The Seeds of Godspear

By Dean Kinne

The godspear are in peril! Ravaged by a beetle infestation, the mighty trees succumbed to the onslaught and their numbers dwindled. In a desperate bid to find a cure and save the trees, Ralm Willowsong set out across the dangerous Cryptic Sea along with his wife Cyji, and her brother Lavak, to the land of Azazura. They each discover nothing ther

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dean Davis
• Release date: Nov 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781734033281

Dean Kinne

Born a woodsman's son, Dean spent much of his life in the forests of eastern Connecticut. While his peers spent Saturday mornings watching cartoons, Dean was out with his father cutting, splitting and stacking cords of wood to sell. It were these weekend "retreats" which instilled in Dean a deep appreciation of the woods and all the beauty and splendor they held.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Volstrysa sat rigid in her chair and stared quietly at the girl fidgeting before her. An icy blaze filled Volstrysa’s eyes and quickly thawed. She allowed an uncomfortable silence to linger as she considered the situation. This girl, more than half Volstrysa’s age, had beguiled Lavak. It was a power Volstrysa knew and exercised often, only it wasn’t as effective now she was older. In her youth, her beauty and charm were lethal. It waned with age, its potency diluted by eyes crowded with creases and gray worming into her hair. Precious endowments were slipping from her while at the far side of the desk sat a girl naive of the vitality youth gifted to her.

Volstrysa leaned back into her chair, keeping the distance of the desk (its surface clear of all but a bell resting at its center) between her and the girl. Volstrysa’s stare warmed slightly as she asked, Do you remember Supreme Ascendant Ondaris?

No, Supreme. I do not, Melindi said meekly.

"He was my predecessor. You were just a babe when he died, so I don’t expect you to remember him. As my mentor, I learned everything about being a supreme from him. He taught me the ways of enchanting and ruling, but most importantly, he taught me the nature of men.

I learned men are all driven by the same basic need: lust. Every man is a slave to their urges and desires. As women, we use that weakness to our advantage. Volstrysa stood and meandered around the desk, dragging one slender finger across its smooth, glossy surface. I’m no fool. I’m not blind. They call me the Dark Mistress. I’ve a reputation, though none dare speak of it in my presence. People say I seduced my way to becoming supreme, that I used my guiles to secure my place as prime. They say I took Ondaris to bed, finalizing the arrangement. She sauntered to the window and gazed at the expansive land beyond the glass. "In truth, Ondaris tried to bed me. He told me to earn my place as prime, I had to prove my worth in his bedchamber. I refused, but he didn’t relent. Ondaris continued lusting for me. He threatened to eject me from the order after I refused him a dozen more times.

Physically, men are naturally stronger. Women, however, are the smarter gender. We rely on intellect to elevate ourselves, but when we do, we are chastised for it. We’re accused of using our bodies to further our gains and are called whores because of it. Yet men can bed as many women as they like and are considered conquerors. Do you see the contradiction?

Yes. I’ve seen it often, Melindi said.

Have you experienced this personally? Have you been accused of using your womanly gifts to further your own ends?

No, Supreme. Not that I’m aware of.

You’re young still. Given a lifetime, you’d have a reputation, deserved or not. Volstrysa turned, finding Melindi shifting uneasily in her chair. "I’ve watched men rise to become supremes and were applauded for their efforts. During my ascent to prime and then supreme, I was never congratulated. Rumors abounded I had shared my bed with half the men in the spire to reach those heights. They were only rumors, but they were damaging nonetheless. I worked hard to be where I am and earned it as much as any man. But because I’m a woman, people assume I couldn’t get here without using my body.

Ondaris finally abandoned his sexual attempts and appointed me prime. I didn’t have to spend a moment in bed with him. It didn’t stop the gossip, but it did teach me a lesson. Men can be controlled, manipulated, used to further my own agenda. I needn’t couple with them. Flirtation was enough. Women will always struggle for respect, and sometimes, despite our efforts, we’ll never receive it because of what we are. She strode behind the aspirant and rested her hands on the back of Melindi’s chair. However, we do sometimes use our womanly gifts to lure men, even when we don’t realize it. Like you did with Lavak. Volstrysa glided to the desk and leaned against it, her eyes locking with Melindi’s. How are you doing in your history classes?

Melindi blinked, confusion seeping into her features. History classes?

Yes. Are you struggling with them?

No, Supreme. Not at all. I find them quite interesting.

