re here, Sir Klas said.

Serophia straightened her cramped fingers and dropped the pail. It made a splash as it hit the water pooling in the bottom of the boat. She massaged her aching shoulders.

The tired knights grounded the boat in a patch of reeds outside the village of Ceya. The three of them disembarked, but as Sir Klas set Serophia down on the riverbank, gooey mud sucked in her shoe up to her ankle. She fought the urge to cry out in anger as the mud released her foot, but kept her silk-covered shoe. In despair, she plopped down on the riverbank, and the dampness of the ground soaked through her dress and underclothes, chilling her backside and dirtying the palms of her hands. Tears of frustration welled up, but she used her anger to keep them from spilling down her cheeks. I grew up poor on a Fringian farm. I can deal with this.

She sent Sir Klas into Ceya to awaken the Church Prior. After he left, she made Roano swear to the oath she had given Klas.

Almost an hour passed, when Sir Roano heard movement and voices along the riverbank and drew his sword. Curse our clumsiness. We should’ve set a password before he left.

Don’t fail me, sirs. You’re the only knights I have left to guard me. Our danger will only increase with each day. There is no room for mistakes.

Roano, a quiet voice called out. I’m coming in. Two figures slid down the gentle, muddy embankment. One of them wore nightclothes.

Brother Knight, I should be in my vestments. I’ll report your behavior to the High… The prior’s gasp cut off his voice as Serophia stood up amongst the reeds.

There is no need, Father Ortzi. Your complaints will end with me, she said.

Merciful Creator, what’s happened? Why does Her Holiness slink about in the reeds at this hour? He turned his head towards the stars. What sins have been committed?

Do you know what has happened in Golandar? Serophia asked.

Just visible in the waning moonlight, Father Ortzi’s face reflected his confusion. No, Holiness. No news has reached our village.

It will by sunrise, Father. Her reply was cold, hiding her amazement that news of the raid had not reached the village. We require refuge in your church and a meal. No one must know we are here.

Of course, Mother. I’m yours to command.

Sir Roano, Klas, gather our things.

The knights lifted the heavy Sphere from the boat and propped the poles on their shoulders.

What have you there? Very strange. Father Ortzi hardly contained his curiosity.

You will ignore it, Serophia said. I will explain everything after we have gotten indoors.

Forgive me, Mother, Father Ortzi said as they began their walk to his church. How am I to hide you? Only the queen is more recognized than you. My priory is tiny.

Serophia winced as her bare, puckered foot found a rock. In fact, each step challenged her cold foot with the sensation of walking on a hundred needles. Keep us behind locked doors, Good Father. We will not bother you for long, she told him through her teeth.

A couple hours later, sunrise filtered through the cracks of the window shutters. Father Ortzi had placed her and the knights in his private chambers, but there was no lock on the door. The three of them sat in exhaustion on the edge of the priest’s bed. Lack of sleep darkened the flesh beneath the knights’ eyes. Serophia felt as exhausted as they looked. The canvas-covered Sphere sat next to the wall beside the door.

Despite their exhaustion, Klas and Roano stood instantly at the sound of approaching footsteps. Serophia gasped, but her knights moved quickly. Sir Klas pulled her from the bed and stood her behind the door. He returned to the bed and drew his dirk. Two knocks preceded the door opening, but Roano wedged his body between it and the doorframe.

All of this food’s for you? a voice asked Roano in Azari. Serophia could tell it was not Father Ortzi.

I haven’t eaten in three days. Roano sounded a little abashed. Father Ortzi knows this, but he’s being too generous.

There’s bread and cheese in this cloth, and wine in the pitcher.

Roano took the items and nudged the door shut with his hip.

Klas lightly grasped Serophia’s arm and helped her to the bed.

I bruise easily you know, she said with scorn.

Forgive me, Holiness. That was unexpected.

Serophia tried to smooth out the wrinkles in her filthy dress. Her temples pounded with her fury. Rodrigo Mendio has already insulted my Office and my Authority. All I have left is my dignity and the Sphere. Work on getting me to safety.

