Igni’s voice could be heard through the door as Konrad and Athir approached. "If we can find out who leads them, we can use that to our advantage."

"They’re fanatics; look what they did to the temples! They need to be put down, then the council will fall in line," Briarstone replied, punctuating his words with what sounded like his fist hitting the table.

"I’m not going to wait out in the hallway all night," Athir said, pushing open the doors.

"Briarstone’s hand went to his cutlass, and he lowered it when he saw Konrad. "Ye gods boy, you scared the life out of me."

"Another friend, Konrad? We're going to run out of rooms," Ignatius asked.

"Particks gone back to Tajar, this is Athir," Konrad explained.

"I don’t wish to be rude, but you mentioned a room?" Athir said. She was swaying slightly, and her eyelids were heavy.

"Upstairs, anywhere you can find that hasn’t been too badly destroyed," Igni said.

As the doors closed behind Athir, Konrad threw himself into a seat at the table and groaned, his whole body protesting at him for the last day and a half of torment.

"So that's the famous Athir?" Igni said.

"How did you know about her?" Konrad asked.

"Rolo mentioned something about your adventures in Tajar; what’s she doing in Portia?"

"I'll find out in the morning; she’s not exactly chatty," Konrad replied.

"Glad she’s on our side; she looks as hard as a coffin nail," Briarstone commented.

"What’s all of this?" Konrad asked, gesturing to the piles of paper that were strewn over the large table.

"What you see here before you is a plan to take back control of the Lost Coast Council," Igni proclaimed.

"A flawed plan," Briarstone added.

"What's the problem?" Konrad said, sitting up in his chair. From what he could see, the papers were reports from all over the city. Alongside the one concerning his own activities, most of them were about the activities of the people in brown cassocks and shaved heads.

"This new group calling themselves the Priory, Briarstone wants to tie them all to the docks at low tide," Igni explained.

"That was a figure of speech; I meant you can’t trust them."

"We only need to work with them briefly. Once we bring them in, it won’t take much to divide them," Igni explained.

"If you want to talk to them, you should start with her," Konrad said, pushing a piece of paper across the table. The report was supposed to be a profile of the first priest of the Prior but it was barely more than a vague description.

"Do you know something we don't, young champion?" Igni asked.

Konrad told his companions the full story about his dealings with Issie, from Avram's initial warning that another god had sent a champion to take the idol before he could get there to her actions in Helgan’s rest and their confrontation that led to her being cut off. The pair sat in rapt attention throughout, although Igni gave a sly grin when Konrad described emerging from the hot pools and his subsequent arrest.

"She’s the one that we fought on Mir? How did she get mixed up with this lot?" Briarstone asked.

"A better question is, can we work with her?" Igni asked.

Konrad felt conflicted. A part of him felt pity for Issie. Having Hespian as her patron had ended poorly for her, and whoever this Prior was, they didn’t sound any better. On the other hand, she had rejected his help time and time again.

"You can’t trust a word she says," Konrad replied, feeling for some reason as if he had failed her.

-

The next morning, Spirit nudged Konrad awake. His whole body was aching, and when he attempted to heal himself, he felt nothing. He could feel the Cold Bite prowling around in the back of his mind, like a hungry animal, and when he looked at the shadows of the room, they seemed to react and pull slightly towards him.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Either Lyran’s powers don’t heal exhaustion, or she’s mad at me," Konrad muttered.

Konrad stopped in his tracks when he was halfway down the grand staircase. The doors of the main room had opened, and the person he least expected came striding out.

"Good morning, Konrad; you look tired," Issie said, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

Issie wore the corse brown cassock, tied at the waist with a length of black rope, and she was flanked by two similarly dressed figures who had certainly been chosen for their size rather than their religious conviction.

Briarstone and Igni appeared and escorted her to the door, holding a brief, muted conversation before she left.

"You’re going to work with her, even after what I said?" Konrad asked, joining them at the doorway.

"We listened to your advice, Konrad, don’t think I’ll let my guard down after the last time I tangled with her," Briarstone said.

"But right now we need to work with her. This was left for you this morning," Igni added, pulling a note from his pocket.

The two of them left Konrad at the bottom of the stairs, and he sat and unfolded the note.

Konrad,

I have something I need to do; I’ll find you and explain when it's all over.

Athir,

He turned the note over, but there was nothing more on the other side.