Have you been taught the islanders’ origin yet?

Yes, Melindi said with a slow nod. Volstrysa gestured for Melindi to elaborate. They aren’t native to Vidrey. We, or I should say, the Ascendancy, conscripted a forest tribe two millennia ago. They were relocated to Vidrey and instructed to harvest the godspear. Their descendants have been there ever since.

That’s correct. And what changes have happened to those people since going to Vidrey?

Melindi’s brow furrowed as she bit her lip in quiet recall. They developed a society apart from ours, with unique customs and—

Not about that, Volstrysa interrupted. What happened to the islanders?

Their skin. It darkened. They once looked like us, but over the years, they gradually became what they are now.

What’s the predominate theory for this?

It’s believed the islanders’ skin color is in direct correlation with their exposure to the starwood, um, godspear. Melindi wrung her hands until they were red. Supreme, why are you asking me these questions? Is this a test? Is that why I’m here? Her eyes brightened. A reserved yet hopeful smile played at the corners of her lips. Is this my rise to ascender?

Volstrysa ignored the string of questions. It’s more than theory, but you won’t find it in any book or taught by any teacher. The Ascendancy was intrigued by the islanders’ physical change. They resembled illkin but didn’t behave like them. The order wanted to know how similar the two were, so for the first time and against mandate, magic was brought to Vidrey. Secretly, the watchers experimented on the islanders. They hid magic in various places on the island to see if Vidreyans sensed it the way illkin do. They didn’t. Kyrkynstaag and Dorsluin were satisfied with their findings and tested no further. Morivar, however, delved deeper. Our watcher slyly disguised fire-felt and ice-kissed magics and had islanders handle them, asking if they noticed anything unusual. He also gifted several influence brooches to women and began suggesting to them. Do you know what he discovered?

No, Supreme. What? Melindi asked from the edge of her chair.

He found the islanders were immune to magic. They didn’t detect the heat of fire-felt or the chill of ice-kissed. Women didn’t submit to his suggestions.

How is that possible?

We’re not sure. The theory of godspear exposure is the most sound. However, neither Kyrkynstaag nor Dorsluin know of the immunity.

Morivar didn’t share its findings?

Why should we? Volstrysa asked, her tone petulant. Morivar continued its investigation after the other spires were content with cursory examinations. Why should they be rewarded for our persistence? It’s a secret closely guarded here, passed down from supreme to prime and no other. I suspect every spire conducts in a similar fashion. Every spire has its secrets. Dorsluin certainly does. Basara’s quick ascension and his inability to choose a prime suggests he never learned Kyrkynstaag’s secrets before his predecessor died; therefore, he hasn’t knowledge to pass on to a successor.

Melindi frowned. Supreme, if this secret is shared only between you and Prime Welnaro, why are you telling me?

Pushing herself off the desk, Volstrysa wandered about the room, keeping Melindi’s back to her. Because I know you won’t tell anybody.

No, Supreme. I promise. I won’t ever tell.

Of course you won’t, Volstrysa said, a grin tugging her lips. She returned to standing behind Melindi. I tell you these things because you must understand the past to appreciate the present. And presently, you’ve earned Lavak’s attention.

Melindi’s shudder vibrated her chair. Supreme, I—

Calm yourself, child. Volstrysa rested a slender hand atop Melindi’s bare pate. Lavak interests me. The other supremes dismiss him because they don’t know the truth about his people. That’s good. Their ignorance is my advantage. If Vidreyans have earned immunity to magic, what does Lavak’s appearance suggest of his abilities? Tell me. Has he shared anything with you?

Supreme, he doesn’t know me well enough to confide in me.

Come now, child. It’s unwise lying to your supreme. I’ve seen you two together. Has he spoken to you about his gifts? Tell me, truthfully.

The aspirant pulled her arms close to her chest and went silent with thought, the quiet only interrupted by the rustling of her robe as she shivered in fear. He has a talent for enchanting.

That he does, but you are dodging my question, and that irritates me. Once more, has he mentioned anything about his gifts?

Nothing directly. He did ask if ascenders were known to sense magic or had the ability to draw it from an item. I thought those were odd questions and—

And you wondered why he’d ask such things, Volstrysa finished for Melindi, eager to hear the confirmation from the aspirant’s lips. Then, you realized…

I realized, Melindi stammered, clearly reluctant to utter the words, I realized, it was because he is the transcendent and those are his gifts.

