Authors: Melissa Proffitt
There’s a sense that the Council isn’t in control, and that’s bad.”
“Bad for the Council, certainly.”
“Bad for everyone. If the people lose faith in the Council, well, who can they get to replace them? I don’t want to sound elitist, but there aren’t many who are prepared to do that job.”
“You being one of the few?”
Dakariou’s eyes widened, then he laughed. “I continue to underestimate you,” he said, “and I won’t insult you by suggesting you’re too beautiful to be clever. Though, in truth, I don’t think you realize how lovely you are.”
Zerafine felt herself blush. The way he looked at her now had nothing of flirtation in it. “I meant no insult,” she said.
“Oh, it’s no secret I have political ambitions,” he said, “but I’m intelligent enough to know I’m not ready for that kind of power. Later, when we’ve solved this problem, perhaps. Though if we don’t solve it soon, my aspirations are meaningless. I don’t suppose you’ve learned anything that might help?”
She thought again of Genedirou, and of Nacalia’s mystery man. “Nothing I’m prepared to
share at the moment,” she said. “I’ve learned very little that makes sense, and I hesitate to draw conclusions from such scant evidence.”
“I understand,” he said, surprising her. She’d expected him to press harder. “And this is hardly the venue for serious discussion. Shall we meet tomorrow afternoon? Say, two o’clock?
I’ve received more reports from around the city, and perhaps we can see if your new information makes mine more comprehensible.”
“Agreed. At my home, then?” She took his hand and once again felt that disquieting thrill.
His eyes lingered on her face, and she realized that, flirtation or no, he genuinely thought her beautiful. Had it been so long since she’d thought of herself as a woman, and not just
thelis
?
“May I escort you? There are people I’d like to introduce you to, and frankly—” his voice dropped—“I look forward to giving your name and title and watching their eyes pop out of their skulls. Without the robe, you look...extraordinary...but they will all know that putting off the robe does not mean putting off your mantle of office.” He offered Zerafine his arm, and without hesitation she laid her hand on it.
Dakariou was an ideal escort for this kind of gathering. He knew the name of everyone in
the room, their families, their positions, their interests, and he conversed on all of these with such subtlety that everyone he met walked away feeling appreciated. Zerafine knew his charm was all about politics, but she was coming to appreciate that for Dakariou, politics came as naturally and unselfconsciously as breathing. Was he using her? Probably, on some level. But she was
increasingly certain that on all the other levels Dakariou reacted to her as a person, a woman he was interested in, and she liked it.
Dakariou introduced her to the councilors who hadn’t been present at that first meeting. Sure enough, every councilor from the hills shared a surname with the place they represented. But the district councilors, despite their plebeian origins, seemed forceful enough to hold their own against the wealth and family power of those from the hills. Even the mousy, bland Cerilia appeared lively. Vessa, in particular, met her counterparts’ gazes with a directness Zerafine was beginning to like. The outspoken district 4 representative dressed in what Zerafine was coming to think of as her trademark white gown, this one of silk embroidered with pearls. She extended her hand in greeting to Zerafine, then drew her aside from the other councilors.
“You look so different without the robe,” Vessa murmured. “Are you enjoying being the
woman of mystery?”
“I surely can’t look
that
different,” Zerafine laughed.
Vessa shook her head. “You can’t imagine how many people have asked me if I know who
you are. Everyone here grew up together and any new face is cause for comment, but it simply doesn’t occur to them that a
thelis
of Atenas could be so young and pretty. Not that Berenica is unattractive, but I think you know what I mean.”
“I do. Most people expect the
theloi
of Atenas to have some outward difference to indicate the god we serve. They must be disappointed that we aren’t all hideous and, well, ten feet tall.”
“Not so much disappointed as startled. I think—but you would know better than I if this is true—that people, being determined to fear something, would like to have a reason to justify their prejudice.” She sipped her drink. “Are you finding the south much different from
Dardagne?”
