Song of the Sea Spirit: An epic fantasy novel (The Mindstream Chronicles) (30 page)

“How?” she asked. Her voice caught in her throat.

“He took a turn for the worse last night,” Sonnis said. His gaze turned cold and cruel when it fell upon her. “Perhaps something weakened him. Some burden he was too ill to bear.”

“What do you mean, Adept Sonnis?” Fer asked.

“I’m speculating, of course. I saw him yesterday evening after supper, and he was distressed by something.”

Liar,
Jora wanted to shout. Elder Kassyl had been happy when she’d left him, excited about her discovery and eager for her to translate more of the tones. Nothing about him had been distressed, except perhaps his own illness.

The sun peeked over the horizon, and a new tone sang through her body, lifting her from her aching feet and filling her with elation in spite of her heavy heart.

When she opened her eyes again, Adept Sonnis was watching her intently.

The day was quiet. While the work of the Justice Bureau went on, members of the Order went about their duties solemnly. In the late afternoon, a memorial service was held for Elder Kassyl that was both beautiful and somber. Those who knew him spoke of his wit, humor, and unrelenting thirst for truth, justice, and honor. Nearly everyone was in tears, whether they’d met him or not. Though she’d only spoken to him twice, Jora felt the loss acutely. She’d found in him a kindred spirit and a true friend. Part of her wished she’d joined the Order earlier, to give her more time with him, but then she would never have met Sundancer and learned Azarian. She’d have been just another novice in his hierarchy.

In the evening, after the Justice Bureau was closed for the night, all the novices, disciples, adepts, and elders walked to the First Godly Redeemer House of Prayer, with two notable exceptions: Adept Sonnis and Elder Kassyl. Jora walked alongside Gilon and Adriel, her head bowed for her elder, whom she considered herself fortunate to have met. She wished she’d joined the Order earlier, before he’d fallen ill. She could have learned so much from him.

“I never got to meet him,” Gilon said.

“Most unfortunate,” said one of the other disciples. “He was a wonderful man.”

Jora nodded, though she wasn’t ready to reveal that she’d had any interaction with him.

“Why are you nodding?” Disciple Bastin asked from behind. “You didn’t know him, either. He was an adept when I first came here. So kind and generous with his time. If I didn’t understand something and my disciple was busy with his duties, Elder Kassyl would always take time to explain.”

“I can imagine it,” Jora said. “The elders I’ve met have all been very kind.” Even Elder Gastone, who had dragged her from her home practically by force, was still a kind and compassionate man.

Gilon glanced at her and winked. Did he suspect she’d found a way to see the ailing elder?

Inside the temple, the members of the Order of Justice Officials took seats in the pews, and the nave settled into silence.

At the front of the room stood a statue of a man in a proud, victorious stance. At his feet was a rock made of the same white material as the Spirit Stone, though it was an ordinary, lumpy rock with no discernable shape. Two enforcers stood guard beside it. They hadn’t been there the day she’d gone to speak with the dominee. Jora wondered whether their presence had anything to do with Elder Kassyl’s death.

A door opened, and out walked Dominee Ibsa dressed in her fine orange robes trimmed with red and gold jewels, which sparkled in the light of the candles in the chandeliers that hung from the high, arched ceiling. Each of her fingers was adorned with gems, as was the elaborate fabric and gold headdress atop her head. The whispers quieted as she approached the lectern. When she held up both hands, the sleeves of her robe shifted down, revealing bracelets of gold, inset with glittering jewels of red and yellow.

Jora thought the woman would have had jewels embedded into her skin if she could.

“Truth Sayers and Novices,” the dominee said, her eyes closed and her face pointed upward, “we gather today to pay tribute to a great man, to a man of integrity who upheld the laws of our nation with the highest regard for their sanctity. We gather to honor Elder Kassyl Finnean and to welcome into the ranks of the most esteemed Truth Sayers, Sonnis Gordyn.”

“Retar’s will be done,” the Truth Sayers in the congregation murmured.

