33: THE HERALD OF DEATH
Talea’s reaction The Lighthouse at Shadrag Gor
Just after Talea’s memory
When the vision ended, everyone was staring at Talea. Then, almost as one, everyone turned and stared at Xivan.
Xivan narrowed her eyes at Talea. “Herald of Death?”
Talea shrugged. “It cured your gaesh, didn’t it?”
“So this is supposed to bring back Thaena and Taja?” Sheloran looked torn between skepticism and concern.
“It’s supposed to resurrect them,” Senera said, “for lack of a better word, to quote what the young not-a-goddess said. If we take her literally, then we should assume it will not be resurrection, just something functionally similar.”
“One problem,” Xivan said. “Shall I point out that no one at any point has given me a damn cup?”
“But we did,” Sheloran said quietly. “Or rather Talea did. It’s just we changed its form so it was something you’d accept.” She pointed to the sword at Xivan’s side.
Xivan glanced down at her blade. “You’re claiming you changed a cup into a copy of sword?”
“Not the sword,” Talea said. “The scabbard.”
“We thought it best that it remain a container,” Sheloran admitted. “And it’s not the entire scabbard, just the ceramic lining on the inside. Rather thin stuff, but we were trying to stretch a small cup into a much larger shape.”
Talea watched, feeling a bit nervous. She could already tell the sword was sitting a bit … loose … in the scabbard. More than it had been when she’d first given the sword back to Xivan. And this time, she knew what that meant.
Xivan unsheathed her sword and this time concentrated on the scabbard itself, looking critically at the opening. “There’s no ceramic lining to this,” she said.
There it was.
“There isn’t?” Qown blinked. “What happened to it?”
Everyone turned and stared at Talea.
Talea smiled and held out her hands. “If I had to guess, I’d say it went the same place as the coin—wherever that is—when it healed Xivan’s soul and removed the gaesh.”
Xivan met Talea’s eyes. “And is that all it did?”
Talea chose her words carefully. “I imagine it did the same thing to you the coin did to me. You know, made you a sort of angel of the memory of an Immortal? Just, not Taja. In your case, Thaena.”
“Thaena.” Xivan stared at her in shock. “You’re saying I’m an angel of Thaena.”
“No,” Kalindra said. “You’re not. Because that’s not how that works.”
The room focused on the assassin.
“What do you mean?” Sheloran asked.
Kalindra’s face was a sneer. “Eshi’s story. What she told Talea. That’s a load of dragon shit.”
Talea pursed her lips and glared. Honestly. Why did Kalindra have to be like this?
Kalindra returned the glare with her own. “I was an angel of Thaena, Talea! I know how this works. The position allows for communication, control, and resurrection. Do you think I can enter the Arena at will? No. No, I cannot. Eshi was lying to you.”
“Probably,” Senera agreed.
“Senera!” Talea pouted at the other woman.
“I’m sure it’s a lie of omission, but a lie all the same,” Senera said. “Please note, Kalindra, that this ‘herald’ position seems to be functionally different from ‘angel.’ We shouldn’t assume your own experience is applicable.”
“Okay,” Kalindra said. “So what is a ‘Herald of Death,’ then?”
“I have no idea.” Senera bit the side of a finger as she considered the matter. “I am truly fascinated by the fact that Talea and Xivan have found a way to simply ignore a gaesh. Grateful, even. I simply worry it may have some unforeseen and unpleasant side effects down the line.”
Talea grinned. “Because you care.”
“I do not. This is intellectual curiosity,” Senera said.
“No, it isn’t. You like us.”
“Shut up.” Senera glared. She stared down at the Name of All things, so clearly torn.
Talea bit her lip. She wasn’t sure if Senera asking was a good thing or not. It was certainly too late to do anything about it, but … Talea didn’t really want to have that conversation just then. Still, she held her breath.
Senera set the stone to the side.
“You’re not going to ask?” Sheloran said.