“I’ve lived in the south since I was twelve, so it’s hard for me to remember. Dardagne’s not a large country, probably not much bigger than three city-states combined, and the Autarch was always a distant presence. And it’s not that far north, so the climate is mostly the same, maybe a little rainier during the winter season.”
“I imagine your companion—your
sentare
, correct?—had more of an adjustment to make.
What is a Northerner doing this far south? I believe he’s only the second one I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Zerafine smiled. “Gerrard’s never said and I’ve never asked. I get the impression, from how he doesn’t say things, that his religious beliefs made him something of an outcast among his people. Northerners, aside from being insular and reluctant to travel far from home, don’t care for the worship of Atenas. Our
theloi
are only tolerated because Northerners have as much need for ghosts to be consoled as anyone else, but Atenas forbid someone might choose to worship Him if they didn’t have to.”
“How odd. And how...provincial, I think I’d call it.” Vessa sipped her wine again. “May I ask you a personal question?”
“Certainly, but I may not be able to answer.”
Vessa looked across the room. “What is your relationship with your
sentare
?”
Zerafine followed her gaze and saw Gerrard. He was in conversation with three beautiful
girls, laughing at something one of them said, and they laughed in turn. He towered over the crowd, and in his dark blue tunic, with his blond beard and hair neatly trimmed, he looked like a warrior out of some Northern saga. Something about the scene made her chest ache, and when she spoke, her voice sounded strange to her ears. “He’s my closest friend,” she said. “We’ve been together for six years now, tracking ghosts, and there’s no one I’d rather have guarding my back.”
“I see,” said Vessa. Zerafine looked at her, struck by something odd in her voice, but Vessa merely looked curious. “I don’t know if I could keep my relationship with any man merely
professional, being that close for so long.”
“I suppose it’s never occurred to either of us to see the other in that light,” Zerafine replied, still feeling that ache in her chest. It had been just the two of them for so long. It occurred to her, watching her
sentare
flirt, that he wasn’t going to want to trail along after her forever. What would happen if—when—Gerrard became romantically involved with someone? What would
that woman think of his being so close to another woman, however platonic the relationship?
And yet—he’d talked about settling down someday, building lives side by side. It was obviously something he’d thought about already. Zerafine was unsettled to find herself annoyed at that imaginary woman’s intrusion into their life.
“Do
theloi
and their
sentaren
ever become romantically attached?” Vessa asked. Zerafine nodded.
“It’s not common, but it’s not all that rare,” she said. “One of my friends, Vivienne, even fell in love with her
thelis
when they were both still novices. They asked to be assigned together.
The other couples I’ve known, they fell in love after being partnered. It’s funny how few of them ever split up. You would think that being in one another’s constant company would put too much of a strain on a relationship, but it almost never happens that way.”
“One rarely thinks of romance and the
theloi
of Atenas in the same sentence,” Vessa said with a smile. “It seems even I have my prejudices.”
“Say, rather, that you still have things you can learn,” said Zerafine, and they both laughed.
“May anyone join this conversation? You seem to be having such fun,” said Castinidou
Rodennos. He was resplendent in a short robe embroidered with gold thread, lying open over a white tunic and matching trousers.
“Not at all,” said Vessa. “In fact, I’m afraid I must leave you to Castinidou’s care,
thelis
, as I see one of my associates is trying to attract my attention.” She floated away, and Zerafine and Castinidou faced one another. At a loss for words, Zerafine took a long drink of her wine. She would have to be careful how much she drank tonight; she had a terrible head for alcohol.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Castinidou said. “I felt obligated to make sure you
weren’t lost in the crowd, but Dakariou has taken care of that.”
“Yes, he’s been very good to me,” Zerafine replied. “If you watch, you’ll see that he’s never very far away, just in case I run out of people to talk to.”
Castinidou laughed. “I believe you’ve made an impression on him. He suddenly became
very interested in the investigation when you arrived.”
Zerafine blushed, but a more suspicious part of her brain filed that away under “curious.” He might be behind Nacalia’s mystery man after all. “That’s very flattering,” she said.