Volstrysa couldn’t keep from gaping. She’d been so blind. All these years, the Ascendancy had grossly underestimated Lavak’s potential. It was long chronicled the Vidreyans were once fair-skinned. The question puzzling every ascendant over the years was if the skin change was permanent or the next in a series of evolutionary steps. Lavak’s birth gave the answer, but he was still an anomaly. It was predicted another change would be a slow transition, taking centuries, as it was with the islanders’ dark skin. Instead, Lavak emerged from his mother’s womb pale like an Azazuran, his appearance explosive like two mixed elements dumped into the furnace.

Sudden comprehension dawned on Volstrysa. The Ascendancy, with its meddling, may have unwittingly steered Lavak in an unintentional direction with an experiment it eagerly started and hastily abandoned. The crib. The gift from Azazura to Vidrey’s first pale son. An experiment disguised as a gesture of goodwill. Crafted from godspear, with spindles of differing enchantments, covered in countless coats of paint to hide its truth, the crib was the pinnacle of ascendant curiosity on the effect magic could have on the child. After two years and no sign of change, the order ruled the experiment a failure, citing factors ranging from Lavak’s youth inhibiting his power to the paint inhibiting the magic. Had the crib augmented his powers?

Lavak’s skin heralded a change for the islanders. Eventually, Vidrey would be populated by others like him. Ironic the godspear were in danger and magic was at risk of slipping away from the land forever. A burgeoning population of magically immune people in a world without magic. Perhaps it was for the best. To have a people with such power may prove dangerous for the Ascendancy, but that time was still far away. Now, Lavak was hers and magic was still plentiful in the land. His was a power she could yoke, to guide, to instill fear in her enemies.

Melindi shook uncontrollably, stealing Volstrysa from her thoughts.

He’s been withdrawn from me lately, Melindi said. I sense his apprehensions. I think it’s because of what I told him.

What did you tell him?

Lavak wanted us to be together. He wanted courtship. I said I wanted to be an ascender and all my focus was on becoming one. Ascenders aren’t permitted to have mates, and therefore, I couldn’t give him what he wanted. I’m sorry, Supreme. My rejections are the cause of his distance. I didn’t know about his abilities, and I didn’t know about your involvement with him in a—Melindi fumbled with the words—romantic way. Not immediately. Not until the morning I served you breakfast.

A torrent of anger coursed through Volstrysa. This naive child had done with innocence and youth what she could not with cunning and magic: seduce Lavak. Melindi claimed Lavak was distant with her, but Volstrysa saw them together in the spire’s base. There was no distance then. The girl knew nothing about being shunned the way Volstrysa had been, despite all her charms and tricks. She calmed herself and chose the most disarming of subjects in Melindi’s confession for their mutual benefit.

That’s good you want no distractions. Such dedication assures your promotion to ascender. That’s why orphans are chosen for the Ascendancy. They have no interference from family. She stood before Melindi and glowered on the quivering girl. Lavak’s beetle pendant dangled from her youthful neck, testimony of his devotion to her and his disinterest for Volstrysa. It was she who guided him to enchanting, not this child, yet there the beetle hung. Volstrysa leaned close, clutched the pendant and whispered, her lips brushing Melindi’s ear. I know he gave this to you. With a quick tug, she snapped the chain. Broken links landed noiselessly on the carpet at Volstrysa’s feet as she held the pendant for them both to view. What makes you believe he cares about you? What makes you believe you deserve him? You’re unworthy of his affections. You’re an aspirant. Nothing more. You’re forbidden to enter into relations with anyone. Especially him.

I know. But he isn’t an ascender. He doesn’t understand our ways. Melindi’s voice trembled.

In that, you are correct. He is no ascender. He’s far greater. Which is more reason why you’re undeserving of him. Volstrysa stepped back to glare at Melindi. I brought him here, and he will be mine alone. You’re less than nothing. You exist because I allow it. You’re not meant to have him. You distract him, and that cannot be allowed.

Supreme, Melindi said at the cusp of a sob. Forgive me. I want so much to be an ascender. I can’t risk losing that, no matter my feelings for Lavak.

