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Outside my bedroom window, the world glowed with moonlight. The freshly fallen snow reflected the light so that even the darkest recesses of my room were lit with an eerie silvery radiance. Only the golden glow of the firelight kept the moonlight at bay. I sat perched on the window seat wrapped in a quilt to guard against the drafts that crept around the windowpanes.
My heart still lay in my chest like a lead lump. I had hoped that knowing what to do would give me some relief, but if only made the pressure on my chest heavier. It was as though my sin hung about my neck, pulling me down. Part of me whimpered for relief while another whispered that I didn’t want to give up my freedom, my ability to live my life as I chose.
What kind of freedom is this? I am weighed down with sin such that I cannot move. My spirit aches and my heart cries for respite.
The words of the Almighty’s Revelation kept returning to my thoughts. He promised peace and forgiveness. Both were things that the goddess never promised. She never promised anything. Although her worshipers did everything to please her, she never guaranteed what they wanted in return. The Almighty, on the other hand, promised and according to Errol, Selwyn, and Adreet, He always followed through.
Slipping from the windowsill, I went to my knees on the cold wooden floor. Gathering my quilt around me, I saluted the Almighty as I had seen Errol do before thanking Him for the meal. Then I spoke.
“Almighty God in the heavens, speaker to the prophets of the Revelation, and Savior of sinners like me. I come before You with nothing but the sin in my heart. Please, Almighty, I am a sinner and in dire need of deliverance. Selwyn and Errol told me of Your Son’s death to pay for the sin of people like me. I ask that you take my heart and life and cleanse it of this heavy burden. I know that I don’t deserve this, but please, Almighty, accept me anyway.” I paused desperately, trying to remember how Errol closed the prayers over the dinner table. “In Iazus’ name, so let it be.”
Slowly the weight around my heart lifted. I felt lighter and suddenly happy. “Oh, thank you,” I whispered to God. I wanted to tell everyone, but looking out the window at the night sky, I knew it was going to have to wait until morning. Rising stiffly to my feet, I crossed to my bed and climbed in between the sheets with my quilt still wrapped around me. Snuggling down among the bedding, I smiled. I now belonged to the Almighty and it felt wonderful.
––––––––
The week after the High King’s death was one long ceremony after another, each function punctuated with side glances and whispered rumors. Three more of the kings, Adrasteia, Marcellus, and Euginius, cornered me privately about the Elitist concerns. Thankfully by then I could pacify their fears with promises that I was actively looking for a husband for Zezilia other than myself. King Euginius brought up the issue of her testing by an outside trainer. I promised him that I would send someone down to Errol immediately and that seemed to calm him. King Ilar, however, was beginning to worry me.
I frowned down at my desk and the letters strewn across the surface. Ilar had not sought me out and each time I had begun to get close enough to speak with him, he ducked away. At least four times in the past five days, I glimpsed the Mesitas speaking with him off to the side. I could only guess at the poison that the old man was pouring in his ears.
“We have word from Blandone, Master,” Renato announced as he burst into the sitting room. He set a sealed letter on my desk and continued to flip through the other missives. “A letter from Korneli. It looks like a response to your request that he test Zezilia.” I reached for the first letter as he tossed down the second.
“Have you completed that research on the Elitists that I requested?” I broke the seal on the document from Blandone as I glanced over at my assistant.
“Of course,” he replied with a regally affronted look.
“You just finished it yesterday, right?”
“This morning, if you must know,” he replied as he opened one of his own letters. “I will go fetch it after I read this.”
I nodded and turned my attention to Blandone’s news.
The Elitists, led by a man named Thrasius Parzifal, established a village on the coast about three years ago. Surrounded by an eight foot wall, the inhabitants were closely monitored even when they traveled to other villages to sell their goods. The women especially were guarded and not allowed to speak with anyone outside the community.
According to Blandone’s account, he had others attempt contact for him multiple times, but to no avail. Many of the neighboring villages lost sons and daughters to the group. The leaders were constantly on the lookout for untrained female talents. Once one was spotted by one of the scouts, the girl had a tendency to disappear.
As he skimmed over the details, I silently thanked the Almighty that Zezilia was safely tucked away in the south. She would be exactly what they wanted for their community, a strong untrained talent to bear strong talented babies.
“I will go get that Elitist research now, Master. Is there anything else you would like me to fetch?” Renato asked.
“No, just the research.” I set aside Blandone’s letter and reached for Korneli’s.
My friend’s letter was of a much more positive nature. He said that he would be able to incorporate a stop at Errol’s farm twice a year without a problem. In fact it would work out well because he needed someone to test Septimus and an exchange in testing between him and Errol would be advantageous to both.
