Zarryiostrom Chapter Eleven
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Chapter Eleven
“Realizations”
“They’re late,” Archimagus Enaria Wintersong said in a disgusted tone. And beside her, Cedric DeVir smirked knowingly as he held out his hand.
“I did tell you so,” he said smugly. Enaria sighed dramatically and reached into a pouch to pull out a single gold coin. She held it up for a moment as if regretting her actions, and then slapped it into his palm.
“Easy money” Cedric said, smiling as he flipped the coin victoriously into the air. Enaria grimaced and gave him a sideways glance.
“You would think that an occasion as important as the Convocation would be enough to import a sense of urgency to the aristocracy, no matter what nation they may hail from.”
“Ah, Enaria,” Cedric said laughing loudly, “it must be nice to live in such a perfect world. You must allow me to visit someday. It would be such a wonderful break from reality.”
She let out a disgusted sound at Cedric’s impertinence, but it only made him laugh once more. A movement caught his eye and he turned toward the front of the hall.
“Tavian! Glad you could join us. Any sign of the royals?”
“Not a sign,” Tavian said sighing. “The roads are fairly clear, considering the number of people that have lined up to catch a glimpse of them, but as far as I can tell, not a single carriage has even the enclaves yet.”
Cedric’s smile turned into a grin, and he held out his hand once again, this time clearing his throat dramatically. With an annoyed look at Cedric, Tavian reached into his belt pouch and fished out a gold coin, a twin to the one his sister had just handed Cedric.
“I am paying you under protest, Archimagus DeVir. There really is no excuse for their being this late. You must have bribed them.”
“Ah yes, if I am not mistaken, that is the sound of sour grapes slowly being trod underfoot to make a bitter vintage,” Cedric said, dramatically cupping his hand to his ear as he said it. “You know it saddens me to think that our illustrious Second and Third Seats would be naïve enough to actually believe that royals of any nation would feel any sense of urgency about schedules set by lesser beings. Luckily, I am not cursed with such appalling innocence. When you have spent as much time with royalty as I have, you quickly realize that punctuality is something royals demand of others. It is not something they aspire to themselves.”
Tavian snorted at Cedric’s astringent tone, but before he could speak, Archidraconus Semarill stepped through a doorway hidden behind the main altar and joined the small group. Cedric turned to greet the newcomer, but before he could speak Ephraim held up a hand to forestall him, and produced a third gold coin. As Cedric reached for the coin, he grinned yet again at Enaria and Tavian, but neither one of them would rise to the bait. Before he could claim his prize, however, Ephraim pulled the coin back slightly out of reach.
“Before I pay you your blood money, Cedric, Patriarch Varic asked me to remind you of the evils of gambling and the misfortune that will befall anyone who would sink so low as to take advantage of a humble servant of the Church. He wants you to know that although he would never even consider reneging on a wager, he also believes that the devastating blow the Church’s prestige has suffered today should be punishment enough. Paying you as well would be an unnecessary cruelty.”
Cedric stayed his hand for a moment as if considering the point, and then without a word his hand shot forward and took the coin right out of Archidraconus Semarill’s fingers.
“We’ll have agree to disagree, Archidraconus. Unlike our esteemed Patriarch, I think this is just enough of a punishment. Yes, simply perfect.” He flipped the coin into the air and caught it adroitly, and then began walking it from knuckle to knuckle as he smiled at the priest. “I could be wrong of course, so I’ll take some time to ponder the question later. In fact, please tell Patriarch Varic I will give his words very careful consideration as I am spending the Church’s money on unsavory things like strong drink and women of negotiable virtue.” He paused, as if deep in some serious thought. “And with all of the money I’ve made today, I should be able to consider his words for a good long while. And speaking of which,” he pocketed the coin, raised his hand, and snapped twice in rapid succession at Ephraim, then opened his hand palm up. “Aren’t you forgetting something? I seem to remember you mentioning something to me about ‘a fool and his money’ right before you placed the same wager as your illustrious Patriarch.”
Ephraim Semarill sighed deeply and pulled out a second coin. As Cedric triumphantly reached for his fourth gold coin, Ephraim narrowed his eyes and said,
“Sinner.”
All four of them broke into laughter at that, and with a chagrined look on his face, Ephraim handed over the coin and looked at Enaria.
“Remind me never to bet against him again, even if it looks to be a sure thing. The unholy glee with which he rubs your face into your failure when you lose is not worth the possible gain.”
As the general laughter died down, an acolyte came running from the front of the Cathedral, and Tavian turned to his companions.
“From the haste with which your acolyte is approaching,” he said, “I would say that our illustrious guests have started to arrive. We should probably take our positions.”
Cedric and Enaria agreed, but before they could walk toward the section reserved for members of the Mage High Council, Ephraim spoke.
