Born Of Fire And Darkness (Book 2) (23 page)

Korbin saw a couple of people dodging through the crowd, moving like pickpockets. A few people would go home lighter of coin than they intended. Curiously, he saw no overt presence of imperial guards or city watch. That surprised him since Nassore was purported to be within. Were they hidden or disguised, or had Nassore turned them away?

A loud thump sounded, coming from the white-spired Temple of Pang. It resonated deep in his bones, but nobody else appeared to react. “What was that?” he asked a man next to him when their eyes met.

“What?” the man shouted over the crowd.

“What was that?” Korbin called back.

“What was what?” the man asked.

Korbin gave an apologetic smile and shrugged. “Must be the drums.” He gestured to the musicians on the other side of the square.

The man shrugged back and turned away, not appearing to have heard Korbin over the din of the music and the roar of voices.

Korbin’s mind turned to his mother, as it had almost constantly since he had awoken from his “journey” with Octavia. He’d heard the hushed voices, Betram and Octavia saying he shouldn’t have been able to call to her. He’d seen the concern on Octavia’s face, but he didn’t care. Seeing his mother again had changed him. The experience filled a gap in his mind, healed a hurt he hadn’t realized was there. He even felt more kindly to his father, something he never thought would happen. He knew better than to trust Graiphen completely, but his mother’s forgiveness had gone a long way to securing Korbin’s.

With difficulty, he managed to wriggle up to the temple entrance, where he was stopped by a priest and priestess wearing the white robes of Pang’s servants. “Do you wish to offer yourself into Pang’s service?” the priest, a short man with a tidy auburn beard, asked.

“No,” Korbin replied, startled by the question.

Without further discussion, he moved his attention to a woman next to him who wore a white robe. “Do you wish to offer yourself into Pang’s service?”

“Yes,” she said, her brown eyes shining.

“Come forward and be blessed by the child of a living Spirit.”

They let her pass, and Korbin came forward again. “I wish to ask for the blessing of the Spirit,” he said. “I am a supplicant.”

“Come back tomorrow,” the priestess, a plump woman with round eyes and narrow red lips, told him sharply. “Only new acolytes today.” She turned to ask yet another person the same question.

Korbin felt another deep thump that shook the ground. He grasped for a pillar to regain his balance, but again, no one else appeared to be affected.

“Move along,” the priest said. “You’re blocking the entrance.”

No matter how much he desired to find out more about the goings on of the temple, he wasn’t going to make a false claim to swear himself to her. He might have in the past, but now he knew the Spirits to be living creatures who would collect their due.

He took a step back and watched as three women and two men were allowed inside and directed to the sanctuary. He called to the priest who’d denied his entrance. “Is it true Prince Nassore is here today?”

“It is,” the priest told him. “That’s why we’re only allowing some inside.” He shrugged apologetically.

“Why would he attend a ceremony for recruiting acolytes?” Korbin asked.

The priest ignored him at first and let another girl pass while denying her mother the right to watch the ceremony. “I’m sorry,” the priest said. “We only have room for the new acolytes today. There’re just too many.”

She nodded, clearly disappointed. “When can I see her again?”

“If she’s accepted by the goddess, it’s impossible to say,” the priest said. “If she’s not, by the end of the day. If she doesn’t return tonight, take that as a sign that she has pleased the goddess. Move along, missus. You’re blocking the entrance.”

With disappointment etched on her face, the mother turned away. Korbin’s heart went out to her.

He turned back to the priest and repeated his question. “Why would Prince Nassore be attending a ceremony for recruiting acolytes?”

“He’s pledging on behalf of the imperial family,” the priestess said. “He’ll be making the announcement afterward in the temple square. Stay and watch if you like. It will be a glorious occasion.”

The priest cast her a sharp glance, as though the plan had been a secret.

“What?” Korbin asked, his concern rising. “The emperor’s son can’t become an acolyte. Not unless he abdicates his position.”

“He’s not becoming an acolyte,” the priest said, still glaring at the woman beside him. “And we don’t have time to discuss this with you. It’s temple business. Move along before I call the city watch. You’re blocking the entrance.”