As I read of Septimus’ progress, I began to have an idea. He and Zez were of the same age. Perhaps, with a little encouragement, the two of them would become friends and eventually solve my marriage problem for me. Grabbing a sheet of paper from the stack in the desk, I quickly wrote a reply to Korneli asking him to encourage Septimus’ association with Zezilia and the Silas daughters. I included the daughters to disguise my intentions and mentioned something about the interaction would be good for both sides considering how isolated they all were from others their own age. I remembered how lonely that farm could get when you are young and wish to be around others who are young. I signed it with a flourish and had just removed the seal from the wax when Renato returned.
“Here it is,” he announced as he pulled up a chair. Sitting down, he spread his notes across his knees. “The last time this happened, the Sept Son did nothing for years. In my opinion, he waited until it was too late. Then the only action that he could take was military, which ended in a horrible slaughter. It took the Sept Son years to redeem his name and even to this day the histories are harsh when discussing the whole affair.”
I nodded. I remembered something similar, but I had still hoped to get some help from the past. “So, that doesn’t help us much. Do you have any ideas?”
Renato looked up at me, golden brown eyes wide. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You have now studied these people. How can we deal with them?”
“I don’t know, Master. It is easy to see the previous Sept Son’s folly, but I haven’t thought about how we can avoid following in his footsteps.”
“Well, first of all, I shall not repeat the mistake of waiting too long before taking action. We need to make our first move now, before they know we are aware of them. Tell me about their mentality.”
Scanning his notes, Renato obeyed. “The basic mentality is that the goddess created talents to be superior to non-talents. As such, non-talents are made to serve the talents by handling all the more menial tasks of house and agriculture.”
“So, they enslave non-talents to run the households and work the fields?”
“The community in the past did. That was the first complaint that reached the Sept Son’ ears.”
Picking up Blandone’s letter, I quickly searched for any reference to such activities. “It doesn’t appear that this group is doing that. They are only seeking out talents, untrained females especially.”
“The old group started that way too, but they didn’t grow aggressive about it the last year or two before the slaughter.”
I lay Blandone’s letter on the covered desk and stared at it as an idea began to form in my mind. “Was the old group picky about who joined?”
Renato rustled his notes for a few moments. “No, they were looking for any able bodied talent who agreed to their ways and beliefs.”
I couldn’t help smiling. There was a chance my idea could work. “Good. This is what we are going to do: attack from the inside. If a man, say Blandone, joins their community and does whatever they require to accept him. Then he can feed us information, work his way into the fabric of the community, and when the time is right, start working on sabotaging the leadership.”
Renato chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “It might work.”
“And Blandone is just the man to do it too. Your brother is the best undercover man I can think of. He is so unassuming that everyone believes him without questioning.”
“I am not sure he will be willing to marry into it, but other than that I think it will work.”
“It shouldn’t go so far as marriage.” I leaned beck in the chair and pressed my palms to my face. I was suddenly extremely tired. “If we could manage to get in another man or so, that would be even better, but that will be later, much later.”
“The one problem with this is it is going to take time,” Renato observed, “Time where it is going to look like you are doing nothing.”
“Then we will put up a smoke screen of activity. I will move a few more agents over in that direction and start encouraging families with talent in them to come East and away from the danger.” As Renato nodded, I reached for the paper pile. “I am going to get this letter to Blandone written right now while I am thinking about it and then I am going to bed.”
“It has been a long day,” Renato agreed, stretching.
“Try long week,” I corrected and picked up the pen. “Why don’t you head to bed and get some sleep? You look almost as tired as I feel.”
Renato nodded and rose without complaint. “Sleep well, Master Aleron.”
“You, too,” I replied. The door closed behind Renato with a soft click as I bent over my work.
The letter took only a half hour to write. I explained to Blandone what I was trying to accomplish with my orders, warned him of the possibility of more infiltrators later, and gave him the option to bow out of the task. I made it a policy to always give my men an option. They worked harder and more carefully when they knew that the job was their choice. Folding the letter carefully, I sealed it with wax and addressed it. Setting it aside, I reached for the paper yet again. The letter to Errol about Zezilia’s concentration problems was sadly overdue and I felt a certain urgency to write to tell him about all that was happening with the High Kingship and the Mesitas. If anything, I needed prayer. I was not going to make it through this fight alone. I needed the Almighty and the support of others who believed in Him. Taking up the quill, I began to write.
