“I need to talk to Vatran,” Stella said. “Do you know where he is?”

“Well, he’s busy right now,” Tarant said, “But I can take you to him later. You’ve got some shopping to do, right?”

Stella sighed and gave Tarant the list, and they went into town. She was too preoccupied to pay attention to where they were going, much less hold a conversation with Tarant. She had some choice words for Vatran when she next saw him. How dare he threaten her mother? What made him think she’d stick around for her end of the deal if Laurel died? If she could only figure out how to channel evocation magic, she’d make Vatran rue the day he met her.

“What’s that you’ve got, Fidus?” Tarant asked a burly bald man.

Fidus opened his bag to show Tarant. “A fox. Trapped it this morning.”

Tarant smiled. “I bet Audacio will be jealous.”

Fidus waved a hand. “Audacio won’t even know. He’s going to sleep through the whole thing.”

“Really?”

“That’s right. He got me once, but I didn’t let him fool me again. Instead, he’s the fool.” He laughed. “Oh, that I could see his face tomorrow! When he wakes up and hears the news that Scorpon is victorious, he’ll be furious”

“You’ll be in the hot zone, then?”

“That’s right. Audacio can’t keep me from it this time.”

What Stella really had to do was convince Elrick to let her shadow him. It was infuriating to be kept out of the tower every daylight hour of every day, unable to observe him. She’d have to convince him that she’d be out of his way, that she wouldn’t interrupt his work, that he wouldn’t even know she was there. If she could see what he did during the daylight hours, she would surely have some clue into his weaknesses or defenses. She’d at least be able to sketch his character better, and she might be able to use that to guess how he would go about laying spells to protect his life.

“You look happy, Dein. Did you get a good spot for the assembly today?”

“Thank you, Tarant, but no,” Dein said. “I received word of my elder brother’s death late last night, and I’m headed to Cephaneia directly to claim my crown.”

“On your own?”

“No. Magister Caleo offered an escort of hunters. His sons are among them, as a matter of fact.”

“What an honor!”

“Indeed. Farewell, Tarant.”

“Safe travels, Dein.”

Stella had to figure out how to kill Elrick and keep him dead. The sorcerer had allegedly survived arrows to the eyes and heart, as well as decapitation and poison. She also had insanely strong skeletons to worry about should her attempt run longer than expected, not to mention the fact that previous would-be assassins had been executed torturously.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come, Ladon? You could drastically improve your living situation.”

“Thanks, but no, Tarant,” the Thuban cleric answered. “Easy solutions never last. Better to put the effort in to solve my problems myself than wait for someone else to solve them. Leaving your problems for someone else to solve only leads to misery.”

“I’m not sure where you’re getting that nonsense, Ladon. I’ve studied all current and historical nations of Dracon, and Vulcan is the best of them all.”

“I’m sorry you think that, lad. I hope you find the truth soon.”

“I wish the same for you.”

“Heh, heh. I appreciate that, lad.”

Stella wondered briefly whether it would be possible to free her mother from the prison without getting caught. But no. An Ortu guarded the entrance to the prison at all times, and it was nigh on impossible to shake off Tarant, anyway. She’d only managed it when he wanted to attend the assemblies.

“Stella, you ready to go?”

Stella shook herself, coming back to the present. People were flowing out of town, heading up the mountain. “What?”

“It’s time for the assembly. You’re coming this time, right?”

Over the past four weeks, there had been five assemblies. Stella had managed to avoid them by claiming to need an obscure plant from the woods to complete her list, sending Tarant on without her. This time, he had her list in his hand, its required items all collected in her bag. There was no room for excuses.

“Yes, I am,” she said, fighting to keep the reluctant tone out of her voice. Tarant’s face lit up. He grabbed her hand and practically dragged her up the mountain. He took her to where the fanatics were gathering in the gravel. It was off to the side of the stone assembly area, high enough above it to give a decent view of the whole space. Villagers gathered on the stone, milling about, trying to get the best spots. Stella watched them with resigned pity, mostly desensitized to their insanity after spending four weeks among them.

Then she froze. Are those… children? They were. A group of twenty children stood in the middle of the crowd. None of them could have been older than ten.

“Why are there children down there?” Stella asked, starting forward. Tarant grabbed her shoulder, keeping her in place.

“They’re asking Elrick for salvation,” he said. “They want to serve Vulcan.”

“But they’re kids!”

“Stella, calm down. You don’t want to attract Saturn, do you? If you prevent them, Saturn will consume both you and the children. I can’t let that happen.”

Vatran turned, giving Stella a warning look. A look that said he’d kill her mother if she didn’t stop. She relented, and Tarant relaxed. “Fine,” she said. “Just excuse me while I go talk to Vatran.” She pulled away from the young fanatic and stalked over to confront the older one.

“You promised to keep my mother alive,” Stella said. “You broke that promise when you offered her to Elrick this morning.”

“It was not a one-way promise,” Vatran said. “You haven’t kept your end of the bargain.”

“Yes, I have!”

Vatran smiled his scheming smile. “I think you’ve forgotten. You were supposed to convince Elrick to start granting petitions. You haven’t even tried.”