Her feelings? What did this girl know of feelings? Volstrysa stroked Melindi’s head and cooled her own rising ire. There. There. It’s all right. You did what came naturally, what any woman would do. She soothed the now-crying girl for a moment. Melindi’s attraction to Lavak reflected her own hypocrisy. Aspirants weren’t allowed romantic relationships. Neither were ascenders, primes or supremes. It was part of their detachment from the rest of society, their sacrifice of connection for greater power. It was why no high member of the Ascendancy could show their face in public. All that was needed was one haggard old woman to recognize some feature like a birthmark and realize the baby they’d abandoned at the orphanage was now among the most powerful beings in the land. Favors would be expected because of bloodlines. The order didn’t trade in favors, and for that, loneliness was the price of power. Yet, as supreme, she’d ignored the edict and placed herself above the law. She was as guilty—no, more guilty—than the aspirant before her. But who’d refute the will of the supreme? She ambled to a rack on the wall behind her desk. On it hung two ornately carved staffs of godspear.

Do you know, I was chosen by Ondaris at the orphanage? I was the first orphan he picked after he rose to supreme.

No, I didn’t, Melindi said, sniffling.

Volstrysa admired each staff, noting the detail given to each: the tapered shaft of the first, crowned with a jagged flame, the entire piece wreathed in red luster. Drudylan had outdone himself with its crafting, and only its counterpart, a shimmering blue staff shaped like an icicle, matched its magnificence. Usually within the order, the bearer of magic enchanted their own, but as supreme, Volstrysa had no time to devote to such endeavors. Her position did, however, grant her the authority to delegate tasks, so she entrusted the master enchanter Drudylan with forging her magics. What’s stranger is, you were the last orphan he chose prior to his death. Fitting in a way, his first and last choices were females. He was, as far as supremes are concerned, a reformist of sorts. He believed women could ascend as well as men. He didn’t share the bias of his peers when selecting orphans. Most supremes favor males, but Ondaris, he liked females, even if it was only to bed them. I, however, do not share his motives. I understand men and their wants. I use that to my advantage. If I’m to be the Dark Mistress, I must embrace all that comes with it. I’ll let rumors persist I’m a whore. It’s a trivial matter. I’ll use sexuality to further my gains. For it to be effective, I need men in my service. They are far easier to control and manipulate than women. That is why every orphan I’ve selected has been male. Females have no place in my ranks. Especially ones who interfere with my plans.

Supreme. Melindi clasped her hands together, pleading. I won’t fail you again. I promise. I’ll no longer be with Lavak. You can have him. I’ll stay far away. I’ll never speak to him again.

Volstrysa’s fingers wrapped around the icicle staff and lifted it from the rack. That, child, I’m certain of.

She spun around and thrust the staff outward. It struck Melindi in her chest as she sprang from her chair. Melindi stood there, eyes wide in surprise and horror as magic flowed into her, the enchantment’s frigid touch penetrating deep into her body. Volstrysa knew the magic’s effects well and recognized each sign as agony scrawled into Melindi’s reactions: the wheezing breath as lungs solidified, the violent quiver as an icy blast enveloped her heart. Melindi’s mouth opened, closed, opened again, words frozen to her tongue. Only visible wisps of breath escaped. She shivered. Volstrysa had seen the effects of ice-kissed enough to visualize what was happening beneath Melindi’s robes; the skin around the staff’s touch blackening from instant frostbite, the deadening flesh spreading quickly to consume the aspirant’s entire body. With one final spasm, Melindi collapsed, her stiff body slamming solidly onto the floor.

With a satisfied grin, Volstrysa returned the staff to the rack. She wrapped the broken chain and beetle pendant around it before ringing the bell on the desk. The door opened, and Prime Welnaro and Kuldahar strolled in. They glanced at the body lying on the floor with indifference, as if it was nothing more than a stain in the carpet.

We must dispose of this quickly, Welnaro said. If it becomes known you violated the law—

It won’t, Volstrysa interrupted. I trust you’ll handle this swiftly and discreetly. Both of you. Her gaze slid to Kuldahar. You’ll each be rewarded for this.

The prime nodded gravely while Kuldahar beamed and blushed.

Supreme. Kuldahar’s voice was rich with elation spilling over from Volstrysa’s promise. Lavak was fond of this one.

Which is why she’s dead, Volstrysa said dryly.

Kuldahar stepped over the body to stand close before Volstrysa. His voice lowered, the excitement in it diminished. I must speak to you about him. He’s dangerous. This aspirant’s death may have been a mistake.

Are you questioning your supreme?

Kuldahar shook his head vigorously. No. No. He looked over his shoulder at Welnaro. Please, we must discuss this, but it’s a private matter.