––––––––
“You are doing very well,” Errol sent as he looked over his notes from our recent exercises. We were in the study four weeks after Candra’s accident and it was during lesson hours; so, all of our communication was through sending.
“But I still cannot manage to do more than one thing at a time,” I pointed out. That fact continued to nag me. I couldn’t seem to be able to hold my concentration.
Errol nodded, his frizzy hair bobbing slightly behind the movement. “I wrote to a friend of mine about you having difficulty with it and he has suggested some exercises for you. We will try them out tomorrow.”
“Why not today?” I asked eagerly. I was willing to try almost anything to get over this challenge.
“Because,” Errol said as he closed his logbook, “A tester from the Sept Son is coming for lunch and bringing his own student for me to test. I think you will like both of them. Korneli is a good friend of Ilias’ from his childhood days. You can pester him all you like with questions. I am sure he can tell you some interesting things.”
“You mean I can ask him anything?” This surprised me since I was now convinced there was a conspiracy to keep me unaware of some aspects of Ilias’ past. It was strange how Errol avoided answering some of my questions about him, but would willingly answer others.
“Korneli knows what not to tell you,” my trainer replied.
So he was another in on the secret. I was convinced that Selwyn and Errol were the only two who knew why there was a limit on what information I was to have about Ilias. All the rest of the family acted as though they were obeying orders without quite understanding why.
Before I could ask Errol anymore questions about the tester, the jingle of harness bells drew my attention to the window. Coming down the trail from the road was a closed box wagon drawn by a beautiful brown mare. A tall dark man sat on the driver’s bench with a fair boy at his side. The boy looked to be about my age, but it was hard to tell at this distance.
“That is him.” Errol pushed back his chair with a sigh. “I will go let Adreet know that he has arrived and tell Delmar to get the horses. Why don’t you go out to greet them? I am certain that Korneli and his charge are eager to meet you.”
As he opened the door into the hallway, the sound of feet coming down the stairs echoed through the house.
“Someone is here,” Eloine announced as she rounded the corner into the hall, her long auburn hair in full sail behind her.
“We know,” Errol told her as he held out a steadying hand. “It is Korneli.”
“He has a boy with him.”
“That is his trainee. Now calm down.”
“Braid your hair, child,” Adreet ordered as she appeared from the kitchen.
“Korneli is here,” Errol informed her as though it was something that happened everyday.
“I couldn’t help hearing with all the noise.” Leading the small group out into the great room, she wiped her hands on her apron and began untying it. “Zez will you please fetch Galatea and Candra. I believe they are in Candra’s room.”
Obediently, I hurried toward the stairs, but before I got there, Galatea appeared at the top. She descended the narrow steps as though they were marble. Every hair perfectly in place, her dress spotless and neat, she looked as though she had just walked away from the mirror. I noticed a slight blush to her cheeks that could have only come from pinching them fiercely. After two months of little or no sun, all of us looked slightly pale.
“Someone is here?” she asked me, innocence plastered across her face.
“Your mother said to fetch you,” I told her from my place on the bottom step. Errol opened the front door on the other side of the room. Cold winter air swept two figures into the room as Galatea descended so she could see too.
“Welcome,” Errol greeted them as he closed the door behind them.
Korneli turned and saluted Errol with a smile. “Ah, Errol, it is so good to see you again. I have been regretting missing you at the Caelestis Novem celebrations last summer.”
“I had to leave early. Ilias sold this farm to us and I needed to begin moving immediately. Come in.” Errol gestured toward Adreet and Eloine. “Come and meet my family, or at least part of my family. This is my wife Adreet and our middle daughter, Eloine.”
Korneli was tall, about Selwyn’s height and a foot over Errol’s head. As he bowed over Adreet’s offered hand, I caught a glimpse of dark intelligent eyes. His appearance was striking, even from this distance. Straight, dark brown, almost black hair was cropped closely to his head and the even, well-defined features of his face made him immediately attractive in a way I had never seen before. I heard Galatea’s gasp of appreciation as he turned toward us.
“And you must be the other two ladies of the house.” He saluted us formally and then turned to draw his companion forward. “This is my student, Septimus Pewlin. I can call him Eldivo, which is his third name.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Eldivo murmured with a bow.
“Might we know your names?” Korneli asked with a charming smile.
“I am Galatea,” Galatea announced as she stepped down to the first floor. Her every movement oozed charm. She offered her hand to Korneli and smiled becomingly up at him. “I am the eldest.”
“Not so.” Surprised, I turned to find Candra standing a few steps above me on the staircase. “Zezilia is the oldest by four months.”