Stella pursed her lips. That had been the deal. It was Vatran’s whole reason for getting her into this position. “I don’t have a lot of time to talk to him. You might not have noticed, but he makes me spend every daylight hour in town.”

“You’d better get creative, then. I’ll give you another four weeks before her next presentation, but then you’ll only have four weeks before her time is up. We can’t afford to keep feeding prisoners that Elrick doesn’t want.” He pulled at the neck of his robe as he spoke. He had a sapphire ring on one hand and wore a necklace set with three more sapphires.

Can’t afford it? Stella thought, then froze. The sapphires each had a soft glow. It was faint enough to pass as the gem’s natural luster, but after nearly a month of filling gems with energy, Stella knew the difference. Vatran held four wells of magical energy. A stab of fear pierced her insides. Where had he gotten it? What did he plan to use it for? She looked around at the other fanatics. There were two other Magisters. They each had a bejeweled necklace and a matching ring: Caleo had emeralds, and Flagro had rubies. There were eleven Ortus, and each of them wore a gemstone ring. All of the gems glowed softly with magical energy. The lower-ranking fanatics were much more numerous, but none wore jewels from what she could see.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“There he is!” Tarant said, and Stella looked down at the space.

Elrick the Ineffable stood outside the door to his tower, looking disdainfully down at the crowd. They screamed and jumped, raising their hands as if to catch his fireball. The sorcerer scowled as he surveyed them. Then his scowl faded, his gaze fixed in the center of the crowd. He conjured his fireball, then threw it right at the group of kids.

Stella’s heart froze, and she saw more than heard the crowd’s cheers. Just like that morning, the fireball worked quickly, dying out after a few seconds. Sixteen little corpses fell to the ground, as well as one much taller one, blackened, but mostly intact. Four of the children still stood, unscathed.

Elrick continued his show, reaching his fiery arm into a pool of elderly, burning several of them. It pulled out a man with a twisted hand, throwing him into the volcano. The crowd cheered again. A large part of the crowd was elderly, sick, or injured, there to ask Elrick for youth or health. The crowd fell silent, except for the moans of the people the arm had burned, who fell to the ground in pain. Elrick shouted his reanimation incantation. The old man’s blackened bones climbed down from the volcano’s mouth, perfectly aligned despite the twisted hand he’d had in life. The crowd filtered away, abandoning the dead, and skeletons poured from the tower to collect the bundles of offerings and the corpses. The lesser fanatics scurried down to guide the injured toward treatment, but some of the frailer victims had stopped moving. The skeletons claimed those, taking them into the tower with the corpses.

Stella bit her lip hard, nauseous and angry. Then she saw the four surviving children. A fanatic had gone up to meet them, and they were following him toward the viewing tower. “What’s he doing with them?” She asked, pointing.

Vatran looked at Tarant, whose face broke into a huge smile. “I think Tarant wants to show you,” Vatran said.

“Oh, thank you, Magister Vatran! Come on, Stella.”

Tarant’s excitement did not bode well, but he grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the tower before she could object. “It’s symbolic of Elrick’s fiery arm,” he said, which didn’t help the foreboding feeling in Stella’s stomach. “The center of the tower is filled with water to make a well, which represents the volcano. The officiating Magister represents Elrick. I think it’s Magister Caleo’s turn this time. Anyway, the volunteer takes a sleeping draft to make it easier for them, and then the Magister lowers them into the water with a rope. The rope represents Elrick’s fiery arm, you see? Then the Magister pulls them back up, representing reanimation, and we use the bones to divine upcoming hot zones, representing the skeleton’s service.”

“Hold on,” Stella said. “You take people up there to drown them?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “They want us to, silly. I think they’re just desperate. It’s quick and guaranteed. The assemblies always have a ton of disappointed survivors. Not so in the tower.”

Stella snorted. “Then why doesn’t everyone volunteer? Is there a waiting list?”

He shook his head. “It’s guaranteed to get the volunteer a quick judgment, not salvation. Elrick’s fire guarantees salvation because he gets to choose between the volunteers. The only condition for that is Elrick’s choice. He doesn’t have a say with the Well, so it’s up to Vulcan whether or not he wants to employ their soul as his servant. Or it’s riskier than gathering in the assembly, but it’s quicker. Good for desperate people, people who need their petition fulfilled quickly.”

“And if Vulcan doesn’t choose them?”

Tarant shivered. “Damnation. Their souls are sent out into the void, where they have nothing to do but amuse themselves.”

Stella frowned. “But how do you know? How do you even know there’s a difference?”

“It’s easy,” Tarant said. “We use their bones in divination. If the bones are right, then we know their soul has been accepted as Vulcan’s servant, and part of their duty is to make the divination accurate. If they’re wrong… well, then we have more to mourn than getting the hot zone wrong.”

“Thank you, Tarant,” Vatran said, catching up with them. “You go on ahead. I need a word with Stella.”

Tarant smiled and ran the rest of the way to the tower.