Korbin let himself be shoved out of the way and back toward the main square. Whatever was going on inside, he didn’t have the means to find out. He glanced at the temple towering on the opposite side of the square, that of Braetin. He wondered if his father was inside, and if so, what he was doing. He must be aware of Nassore’s intentions. He would know that Zain must not be permitted to get such a hold over the imperial family, but Korbin feared it might be too late. What could any of them do?

Chapter 22

Upon hearing Korbin’s report, Jorek sent his personal guardsmen to retrieve Prince Nassore from the temple. Octavia waited with the emperor, Korbin, and the two advisors, Dul Facime and Dula Merria. The guardsmen had been ordered to show the emperor’s personal token, so Nassore would know the order came directly from his father, but to be polite and deferential to all.

If, and only if, he refused, they would escort him out by force. Such an action would cause an ugly scene, one that no one could predict the repercussions of, but Jorek was far more concerned about the consequences of Nassore swearing loyalty to one temple. He also said that if things went that far, they were to take Nassore to his rooms and post guards outside the doors until Jorek himself ordered otherwise.

The silence in the reception room was unbearable. Octavia twisted the fabric of her scarf in her hand. Korbin sat across from her, staring at the table in front of him, and Jorek paced near the window. The advisors sat on the far side in a pair of chairs, talking quietly to one another with grim expressions.

Finally, Jorek spoke, addressing himself to no one in particular. “Zain is making a bold move toward controlling the throne.”

The advisors stopped their conversation but didn’t speak up. They nodded in silent agreement.

“But, your highness,” Octavia said, “you are young. Surely Zain knows that it will be many decades before your son could assume the throne. Why go after Prince Nassore rather than you?”

Jorek sighed. “I can’t say I understand all of his plans or powers, but Zain likely believes that if he controls my son, he controls me.”

She swallowed, not wanting to ask if the assumption was true. Jorek seemed to have a capacity for hardness when it was called for. She didn’t doubt he would disown his son if he thought he had to. Talmoran men did such things.

Turning over the possibilities in her mind, Octavia tried not to assume the worst. But she couldn’t help but question what would happen if Nassore refused to come. Even she, a foreigner, knew what it would mean for Imperial guardsmen to lay hands on someone of royal blood and force him to leave the temple against his will. What would the people say? She feared it would only cause more sympathy for Zain, who seemed to grow in popularity every day. She’d been hearing stories of crowds flooding to the temple to beg for his blessing, and more often than not, he gave it.

Maybe, she mused, Zain hoped for an ugly scene. If it made him appear sympathetic and the emperor seem unreasonable, heretical, and out of touch, what would happen?

From down the corridor, footfalls echoed, heavy boots walking in perfect rhythm. Only guardsmen had that particular gait. All eyes turned toward the door.

The time it took them to arrive felt like hours but was in reality mere moments. Jorek took his seat, his face frozen into an unreadable mask. She guessed he was preparing himself for bad news. When the doors opened, the two guardsmen came in, and Nassore flew in after them.

“What was the purpose of that?” he demanded of his father. “There was no
urgent matter
, was there?”

Jorek raised an eyebrow. “If I say a matter is urgent, it is thus. The matter is of utmost importance to Talmor, my son.”

“You humiliated me.” He waved toward the guardsmen. “Everyone there knew what
their
presence meant.”

“Perhaps you should not have promised to do something you had no right to do, and all this would have been avoided,” Jorek said.

“No right to worship the gods?” Nassore spat. “Zain is right. The house of Khourov has become weak and corrupted.”

Jorek’s face betrayed nothing, but his hand gripped the armrest a little tighter, the gold ring on his hand standing out against the pale flesh around his knuckles. He addressed the guardsmen. “Take my son to his rooms. See that food is brought to him as needed and command a steward to pack for a journey. Until he leaves, he will need to rest, so he will not go out nor will he receive visitors.”

Nassore froze. “A journey?”

“Your education is not yet complete. I command that you go to Domen Province and study finance under the tutelage of Dula Rosset. She taught me when I was your age, and you have much to learn on the matter. You will leave immediately.”

“I will not,” Nassore said.

Even Octavia was taken aback at his behavior. This young man hardly seemed the same person she had met when she first arrived. Zain’s influence had not been positive, and it worried her how quickly he’d planted seeds of rebellion in the young prince’s mind. If he could manage this within Jorek’s own family, what could he do with the common people?