Roano put the food on a small table, moved a stool by the door, and sat with his back against it. Klas parceled out the cheese and warm bread. There was only one cup wrapped up inside the cloth, so Klas gave it to Serophia and filled it with red wine. Klas drank from the pitcher and handed it to Roano.

Klas sat beside Serophia. We need to sleep, Holiness.

Later. She sipped her wine. It tasted cheap and acidic, but she forced it down. First, we need to leave Ceya unnoticed.

Roano leaned forward and spoke quietly. I suggest different clothes. Find something more common and get rid of these.

Serophia frowned and looked at the golden sunburst on her dress and touched her coronet, with Ghyo’s sunburst fixed to the front of it. Destroying this gown and its emblem is tantamount to burning a nation’s flag. I will wear common clothing, but the gown comes with us. We will take our chances.

Klas quietly cleared his throat. Holiness, perhaps you should consider cutting off your hair.

Serophia clenched her teeth at the sensible idea, and her face flushed hot. Only the queen’s more recognized than me. How much more indignity must I suffer? Are You punishing me?

Her shoulders drooped with exasperation, and the puff of air she exhaled was one of resignation. She swallowed the rest of her cheap wine in one gulp.

Sharpen your blade.

Chapter 1

Imminent Failure

19 Janoban, 229 A.G.S.

Jurdana sat in her study in the north tower of Fallheim’s temple. A cool breeze ruffled the delicate curtains framing the open window beside her. She sat back in her chair, pushing away the heavy ledger on the desk before her. The only numbers that really mattered were the two hundred rough, but finished, swords and axes awaiting the start of her rebellion, and the five thousand Fringian ducats she hid from the Church over the last few years.

I have not found the error you spoke of, Good Father. Jurdana kept a forced, steady tone.

Father Curtys, seated opposite her, bowed his graying head. His smug, angular face evinced a secret knowledge of important things. But someone has pilfered from the rents we collected from our properties.

Have they? And how do you know this? These numbers balance.

Father Curtys sat up straighter and adjusted his white robe, with Ghyo’s Sunburst stitched into the front of it. I have kept separate records over the last year of our business dealings. A year ago, I sensed something wrong.

Jurdana fought reacting to the tight knot forming in her stomach. Sweat beaded up on her forehead behind the golden sunburst of her coronet. Second records? Why do I waste my time with these then? Whom do you suspect? I am your High Priestess. My time is valuable.

I should have been more forthcoming, Your Holiness. The error has been successfully concealed. I suspect Father Laigren. All of the properties he gathered money from gave him less than their due, though he recorded the collections in the proper amounts. He patted the ledger. One or two shortages would not have raised my suspicions, but all five were short. I know. I counted the rents at night, after Laigren went to bed.

And what makes you think he will not blame you? She tried not sounding defensive. Gaetan had him do this.

He and I control the ledgers. He does not know of my other records. Father Curtys maintained a stern face and a firm tone.

Merciful Ghyo, why do You allow the intrigues of the Holy Tower to permeate every corner of Your realm? Is my cause just? I will look into this. If you leave your second set of records with me, it will aid my investigation.

I cannot do that, Holiness. The sums are large. I insist on personally notifying the Holy Exchequer.

Beneath the desk, Jurdana buried her fingernails into her palms until they bent under the strain. You are undermining my authority. I need time to resolve this. It is my responsibility.

Father Curtys cleared his throat. I am sorry, Holiness. My oaths are ultimately sworn to His Eminence. I must notify the Tower.

Get out of my sight!

Father Curtys bowed and left.

When he shut the door, Jurdana bolted from her chair and paced the room. She flexed and clenched her hands. My secrets are unraveling. I’ve always suspected Curtys of whispering into the ears of the Holy Council. How fare you, Pendros? Will Orius Candell accept my marriage proposal, and my dowry, and bring his army south?

She opened a small wooden door in the wall beside the door to the study and pulled the metal lever inside, connected by a rope to a bell in the tower’s bottom tier. She closed the door and returned to her chair. Breathe deep and slow. Deep and slow. Gradually, her composure returned, though she fidgeted her fingers on the ends of the armrests.