“I’m considering how to word the question,” Senera admitted, frowning. “I don’t think it would be healthy to make a mistake about the phrasing.” Senera pointed toward the food. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you eating normal food, Xivan. Any other changes besides the return of a regular appetite?”
Xivan cleared her throat, looking embarrassed as she gave Talea a sideways glance. “I haven’t been hungry. What I mean is, I haven’t been hungry for souls.”
“That’s wonderful!” Talea said. “I didn’t know it would do that.”
Xivan smiled at her, and their eyes met. Talea felt a frisson of delight slide over her, because this was … different … from the way Xivan normally looked at her. Not kind or concerned or sternly serious. Not soft and loving. This was a look Talea knew exactly how to interpret.
Desire.
Before Talea could suggest that more than one sort of hunger might have returned to Xivan, the world changed.
Xivan’s memories The Capital City of Quur
Twelve days after the Battle of the Well of Spirals
Xivan left the Culling Fields after interviewing anyone who claimed to be there for the massive disaster that was the D’Mon meeting. Everyone except the tavern’s owner and a few others who’d survived it had been convinced that Galen D’Mon had been responsible for the Lysian smoke. Xivan found herself agreeing with the tavern owner at first blush, but that’s where things then became interesting. Because while Galen was unlikely to know an obscure spell used by only a select few of the Quuros army’s war wizards, several witnesses described Galen and his associates escaping the fumes wearing round spheres of clean air around their heads.
Xivan was also familiar with that spell. If Galen knew that glyph, it meant he might also have been in a position to know how to create Lysian gas. He might have learned it from his father Darzin.1 It was … interesting.
Maybe Galen had done what he was accused of. He was a D’Mon, after all.
But his guilt or innocence didn’t make him easier to track down, especially when the trail was already weeks old by the time she’d even begun looking.
Gerisea had said her sources had tracked a group of the rough description of Galen and his companions leaving the Capital by the east gate, presumably traveling to Khorvesh. But Xivan thought that an odd choice when attempting to hide from a woman whose husband was the second son of the Duke of Khorvesh. And if Gerisea had been watching any of the gates leading from the Upper Circle to the Lower Circle, how had she managed to let them slip through her fingers?
House D’Talus? Possibly, but Gerisea seemed certain that they hadn’t gone to ground there, and admittedly, it would have been one of the first places the High Council would have looked. So was there any other house that might have sheltered them? Lady Lessoral D’Talus hadn’t been listed as being from any other royal families and—given her real identity—that was almost certainly true. But what about Galen? Who was his mother? Darzin’s mother had been Khorveshan—Xivan remembered that because it was likely the reason that Darzin had started taking her son, Exidhar, under his wing, to the consternation of both Xivan and Azhen. But Darzin never talked about his wife.2
She ended up having to spend a bit more money asking around and finally came up with the knowledge that Galen’s mother was deceased but also daughter to the High Lord of House D’Aramarin.
Which changed the landscape considerably. A royal would be able to use the Gatestone network but would be noted and tracked. The grandson of the D’Aramarin high lord was a different story.
But when she arrived at the Gatestone, she found there was a different problem: the place was in chaos. The entire site had been blocked off, with signs everywhere announcing the gate was shut down. Several groups of House D’Aramarin servants were busy using the gate to go … somewhere. Somewhere not in the Capital.
“Can someone help me?” she shouted.
They ignored her at first, but eventually, she got someone’s attention.
“We’re not open!” they shouted.
“I have a pass!” she shouted back. “You can’t shut this down for me.”
The servant sighed, clearly exasperated and annoyed. “I don’t care if you’re the Duchess of Yor, we’re closed.”
“As it happens, I am.”
“What?”
“I am the Duchess of Yor,” Xivan said, “so let’s go over that one more time. Why’s everyone in a titter? The Hellmarch isn’t new at this point. Did something else happen?”
The House D’Aramarin servant blinked at her, then shook his head. “You haven’t heard?”
“Assume not,” Xivan replied.
“The emperor executed the high lords,” the man said.
