The Shadow Of What Was Lost (23 page)

“They kill you?” said Davian in
astonishment.

“We like to think of it as
aggressive evangelism,” replied Nihim glibly.

“There’s a reason the Gifted are
so hated here, Davian,” Taeris interrupted. “Being devout isn’t just a choice
in Desriel. It’s a way of life, indoctrinated and law.” He hesitated. “So you
can see what a risk Nihim is taking for us.”

Nihim stared at a spot on the
ground. “Taeris. I’m in no state to help you and your friends right now, but
give me an hour. We have tonics in the back for… clear-headedness.” It was
obvious he was struggling to concentrate. “The others shouldn’t be back for
days; I’m basically in charge for the moment. No-one wants to be stuck in the
temple during Jil’imor. You shouldn’t be disturbed if you stay in there.” He gestured
to the smaller room from which he had just emerged.

Taeris gripped him by the arm.
“Thank-you, Nihim,” he said sincerely.

The four of them filed into the
side room, Davian glancing behind him to see Nihim stumbling off to another
section of the temple. There were comfortable-looking chairs and couches lining
the wall of this room, but none of the finery that was on display in the main
chamber. It seemed to be a common room for the priests, rather than for public
use.

They talked quietly amongst
themselves. Davian was full of questions about the Song of Swords; to his
surprise Wirr seemed better equipped to answer more of them than Taeris. The
last two winners of the Song were fighting in this tournament, apparently,
though Selbin Hran – the victor from fourteen years ago – was almost forty now.

Caeden seemed fascinated by the
entire concept, but as always, he kept his thoughts mostly to himself. Davian
observed him surreptitiously for a while, as he’d tried to do a few times this
past week. He liked Caeden, but he knew he had to be careful about his
instincts. It was his credulous nature that had landed them in this mess in the
first place. He couldn't just give Caeden the benefit of the doubt - he had to
wait until they were safely in Ilin Illan, and their companion's role in all of
this had finally been explained, before trusting him.

Eventually the door to the main
chamber opened again, and a much more composed-looking Nihim stepped through.
His long black hair was now bound, and the redness around his eyes had all but
vanished. He was also tall, Davian realised with a start; he must have been
slouching considerably before. He moved with a sure step and confident air that
seemed much more befitting a priest.

“I apologise for the wait,” he
said to them in a strong, clear voice. “Even with the medicines at my disposal,
this time of year can be a trial.”

“Not your fault,” said Taeris
amiably. “Do I need to do the introductions again?”

Nihim chuckled. “No, no. Davian,
Caeden, Wirr.” He pointed to them each in turn. Then he sighed, giving them a
considering look. “So, Taeris, you’ve gathered a small group of friends. I
never picked you as the type to enjoy company.” His tone was casual, but there
was definitely a question behind it.

Taeris gave him a slight smile.
“You’re right about that, but sometimes we don’t have a choice in the matter.”
Wirr rolled his eyes at Davian, who grinned.

Nihim just nodded. “I hear there
was some trouble down south. Bad stuff, Gifted involved and everything. A man
caught helping someone mixed up in that would probably not end up on the good
side of the Gil’shar.”

“True. But then, a favour that
large would clear a lot of debts, too,” said Taeris.

Nihim smiled at that. “I wouldn’t
go that far, but it will be a start.” He clapped Taeris on the back. “So beyond
giving you a roof over your heads, what can I do for you?”

“I need to get a message to the
king,” said Taeris. “Before he leaves Thrindar.”

“Ah.” Nihim nodded. “Of course.
Safe passage across the border. A good thought, I’ll give you that.” He
shrugged apologetically. “One problem. The king isn’t here.”

Taeris’ smile slipped. “What?”

“There’s still a delegation,”
Nihim rushed to assure him, “ but it’s led by the princess.”

Taeris frowned. “Karaliene is
being given duties of state? She’s just a girl!”

“She’s eighteen, Taeris,” said
Nihim with a grin. “She’s old enough to have suitors trailing after her like a
pack of wolves.”