The fact of the knights departing a day early and leaving Father Laigren behind upset her, as well. It added a layer of complexity to the web of intrigue she, Pendros, and Father Laigren had spun. Pendros needed time to complete his mission, and time was not a luxury.

Someone rapped on the door.

Enter.

A cowled male acolyte took a couple steps inside and waited in silence. The spicy scent of incense, embedded in his plain white robe, hung about him.

Summon Father Laigren to my study. A silent dipping of the white cowl acknowledged her command.

The door clicked shut, and Jurdana’s anxiety pulled her to her feet. The breeze wafting through the window beckoned her near. She grasped the windowsill and leaned out. Her perch kept her above the stinking sewage filling Fallheim’s streets. She breathed in the cool, clean air through her nose.

The sun shone brightly in a sky dotted with puffy clouds drifting slowly to the southeast. It still gave summer’s warmth to Fallheim, but when a cloud passed before the sun its warmth faltered and the cool wind spoke of changing seasons. The weather grows colder as does my future in the Church. Are You testing my resolve to go forward? Or, do You punish my actions against the Faith?

An image of Gaetan came to her mind. He sits his throne at the right hand of the Arch Priest and shamelessly pulls the strings of power. When Father Curtys’s message reaches Arshapel, Gaetan will appoint a Holy Inquisitor to investigate the matter. There will be a swarm of knights and priests in Fallheim, and Gaetan will insure I’m found guilty and order me to Arshapel in chains. She opposed his scandalous grasping for power, both in public and in secret, and he had actively opposed her election to the High Priesthood. Though she passed the tests and thwarted him, he had a long memory.

Jurdana clutched her stomach to ease its shaking. Sweat broke out across her back and ran in rivulets to her rump. I have to stop Gaetan. He’s done so much harm to Cheltabria.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the tower’s wooden stairs caught her ears. She turned around as the door swung open.

Laigren. Dennger!

Holiness, it was bloody murder! Stress twisted Sergeant Dennger’s guttural Imbrian accent into a higher pitch. Blood and mud covered his white surcoat. He removed the Barbuta from his head and bowed. He stank of horse sweat.

Jurdana turned from him and faced the window. Her heart pounded like a drum. She rubbed her face with her hands.

Holiness, forgive me. I’ve startled you.

Jurdana slowly lowered her hands. No - well a little. What has happened?

Captain Bilayr and two knights died in an ambush in the village of Okernau. I wear the captain’s blood on my surcoat. He died in my arms.

His words struck like an invisible hammer; her shoulders slumped at the weight of the news. I’m ruined. As ordered by Gaetan, she sent the knights north to arrest Orius Candell, but they failed. Gaetan would use that failure against her. Despair deepened her sullen mood. A thick black veil wrapped itself around her thoughts, and only self-preservation shined through the darkness, like a single star.

Sergeant Dennger, she said, her voice unsteady. Who is responsible for the deaths of the knights?

It was Pendros Lillelin, the Iron Merchant. I’m certain of it.

The world fell away beneath her, and the jolt of her buckling knees striking the wall beneath the windowsill brought her back to the present, with a moment of surprising clarity. She gripped the windowsill.

Holiness, you seem very distraught by this. Are you ill? Dennger’s voice sounded suspicious.

Jurdana turned away from the window. She strengthened her voice with as much confidence as she could muster. Find the good in every situation. Sergeant, I raise you to take command of the temple’s garrison, until the Holy Tower sends a replacement for Captain Bilayr.

Dennger dipped his head. As I’m now in command, does Her Holiness have anything to discuss with me? It seems I’ve interrupted you at a bad time. The captain’s death doesn’t seem to be the only matter troubling you.

He’s baiting me. Jurdana moved over to her desk and sat in the chair. The day has been trying, but it is no concern of yours. Give me your report of the ambush.