That sentence was so unbelievable that it took a moment to sink in. “I’m sorry, what? All of them?”
“Yes! I mean—” The man squinted. “I’m not sure. But High Lord D’Aramarin’s dead, that’s for certain.”3
“What about D’Mon? D’Talus?”
“Well, how would I…?” His eyes widened as he saw the gems Xivan was piling in her hand. He called behind him. “Hey, did High Lord D’Mon or D’Talus make it?”
A woman carrying a huge stack of clothes shouted back, “It was everybody! It’s just the empress’s people now.”
The man looked back at Xivan and shrugged.
“I’m looking for High Lord D’Aramarin’s grandson,” Xivan said. “He’s House D’Mon now. He would have used a gate several weeks ago.” She held up the gems. “All for you if you tell me.”
The man eyed her for a moment, then looked behind him to see if anyone was paying attention.
“I’ll check,” he said.
Later, after she’d gotten her answers and bought herself a gate to follow Galen and Sheloran, she traveled by gate to Eamithon. The city seemed typical of western Quuros except it was cleaner and friendlier than she was used to. But even so, there was an odd, stale taste of panic to the air.
She asked around. There’d been a dragon attack in the previous weeks.4 Even for people who had seen more than their share of demons in the last few months, a dragon was a bit much to expect them to swallow down without vast quantities of sugar.
It was another unwelcome complication. A lot of panicky refugees made it far more difficult to track the specific refugees she sought. They would all blend together.
It was just dumb luck that she heard someone complaining about how the dragon had attacked the Vishai temple complex over by Rainbow Lake.
“Excuse me, what was that?” She reached over and tugged on a woman’s sleeve, who flinched back as though slapped.
“Hey!”
“I’m sorry, what did you say about the Vishai?”
“They’re all gone now,” the woman said. “If you were thinking about making a pilgrimage, think again.” She hurried off.
Xivan pondered that. Gerisea had mentioned Galen’s deal with the Vishai. It was possible that Galen had thought to turn that agreement into an offer of shelter as well. But if that was the case, then the dragon attack—and especially the timing of the dragon attack—was troubling. It would have been around the right time.
Still, it was the only thing even approaching a lead she had, so there was nothing to be done but to tromp out to the site and see if there was anything interesting to learn.
The road was empty. Anyone who could flee the area had already done so, and evidently, the idea of a dragon in the vicinity was more than sufficient to keep most people uninterested in returning.
Even Xivan was taken aback by the extent of devastation she encountered, the malignant chaos of it. She didn’t know which dragon was responsible, but she had a much better idea of which dragon was not. This wasn’t Aeyan’arric or Sharanakal. This wasn’t Baelosh or Morios. This wasn’t Rol’amar. She wasn’t sure about the others.
Xivan wandered around the temple ruins. Someone had cleaned up the place and built an extremely large pyre to burn the bodies. Now the debris had been cleared away and used to create a large cairn, upon which were marked names. It looked like it had taken either thousands of man-hours or a very skilled wizard.
“Xivan? What are you doing here?” Relos Var asked.
So that answered that question. Xivan turned around to face the very skilled wizard.
Relos Var stood in front of a magical gate, which irised closed behind him. He wore traveling clothing that had seen some wear and appeared to have seen some wear himself. He looked ragged and not in a good mood.
“I’m looking for someone,” she admitted, “and I didn’t expect to find you here.” She frowned. “But then I didn’t, did I? How did you know I’d be here?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “I warded the area in case the dragon returned.”
“Ah well. I didn’t realize—” She frowned. There was a connection here, something she hadn’t previously made. Relos Var’s apprentice back in Yor, Qown—he had been Vishai. She supposed that must have been how Relos Var had come to be interested in this location.
“Clearly, I’m no dragon,” Xivan said, “so I’ll leave you to it.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Actually, the dragon in question is a shape-shifter.” Then he waved a hand. “But even so, it’s unlikely he would have a clue what you look like or that we would know each other, so I suspect it’s safe enough.”
