Rite of Exile: The Silent Tempest, Book 1 (8 page)

“I don’t mean to sound irreverent,” said Caleb, “but they don’t strike me as very courageous.”

“Perhaps. Bravery is a little harder when you can glimpse the future. What few of their prophecies they gave us are kept at Gerentesk.”

“Any ever been fulfilled?”

“Not since Alyrgor, the ancient prophecy of Heradnora’s fall. We were a wandering race for many years afterward, and very little of our written works survived. The Prophets were too secretive about anything
they
preserved. Now, no one knows if they even exist.”

“The records, or the Prophets?”

“Both. They could answer many questions.” She paused, then rose from her chair. “This may sound odd coming from a Loremaster,” she said with a curl of her lips, “but I’m sick of talking about history!” She walked around and offered her hand. “I think you’ll like the view from the balcony.”

Caleb took her hand, bewildered by the sudden change, while Yoté entered and started clearing the table. Returning to the central hall, they climbed the stairs and walked down a short passage to a small door on the east side of the house. Telai closed it behind them, while Caleb crossed the balcony to the railing.

The lights of Ekendoré shone all about them. To their left, through the boughs hanging over the balcony, the windows of the palace glowed like flickering embers. Directly ahead, beyond the peaked roofs of Gerentesk, the Tarn reflected a bright yellow moon lifting over the Old Wall far away. Telai leaned back against the rail, her eyes closed, listening as the breeze stirred the leaves into music. It wasn’t long before Caleb decided which view he liked best, and the minutes passed, sweet and forgotten, as he lost himself in the quiet vision of her beauty.

“You may not know this,” said Caleb, “but Warren has a crush on you.”

She emerged from her trance with a smile. “I suppose I only have myself to blame. I can’t seem to help it. He’s like a sponge, he just soaks up love and attention.”

A faint melancholy stole into his heart. “He’s always been that way. But I wish you had known him before. He could have learned your language in half the time it took me.”

“How’s he doing? Looks like he’s made a few friends.”

“Only a few. He gets pretty frustrated, so I try not to push him too much. Speaking of which,” he said, folding his arms, “why is it he can understand you and not them?”

Telai searched his expression. “What do you mean?”

“Earlier—when you asked him if he wanted your gift, and he nodded.”

“Oh, that. It’s something I’ve felt since we first met. A sort of … well, connection, I suppose.”

“Is it this special talent of insight I’ve noticed? Your mother seems to have it, too.”

“No. That’s simple clairvoyance, or
laroné
—which, I should warn you, isn’t the politest subject to talk about in public, especially in reference to the Overseer or the Council. It’s an undocumented requirement of their position.”

Caleb winced. “The Council, too? I’m glad I didn’t know that before the Judgment. And I’m losing count of how many times I’ve offended you today.”

She dismissed his guilt with a wave of her hand. “I can be too frank with people sometimes.”

“Would it be rude to ask why it’s different with Warren?”

“Different from laroné? It’s more direct, in a way—like there’s a part of him trying to break out of his shell.” She hesitated, her brow furrowing. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

He froze, then turned away, placing his hands on the railing. “Why do you ask?”

“He looks thinner, and he seems to be taking more naps lately. He isn’t getting sicker, is he?”

Caleb didn’t answer.

“There’s certainly nothing wrong with his appetite,” she added. “Does he get enough sleep?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, more abruptly than he intended. “He’s been having a lot of nightmares.”

“About what?”

“His mother, sometimes.”

“Well, that’s to be expected. He must miss her terribly.” She stepped closer. “What was she like?”

His melancholy grew to a flood. Yet even this subject was preferable to where the conversation was heading. He knew he would have to tell her the truth one day. But the last thing he wanted now was to taint her growing affection for the child, to be reminded of Warren’s short future with each glance or gesture of pity.

“Her name was Karla,” he said. “She had eyes exactly like Warren’s—so clear and blue I swear they could see right through me. Nothing got past her, not where I was concerned, anyway. I couldn’t even enter a crowded room without her knowing it.” He smiled. “She said it was like a hello in her head.”

