The Orphans' Promise (22 page)

“What do you need to keep the sheath for?” the skeptical Lorelien asked.

“It’s a collector’s item,” the warrior responded. “It cost me a fortune. I have no desire to see someone else reclaim it ‘by accident.’”

The guard nodded and let them through. It was very common for visitors of the palace to showcase their wealth.

“Well, here we are,” Corenn announced as they walked through the park.

She immediately began a search for the Züu, while Grigán took a count of the archers and jelenis patrolling above, as he had done the first time. Bowbaq observed the perfectly arranged plants with mixed feelings. In here, nature was treated like a slave. The result was beautiful, sure; however, he couldn’t decide whether such a practice was acceptable, again turning over the word
impolite
in his mind.

A plump man with shifty eyes approached them cautiously. Corenn was prepared to refuse a business offer, but it wasn’t what the man had in mind.

“Umm… the priests are waiting for you,” he announced without introducing himself. “Over there, behind that clump of trees.”

The man walked away without taking his eyes off them, and Grigán showed him the same distrust until he had left the garden.
Whoever this man was, he feared the heirs. Or at least he didn’t want to get mixed up in what was in store for them…

Corenn obediently walked over to where the man had pointed, with Bowbaq following right behind. The giant’s heart was beating so hard he was certain that everyone could hear it.

Grigán caught up to them and advanced to the front of the line, his hand resting on his sword’s sheath, a reflex from a life on the run.
The Züu weren’t naïve in choosing their spot
, he noticed as they got closer. The trees completely sectioned off the view from one side. They were also right near the portico, which meant that by following the jelenis’ regular patrolling cadence, there would be brief, predictable periods when the garden was completely free from surveillance.

The warrior circled around the little grove without the slightest hesitation, proving his courage and resolve. He didn’t fear them. He only feared what they could do to his friends.

“You’ve come with reinforcements,” the older Zü pointed out as he sat comfortably on a stone seat, his eyes resting on Bowbaq. His statement was meant to be a joke.

“You too,” Grigán shot back, nodding toward the killer’s two accomplices.

One was the same hooded figure who led their first meeting a dékade before. He didn’t address them in the slightest, not even a head nod; his eyes stared forward, his jaw tense, and his hands crossed behind his back. His counterparts did the same.

Grigán wondered what they could be hiding behind their backs. The fact that they stood right behind their master didn’t reassure him either.

“You are Corenn of Kaul, aren’t you?” asked the Zü. “And Grigán Derkel of Griteh, and of course Bowbaq from the Bird clan. Where are the others?”

“I’m sure you’ll excuse me for not answering that,” Corenn responded, taking a seat across from him. “To whom do I owe the honor?”

“Judge Zamerine. Spiritual leader of the Lorelien messengers. Of which there are increasingly few, thanks to you,” he added.

Bowbaq had trouble believing it. This man was publically admitting he was a Zü! Not that he seemed too worried about giving it away, donning his red tunic and shaved head in the heart of Lorelia. The prevailing morals in most of the Upper Kingdoms were truly strange.

“It’s not our wish to kill your followers,” Corenn reminded him. “You know well. All of us here only have one thing in mind, and that’s to end this conflict.”

“That’s impossible. My subordinate has already told you. Even if you hadn’t done harm to the messengers, the sentence would still stand. It’s all the more true now that it’s a personal matter.”

“We would make a generous offering to the cult if you delayed our sentence. That’s the reason for this second meeting.”

“The Goddess is not just some magistrate who is slave to human laws. This mercy in disguise for which you are pleading is, of course, refused. Such is Zuïa’s judgment.”

Corenn hadn’t expected a victory, but she was disappointed with the swiftness of the result. Grigán stood restlessly by her side. The warrior signaled to her to back away from the killers. Once Bowbaq intervened, the meeting would likely break into a fight, and even the Lorelien guards’ precautions wouldn’t stop the Züu from attacking.

The Mother rehashed her arguments in her mind, but she found that they no longer had many options left in the face of Zamerine’s blatantly hostile display. She had to give Bowbaq the signal and leave the rest up to fate.

She held out a parchment to the Zü, who accepted it with revulsion.