“I just hope he’s been useful to you,” he said. “I don’t suppose you have any news for us?”
“Not yet. I’m sorry.”
Castinidou frowned. “I don’t mean to be critical, but you’ve been here, what, five days
already? I was hoping you’d have made some progress by now.”
“I have made progress,” Zerafine said, trying to sound even-tempered, but feeling both
resentful and guilty, not a good combination. “I’m just not sure what it means yet.”
“I had hoped you and Genedirou might be able to work together, but it seems he’s got his
hands full with all these banishments.”
Zerafine blushed again, wondering what Genedirou had told the councilor. Was that meant
as a criticism? “I’m afraid that’s true,” she said. “I understand he had a very difficult banishment this morning.”
“On my property, yes. The thing fought Sukman’s will for several minutes.”
“Have you been present for many banishments, then?”
“Too many to count. My estate seems to be overrun with the things. I’ve been grateful to
Genedirou for his willingness to keep returning. I almost feel guilty, bringing him back so often.”
A warning bell went off in Zerafine’s head. “I don’t suppose someone
has
kept count of the actual number?”
“Oh, I was exaggerating. There have been forty-three apparitions—no, forty-four as of this morning, mostly one-time appearances. Genedirou has banished six of them.”
“That’s...quite a lot.” It was a lot. It was more than double the number reported for the Rodennos estate in Vessa’s notes. “I wasn’t aware your situation was so serious.”
“It’s not nearly as many as have been reported in the lower city, so I feel grateful for
Sintha’s blessing on us. We’ve always been a lucky family.”
“How so?”
“Oh, our financial ventures are usually sound, that sort of thing. And we live high enough above the city that we seem to suffer less from the occasional outbreaks of illness that pass through. My parents, for example, were wise enough to shut our estate off from the world during the plague. Very few of us got it. Unfortunately, I was one of those, but I was, again, fortunate enough to survive.” A shadow passed across his face and was gone. “Sintha seems to smile on us, and we show our gratitude in every way possible.”
“Did you help fund the construction of the new temple? Or is that too impertinent a
question?”
Castinidou laughed. “It would be a slight to the goddess to be ashamed of the blessings she’s brought us. Yes, we funded the new temple, and my nephew Akelliou designed the building
itself.”
“I don’t believe I’ve met him.”
“He’s around someplace, probably flirting with one of our neighbors’ wealthy daughters.”
He smiled, but Zerafine thought she saw strain in it. Perhaps their family relationships weren’t as blessed by Sintha as everything else. “Have Dakariou introduce you, but be careful—Akelliou will try to charm you away from him.” He winked and turned to go, but bumped into someone tall and lean. “Oh, I beg your pardon,
Marathelos
.”
“Not at all,” Alestiou said. “I was so intent on speaking to this young woman that I hardly noticed you.” Had Castinidou not already been leaving, it would have been a firm dismissal.
Zerafine noted that the area immediately around Alestiou remained empty, as if he carried with him a protective barrier that kept others at a distance. She knew exactly how it felt; her robe granted her the same protection. She wondered if the
Marathelos
felt lonely; she at least had Gerrard.
“Sirrah
Marathelos
, greetings,” she said, bowing low. The prelate returned her salute and drew her aside, into an alcove near the back door.
“How is your work progressing, daughter?” he asked.
Zerafine looked up at him, weighing the odds that he might be involved in some conspiracy.
He looked even more tired than he had at the banishment. She noticed again that his hands trembled. “Not well,” she told him. “I think I’ve stumbled on something bigger than just the apparitions, but I have no idea what. And it seems that someone believes I know more than I do.”
Alestiou nodded. “In an ideal world, we would all be working together to save our city,” he said. “You look surprised. Do you not realize that Portena is in danger? I know very little, but I do know that there is worse to come. Kalindi, praise Her, speaks in riddles these days, and I wish I could give you some key to unlocking your mystery, but I cannot. I am very much afraid that your answers will only come after some new disaster has befallen us.”
Zerafine swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly dry. “You speak in riddles yourself, sirrah,”