“I see. Well. I wish you luck.” She turned around and sighed in relief to herself, because she’d assumed that her next meeting with Relos Var wouldn’t be nearly this friendly.
She’d only made it a few feet when Relos Var’s voice rang out behind her. “Were you looking for anyone in particular? Perhaps I can help.”
Xivan turned around. “Your help comes with a price tag, Relos.”
“Anyone’s help comes with a price tag. I’m simply honest enough to name the price before the sale.” Relos Var cocked his head to the side. “Where’s Talea, by the way? I never see her away from your side.”
Xivan kept her expression fixed. “We’ve parted ways.”
“Ah. Well, perhaps it’s for the best. I always thought she was a little too soft for you.”
“Hm.”
“My condolences, by the way. Senera told me what Suless did to Azhen.”
“Thank you,” Xivan said.
“So.” Relos Var motioned for her to keep talking. “You might as well tell me. Who are you looking for? No one’s been through here in weeks.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And did that ‘no one’ happen to include several teenage royals belonging to House D’Mon?”
Relos Var raised an eyebrow. “Now why would you be hunting children? That hardly seems like your normal predilection.”
“My reasons are my own,” Xivan said, because she literally couldn’t explain even if she wanted to. “I’m only interested in one of them: Sheloran D’Talus.”
“What a dangerous young woman to be interested in.”
“I wasn’t planning to fight her.”
Var smiled. “And I suppose it’s just coincidence that she happens to be Suless’s granddaughter?”
Xivan didn’t answer.
“Yes, I’m aware of her lineage. And apparently you are too.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Relos Var shrugged. “That was an answer of its own. Caless has always been delightfully adept at staying out of my business. We’ve never had a problem with each other.”
Xivan returned to her silence.
Relos Var watched her.
Finally, Xivan sighed. “You know where Sheloran is, don’t you?”
Relos Var sat down on a marble slab and set his ankle across the opposite knee. “I do.”
“And what would it cost me for this information?” Xivan forced herself to ignore how smug he looked.
“Hmm. Now that is a question. I have been magnanimous and helpful before, Xivan. As I recall, the result of that generosity didn’t work out in my favor. Indeed, it cost me my favorite sword.”
“I’m under the impression Godslayer was never your sword to begin with.”
Relos Var shrugged. “You’re misinformed. I created that weapon, by any possible definition you might care to use.” The smile vanished from his lips; his stare hardened. “I’m not inclined to give you any gifts today.”
“Stop playing around. You’ve never given a gift in your life.”
He let that statement pass without comment. “I think you’re on the right track with Sheloran. Given Suless’s personality, it’s unlikely Suless won’t soon hunt down the child. I know you think Suless was a disaster with your family, but trust me, she’ll be as bad if not worse with her own.”
Xivan felt something inside her freeze. “What?”
Relos Var pursed his lips. “Does that surprise you? Did you think the horrible, abusive witch-queen is vile and vindictive to her enemies but kind and sweet to those she loves? She loves no one. She is horrible to everyone. Why wouldn’t she lash out against the offspring Cherthog forced upon her? And since a grown and powerful Caless isn’t so easy to abuse anymore, why not switch that malice to Caless’s daughter, Sheloran, instead?”
Xivan exhaled. “Gods. That girl has enough problems.”
“Of which you’re one, I’m sure. If only the flow of pain stops because one’s cup is already full.”
Xivan kicked a piece of marble, which skittered across the charred and melted ground. She’d thought of using Sheloran against Caless, yes, but it had never occurred to her that the young woman had a more immediate use as a lure against Suless herself. Although she still needed the Stone of Shackles, didn’t she? But did it matter whether or not she was the one holding the Cornerstone? If Caless was the one taking revenge, revenge was still had. Xivan was fine with that.
“Name your price,” Xivan said.
Var thought about it for a second. “You.”
Xivan gave the wizard a sardonic smile. “I didn’t think I was your type.”
Relos Var actually looked charmed. “I have many types, and under different circumstances…”
Xivan blinked.