The imploring in his eyes was genuine. Volstrysa looked past him to Welnaro. Usually, she’d include him in discussions, but a matter concerning Lavak was a unique situation. Leave us for a moment. The prime nodded and exited the room, closing the door behind him. Tell me.

Lavak is different, Kuldahar said.

This I know, Volstrysa said, already agitated by the ascender’s observation. What makes it a private matter?

He did something to me. I don’t know what. I don’t know how. All I know is he did something.

Her agitation grew with his vague explanation. I need more than that, Kuldahar.

He laced his fingers together. His gaze darted about the room. He touched me, and when he did, a surge of…I’m not sure what…entered my body.

Volstrysa’s agitation melted away, replaced by intrigue. What happened?

I wasn’t myself. I had no will. Kuldahar clenched his teeth. His hands balled into fists. My memory is hazy of the moments right after. All I remember is waiting for his command, as if I lived to serve him. He told me to go away and I did. I walked away and kept walking until the haziness faded and I no longer was compelled to him. It was the worst feeling I’ve ever felt, to be that freak’s thrall.

Volstrysa struggled to contain her excitement over the revelation of Lavak’s abilities, first confessed by Melindi and now reaffirmed by Kuldahar. Lavak may not commune with godspears, but what he possessed was far more extraordinary. He truly was the transcendent. Morivar had been wise to monitor him, and she wiser still to bed him. He would prove a powerful ally. And he would be hers alone.

I know you’ve been in close contact with him, Kuldahar continued. I’m worried for your safety. What he did to me, he may do to you.

Thank you for your concern, but you needn’t trouble yourself with my welfare. Your supreme is capable of handling herself. And Lavak.

I invest all my cares into my supreme. Especially after she’s given me her attention, though it’s painful she forsook me for another after the bonding we shared.

Bonding?

Our private dinner. In here, at that very table.

It was just dinner, to celebrate your ascension. One dinner. It was a half-truth. Volstrysa had indeed dined with Kuldahar, and during the meal flirted with him, going as far as rubbing her foot against his leg under the table. But she did so with every aspirant who graduated to ascender. It was her way of becoming acquainted with her underlings, to understand their motives and gauge their threat to her, and to keep them subservient through innocent teasing. An easy accomplishment with men.

No. It was more. I felt it. You felt it, too. I know you did. What we had was special. Different. We could ignore the law. Be joined. He glanced to Melindi’s corpse, as if to emphasize if one law was broken, so too could others. We’d be together right now, if Lavak hadn’t arrived.

Lavak has nothing to do with us, Volstrysa said, her ire returning at Kuldahar’s mention of Lavak.

He does. You’ve become too trusting of the primitive. And too comfortable.

SLAP!

Instantly, Kuldahar’s cheek was inflamed with her handprint. He recoiled, eyes wide as he rubbed the unexpected sting.

What I do with who, Volstrysa said through gritted teeth, is not for you or anybody else to question or challenge. I am your supreme, and you’d do well to remember that.

Forgive me, Volstrysa.

Supreme Ascendant Volstrysa, she corrected.

Kuldahar massaged his cheek a moment longer before his arm dropped slack at his side, leaving the scarlet imprint of Volstrysa’s hand on his face like a brand of shame. I was out of place, Supreme Ascendant Volstrysa. It was not my intention to offend you.

Was it your intention to harass Lavak? I know what you and your toadies have been doing. Nothing in the spire happens without my knowledge.

Renewed disbelief filled his eyes. I was angry at him. Angry because he took you from me.

Jealous is more like it. And I’m not for anybody to give or take. I was never yours.

Is Lavak yours?

Kuldahar winced in anticipation of another slap. None came, though the comment was deserving of punishment.

He is, Volstrysa said bluntly. You need to become accustomed to the idea as long as he’s a guest here.

Kuldahar’s eyes narrowed, squeezing the glints caught in them from the lamplight. His lips twitched subtly. Both features indicated a mind sorting through a problem. His facial transaction was brief, and a moment later, Kuldahar offered a fox’s smile. As long as he’s a guest here.

So you understand? Volstrysa asked.

I do.

Good. She rang the bell again, and Welnaro returned. Use the lift, Volstrysa told them both. Take her to the furnace. Burn her until she’s nothing but ash.