An unfamiliar jumble of emotions welled up inside of him, frustration and anger chief among them. Being a champion was nothing like what he had imagined, and now the one person he hoped could help him navigate this world had abandoned him.

Fra Dun had called him the pride of the Clods, but what had he done to be proud of? The temple of Lyran in Tajar had been restored, but Lyran herself didn’t even know the name of one of her most devoted priests, and the temple was only a stepping stone for her own vision of expanding her reach.

His adventure at the Coldest Mountain had helped the Dauska family and his friend Rolo, but what about the fisherman Lot and his poor wife Elena? They both plead for help that never came.

Admittedly, the elves on Mir were in a better position now than before, but he couldn’t help feeling that Avram had tricked them into worshiping him as some kind of savior; if anything, it was little statues of Paabo the dwarf and Renau that they should be worshipping.

His dark thoughts gave birth to a new concern that lurked at the back of his mind. If the Father was as callous as he seemed, then what if the small gods were no better? And what did that make him as their champion?

The only thought that lifted his mood was of the friends he had made, but each of them had only been briefly attached to his destiny. Rolo was home; Serena was gone. Igni and Briarstone were already embroiled in their own schemes.

He had let the promise of gifts and the idea of serving the will of the small gods lead him until now, but perhaps it was time to take hold of his own destiny. He had made promises: Otto might still be out in the world, and there was a deeper secret surrounding the disappearance of Cloda.

Konrad scrawled a few words on the back of the note and left it for his companions to find. Then he placed his hand on Spirit's back, and they set out alone towards the East to find answers.

-

Portia was burning as Athir joined the line of people fleeing the righteous anger of the brown-cloaked followers of the Prior.

The Priory had declared war against the mother, the Father, and the Brother. This war included the powerful magical groups that had long abused the system to satisfy their own greed. No one in the Lost Coast held much love for the arcanists or any other magic users, and so it was natural that they were lumped in with the oppressors.

Anyone who refused to don the itchy brown cassock and submit to a brave new haircut was considered in league with the tyrants, and anyone with something to lose fled north with as much as they could carry.

The Crossed Path Inn was two days' ride from Portia. Generally, it served as a rest stop on the journey from the Lost Coast to the wealthy cities in the North, but now it was utterly overwhelmed with travelers.

Athir found her Prey in a quiet corner, his face partially hidden in the shadows of his hood.

"Hello, Otto," Athir said, seeing the champion wince and savoring the moment.

"I know so little about you, yet you know my name and you’ve already met my family," Otto said, placing his glass down delicately.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I didn’t even know he was your brother until just before I landed on the street?" Athir said, taking a seat.

"No."

Athir leaned back and put her feet up on the bench, enjoying his disapproving frown as he pulled his impeccable black cloak away from her muddy boots.

"Perhaps you can tell me why I should honor a deal with the Faelen when I find that my younger brother has become a champion?" Otto said.

"I believe the actual wording of the request was to "hide him from the Father's gaze". I warned you about making deals with them."

"In any case, using Konrad to make sure that I comply is not a good foundation for a working relationship."

Athir slapped her hand on the table, drawing curious glances from some of the patrons nearby, but her gaze never left the champion. "I’ll only say this once. I met that boy by chance, and I felt sorry for him. Come to think of it, he reminded me of another young boy I knew a long time ago who also needed a sharp lesson about how the world works. There aren’t many things that I care too much about in this world or the other one, but he’s one of them."

"Then we agree on something," Otto replied.

"If you really thought that, you wouldn’t have gone anywhere near him," Athir countered.

"Would you believe me if I told you I ran into him by chance?"

"No."

A silence extended between them, and the champion of the Father finished his wine, his hood slipping back slightly.

"Do you have to wear that face? It makes me want to lose my lunch," Athir snapped, folding her arms.

The hawkish features of the Father faded away slowly, revealing the face of a young man with high cheekbones and a proud bearing. His eyes were gray and hard, and his blond hair was clipped short.

"Better?"

"Barely, won’t he be upset?"

"If you recall, I have ways of diverting his gaze."

The words had a forlorn quality to them, and Athir tried to suppress a shiver. In the past, Otto had descended into a state of madness to avoid the attention of the Father, and apparently he was doing it again.

"It is only a temporary measure, so we should travel separately."

"Where are we going?"

"To Tajar."

"The sword is there?"

Otto nodded. "I’ve seen it."