Taeris shook his head.
“Eighteen,” he muttered to himself. “Time has flown. Still, I would not have
thought King Andras comfortable enough to send her to Desriel. Not in these
times.”

Nihim shrugged. “From what I
hear, one of the tournament favourites is a close friend of hers. She wanted to
come.”

“Regardless.” Taeris turned back
to Nihim. “Karaliene may not understand the message, but she will surely have
an entourage of Gifted who are old enough. If you can give them this - ” he
pressed something into Nihim's palm – “ and arrange passage for us into the
stadium to meet them, that will be more than enough.”

Nihim inspected the small metal
token in his palm. It was a simple design, like a coin, but steel and with
three triangles punched from the middle. “What is it?”

“A symbol from the Unseen War - a
request for sanctuary. Any Gifted who lived in Andarra through those times will
know what it means.” He pointed to the triangular holes. “One triangle meant
the person asking was in no danger. Two meant they were in some danger, but not
immediate.” He shrugged. “Three meant that if sanctuary wasn’t granted, the Gifted
was most likely going to be captured and killed.”

Nihim nodded. “I think you are
probably right to use the three triangles, then,” he mused.

“As it is, it’s the only one I
have left.”

Nihim inspected it for a few more
seconds, then gave a sharp nod, slipping the token into his pocket. “Very
well.” He glanced at the boys, then back to Taeris. “I would have a word in
private, first, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Taeris inclined his head, looking
unsurprised by the request. He turned to the boys. “Wait here,” he said. “This
won’t take long.”

He followed Nihim out the door.
Davian, Wirr and Caeden exchanged curious glances, but none made any move to
follow.

“So who do you think he is?”
asked Wirr as soon as the door had closed.

Davian shrugged. “He knows we’re
Gifted, and isn’t trying to kill us. That’s good enough for me.” Caeden nodded
his agreement.

Wirr was having none of it. “He’s
a Desrielite priest – or posing as one, anyway. Aren’t you the least bit
curious?” He leaned forward. “My guess is that he’s one of Tol Athian’s spies.
An informer.”

Caeden gazed at the closed door.
“Dangerous job if he is.”

“Moreso, now we know he’s a
friend to the Gifted," observed Wirr. "Even if he’s not a spy, this
is a significant risk he’s taking. He must owe Taeris for something big, to not
have turned us away.”

“Maybe that's what they’re
talking about,” said Davian.

Wirr cast a longing look towards
the door, and for a second Davian thought he meant to follow the two men. Then
he sighed. “Whatever it is, it's obviously nothing they want us to overhear.”

After that, there was only the
occasional wisp of conversation as they waited; mostly Davian and Wirr talked,
though occasionally Caeden would contribute a word or two as well. The young
man rarely spoke more than that at one time - he'd sometimes ask about things
he’d either forgotten or never known about, but mostly he just listened,
apparently fascinated by what others were saying.

For all that, when Caeden did
talk he had a friendly, if shy manner, and was unfailingly polite. Not for the
first time, Davian found himself convinced that - if nothing else - the
Gil’shar’s charges against him had to be false.

A half-hour had passed by the
time Taeris returned.

“Nihim is taking the message to
the Great Stadium,” the scarred man said in answer to the boys’ questioning
looks. “If he is successful, we should be escorted there within a couple of
hours.”

Davian nodded, allowing himself a
glimmer of hope at the news. He flashed a tight smile at Wirr, but his friend
was staring concernedly into space and didn’t respond, looking more upset than
relieved at the news.

“Everything all right?” asked
Davian, giving his friend a gentle nudge with his elbow.

Wirr blinked, then shook his head
as if to clear it. “As right as it can be, given the circumstances,” he said
with a shrug. He still looked uncomfortable, though.

“Wishing you hadn’t come with
me?” asked Davian.

“Fates, yes,” said Wirr with a
grin. “But you wouldn’t have made it a day without me, so maybe it was worth
it.”