“I wanted to warn you against breaking Tarant’s vision of this ritual,” Vatran said in a low voice. “He’s a bright boy, an inspiration to the whole town. If he were to grow doubtful, it would lead to the damnation of many more souls than his.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve seen Abjectus, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you saw the brandings this morning?”

“I did.” Stella scowled. “Get to the point.”

“Can you imagine how Abjectus got his brands?”

Stella’s mouth went dry. “You offered one of your own to Elrick?”

“A doubter. It’s a necessary practice. He was lucky to survive long enough to return to the faith. Others are burned, and others are too stubborn to keep alive.”

“And the Brevises with brands? Were they doubters, too?”

“Oh, none of the ones you’ve known. They’re the sons of other fanatics, and they had to present themselves to Elrick for initiation into our order. The brands were given because Elrick didn’t choose to initiate them on their first presentation. But you’re changing the subject. I’m only concerned with you and Tarant right now.”

“What about?” she asked, but she was starting to suspect—

“If Tarant develops doubts of Elrick’s divinity, I’ll have to put him in prison. From your perspective, the best-case scenario there is he casts off his doubts after his first presentation. In that case, he’d come out with a rejection mark and be demoted to Brevis. If he’s still stubborn, he might still manage to get out as an Abjectus.” Vatran sighed. “But Tarant is of a devoted disposition. It’s nearly impossible to change his views on something, but once the change is made, it’s just as difficult to correct. I don’t think he’d survive the process. He’d stubbornly wait for his third rejection, and then I’d have to kill him. I’d hate to do that to him.” From his expression, Stella concluded he didn’t see the possibility as tragic. Pitiable and inconvenient, yes, but he didn’t seem to foresee any grief down that road.

“You’re a monster,” Stella said.

Vatran regarded her. “It’s entirely in your power to prevent all of that. All you need to do is keep your mouth shut while you’re up there. He’s too excited for you to back out now, so you’ll just have to go up there and behave. Don’t say anything against the ritual, and he’ll be fine.”

“Hey!” Tarant called from the top of the tower, “Are you coming, or what?”

Vatran patted her arm. “Good luck.” He turned away, heading for the burn treatment building. Stella took a deep breath, then climbed the tower.

At the top, the wooden slab had been removed from the center, revealing a deep pit filled with water up to a point six feet below the floor where they all stood. A large number of fanatics were present, mostly Ortus. Eight of them held four captive adults in place. Three of the captives each had three rejection brands on their cheeks. The other only had two, but he also had a bracelet brand on his wrist. He stood tall and proud, presenting no struggle. The other three were weak and emaciated, their wriggles easily suppressed by their captors. Another two Ortus stood guarding the four children who’d escaped Elrick’s fireball, a strong hand on each child’s shoulder.

Tarant threw the end of a rope over a beam in the ceiling, then handed the ends to Magister Caleo. That done, Tarant leaned against one of the pillars holding up the roof. He patted it, inviting Stella to join him. Her stomach squirmed in disgusted anticipation, but she complied.

The Ortus holding the proud man brought him to Caleo. The Magister handed the man a potion, and the Ortus bound his ankles with one end of the rope. The man handed back the empty bottle, then fell limp, the Ortus catching him and pulling him back to a standing position.

Caleo raised his hands above his head and recited, “Oh Vulcan, look favorably on the self-sacrifice of this man. See how he offers his life to increase your power. Accept him into your servitude, now and forever.” He tightened his grip on his end of the rope, and the Ortus lowered the victim, turning him to drop headfirst into the water. Caleo lurched, and the Ortus grabbed the rope behind him, steadying it.

As the rope twitched, Stella looked over the remaining captives. The adults looked horrified. They knew what was happening to the fanatics’ victim. They each knew it would shortly be their turn. They wriggled more urgently, but it still wasn’t enough to break their captors’ grips.

The children looked on in confusion. “Is he playing with Vulcan yet?” the youngest asked.

“Not yet,” his captor said. “Not until the rope stops moving.”

The rope stopped moving. Caleo and the Ortus heaved on the rope. Once they had the corpse high enough, the Ortus left Caleo to catch it. Caleo slackened his grip, and the Ortus laid the body on the ground beside the Magister and untied the rope. The next set of Ortus brought forth their captive, but Stella wasn’t watching them. She watched the children. Their eyes had grown wide. Whether or not they were old enough to understand death, they knew the corpse wasn’t playing.

By the time Caleo had forced the sleeping draft on the new victim, Stella had seen too much. She couldn’t stay there, not saying anything. She hurried down the stairs.

A set of quick footsteps followed her. “Wait, Stella,” Tarant said, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to be late for my magic lesson.”

“But there’s still an hour of daylight left. You don’t want to watch?”

She stopped, halfway down the stairway. Could she tell him the truth? She and Tarant were the only ones there. Maybe she could say just a bit. Just enough to explain her behavior without bringing Vatran’s wrath.

She heaved a deep breath. “I can’t stand their faces.”

Tarant passed her and turned to stop in front of her, confused. “But they’re sleeping. They don’t make faces.”

“I mean the ones waiting.” She pushed past him and ran for Elrick’s tower.