“The first three people that will enter the Cathedral are the three great leaders, King Orem III, King Madari, and Emperor Xan, followed by their wives and their heirs. After that, entrance will be granted by precedence, but all seating has been prearranged. Cedric, I just wanted you to know that although they won’t be among the first groups to enter, your family will be seated near the front of the Dakkadian section, fairly close to King Madari.”
“I appreciate your taking the time to tell me that, Ephraim,” Cedric said. “I’ll readily admit I have been looking forward to seeing everyone. The last time I saw my family was when I went to Dakkadia to bring back my niece for training.”
“As to that, Novice Adrianna will be seated with her family for this occasion,” Ephraim said. “It seems she misses her family very much because she was quite insistent about being seated near them during the Convocation.”
“I would say that she is more interested in being seated next to Lady Prudence Daemira than actually setting eyes on her family again,” Cedric replied, smiling slightly. “I understand that Lady Prudence will be seated with my family?” Ephraim nodded slightly, with a puzzled look on his face.
“As with many young women, Adrianna has a slight case of hero worship when it comes to the illustrious Corsair,” Cedric continued. “I fully expect her to make herself a nuisance to her heroine at every opportunity.”
“Well, she won’t be seated next to Lady Prudence, but she will be within two or three seats of her. Oddly, we had a last-minute request from Queen Aveliad concerning the seating arrangements for her son, Lord Daane. Apparently, Queen Aveliad wishes her son to be seated next to Lady Prudence. As an Earl, Lord Daane would normally be seated towards the rear of the Cathedral, but a request from the Queen of Dakkadia carries the weight of a command.”
He frowned slightly. “An odd pairing, that. Are not Lady Prudence and Lord Daane related?”
“Only through distant marriage,” Cedric said. “Lady Prudence’s older sister Danae is married to my brother—and Queen Aveliad’s half-brother—Prince Brendenn DeVir. It’s all very convoluted, but suffice to say there is no blood relation between the two.”
Ephraim turned his attention to the acolyte who had been running to the group. The young man was breathing hard from the exertion, and had to take a few breaths before he could speak.
“Your Eminence, the royal coaches have arrived and their majesties are ready to enter the Cathedral at your word.”
“It would seem that our guests have finally arrived,” The Archidraconus said. “Today will be a long day, my friends, as will tomorrow. I won’t have a chance to speak with you again until after today’s ceremonies are concluded, but I will be attending the gala King Orem will be throwing this evening. If I am not mistaken, Queen Althea has dinner parties and galas planned for the entire month of the Convocation, which should be very interesting indeed. Perhaps the knowledge that extravagant parties await the attendees after each day’s services will motivate them to arrive on time in the future.”
“Would any of you care to wager on that?” Cedric asked with a smile that somehow managed to mix pure innocence with a hungry, diabolical evil.
Without saying a single word, Ephraim Semarill, Enaria Wintersong, and Tavian Two-Blade looked at each other, and as one turned and walked away, leaving Cedric where he stood.
As the massive bells of the Cathedral tolled to signal the beginning of the Convocation, a susurration passed through the crowd gathered outside the ornate doors. As he waited for the guards to open the Cathedral doors, Emperor Xan surreptitiously looked out of the corner of his eye at the men standing on either side of him without moving his head in the slightest. On his left stood the tall and broad shouldered King Madari of Dakkadia, wearing a perfectly tailored black outfit complete with a silver-chased longsword riding on his hip.
Dakkadian style did not include an overabundance of ornamentation, and King Madari was proof of this. Even the Dakkadian crown was a simple platinum circlet, set with a single ruby diadem in the center. But what the broad shouldered, powerfully muscled man lacked in ornamentation, he more than made up for with sheer presence. He was extremely handsome, and the white streak in his long black hair made a shocking contrast to the rest of his dark appearance. He looked every inch the warrior King that he had proven himself to be over the last twenty-five years. Just by looking at him, Xan could tell that this was a man to be reckoned with, and one not to be taken lightly.
Xan moved his attention to the King of Illymar standing on his right. Orem’s clothing couldn’t have been more different from Madari’s if he’d planned it. The rich purple velvet was covered in ornamentation, including ermine and gold braid. Several gold chains hung from his neck, and the crown of Illymar itself was a confection of gold and priceless jewels. He did not wear a weapon, but he did carry a heavy golden scepter that matched the design of his crown perfectly. While Orem himself wasn’t as impressive physically as Madari, he did project his own sense of power and confidence to everyone around him. Unlike Dakkadia, Illymar’s strength lay in its tremendous wealth and influence, and not in its military. Orem’s appearance reflected that very well indeed, for while he did not measure up to Madari’s physical presence, his power was undeniable.