“I persist in thinking that we can find grounds for compromise. Perhaps you could deliver this letter to… our
enemy
.”

The Zü unfolded the letter brashly. The parchment was blank. And then…
Someone was infiltrating his mind! Bowbaq, the giant. He was rummaging through his memories, digging around, searching, studying everything Zamerine knew about the Accuser.

“Kill them!” he ordered to his men, closing his mind to this infuriating intrusion.

The two Züu stepped toward them with their hands in the air, empty after all. One jumped at Corenn, and the other at Grigán. The Mother’s adversary bared her a strange smile. A cold grin of
steel.

The killers were equipped with razor-sharp metal jaws, which were surely poisoned. The Zü knocked Corenn onto her back and leaned his mouth toward her neck. The monstrous teeth were long and sharp, and Corenn couldn’t figure out how he had managed to keep them in his closed mouth. She noted this to herself subconsciously, as all of her energy was focused on keeping the Zü from biting her. The man was relentless, though, attacking her like a wolf would an injured prey, searching for any opportune inch of flesh Corenn might leave within his reach.

The weight of the killer’s body suddenly lightened. Something lifted him. The Zü stuck his useless tongue through the silver glint of teeth, unable to produce anything but groans, which further accentuated his resemblance to an animal.

Bowbaq. Bowbaq had just lifted the Zü with one hand by his neck, as he would have a cat.

The giant balled up his other hand and swung it right at his enemy’s face. The northerner was neither nice nor philosophical, his face flush with rage. He was angry. Very angry.

Grigán had knocked his enemy back with a kick right to the chest. Then his hand moved to his sheath. The Zü charged back only to impale himself on a thin blade a foot and a half long that the warrior had drawn from a secret inner sheath.

It had all happened very quickly. Grigán’s victim collapsed to the ground while the remaining Zü fell from Bowbaq’s grip. The assassin flailed on the ground as he tried to halt the blood gushing from his nose.

The guards would soon be on top of them. It was the first time a fight to the death had taken place within the palace walls, and intervention was inevitable. Grigán already heard the running feet of the archers in the balcony overhead, shuffling as they tried to find a shooting angle clear of the obstructive trees. The archers had no concerns about who started the fight; their orders were to pin down anyone who got mixed up in a skirmish. Though if it were possible, they might spare the Züu and avoid ending up on the fanatics’ blacklist in doing so.

The jelenis ran toward them, struggling to hold back their dogs. They couldn’t risk the dogs harming anyone but those who were guilty. This was an advantage the heirs could exploit.

Bowbaq reached out to the first dog’s mind even before his master came into view. His message was clear:
danger
. The animal mind’s most powerful concept.

As planned, the dog reacted violently to the intrusion and felt an immediate, unrestrained rage toward the giant. But the word
danger
was too strong, the giant’s command too gripping, to be ignored. Now, the dog only wanted one thing: to flee, flee far from the human
danger
. The animal broke free of the jeleni’s control, the guard’s attempts to corral it with his leash failing. The guard fell to the ground, and the dog dragged him, adding to the panic.

At the same time, Corenn had gotten back on her feet. She checked to make sure that Grigán was holding off the two remaining Züu with his dagger, and began looking for the archers. They were the weak link in their plan. If the heirs couldn’t get them on their side, everything would be a waste.

The Mother set her sights on one of them who was now close enough to shoot. She gestured wildly at him to show that she was unarmed and that they weren’t looking to resist. The man ignored her and nocked an arrow.

Corenn sent her Will faster than she thought possible. The bowstring snapped with a sharp ping and whipped the eager guard in the face. Fatigue overcame her, and she stumbled after Grigán and Bowbaq, both of whom had started to run away.

The warrior didn’t take his eyes off the red killers even though they made no move to follow. The man with the wounded nose had taken out his steel jaws and waited for his master’s orders. The Judge Zamerine watched them flee with a smile on his face. The Züu defeat was seemingly inconsequential to him.

Zamerine must have another plan
, Grigán thought. The warrior hoped he hadn’t made an error in his own planning. In an instant, he thought of the boat where Yan and Léti were supposed to wait for them.