“And you are?” Korneli asked with amusement brightening his eyes.
Candra solemnly met his gaze. “I am Candra, the youngest. Who are you?”
“Korneli, a friend of your father’s.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Candra inclined her head respectfully. “Mother, may I go back to bed now?”
“Yes, dear, I will bring lunch up to you in a few minutes.”
Taking that as a dismissal, Candra turned and climbed back up the stairs. I watched her go with concern. Even at her most grumpy, she was usually more cordial than that.
“So, you must be Zezilia.” A nutty taste filled my mouth. It reminded me of cashews and peanuts with a hint of almond, an unusual combination.
I turned to meet his gaze. “I am. It is rude to greet a stranger by sending when meeting in a social situation.”
Korneli smiled. “You are quite right. I beg your pardon for my rude behavior. It is a pleasure to meet you, Zezilia.” He saluted me formally.
“The same here,” I replied and returned the salute.
“Now that all the introductions are out of the way, would you please join us for lunch, Korneli. We were just about to set it on the table.”
“I would be honored,” he responded and we made a small procession to the dining room.
Much to my relief, Errol captured Korneli’s attention and kept him busy discussing the latest news from the capital. News of High King Honorus’ death reached us three days after it happened, and Errol received news from the Sept Son about the transition a few days later. Ever since, he had been eager for more news of how the transition was going. So, the two of them spent the whole meal talking.
That left entertaining Eldivo to the three of us girls. Galatea and Eloine quickly settled into a rapid fire question and answer format, quizzing the young man on everything from where he came from to how he had become Korneli’s student. Far from being intimidated by them, Eldivo seemed to enjoy talking about himself. I quietly listened, watching the young man’s face and studied his features between bites.
“So, you are a seventh son?” Eloine asked. “That is what your name means, doesn’t it? Septimus means seventh son.”
Eldivo blushed slightly, an unusual look with his fair hair and light colored eyes. “I am the seventh living son. You see, before me, my parents had a daughter who died only three hours after she was born. That means that I am not the seventh son of a line of only sons.”
Eloine stared at him. “So, you don’t have the strength of a seventh son just because of that sister? Then why did you parents name you Septimus?”
“I think they hoped I would still develop the skills of a seventh son and wanted there to be no question as to my position in the family.”
“But everyone who meets you and hears your name, thinks you must be a seventh son,” Galatea protested. “That was hardly kind.”
“That is why Korneli is calling me by my third name. I still have to use my first name when among the talented, but outside of the formal stuff, I can go by Eldivo, which is much less conspicuous. Are any of your brothers talents?” he asked swiftly before promptly filling his mouth with food.
“We don’t have any brothers,” Galatea declared. “All we have are sisters and Father tested each of us, but none of us have shown the slightest inclination at talent.”
“Then who is Korneli here to test?” Eldivo looked from one of them to other. “That is why we are here, you know. Your father is to test me and Korneli is to test your father’s student. Where is he?”
“It isn’t a he, silly.” Eloine laughed. “It is a she. Zezilia is our father’s student.”
Suddenly, I felt his gaze and the faltering brush of his thoughts as he brushed my mind. He tasted like rain, watery and wet. I looked up and met his eyes.
“Is it true?” he asked. His surprise washed over me.
I nodded.
“I have never met a girl talent before.”
“There is nothing different, except that I am female,” I informed him.
“Korneli says that most female talents are weak. Are you weak?” A sending brushed my consciousness, hinting at a reprimand, but it wasn’t aimed at me. Abruptly, Eldivo dropped his eyes in shame. “Pardon me, I shouldn’t have said that.” I glanced down the table to where Errol was telling Korneli about the exercises that the Sept Son sent him. Korneli wasn’t paying attention to Errol. Instead, his dark eyes glared at his student.
“I am truly sorry, Zezilia, will you forgive me.” Eldivo’s voice called my attention back to him. He looked at me with pleading eyes. “I haven’t learned my manners very well. I am used to being around my siblings, and my parents pretty much let me do as I wanted.”
“You are forgiven,” I assured him before picking up my fork.
As I began filling it with another bite, fear whispered in my thoughts. This was the man who was to test me. I hoped desperately that he wouldn’t reprimand me like that when I did something wrong. I was certain that I would manage to do at least one thing wrong during the testing. I always did when Errol tested me. Nervously, I finished my food and waited with watchful gaze for the others to finish and the testing to begin.
After a few minutes I remembered what Errol had taught me about praying when I was worried about something. Closing my eyes, I reached out and began to talk to the Almighty about my concerns.