“Karla,” Telai repeated softly. “A simple, honest name. But what happened to her?”

The question stopped him cold. Karla was like that, too—no apologetic preludes, no hedging, just unsullied candor that tripped him up more times than he could remember.

He began cautiously, explaining her sickness much as he did before the Council. “I’m still not precisely sure what went wrong,” he said. “Some mental test at the research establishment where she worked. She simply faded away, month after month, hooked up to machines to keep her body alive. Then one day I walked into her room, and it hit me,” he said, his voice beginning to shake. “I didn’t recognize her. And what really tore at me was when I wondered if she might not recognize
herself
anymore.”

He bowed his head and clenched his fists. One more word would have released the storm. For months he had kept his fury in check, until he was so disciplined at it he could endure even the relentless questioning of the Overseer. Yet here, in the soft ambiance of a summer evening, he was defenseless.

“You don’t need to say any more, Caleb Stenger—not when it hurts this much.”

The sound of her voice, so different from Karla’s yet still so full of compassion, gave him unexpected strength. At last he understood. His grief was not desperate as much for release as it was for recognition. Telai was the first person to open that door for him, either here or on Earth, and his heart had responded. It couldn’t have done anything else.

“Actually, I
do
have to say more—because you deserve to know,” he answered. He took a deep breath. “The moment I understood what she might be going through, I made my decision. I refused to let her suffer anymore.”

Caleb gazed out over the rail, finding some measure of comfort in the glimmering lights. “Do you understand what I mean, Telai?”

A long silence followed. Then he felt the warmth of her hand on his arm. He mustered the courage to face her again, and her soft gaze was answer enough.

He sighed. “Not exactly the best thing to tell a girl on a date.”

Her smile was genuine, and it worked on him like a tonic. “No need to apologize, Caleb Stenger. I’m honored.”

“Yes. But there’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said, anxious to put his confession behind him. ”It’s customary among my people to refer to each other only by their first names.”

Telai blinked at him. “It took me long enough to get used to you having
two
names!”

“I’m sorry, I should have told you before.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll manage. Besides, I’ve been every bit as neglectful about not telling you a thing or two. But does the second name have a meaning?”

“Yes, it’s a family name.” He chuckled quietly. “Everyone keeps saying
Caleb Stenger and Warren
.”

“Seems a little unusual for something so personal.”

“Personal?”

“Well, there’s no shame in it. But we usually don’t share our heritage with anyone besides close friends.” She shrugged. “It
is
getting to be an old-fashioned custom.”

Caleb grinned. “Now I understand why I was the last man in Ada to know who your mother is.”

He meant it as a joke, but the blood rose to her cheeks. “It’s not my fault she happens to be the Overseer!”

Caleb’s smile vanished, and her anger quickly melted into embarrassment. She touched his arm. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that … no matter where I go or who I meet, I’m never only a Loremaster. I’m always the
Overseer’s daughter!
”

“I can see where that might get in the way,” he said, relieved. “Be grateful there’s nothing worse about your family to deal with.”

At first she merely gazed at him, as if confused by his words; then she turned away.

“Have you spoken with Féitseg?” she asked.

The tremor in her voice only reinforced Caleb’s fear that he had committed another verbal blunder. “No. Who’s Féitseg?”

“The Underseer assigned to help newcomers. He was at your Judgment today. I was wondering if you’ve considered a profession of some kind.”

“I haven’t thought about it, to be honest. I’ve had other things to worry about. But after those wonderful tales you told me, I’d like to try something that involves exploration. I can think of no better way to learn about your people—not to mention this beautiful country you live in.”

She wiped her eyes, her back still turned. “Well, if you’re sure about it, there’s nothing better than studying at Gerentesk to give you a head start. I’ll see if Ressolc has any openings. But you should still talk to Féitseg.”

