Page 109 of Forged in Flame and Shadow

“There was someone in Hallowbane who would feed us valuable intelligence from her clients who were Temple insiders,” he says.

“Ah, I see.” Hallowbane is home to two things—gambling dens and brothels. Clerics are supposed to be celibate, but all sorts of Temple laws are broken in Hallowbane. Priests visiting prostitutes is probably the least of them.

“Unfortunately, our contact was murdered by a cleric a few years ago,” Harman says, his eyes dark with anger. “She was a wonderful, clever woman, and they made her just another brave person lost to the Temple’s evil. We’ve tried to establish new contacts since then, but we’ve been unable to. Partly because of the local gangsters. Corrin Wadestaff has most of the city in a chokehold.”

I sit up straighter at the name.

“I know Corrin Wadestaff,” I say.

Harman raises his eyebrows.

“You do?”

“Yes, we’ve had dealings with him before, when I needed safe passage out of Trova.”

“Do you think he can be reasoned with?” Harman asks.

“I think he’d be interested in helping the future queen of Trova out,” I say, remembering him pretty much saying so when he was our host.

“And is that who I’m talking to?” Harman asks hopefully. “The future queen of Trova?”

I think about the hate that burns in my heart for Oclanna. I won’t deny that a similar fire now flares when I think of Caledon—murdering my kind, purging my friends. Will he be the next person on my executioner’s list? And will I have to be a queen to make sure the axe falls? If I help Harman with this, at least, I don’t have to make that decision just yet. And when I do act, I’ll have the force of the Hand behind me.

“You’re talking to someone who’s thinking about it,” I say.

Chapter 33

Sophos

The raven flaps its wings above the roofs of Xatus, tilting them so the sun illuminates the shine across its black feathers. The note attached to its leg will reach His Grace in a few days and will hopefully put his mind to rest.

I’ve been busy this last week putting our plans into motion—whispering into the right ears and transporting the necessary tools. I’ve enjoyed my work just as a hunter enjoys the intricacies of setting his traps, knowing that soon the wolf worrying the local flock will be dealt with. Now I just need to ensure the Grand Bearer doesn’t miss me these last few days as I attend to other important business.

I weave around the clutch of trees that grow on the city’s highest point. I used to come up here all the time as a boy. It was here that I first discovered my second power. I’d been playing around with sound for a few months, but that day, I found I could communicate with the birds too.

Twin-blessed. I’d not heard the term before, but then I was a pitiful, uneducated thing. Too ignorant to know what it meant for my future. My mother, meanwhile, had been overjoyed. Notbecause her son had been rewarded by the gods. No, she was more mercenary. She knew the Temple would pay her when they came to claim her child.

I was in acolyte training just a week later. I was six years old.

The trees rustle in the breeze as I walk down the hill, deeper into the heart of Xatus. The slums have shrunk in the four decades since my childhood, but many of the streets I remember—crime ridden and filthy—still exist. As I turn a corner, I see a gang of ragged teenagers bowl past an old woman, knocking her cane out of her hands.

“Here, ma’am, let me help you,” I hurry forward, picking up the walking stick. But as I reach out to hand it to her, she cowers from me, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“I don’t have anything to steal, so you can get away from me,” she shrieks, exposing her black teeth before she hobbles off as fast as she can.

No, not much has changed in Xatus. Here the strong take from the weak, the sick are left to suffer, and babies cry in back rooms, neglected and ignored.

It had been a shock to go from this cruel, careless world to the white temples of Ethira. In my training, the clerics taught me this kind of evil flourishes when selfishness combines with a lack of discipline. Without sacrifice or order to guide people, they give in to their base instincts. But if we adhere to the rules of the temple, we can transcend our sordid instincts, just as Ethira transcended his mortal form.

The slums thin out, replaced by busy shop fronts and market stalls. I stop by a carpenter’s table, admiring his handiwork.

“I’ll take this,” I say, holding up the toy figures of a wooden cart and horse.

“Something for the little one, eh?” he says with a wink. “He’ll be pleased with that. The wheels turn and everything.”

His familiarity is strange to me. I’m so used to people ducking their heads in respect when I speak to them, offering me blessings in hushed tones. But of course, I’m not wearing my bearer’s robes today. As always, when I come to Xatus, I don’t want to attract notice.

“Thank you,” I say, paying the carpenter and continuing on my way. Eventually, I arrive at the little black door with a basket of posies hanging above it.

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