Dennger came to attention, still holding his helmet in the crook of his arm. Pendros and a number of his henchmen wore hooded capes, but his hood slipped back as the captain and I caught him spying through a window of the Golden Acorn. The captain pursued him through the trees to the Acorn’s stables, but he ordered me to alert our men inside the inn. His voice softened a touch. His order spared my life.

He fixed his dark eyes on Jurdana’s desk. His distant gaze seemed to replay the scene. I found Captain Bilayr lying on the ground in a ball. We brought him to the inn’s great room and sent for Okernau’s priest. His surcoat was a mass of red. Dennger shook his head in sorrow. The arrow had struck deep, Holiness. He bled to death before Okernau’s priest arrived.

Jurdana exhaled slowly. She fixed her eyes on the ledger on the desk before her. Pendros, what were you thinking? I must do this to preserve our lives. She peeled her eyes from the ledger. Your first charge is to secure the properties of Pendros Lilellen within the town of Fallheim. You may petition Duke Malcomb for additional troops to assist you in this. You are also to enter said properties and seize any and all hard currency you find. You will place this money into Father Laigren’s custody. Arrest Pendros and hold him in Duke Malcomb’s jail. Do not kill him.

As you command, Holiness. He hesitated before adding. Holiness, I don’t trust Father Laigren. I request to turn over the money to Father Curtys.

Jurdana’s eyes darted to her lap. What’s he getting at? She shifted her gaze back to Sergeant Dennger, hoping to disguise any subtle signals of guilt on her part. With each new piece of information, her plans crumbled further into dust.

I deny your request. Father Curtys has enough on his agenda.

Dennger raised his eyebrows. "Holiness, I question Father Laigren’s loyalty. I’ve done much thinking on my journey from Okernau. He and Captain Bilayr had a disagreement before we left to arrest Orius Candell. The father insisted we leave the following day, but the captain is a decisive man…well, he was. He felt the father should’ve postponed his duties, because the orders to arrest the heretic came straight from the Holy Tower. I’m uncomfortable with the coincidence of Father Laigren’s procrastination and the ambush in Okernau."

Do you suspect me? How do you base your suspicions?

Sergeant Dennger straightened up a bit. This heretic, Orius Candell, is said to have united the Northern Tribes. Relations between the people of the Southern Valley and Arshapel have never been better than icy. A Cheltan army in the north could tempt people in the south.Jurdana acted intrigued. You sense an opportunity for an insurrection?

Yes, Holiness. Half of Duke Malcomb’s soldiers are Fringian royal troops. He can’t find enough Chelts willing to fill out the ranks.

The Church’s interests and Fringia’s interests are too intertwined. Master Krotos should be proud of you, Sergeant. I will send a request to have you promoted. I do not believe we need a different Knight Captain in Fallheim. You already have a keen insight into the politics of this region. I’ll keep you close to me.

Dennger nodded. Thank you, Holiness. It pleases me to know I have your confidence.

The stairs leading to Jurdana’s study groaned under a heavy burden. A soft knocking at the door followed. Jurdana bid the person to enter, and Father Laigren opened the door wide enough to let his girth through the threshold. Dennger half-turned towards the door and wrinkled his nose. Sweat ran down Laigren’s red face. He breathed heavily.

Holiness…I have answered your summons. Laigren’s blue eyes suddenly widened when he noticed the blood on Dennger’s surcoat.

Sergeant Dennger, please return to your duties, Jurdana said. We shall speak on this again.

Dennger bowed and turned to leave.

Good Sir Knight, are you well? Father Laigren asked with concern.

Dennger looked down his nose at the portly priest. I’m fine. I must prepare a funeral for the Fallen. He marched out of the study before Laigren could say another word.

The Fallen?

Father, close the door.As the door shut, Jurdana slumped in her chair. We are perilously close to being uncovered. Dennger suspects you have something to do with the ambush of our knights in Okernau. You were not careful enough.

Laigren blinked his eyes a few times and rubbed his meaty hands together. Ambush? I have heard nothing.

That swaggering lecher, Pendros, and his thugs have killed three knights in Okernau. As far as I know, you, Dennger, and I are the only people in Fallheim who know it was Pendros. But that will not last long. Tongues waggle. She shook her head. Dennger has been piecing events together. Your behavior on the day the knights left Fallheim seemed odd to him.

