Rite of Exile: The Silent Tempest, Book 1 (5 page)

“Urman … Grondolos … Etrenga … Teneda … each name is a tale of sacrifice.” Then her hand stopped.

“Who is that?” Caleb asked.

“Ranlé,” she answered, “fourth Overseer of Ada. He was a very old man when news arrived of the tragedy of Aén’Tedrel. He was so overcome with grief and guilt that he refused to eat or drink, and died three days later.”

She stood. “No one at the Judgment will expect you to know all our history, Caleb Stenger. They
will
expect you to understand why we teach it to our children.” She looked down at Warren, then at the passage behind. “We’d better get going. We have a long walk ahead of us.”

They followed Telai through an arched exit and down a flight of wide, shallow steps. Caleb felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. A corridor stretched into the distance beyond the stairs, its walls dimly lit by iron sconces, each passing flame drawing him nearer to his fate.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have paid more attention to your lessons. I’m not very good at that sort of thing, unfortunately. I hope I still qualify for the Judgment.”

“That’s up to you. If what I just told you isn’t enough, waiting won’t matter.”

Caleb took a deep breath, knowing he had disappointed her. “I won’t let you down, Telai—I promise. Or Warren.” This seemed to please her, and he added, “Still—maybe it’s a good idea if you gave me a quick refresher.”

“Now?”

“Just because I’ve learned respect doesn’t mean I won’t trip over my words again.”

She nodded. “Good point.”

Caleb fumed, but he willed himself quiet and listened.

“I’ll start with the basics,” she said. “The goal of every Raén, as demanded by their Oath, is to eliminate any threat to Ada. This includes the greatest threat of all, Kseleksten—the first of two ancient weapons called the Lor’yentréi that once inflicted great suffering on our people.”

“I remember now, believe it or not.” Caleb sped through his memories, determined to regain her respect. “It was that Grondolos fellow who broke one of those weapons and overthrew that sorceress … um … what was her name?”

“Heradnora. It was the fulfillment of a very old prophecy that predicted her fall. The weapon she used has an official name just like Kseleksten, but most people refer to it as the
Broken
Lor’yentré—a sort of homage to Grondolos. It was hidden long ago in a remote island called Graxmoar, in a lake near the western sea. But we still don’t know where its mate is, or even who wielded it. The Prophets only left a hint of its existence.”

They walked steadily on, Warren between the adults, each end of the passage only a bright gleam of converging lights. “Has anyone been to this Graxmoar?” Caleb asked after a while.

“No, but not because we haven’t tried. To the west of the island stand towering sea cliffs; to the south some of the tallest mountains in Ada; to the east and north a vast, primeval forest, all surrounded by a barrier that strikes madness and despair in anyone who approaches. Those with the strength of will to break through never return.”

“The power of Kseleksten?”

“I don’t think so. My instincts tell me something else is at work, a presence of some kind. And it’s possible that the Lor’yentréi weren’t inherently evil—just dangerous to have around.” She shook her head quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s a controversial interpretation.”

“I don’t see why.
Absolute power corrupts absolutely
,” he translated.

“Exactly!” she said, and the proud glance she cast his way did wonders for his confidence. “Evil begins in fear, not the tools that empower it. That is why the destruction of Kseleksten remains our highest calling, reserved exclusively for our soldiers.”

“The Raéni?”

“Yes. Once you take the Oath of the Raéni, there’s no turning back.”

She entertained him with other ancient tales, until at last their journey ended at another flight of steps. Glints of gold and silver at the top marked a set of tall doors between bright lanterns; the doorkeeper stood at attention, a tall boy close to manhood looking a bit too proud of his assigned duty.

Caleb paused on the first step, Warren beside him. “This is it?”

“This is Larientur,” Telai confirmed. She climbed the steps, compelling him to follow. “The Hodyn discovered it back when it was only a rough cave. Since then we’ve honored Larientur with the skills of the same artisans who built Wsaytchen. But we share our enemy’s belief that the spirit of Hendra is strongest here, and aids our search for knowledge.” She pointed at the high lintel, where strange letters or runes were deeply engraved:

Oti va freda gidos yoné erth yra kyalé gáid kya.