With the enthusiasm of a pup trying to please its master, Kuldahar grabbed Melindi’s rigid remains and dragged her through the doorway. Her eyes were still open, frozen, unblinking, their brightness gone.

CHAPTER 2

Zenteezee rubbed his weary eyes and moaned weakly from exhaustion and frustration at his current task. On the desk before him lay two stacks of vellum, one slightly taller than the other: the weekly reports. When he was younger, he’d loathed such tedious endeavors, preferring to roam the spire with the speed youth granted and intimidate underlings as he observed the daily toils of his charges.

Now old and slow, pained and fragile, the testimonies of his longevity, Zenteezee was chamber-bound most days. Paperwork was one of few tasks he could still accomplish. His last venture outside the spire had been to attend the conclave of ascendants on the Cryptic Sea, where his ship was rocked by waves and his brittle bones were in danger of shattering. The trip had exhausted him. With the exception of it and those rare treats in the torture chamber and the rarer visits to the spire’s base, Zenteezee was confined to his suffocating quarters, where the walls taunted him in quiet persistence, their unheard mocking and chatter a ceaseless reminder here was where he belonged and no matter how great his power, he was helpless to slow the steady advance of time or the crippling effects it had on his body. These four walls, the highest in Dorsluin, contained his life’s history: books and memoirs and mementos of fading magics, displayed on dusty shelves of dinged hutches older than he. Inside these walls, where he ruled his domain, Zenteezee was a willing captive, perched like a buzzard to lament a life nearly over and watch resentfully those far below enjoying fresh bodies of boundless vitality.

He leaned forward and rested his quivering arms on the desk, ready to resume his duties with milky eyes irritated from rubbing. Lamps hung from the ceiling, casting obtrusive light into every corner, illuminating bookcases stuffed with tomes, their bindings frayed and faded. A bed was crammed into one corner. Long ago, it was high and plush, with stallions galloping across the plains carved into an elaborate headboard. Now the headboard was gone, along with the frame, legs and lofty opulence. All that remained was an elevated mattress: custom-fitted for a decrepit man.

Nightly, ascenders offered to help him into bed. Nightly, Zenteezee refused, chasing them away with a barrage of threats, curses and scoldings. He wasn’t a cripple. He didn’t need help. He was old, but he wasn’t an invalid, no matter what the walls said. His youth was gone, but not his dignity, and he wouldn’t allow it to be taken, no matter how eager his subordinates were to see him die so they might ascend.

Perhaps Basara was the clever one. He broke tradition when he delayed choosing an heir. His ascenders focused on undermining each other and vying for the coveted position of prime, freeing Basara as the target of their schemes. Zenteezee’s eyes were almost useless, his hearing weak, but he was keenly aware of his ascenders’ hunger. Outside of perceived earshot, they questioned his competence while awaiting his demise. When he addressed them, Zenteezee sensed the discord and contempt poorly hidden behind their false obedience. They could do nothing but wait for his death like circling vultures. And before they picked his bones clean, Tendarin would rise to ascendant, while the most promising ascender elevated to prime.

Zenteezee lifted his stare from the pages as a knock came at the door. Tendarin entered. At distance, he appeared fuzzy to Zenteezee’s aged eyes, but the sheaf of papers under one arm was unmistakable: the daily reports. No doubt they detailed the same news as the papers on his desk. Tendarin gently set the bundle down, careful not to disturb the collection already there.

Any of those have good news? Zenteezee asked.

Tendarin shook his head and grimaced. Of all his underlings, the prime was hungriest for Zenteezee’s death. No other stood to gain as much as Tendarin, and for that reason, Zenteezee held little trust for the man, which was still more than he invested in the rest of his subordinates. Only the law kept Zenteezee alive. Without it, he’d have been dead long before now.

More about the Painted Man?

Tendarin nodded.

Zenteezee sighed. This demagogue is proving difficult to catch. More so than his predecessors. Daily reports were submitted by ascenders and Low Guard in the city. If a crime was committed, it was reported. Records were kept about criminals. Broken laws, especially those concerning magic, were also documented. Though such reports landed on his desk every day, the occurrences were trivial and easily reviewed in an hour or so. The development of the Painted Man, however, increased Zenteezee’s work tenfold. It was disagreeable enough somebody in his city fomented rebellion, it was another matter entirely his delicate health was further taxed by the surge of bureaucracy brought on by the Painted Man’s activities; that alone warranted the rebel’s execution.