Father Laigren nervously adjusted his white vestments, with Ghyo’s eight-rayed sunburst on the chest. His breathing remained deep and labored. Captain Bilayr was in a terrible hurry. Important orders like the one to arrest Orius Candell come rare to this part of Iningia. I told him I could not complete my duties and prepare for such a long journey at a moment’s notice. He accused me of not zealously pursuing heresy. He said he would report my sluggish attitude to you and the Holy Council, but I remained firm. Pendros needed time.

Jurdana’s melancholy deepened. I have to send word to the Holy Tower about the killing of the knights. It will attract unwanted attention. We have to ensure we do not add to Dennger’s suspicions. That is our plan for dealing with that. Do you agree?

I do, Holiness. At least we will have some time before the Holy Tower reacts.

But we have a more immediate problem. Father Curtys has us in a bad way. He knows of the rent shortages.

How does he know? I…I have been careful. Laigren sounded skeptical.

A fire burned in the center of Jurdana’s chest. Anger rose up within her. He told me so! He does not fear me, nor respect me. He means to tell the Holy Tower. Our time here is ending. And you knew nothing. Calm down. Calm down.

Not so, not so, Laigren said in a comforting tone. I suspected something like this would happen. I have taken steps that can cover us for a short time.

Explain yourself. Her anger’s heat diminished.

I have letters ready for you to sign. These letters grant a reprieve to a portion of the rents due this year. Of course, I collected full rents from our properties and held back what we needed.

Jurdana placed a hand to her forehead, and she sighed heavily. Curtys will ask why I did not mention them today. When the Holy Tower investigates this matter, my signature to the letters will implicate me.

That is why I have not presented them to you, he said. They are a last resort.

These letters will not satisfy Father Curtys. They will not stand up to scrutiny.

Laigren shrugged. "He will ask why he was not privy to the decision in lowering the rents."

He spies for Gaetan. She raised a hand to her face. This is the worst day of my life. I feared something like this would happen, but not on this scale. Her head began to throb. All of this is happening too fast.

Father Laigren had a guilty look on his face, almost ashamed. If Father Curtys is not in a position to communicate with the Tower…that would remedy the problem.

"What are you saying?"

* * *

The candlelight flickered, causing the shadows amongst the bookshelves to waver. Jurdana sat bent over in her cushioned, high-back chair before the Sphere in her secluded library beneath the temple. The day’s stress had been vexing. She had no army, and her rebellion to free her country was close to failure before she struck a blow.

She went over the words she would use when she contacted Gaetan. Like the day when Pendros first arrived with news of Orius Candell, necessity forced her to communicate damaging and damning news to the Holy Legate. If he learned of the ambush of the knights through other means, except the Sphere, Jurdana would be derelict in her duties, and she would hand him a useful pretext to replace her on the throne of Fallheim.

Bastard! she said, shaking her head. What a day. What a day.

Jurdana stood up before the Sphere and removed the thin silver coronet from the wooden box on the table beside it. She slipped the band over her head. She needed the augmenting device to power the Sphere. Other High Priests did not need augmenters, but her power was weaker than theirs. Between her glowing outstretched hands, a blue light and a mist filled the crystal sphere. A room appeared within it. High Priest Gaetan sat at a desk. He set down a quill and walked over to the Sphere on his end of the link.

Sister Jurdana, for once I am glad you called. But his somber voice did not reflect any gladness.

Jurdana fought the urge to reply with sarcasm. Brother Gaetan, I have news to relay, she said, almost mechanically.

And so do I. Troops of Rodrigo Mendio have raided the temple in Golandar. I fear for the lives of our priests and knights. Sister Serophia is…missing.

Jurdana gasped. Merciful Creator, what has brought about this tragedy?

Gaetan pulled a chair closer to him and sat down. The details are vague, but Ghyo’s church and our allies will bring King Mendio to heel. We cannot allow our authority to be challenged like this. He has invited war with the entire continent.