Davian gave a half-smile,
half-grimace back; the words were said in jest, but a pang of guilt stabbed at
him anyway. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess,” he said softly, so only his
friend could hear.

Wirr shook his head. “You’ve been
apologising all week, Dav. You don’t need to any more,” he said, his tone firm.
“It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known. And anyway – if what Taeris
tells us is even close to true, some good may yet come of all this. If we can
get Caeden to the Tol, find out whether there really is something dangerous
going on with the Boundary, it will all have been worth it.”

Davian paused, then inclined his
head. “Thanks.”

He leaned back, looking around.
Caeden was sitting quietly; his eyes were closed but Davian suspected he was
still awake. Taeris had sat himself down at a desk and was thumbing through
some papers he’d discovered.

“How do you know Nihim?” Davian
asked Taeris. “He didn’t seem too concerned about having four of the Gifted in
his temple.”

Taeris paused from what he was
doing. “He’s an old friend. Someone we can trust.” He gave Davian a hard look.
“More than that, is not my place to say.” There was an air of finality to the
statement, a tone that brooked no argument. Davian accepted it with a reluctant
nod.

Some time later, the door opened
and Nihim stepped through, trailed by two uneasy-looking Desrielite soldiers.
For a panicked moment Davian thought they had been betrayed, but Taeris rose
smoothly from his seat, calm as he gestured for them all to do the same. Trying
to look composed, Davian stood.

“Children of Marut Jha,” said
Nihim grandly. “These soldiers have been ordered to take you directly to the
Great Stadium for your audience with Princess Karaliene Andras.” He paused, and
though his expression was serious, Davian thought he saw laughter in the
priest's eyes. “If they do not carry out this duty swiftly and faithfully, you
will let me know.”

Taeris bowed. “For the glory of
the Last God.”

“For His glory alone,” responded
Nihim.

 They followed the soldiers from
the temple, with no further goodbyes uttered to or from Nihim. Soon they were
back within sight of the Great Stadium, the massive walls towering above them.
The crowds outside had thinned somewhat; the gates had been shut, and Davian
thought he could see more than one disappointed face amongst the crowd. The
stadium must be at capacity.

For a moment he wondered if they
would be allowed entry, but as soon as the soldiers at the entrance saw them,
they were opening the steel gates a crack and ushering them through.

The stone passageway in the
underbelly of the stadium was pleasantly cool compared to outside. Davian
barely had time to marvel at the intricate stone friezes set into the walls
before they were ascending a set of winding stairs; at the top, a pair of burly
guards waved them through into another long passageway, with a narrow window
cut out of the side overlooking the arena itself.

Davian couldn't help but gape a
little as they walked along. Thousands upon thousands of people were packed
into the stands; it was a writhing sea of colour like he had never seen before,
could not have imagined. There was the low rumble of countless excited voices
in the air, and the atmosphere itself seemed alive, buzzing with anticipation.

Finally their escorts reached
another set of guarded doors, these ones closed. There was a quick discussion
between the two pairs of soldiers, and then they were being guided into a side
room, isolated from the crowd and completely empty. A small window gave them a
view of the arena, but only when standing right up to it.

“You will wait here until after
the final bout,” said one of the soldiers. His tone was firm, but his eyes
betrayed his nervousness. He evidently didn’t want this delay getting back to
Nihim.

Taeris frowned, looking
displeased, but he obviously decided it was not worth risking closer
examination by forcing the issue. “Very well.” There was a pause, and then
Taeris added, “You may leave us.”

The soldiers, clearly relieved
there had been no reprisals for the delay, fled gladly.

Wirr glanced at the window.
“While we're here….”

Davian was already moving.
“Agreed.”

Taeris and Caeden soon joined
them, and the four stood in a line along the elongated, paneless window,
leaning forward against the ledge it provided. In the centre of the arena were
two men. One stood relaxed, almost casual as he sauntered around in small
circles, swinging his blade through the air to test its weight and balance. He
was slim, lithe, and looked much the same age as Davian.