Jorek sighed. “After you take Nassore to his rooms, send for Dul Crenta and tell him to assist my son before he departs.” He gestured to the guards, not even looking at Prince Nassore. “Go.”

“Crenta?” Nassore paled. “Father, I am an adult, not a wayward child to be disciplined as though I’d refused to do my homework. I am honoring the gods. This is what you taught me to do, what all Talmorans should do. If you cannot see this, we are all doomed.”

Jorek didn’t respond, and the guards came and stood beside Nassore. When he refused to move, they grasped his arms and pulled him away. He struggled but couldn’t get out of their iron grip.

When they were gone and the sound of Nassore’s shouts had faded down the corridor, Jorek said quietly, “Leave me.”

Everyone stood and bowed, including Octavia. She glanced at Korbin, who looked as worried as she felt. They all quietly filed to the door.

When they reached it, Jorek said, “Senne Octavia, if you would stay please.” His voice was tight and formal.

She nodded and waited for the others to go.

“Shut the door.”

She did as he asked, and he stood and walked toward her, falling into her embrace. She held him tight for long moments.

“I’ve lost my son,” he whispered.

“No,” she said. “Not yet. Not if I can stop Pang and her brethren. She is the one who directs Zain’s path. She must be stopped.”

Jorek released her and met her gaze. His face had the tracks of tears on either side. “How will you do it?”

“I don’t know. But I will.”

Looking into her eyes, he put a cool hand on her cheek and caressed it gently. “I do believe you will save us all.”

She had no answer, so she kept silent.

Jorek’s expression was still grim, but he looked as though he saw a glimmer of hope. She wished she felt the same. Instead, all she felt was the weight of what she must do and the uncertainty of her eventual success.

As she pondered these things, Jorek leaned forward and kissed her. It was not the timid kiss of a boy, but the strong, demanding kiss of a man who knew what he wanted. He put one hand on the back of her head and the other went to her waist.

Surprised at first, Octavia stiffened, but as he held her, she relaxed, letting his touch feed her own need. For a while, they held one another, and they were not two people of different ranks or national origin, but two people who needed one another in that moment.

Chapter 23

Graiphen thought carefully as he followed the guard through the dungeon corridors, considering what had happened earlier that day. First, the sudden announcement from the temple of Pang that they would be freely taking in new acolytes and that Prince Nassore would be in attendance. That, in itself, was shocking. The imperial family didn’t visit individual temples except in a strict balance, paying equal tribute to all, and the ceremonies were private.

But Emperor Jorek’s decision to remove Nassore by force was even more startling. The scene had been handled quietly, but Pang’s temple was abuzz with Zain’s fury. Graiphen returned to the palace to advise Jorek, but the emperor would receive no one, not even those of his most trusted circle. To make matters worse, the word was that Nassore was being sent on an
educational retreat
to a distant province.

Despite the dramatic chaos within the Imperial family, Graiphen’s thoughts kept returning to Seba. The clock was ticking. According to Zain, Seba would be dead by the end of this week, part of the plan in assuring Pang’s dominance over Braetin, and that time was only two days hence. Graiphen wasn’t sure how Zain planned to accomplish that or if the issue with Nassore would change anything, but Graiphen couldn’t stand idly by in the wake of that threat.

The guard’s footfalls echoed on the grey stone walls as the pair continued down, the sound of the man’s creaking leather armor and jangling keys grating on Graiphen’s nerves. They went lower and lower into the stony hill under the palace, the only light from flickering torches. Here and there, a thin waft of fresh air would come from some unseen ventilation shaft, but it was not enough to dispel the heavy smells in the dark and gloomy prison.

All of Graiphen’s choices were impossible ones. He could do as Pang asked and kill Octavia. This would ensure him a place by the Spirit’s side and a role in her new dominion, but she was a parasite who would never be satisfied. The uncomfortable thought entered his mind that his own mistress was the same. He’d served her unwaveringly before coming to Durjin, but the more time away from her presence, the more he realized he’d lost his humanity. But Braetin would not let him go. He would only be free upon her death, and that was a circumstance he would not likely survive. She would not want him to.