“It’s written in Urmanayan, the ancient language of our ancestors. Translated, it says:
Here the truth cannot hide from those who seek it
.
”

A shiver of premonition ran down Caleb’s back as they crossed the wide landing. Telai offered Warren her hand, adding a wink to reassure him. The boy looked up at his father.

“It’s right, Warren,” he said. “Telai will take care of you.”

She smiled. “Good luck.”

Caleb tried to copy her smile, but failed. He nodded once at the young warden, who then faced the doors to herald his arrival.

♦

A multitude of silver-adorned lanterns, each hanging from walls inlaid with onyx, encircled the large chamber named Larientur. A round table of white marble, a full thirty feet in diameter and bordered with a large, gold-inlaid version of the inscription outside the door, occupied the center. Dozens of chairs surrounded it, each crafted from different precious minerals such as turquoise and jasper and obsidian, a kaleidoscope of stone. Above, a high vault plated with burnished silver reflected the bright flames to illuminate the entire table. A large, curved mirror crowned its apex, cleverly placed to highlight the largest seat, an oaken chair that despite its plainness dominated all the others—the chair of Garda, Overseer of Ada.

The walls echoed with many voices, five to Garda’s left, four to her right: the Council of Nine. She remained silent, preoccupied with the impending decision over the Falling Man. She sensed a hint of darkness about him, a mystery only the revealing light of Larientur might expose.

She brushed back the pale blond strand that had fallen loose, and tucked it under her braid. The burdens of leadership had begun to tell on her lately; the woman who greeted her from her bedroom mirror each morning looked less and less like her beautiful daughter, and each day seemed to pass quicker than the one before. Yet here, exposed to the expectations of the Council and indeed all of Ada, she sat straight and kept her eyes steady, a lie to silence her people’s doubts and keep her own where they belonged.

Garda knew she was capable of blindness on occasion, despite her powers of insight. The Council had considered it prudent to order the most historically skilled of her people to teach this stranger, but now she regretted agreeing to that decision. Telai’s discretion didn’t always take precedence over her curiosity.

She ended her drifting thoughts with a grim smile.
You’re a fine one to criticize that!

A muffled cry requesting admittance sounded from the passage outside. Garda stood and held up her hand for silence.

“You already know the importance of this Judgment,” she stated as the voices trailed away. “He should be treated with appropriate respect, like any supplicant who enters this chamber. But there’s no telling what sort of people he comes from, and I will not compromise the safety of Ada. I will leave no question unanswered.”

She faced the entrance. “Enter,” she commanded.

The doors swung to reveal a man of average height. His hair was cut a bit shorter than most, with dark brows in a handsome face—somewhere in his thirties, she guessed. He stood alone just inside the threshold, squinting against the brilliance as the doors closed with a boom.

“Welcome, Caleb Stenger, man who descended from the sky,” said the Overseer. “Shouldn’t your son be joining us?”

He squared his shoulders. “Mistress Telai suggested that he wait outside with her. I thought it a wise choice. I meant no offense.”

Garda pursed her lips, irritated by her daughter’s presumption—or, more accurately, what motivated it. “Please be seated.”

He sat in the nearest chair, facing the assembly, and bowed his head. “I thank you, Overseer, for your kindness, and most of all for the opportunity to learn your language and history before you reviewed my case.”

“This isn’t a
case
, Caleb Stenger. The only purpose of this meeting is to erase any doubts which hang about you. If we find no ill within you, your welcome in Ada will be made official.”

She resumed her seat. “You must be aware by now that your arrival has struck fear into many of the inhabitants, particularly with your landing so close to Illvent.”

“Illvent? Ah yes, the volcano—an evil omen of some sort. I was told it’s been dormant for centuries.”

“Yes. But the existence of such a mountain, active or otherwise, has paralleled the existence of evil in our history,” said Garda. “Many would say your arrival is the first sign of things to come.”