“I will.” A long, awkward silence followed. “Telai,” he said softly, “I’m not sure what I said … but please don’t be upset with me.”

She faced him again, and she seemed not to be looking at him but into some great distance. She was so beautiful in the moonlight—a vision of strength yet filled with doubt and longing. It pulled at Caleb like a tide, yet still he hesitated, his heart waging its own little war. Then her eyes focused directly onto his, as if the answers she sought might be found there instead. It conquered him, and with one quick step he wrapped his arm around Telai’s waist and kissed her.

There was nothing demure or submissive about the Grand Loremaster of Ada. So it was no surprise when she tried to pull away at first. Then she relaxed and melted into him, and all his fears and sorrows vanished in the softness of her lips, the warm press of her body.

She withdrew a little, her arms still around his shoulders. “Caleb Stenger! If this is another serving of revenge, it’s definitely not a cold one.”

He laughed. “No last names, remember?”

“Caleb,” she corrected with a nod.

After a silent, candid exchange, he released her. He faced the city lights again, intensely aware of her gaze upon him, feeling like a fool for caving in to his guilt.

“This place seems too good to be true,” he murmured, as if to himself. “Free of pressures, free of wars.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by
pressures
,” she said. “But we certainly have had our wars. Those murals should have convinced you of that.”

“I know. But you still use the same weapons you did a thousand years ago. You aren’t always looking for better ways to kill.”

She leaned her back against the rail again. “I love Ada, too, Caleb. But that’s not why I kissed you.”

He drew a deep breath. There seemed no end to her ability to disarm him. “But aren’t you a part of this world?” he said. “Here everything is new to me, and there’s so much to discover.” He hesitated, then forged ahead. “The only thing that could make me happier is if you went with me.”

Her lips parted a little in surprise. Caleb waited in breathless suspense. Suddenly, a tiny, pale light floated across the balcony, winked out for a moment, and as Telai watched it repeated its performance until it lost itself in the dark canopy of leaves.

His words spilled out in a torrent. “I know this is a bit presumptuous. There’s no rush, I’m willing to wait for such an important deci—”

“Caleb,” she interrupted, “I’m honored. I mean that. But I can’t walk away from my obligations, even if I wanted to.”

He guessed another reason for her answer, but it took none of the sting away. “I suppose it is unfair of me to expect anything else right now. But there’s one thing you can count on—I’ll never be like Tenlar. I’ll never consider love a second choice. I spent too many weeks and months away from Karla to make that mistake again.”

She paled, as if struck by arrows instead of words. Caleb waited, desperate for a ray of hope, every beat of his heart a test of endurance. But it did not last. Like a battle-weary soldier at any reminder of war, the growing pain in her face was more than he could bear.

“Telai,” he whispered, and held her in his arms.

She offered no resistance. There was no thought of romance, or passion, only acceptance of the simplest gift of all, comfort. It was a dream so blissful that time itself was his greatest enemy. For like any dream it came to an end, and she turned her back again, as if unwilling to look upon the raw honesty that had finally matched her own.

He tried to think of something to say, but missed his chance. “I had Eké prepare another room,” she said, “in case you’re too tired to return to the inn.”

Caleb’s heart sank. “
I’d best get Warren back. I’m not that tired, anyway.”

She nodded. “I’ll have Yoté send for a carriage.”

He stepped forward and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Telai. And thank you for listening.”

He could see part of her face now, and the city lights gleamed off the trace of a tear, evidence of an old struggle Caleb realized went far deeper than any memory of lost love. Whether it was fear, or duty, or some other dark secret, was beyond his ability. Yet there was a message—one he felt he should be able to read.

He struggled to say something more, unable to bear the thought of leaving her this way. But the wait itself became unbearable, for both of them. Telai shrugged his hands away and walked quickly to the door. Caleb was just as quick to open it for her, but awkwardly, like a boy on a first date.

It was ten minutes later, as he was riding in the carriage with Warren asleep across his lap, when the message finally reached his slow brain.