Jora seethed. Retar’s will? She didn’t know the god very well, having only spoken to him the one time, but she was pretty sure he didn’t wish Elder Kassyl ill, nor would he care whether Sonnis was promoted to Elder. He surely had bigger problems to deal with.

The dominee went on to talk about the long-standing relationship between the Houses of Prayer and the Order of Justice Officials, together keeping peace within the cities while the war raged on and around the Isle of Shess. She described the spirit of cooperation between the two establishments, both working toward the Good and the benefit of all Serocians. She specifically addressed the novices in the room, admiring their devotion and dedication to learning so that, one day, they, too, could advance through the ranks of the Order to become the wisest vessels of justice within the land. It was a great honor, she claimed, to serve one’s country through the Talent that Retar had seen fit to gift them, and she hoped that she would live to see the day when every one of them could stand upon that altar and receive the blessing Sonnis Gordyn was about to receive.

Jora thought her dinner would come up right there on the temple’s beautiful wooden floor.

“Which brings us to the current moment,” Dominee Ibsa said. “Adept Sonnis, will you please join me on the altar?”

He stood from his seat in the front row of pews and knelt at her feet, his head bowed.

“Do you, Adept Sonnis Gordyn, solemnly swear to abide by the rules and laws set forth by those who’ve come before you within the King’s Justice Bureau, to uphold the law of the land, and to issue sentencing of criminals based on the guidelines established by your elders?”

“I do, Dominee,” Sonnis said.

“Is there any among us who can offer a reason why Adept Sonnis should not be advanced within the Order of Justice Officials?”

Jora’s hand twitched where it lay in her lap, as if it would shoot into the air and volunteer her to speak against Adept Sonnis. She grasped her wrist with her other hand and clamped her jaw. Given the way she’d seen Retar influence the registrar and the dominee, she was certain he could have made her stand and speak if he’d wanted to. She hoped he wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be he who suffered the consequence but her.

The moment seemed to last for hours while the dominee’s gaze swept over the audience. Her eyes paused when they met Jora’s, and the row of candles on the table behind her went out, extinguished all at once. Just as Jora’s life would be if she spoke. The audience uttered a collective “oooh,” no doubt assuming it was a sign of Sonnis’s suitability for being promoted.

“It is time to transfer the power of elders. Adept Sonnis, please join me at the stone,” the dominee said. She turned and strode to the back of the dais, and the two enforcers stepped aside. Dominee Ibsa gestured to the lumpy rock. “Place your hand upon this rock and receive Retar’s gift.” Sonnis laid his right hand upon it. Almost immediately, he flinched, his back arching slightly and his chin lifting. The onlookers let out a gasp.

“As Dominee of the First Godly Redeemer House of Prayer and First Prelate to King Yaphet, I pronounce you Elder Sonnis Gordyn.”

Members of the Order stood and applauded, not with raucous cheering but with restraint and dignity.

Elder Sonnis opened his eyes, removed his hand from the stone. He bowed first to the Dominee and then to the audience before waving, a wide smile upon his face. Amidst the continuing applause, the new elder strode down the aisle, his head held high and his shoulders straight. Everyone turned as he passed, watching him exit through the rear doors.

The applause quieted. “This service is now concluded,” Dominee Ibsa said. She opened her hands to them all. “Congratulate your newest Elder on your way back to the Justice Bureau. Goodnight, my friends.”

The people in the front rows stood where they were while those in the back row filed out. As the last rows emptied, the next row began to exit, orderly and calmly, each member holding the large, heavy door open for those behind him.

Jora and her friends shuffled forward when it was their row’s turn to exit, and Jora followed those in front of her slowly down the aisle to the rear doors.

To her surprise, Sonnis was already wearing the yellow robes of the elder rank, not the deep green in which she’d grown accustomed to seeing him. He was smiling and nodding, thanking each person as they shook his hand and offered congratulations.

Jora offered her hand. “Congratulations, Elder Sonnis,” she said.