At some unseen signal from within the Cathedral itself, the formal guards standing at the door turned as one to face each other, and in a precisely timed sequence, reached up and opened the giant doors. When the doors had been opened fully, the guards took up positions to either side of the opening and resumed their position of attention. A priest stood in the doorway and once the guards had completed their part of the ceremony, bowed low to the three monarchs.
“You are welcome in the House of the Archon,” he said, voice booming. “You may enter.” All three of the rulers had been instructed on what to do next, and they each bowed slightly to the priest, and then entered the Cathedral.
It had been a long time since Xan had last been in the Cathedral, and he marveled at all of the renovations that had taken place. Each and every aspect of the Cathedral glowed as if burnished, and the monolithic murals lining the vaulted ceiling looked as if they had been freshly painted. The overall effect was humbling, as it was meant to be, and Xan could tell that both King Orem and King Madari had been equally impressed at the display.
As the three monarchs moved through the halls, the families and dignitaries of all three realms and their allies were allowed to enter the Cathedral in a carefully choreographed procession. The first people to be allowed entrance behind the monarchs were their heirs, and then their wives. Xan didn’t turn his head to look, but he knew that his son Lain was directly behind him. Xan hadn’t had an opportunity to look at the children of Madari or Orem, but there would be plenty of time for that later. As far as Xan was concerned, Tais Illvanna had done a tremendous service for Ferralin by defying her parents and breaking her betrothal. Ferralin would profit either by extorting better terms from King Orem and Illymar, or by seeking a new alliance with Dakkadia.
Xan considered himself to be an excellent negotiator, and the size, wealth and stability of the Ferraline Empire stood as a testimony to his skills. He was not actually angry with Tais for her actions, for young women were known to do foolish things in the name of love, but Xan would be a fool if he didn’t use the opportunity to make King Orem writhe. The thought brought a smile to Xan’s face, and he looked forward to crossing swords with each of his adversaries in the coming days and weeks.
As the formal procession filed into the Cathedral and the dignitaries found their seats, Enaria Wintersong tried to look attentive. She was not an adherent to the teachings of the Zarryiostrom, but as a member of the Mage High Council she had no choice but to attend. In the end it really didn’t matter to her, for she would have yet another opportunity to view the magnificent murals looking down upon the assembled peerage. She settled back into her seat to get comfortable, but the presence of several Mages in the crowd caught her attention.
As a master of both Fire and Air Magic, Enaria could sense the resonance of Mages who shared either ability, and her attention was drawn to several people of exceptional power. The first was the Princess Chesare Illvanna of course, for her potential dwarfed that of anyone else in the chamber. But the power radiating off of the young Crown Prince of Dakkadia was exceptional as well, though not as great as that of Chesare.
Prince Valeriad was extremely handsome, and Enaria marked that down as the influence of his half-Fae mother. In the Ferralin contingent, she could see Grand Vizier Shar, and as she turned to look at him she noticed that he was also looking at her. She remembered him quite fondly from his time at the Citadel, and she smiled and nodded a greeting at him. He had aged considerably in the last thirty years, but his sharp features and intelligent gaze had only intensified with time. He returned her smile and gave her a half-bow before finding his seat. Enaria fully intended to return her attention to the murals, but suddenly she felt an overwhelming wave of power wash over her senses.
She grasped the arms of her chair as if to steady herself against the sheer strength of the resonance, and once she had regained her equilibrium she turned in shock to find the source of that power. It took only a moment, for the source radiated from a single man standing at the front of the Dakkadian contingent, but it took her another moment to recognize him. That can’t be Morvandis, can it? She narrowed her eyes and gave the man a closer look. It is Morvandis!
Enaria had met Morvandis before of course, and she had been one of his teachers during his brief time at the Mage Citadel, but at that time he had been a very young, very intense boy. She had not seen him since then, but she could still see traces of the boy in the man standing by King Madari. As a youth, his magical potential had been incredible, but the power radiating from him now dwarfed even his early potential.
Enaria had always been drawn to men with strength and ability in magic, and she freely acknowledged to herself that it was her defining trait. Therefore, it was only natural that she be drawn to the strength she felt within him now, and it made her take a closer look at him. It seemed that the years had been generous to him. It was well known among the peerage that Morvandis was the illegitimate son of King Dhaegus of Dakkadia, but what was not commonly known was that his mother had been a member of the Flower Court . . . in effect a glorified whore. Enaria wasn’t familiar enough with Morvandis’s parentage to remember what his mother’s name had been, but she had been brought to Dakkadia from the Far East by one of the trading caravans to have made the crossing through the Badlands. She turned her attention to King Madari for a comparison, and saw many points of similarity between them, but while both he and Madari shared some features, the exotic touches Morvandis’s mother had bestowed upon him gave him an incredible beauty that Madari would never match. Despite herself, Enaria was intrigued.