“I will not contest the validity of such beliefs, my lady. My only intent is to prove that I am only an ordinary man, and Warren an ordinary boy.”

“Which is all we require of you,” the Overseer said. She bowed her head in thought. “Tell us about this ‘ship,’ as you call it.”

“It’s not a ship of the sea. It’s … well, a ship of the stars, if you can believe that.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry. I don’t know of any words in your language that would allow me to explain in more detail.”

“Many saw your ship fall from the sky, so there’s little reason to doubt you. But why did it come here at all? From what Soren told me, it was no gentle landing.”

“No. My son and I journeyed for so many years that we had to go into a deep sleep. Otherwise we would have aged and died much before we found a place to live. The devices on my ship were supposed to take us to another destination, and wake us when we arrived. For some reason they failed, and we crashed here in Ada.”

“Yes. My daughter relayed your story about how your sleeping devices injured your son. She also told me where you came from—though the name escapes me right now.”

“It’s called Earth. It’s not the same world as yours.”

One of the judges, a heavyset woman similar in age to Garda, said, “How can there be two worlds—any more than there can be two skies?”

“There are many,” was the answer.

“Ridiculous!”

The Overseer glared at the speaker. “Tenra! Our Loremasters have already suggested that worlds exist other than our own. Besides, how else would you explain his arrival?” She faced the stranger again. “Why did you leave this Earth?”

His words were forced, his face an unreadable mask. “It was destroyed.”

“All of it? By whom?”

“I don’t know.”

Garda paused to study his response, thinking,
he just slammed the door on the mystery.

“Caleb Stenger, I know little more about you now than when you entered this room—only that some great power or catastrophe destroyed your home, and you journeyed with your son to find a new one. There’s more you’re not telling us, and we must have an answer before allowing your entrance into Adan society.”

He paused, glancing from face to face. “I ask that my answer be kept confidential.”

“Perhaps. Why?”

“Please, Overseer, grant me this request. Once the Judgment is made, for better or worse, it won’t matter.”

“That remains to be seen. But I don’t understand. What harm can such knowledge do to you—unless it’s of a personal nature?”

He glanced at the others. “It is.”

“Very well. I charge the Council of Nine never to repeat any of the words spoken in this chamber today—provisional on your reply meeting the condition, of course.”

A brief flash of doubt suggested it wasn’t quite the solid promise he was hoping for, but he thanked her, and bowed his head for a moment.

“Earth was not destroyed. But it might as well have been. I’m an exile, a permanent one.”

Murmurs ran up and down the table. “Only criminals are exiled, Caleb Stenger,” Garda said. “For what offense were you banished?”

“Criminals and those falsely accused, my lady. But my exile is self-imposed.”

“Then I will rephrase my question. What crime were you accused of?”

He shrugged. “Some might not view it as such. There were many laws—”

“Enough! We will form our own opinions. State the crime, without oratory.”

He stiffened. “All right, then—my crime is murder. I killed my wife!”

Garda laced her fingers together on the table. “Why?”

He wiped his gathering tears. “The doctors said there was no hope.”

“She was ill?”

“Yes. I don’t know your word for it, but we call it a
coma
. It’s a sickness where the victim lies in such a
deep sleep that after a time there can be no awakening.”

“We call it
lentanré
, the long sleep. These doctors told you she would never recover?”

“Not exactly. They kept talking about this new technique or that new medicine. In time I interpreted their answers for myself.”

“I see. You acted out of mercy.”

“As I was about to explain, it depends on who you talk to. Even a husband has no legal right to make that kind of decision.”

She shook her head slightly. “I don’t understand. Do you mean to say your laws condemn you for an act of mercy?”

He trembled with suppressed fury, every word a painful confession. “They said I had to wait for a judge’s approval!”

A sudden pity for this man bloomed in her heart, but she struggled to contain it. “So instead of waiting for that approval, you took action and escaped.”

“Yes.”

“Did you have so little faith in this judge?”

“None. And I couldn’t bear to watch her suffer any longer while clever tactics kept delaying his decision!”