His smile faltered, but he took her hand in a bone-crushing grip and renewed his smile. “Thank you, Novice. We have quite a bit to discuss, you and I.”

She yanked her hand out of Elder Sonnis’s iron grip and scurried away, turning to look at him when she’d gone a dozen paces. He had returned to greeting the other members of the Order, smiling and shaking their hands and thanking them under the sputtering lights of the torches at the temple entrance.

“What’s wrong?” Adriel asked, joining her.

“Nothing,” Jora said. The final glow of dusk had faded to night, and the air had cooled, though the long sleeves of the robe kept the chill from sinking into her bones.

“I overheard Elder Sonnis talking about you yesterday,” Adriel said.

Jora snapped her eyes to her friend’s. “Me? What did he say?”

“I didn’t hear much, sorry. I was in Elder Gastone’s office, waiting for him. He meets with his novices and disciples every month or two. Anyway, Elder Sonnis—Adept Sonnis at the time—was talking with a Legion captain in his office next door. I heard him mention your name but nothing after that because Elder Gastone came in. I couldn’t very well shush him and press my ear to the wall to listen with him right there.”

That troubled Jora. Why would he have been talking to a Legion officer about her? That couldn’t have been good.

“She thinks he doesn’t like her,” Gilon said, catching up to them. He put an arm around both women’s shoulders. “But that’s all right. I like her.”

“Don’t let Bastin see you,” Adriel said, shrugging off his touch. “She’ll assume we’re a threesome and report you to your new elder.”

Gilon let his arms drop. “What’d you think of the ceremony? Did you see all those jewels the dominee was wearing?”

“A bit excessive, don’t you think?” Adriel asked. “And the gold. I wonder if the Justice Bureau makes as much money as the temple does.”

“I can’t see any of the elders succumbing to greed that way,” Jora said.

“I think the Justice Bureau makes as much if not more,” Gilon said, “but we learn to embrace modesty.”

“All I’m saying,” Adriel said, “is that the temple could stand to contribute more.”

Jora agreed. It seemed the temple leaders were benefitting far more than the people they were supposed to serve.

“Retar must like it this way,” Gilon said. They reached the gate that led to the dormitory, which he held open for the two women.

Adriel laughed. “How do you figure that?”

“The gods before him hardly ever spoke to people. If Retar didn’t want the temple to be rich, he’d stop talking to us.”

They climbed the stairs to their rooms, and Jora realized when she reached the fourth floor that she wasn’t as winded as she used to be. Her body was getting used to the exertion. “How does he have the energy for all that?” she asked. Retar had seemed sad, but he could have been exhausted. “It’s not only Serocians he talks to, but everyone everywhere, right?”

Gilon grinned. “As a god, he probably doesn’t need to sleep. I have no pity for him. If he didn’t want to be a god, he shouldn’t have challenged Hibsar.”

“Maybe,” she said. “Goodnight, you two.”

Gilon waved as he started up to the fifth floor. “Goodnight.”

Adriel patted her shoulder as she went by on the way to her own room. “See you in the morning.”

Inside her room, Jora dressed for bed, going over the evening’s events in her mind. The way Elder Sonnis had looked at her, practically growling his thanks with his fingers digging into her skin, eliminated any doubt in her mind that he disliked her, but his animosity seemed to have grown in recent days. What would he want to talk to her about? Did he think she had something to do with Elder Kassyl’s early demise?

She felt the blood drain from her face. Could the elder’s granting her the barring hood power have weakened him? Was that what Sonnis had meant when he’d said the elder had been weakened by a burden he was too ill to bear? Her mind grasped at justifications for why that couldn’t be true. Elder Kassyl would have shown a marked weakness immediately after performing the task, wouldn’t he? Or at least the following day. He’d been in the throes of a coughing fit when she’d gone to see him, but surely that wasn’t the result of the instruction the day before. No, he’d been fine when she’d left him, no more or less sick than he’d been the day before.