Relos Var waved a hand. “Neither here nor there. Despite the debacle with Godslayer, you still have your uses. So this is my price, Your Grace. I will tell you how to find Sheloran. I’ll even send you to the closest location to her I’m able to reach. I’ll give you every tool I can for your own success—and in return, you will serve me for the rest of your days.”
“That seems a steep price for what you’re providing, Var.”
“I treat my people well, Xivan. You would not be gaining a onetime, temporary benefit.”
Xivan stared at the man and pondered if that could possibly be true. Her husband suggested otherwise, but her husband hadn’t been one of Var’s people, had he? At least, not knowingly so. Would it be worth the price of revenge?
“I think you could give me what you’re promising but still engineer matters so I fail,” Xivan said.
Relos Var sighed. “I have encouraged Sheloran and her friends to chase after a pirate named the Lash. He’s in possession of a Cornerstone called Grimward. You have a connection there.”
“I do?”
“Grimward happens to be how I raised you from the dead.”
Xivan straightened.
Relos Var looked at the sky, admiring the color. He waited a beat before adding, “Here’s an interesting fact about Grimward, which I may have neglected to tell my unwilling and overly suspicious helpers. I don’t even think Qown realizes—”
“Qown’s with them?” Xivan scowled.
“Indeed. As I was saying, Grimward will kill any living being who picks up the stone. As it happens, only the dead can wield it.”
Xivan stared. “Why wouldn’t you tell them that?”
“Oh, I would have, if they’d agreed to find it for me. But Galen D’Mon is much less trusting than I’d anticipated. So it seems they’ll be discovering that bit of trivia the hard way. When they do, they’ll need someone to show them how to use the stone to fix that situation—since Thaena’s no longer alive to help put matters to right. I suspect it will be Galen who falls victim, but who knows? It could just as easily be Sheloran. Probably not Qown. He already has a Cornerstone; he knows better than to try to claim another.”
Xivan scowled as she thought over the matter. “Why tell me this? Why tell me any of this when I haven’t agreed to your terms yet?”
“Because you can’t stop it without my aid, of course,” Var explained, laughter in his voice. “You’ll never reach them in time. They have a several-week head start on you. And it’s a shame, because honestly, you’re the perfect person to take the stone. In your hands, Grimward is utterly safe. I can make sure you reach them in time to both warn and assist them.”
Xivan scoffed. “I think you’ve made a serious miscalculation, because I really don’t give a damn what happens to those people. It’s not my problem if they die.”
“Ah, so hard-hearted and full of hate, living only for revenge.” Var’s expression was fond. “Is that what I’m supposed to believe you are? Very well. But you don’t get Sheloran unless you save them. And without Sheloran, I very much doubt that this notion of revenge you’ve been carrying around with you is going anywhere. Without something Suless wants, you’re just an old, grim warrior chasing shadows.” Relos Var chuckled. “I can imagine how your meeting with Caless went. Senera told me you were asking after the Stone of Shackles.”
Xivan knew the smart play was to turn around and leave. To walk away from this man and his gifts and favors and promises.
“I’m sure she did,” Xivan replied, “but you’re going to have to do a little more for me than promise to teleport me to Sheloran’s last known location if you want me to swear to serve you.”
“Now, Xivan,” Relos Var said softly, “you already know I want Suless dead. Nearly as much as you do, I imagine.”
“I doubt that.”
He didn’t bother to argue the point with her. “I know a great deal more about killing demons than Caless does. Or you.” He held out a hand. “All I want is your word, Xivan. That’s quite enough guarantee for me.”
Xivan scratched at the corner of her mouth as she eyed the wizard. “My word?”
“Yes.” His expression was mild.
Neither of them said anything for a long while.
“You have it,” she finally said. “Help me with this and I’m yours.”
She felt nothing except the vague knowledge that Talea would be disappointed in her.
Relos Var nodded in satisfaction. “Excellent. Now let me open a portal for you.”