This problem with Soriazar may take some pressure away from us! Brother Gaetan, our attempt to arrest Orius Candell has failed.

Gaetan bared his teeth and clenched his jaw. "Why have you failed?Jurdana’s anger flared, interfering with her maintaining the link with Gaetan. His image fluttered before she regained control. Captain Bilayr and two knights have died, killed by a merchant and his hired swords. It happened in a village called Okernau - far away from my personal control."

Sister Jurdana. His voice sounded menacing. The Church is on the verge of its largest crisis in two centuries. You will keep order in the North, or there will be consequences.

I have ordered Sergeant Dennger to seize the merchant’s properties, she said, ignoring his threats. We have yet to capture him, but that is a matter of time.

A slight smile came to Gaetan’s lips. If that is all, we are done. Keep me informed. He turned his back on the Sphere and returned to his desk.

Jurdana let her arms fall to her side. He seems stressed by the events in Soriazar, distracted. Good.

Chapter 2

Pawn of the Powerful

20 Janoban, 229 A.G.S.

Drucilla Mendio tucked her long brown hair behind her ear as she ate breakfast. Crumbs fell onto the platter from her toasted bread, rubbed with garlic and covered with olive oil and a salty sardine, as she bit into it. She sat alone in her bedchamber at a small table, enveloped in the scent of her musky night sweat. The summer night had been warm, and her damp nightclothes clung to her body. The sound of the birds in the parterre garden’s trees floated into the room through the open window. For a brief moment, the new day made Drucilla forget her problems and the blackness of her mood, but the quiet cough of the Eagle Guardsman outside the window brought her back to reality.

I’m a prisoner in my own bedroom. She regretted not healing her father, which led to her arrest. Her refusal made her feel dirty inside, but at the same time, she derived a sense of pride at opposing her father’s atrocities. Ghyo’s will be done.

Her mother’s shrieking still echoed in her ears. The shock displayed in her mother’s eyes as she ordered Captain Juarez to drag Drucilla from the servants’ quarters. Tears rolled down her cheeks as her mind replayed her father’s thrashing about on the bed. The wet, cooked smell of his burnt flesh wrapped around that image like a grotesque, invisible frame. The accident ruined his right eye and his cheek was torn and blackened, slick with blood. Her nephew, Prince Broen, lost his entire hand and bled to death.

Drucilla cried. Sandovar, Broen was your youngest. But her anger with her father dried up her tears.

Father, you loved him too, she said through gritted teeth. But you love power more than you love Ghyo and His church. More than you love peace and the safety of your family and the Azari people. You should have died of your wounds.

A sickening feeling crept into her anger. Hate ran contrary to the teachings of Ilyas, Ghyo’s first priest, and it raised feelings of guilt. She struggled to contain her hate and anger, to turn it into something positive. She had sworn loyalty to the Church and swore to uphold and teach Ilyas’s message to the people – Kindness and Charity, Justice and Civility, Love and Compassion.

No, she said, shaking the malignant thoughts from her head. She calmed herself. The Eagle Guardsman outside the window briefly glanced into the room. It’s Ghyo’s will that father suffers this, but it’s my sin for denying him treatment.

Power satisfies the heart, she whispered, but the heart must satisfy Power. It was the Church’s maxim for keeping priests from governing over the Temporal matters of the world, to avoid the seductions of power.

She finished her toast and washed it down with wine from the goblet beside her plate. She searched her mind to further explain the decision to deny her father aid, and she found the justification, lying just on the edge of her thoughts, elusive and fleeting. She pulled it to the forefront. My father’s responsible for the crimes committed in Ghyo’s temple. He’s an enemy of the Holy Tower.

A voice then spoke to her from a distant memory, from a school lecture long forgotten, but of no small importance. Ghyo judges; priests protect. Her justification shattered in an instant. She had sinned.

She folded her hands on the table and pressed her forehead to them. Father, you have caused so much suffering. And now I struggle with my faith because of you. I must find the strength to forgive you. I must do penance.

The guard stationed outside her door opened it, and a blonde maidservant appeared. "Your