Bowbaq reached into the mind of every dog that came into sight, incapacitating the jelenis. The Small Palace’s garden transformed into a noisy courtyard as yelps, commands, and the scandalized yells of traders filled the air.

Running from bush to bush, the heirs made it to the exit—which was already congested—without any further attacks from the archers. None of them dared shoot a single arrow with all the ensuing panic, as the margin for error was too large.

Bowbaq cleared the crowd by agitating the minds of two dogs by the door. Their bloodcurdling howls sent people running. The
heirs entered into the now-empty hallway and rushed for the door.

“You can’t leave right now.” A jeleni stopped them. His dog’s mind was still calm.

Grigán didn’t wait for the giant’s intervention and violently shoved the surprised guard, who fell over backward on his dog. From over their fleeing shoulders the heirs heard the dog take vengeance on its clumsy master.

A moment later, they were outside. A small crowd had formed at the front door, all curious as to what was causing the raucous inside, which was still largely drowned out by the outdoor market’s own clamor. They all dispersed at the sight of Grigán’s dagger, except for a man who joined them.

“You took a while,” Rey protested, playing it cool. “Any longer and I would have been forced to come to your aid.”

“Is everything all right?” Corenn asked, worried.

“Everything’s fine. The Züu are definitely waiting for us in the
Ambassador
’s hold, but we’ll be embarking on the
Othenor
, which the community of heirs just purchased for a decent price through a connection of yours truly.”

“Let’s not waste time. It won’t take long for them to realize they’ve been duped.”

“Just a moment.” To his companions’ great surprise, Rey went inside the palace. Grigán held the curious onlookers at bay, cursing the actor’s caprice under his breath.

Corenn decided to take advantage of this brief pause to assuage her curiosity. “Bowbaq, do you know our enemy’s name?”

The giant shook his head. He was visibly disappointed.

“Not even the Züu know who he is,” he stated. “They just call him the Accuser.”

Corenn acknowledged with a frown, and decided to delay further questioning of Bowbaq about any other information he was able to obtain.
Too bad
, she thought.
We can at least say we tried.

Shouts and protests, followed by a demonic wailing, came to them from inside the palace. Grigán cursed and readied himself to go back inside, but before he could make his move, Rey came bursting out unharmed. He was struggling to carry the scribe’s heavy treasure chest. All the traders’ entry fees. Hundreds of golden terces.

“Restitution,” he explained. “For all the wealth confiscated unjustly from my ancestor.”

No one could find anything to say. The heirs were alone. They only had each other to count on. Just as it had been for 118 years.

BOOK IV: DIVINE KNOWLEDGE

T
he
Othenor
was a fishing sloop designed for a nine-passenger crew, so the six members of the group had plenty of space. It was also a ship designed for two- or three-day expeditions at most. The architect and the shipowner made little effort to consider passenger comfort, and for their part, the heirs envisioned a voyage of almost a dékade.

The ship had only two cabins: the captain’s quarters, which the men courteously left to Léti and Corenn, and the crew’s quarters, which was furnished with nothing but eight filthy hammocks. A tiny room hiding a bucket acted as the lavatory, and another room that adjoined the cabins filled the roles of dining room, living room, and kitchen all at once.

The hold was reserved for the former owner’s nets and baskets. For the most part it remained empty and would have stored the catch on any usual outing. Lining the hold were barrels of freshwater, salted meats, and a stock of spirits, whose quality Rey tested for the entirety of their crossing. A number of chests fastened to the lower deck held tackle and spare sails.

The heirs bought the vessel through one of Rey’s connections the very day they embarked. The decision was risky, and the
possibility of failure high. Lorelia was one of the known-world’s largest harbors though, and Rey was offering to pay in full and on the spot. The heirs eventually stumbled across four vessels that met their criteria and, following Yan’s advice, decided to put their money on the
Othenor
.

They had made a quick exit from the harbor. The customs officials and royal tax collectors paid little interest to boats exiting the port, and cared much more about the merchant ships over the fishing boats. The
Othenor
and its passengers sailed past the last Zélanos lighthouse without any trouble in sight.