As Morvandis took his seat, Enaria couldn’t help but wonder what other changes Morvandis might have undergone in the past twenty years. It always surprised her when she was confronted by mortality, especially when it concerned humans. Elves could live to be a thousand years old, and because of this she did not feel the passing of time as keenly as humans did. Looking at Morvandis now reminded her that for all his power, for all his strength, he was a mortal and someday his power and strength would disappear as if it had never been. That was for the future however. Today, Morvandis stood at the pinnacle of his power and everyone with the ability to sense it knew it.
Enaria turned her head to look at the First Chair of the Mage Citadel. Se-ir Windwhisper was much older than even her brother Tavian, but even his attention was focused on Morvandis. Tavian sat between Enaria and Se-ir, and because she was looking at Se-ir she saw Tavian turn slightly to the High Councilor and whisper something. Without taking his eyes from Morvandis, Se-ir nodded once, firmly, as if coming to a decision. Curious, Enaria waited until Tavian returned his own attention to Morvandis before speaking.
“I see you’ve noticed that Morvandis seems to have grown in power.” Tavian grunted once, neither confirming nor denying her statement. When Enaria realized he meant to leave it at that she pressed on. “Se-ir seems to have noticed him as well.”
“Of course we noticed him—we aren’t blind,” Tavian snapped. “It’s like having the sun sitting in the middle of the Cathedral. Look around you, Enaria: every Mage here has noticed him though many try to hide it. No one wants to admit he’s there, but he’s very difficult to ignore.”
Enaria bristled.
“Why would anyone want to deny his power or try to ignore him?” she asked. “Think of the benefit to the Mage Citadel should we entice him to join us. He would be a tremendous asset.”
“You haven’t thought this through, Enaria,” he said, disagreeing. “He’s mortal. The lesson we’ve learned time and again from mortals is that the more powerful the Mage—the more promise he or she shows—the less willing they are to give up that power . . . especially to death.
“Morvandis is at the peak of his power now, but one day soon he will age and decline. When his mortality becomes undeniable, what measures will he take to forestall his own death? We’ve both seen it before. He may very well turn to Blood Magic in an attempt to prolong his life. Would you enjoy facing him hundreds of years from now as a vampiri’i, or worse yet, a lich’esti? Somehow I doubt it.”
He shook his head again, firmly.
“No, Enaria, that much power in the hands of a mortal is disturbing, to say the least.”
He paused then, as if something had just occurred to him. After a few moments of consideration he said quietly,
“I wonder if there is a pattern here . . .”
As his voice trailed off, Enaria suppressed a sigh of irritation. Tavian had a tendency to become lost in thought when a particularly intriguing problem surfaced. He could quite literally spend days unmoving, completely lost in contemplation. Normally, that was a trait of the Fae and not the Elves, but Tavian had never been particularly Elf-like. Unfortunately for him, Enaria wasn’t prepared to indulge his eccentricities, and before he could fully enter his fugue state she elbowed him sharply in the ribs. He frowned at her in irritation as his attention returned.
“What was that for?” he asked, growling.
“This is no time for you to become lost in thought,” she said. “What did you say to Se-ir?”
“I told him that Morvandis would have to be watched. Closely.”
Enaria settled back into her chair. Once again her gaze found the severe-looking Mage radiating so much power, and she half closed her eyes in contemplation as she began carefully studying every aspect of his appearance and demeanor.
“Oh, I agree” she said in a quiet voice meant only for her ears. As her eyes lingered on his beautiful features and her magical senses basked in the glow of his resonance, she whispered again, hungrily, “I agree.”
Patriarch Samuel Varic placed his formal headpiece on top of his head and let the wide tails trailing from it settle into place. Once he was certain that his appearance was perfect he turned to a small group of high-level clergy. At this signal, the assembled priests bowed and began filing out of the anteroom toward the hidden doorway leading to the main chamber. As the priests slowly filed out of the room, Varic touched his friend and advisor, Ephraim Semarill on the arm to gain his attention.
“A very important day, old friend. I have to admit a certain amount of trepidation, married to an eagerness to be about my work. I am very much looking forward to seeing the stewards of our flock assembled in one place. You saw the monarchs as they entered the Cathedral?”
Archidraconus Semarill nodded.
“Tell me quickly, what is your impression of them?” the Patriarch asked.
“Aside from my extreme annoyance at them for their tardiness, I have to say that I am very impressed indeed. All three rulers are very strong, and they project that strength very well. To be honest, I expected them to make all sorts of unreasonable demands to show us how important they are, but to my surprise none of them did.”