We’ll catch him eventually, just as we caught those before him, Tendarin said.

These uprisings occur more frequently, said Zenteezee. I remember as an aspirant seeing only one, and the next didn’t transpire until two decades later. Now they happen every four or five years. There is unrest. The people are becoming more vocal about it. This newest leader has emboldened them unlike any before. The people openly criticize the order. They criticize me! His fist landed hard on the desk. The pain from his outburst was immediate.

The Painted Man will be made an example of, and within a year he’ll be forgotten.

Zenteezee pulled his hand from the table and rubbed the sting out of it. What concerns me is the name: the Painted Man. It’s said he walks among the people, but the initial report by the ascender who first encountered him states dark skin lay beneath the paint.

An illkin?

Of course not. No illkin could be rational this long and still gather so many behind him.

One of the islanders? Tendarin’s question was more a statement.

Yes. That alone is intriguing. If an islander was in Dorsluin, it meant either more had left Vidrey, or Volstrysa’s report was falsified.

It’s odd the people follow him, rather than mistake the Painted Man for an illkin in disguise and dismiss his cause entirely.

An illkin wouldn’t be so clever as to disguise himself. The dark skin benefits his cause. It’s evidence for him. If he convinces people to listen, he’ll be his own best proof of the island. People will see he’s no illkin, and after they adjust to the idea, they’ll wonder what sort of man he is and where he comes from. Curiosity will compel them to learn, and the islander will teach them. He’s a greater threat to us than any rebel before him, not only because of his skin but what he knows. If people believe his words about Vidrey, if they learn the truth, they’ll doubt us, they’ll question everything the order represents. The Ascendancy is at risk of coming undone. That cannot happen. Everything will be lost. He must be exposed and eliminated.

The prime’s attention switched from Zenteezee to the reports. Unlike the others, the people seem genuinely supportive of his ambitions. None of the fleas will betray him or hint at his whereabouts, despite threats of torture and death. Not even the bounty we posted has given any leads.

Zenteezee pushed the stacks of paper an arm’s distance away. He’d no more desire to sort through them today. That’s why I require you personally find him.

Me?

You. Enter the outer circles as a flea. Wear no robes or mask. Immerse yourself in the rabble. Gain their trust if you can, torture some for information if you must, but discover the location of this Painted Man.

Sir, I am prime. This is beneath me. Send one of the ascenders on this mission. I’ve no place out there.

You’ll obey me and not question it, Zenteezee said harshly, the strain on his voice surging him into a grating and phlegm-filled coughing fit. Spittle dripped from cracked lips as his hacking subsided. He wiped his mouth with the topmost report from the nearest stack of papers. After he recovered, he gave Tendarin a hard, unbreakable stare. It’s because you’re prime I entrust you with this task. I can’t chance sending a lesser ascender. The job needs to be done, and I know you’ll accomplish it.

Tendarin’s body stiffened at the abstract compliment. I gladly serve you, Supreme.

Good. I trust you, Tendarin. You’re the only one I can trust. Not like that wicked Dark Mistress. Zenteezee wheezed. She lied to me. She thinks because I’m old, I lack wits. She thought I wouldn’t discover the truth.

Sir?

Volstrysa said the islanders perished at sea. She was certain of it, and yet we have one stirring trouble here. Why would she lie? Why didn’t she admit her ignorance on the matter at the conclave, unless she had something to hide? She’s scheming. She has an islander as a pet.

What do you mean ‘pet’?

She’s been keeping him in the crimson spire, corrupting him with her seductions. And not just any islander. The supposed transcendent.

Lavak Splinterfist? Here in Azazura?

Zenteezee waved a hand in obvious annoyance. Don’t be so awestruck by him. You’ve been to Vidrey. You know his abilities are exaggerated, if he has any at all. You’ve witnessed it yourself, his lack of power. His appearance is nothing more than a curiosity. He’s like an albino deer in the forest. Rare, but otherwise inconsequential. And what happens to albino deer? He didn’t wait for Tendarin to answer. They’re hunted and quickly killed. Hunted because they’re unique and killed because they can’t blend with the forest.

The audacity she has to keep him for herself. Whether he possesses abilities or not, she has an obligation to the order. He is to be studied by all, not kept hidden for personal desires.

Quite true, Zenteezee said. "Which brings me to the job. I need you to personally see to this matter for several reasons. The first is I want this Painted Man alive. Killing him will martyr him.