She could be sleeping, Al thought, as he gently laid Anla on one of the slabs in their room. He gently rolled her over so that she was prone and couldn’t believe the sight of the carnage. Whole pieces of her back hung loose, flaps large enough to pick up and move with his fingers. In some places he couldn’t even see the damage; the blood pooled too thickly.
Without thought he began cleaning the wounds. Halfway through the process he stopped, threw the rag on the ground, and knelt before her face. “You can’t do this,” he said, grabbing her hand. “You can’t be dead. You just got married to the man you love. He was waiting a year for you to look at him the way he looked at you. You pined and yearned for him. I was so happy that you two finally found each other. You can’t…” He wiped away the tears running down his face. “You can’t be dead. I love you, Anla, my sister. I won’t allow this to happen.”
But there was silence. Her eyes remained closed. He kissed her hand and held it to his face. “Please.”
But there was silence.
It finally hit him that she was gone and he began to sob. He put his hand on the table to steady himself as his stomach seized. He doubled over, wailing. “Please.”
But there was silence. He heard nothing. His fingers slipped on the slick surface. Why?
The slab was damp. It was like a jolt that sprung his arm from the table. His hand had been in front of her mouth. And if the table was damp, that meant moisture. From breath.
He looked around the room wildly for a few moments, then realized he couldn’t leave her. He needed…he needed something to…He looked at her other hand and quickly pried her ring off. He wiped it clear then stuck it front of her lips. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, then lifted the ring to his eyes. He wiped his finger across and saw the dampness clear.
“Anla. Anla! Anla, thank you, thank you so much!” He pried his hand from hers. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”
He sped outside the room into the courtyard, past two startled guards who immediately caught him and were dragged as he continued to run towards the whipping post. “Raulin!” he yelled and every head turned towards him. “She’s alive! Raulin, Anla’s alive!”
Those who were caught without their masks hastily put them back on. Some that were already masked joined their fellow trirecs at trying to stop Al from going where he shouldn’t. He continued to push through the weight of six trirecs holding his legs, arms, and weighing against his torso.
The trirec with a whip stopped and put on his mask before Al saw him. “Raulin!” he kept yelling. Someone punched him in the face, but he ignored this.
He made it across the yard and laid his hand on Raulin’s shoulder, transferring his magic. “She’s alive. I felt her breath. I’m going to go heal her.”
“Thank you, Wizard,” Raulin said, unable to look at him.
He stopped surging forward and shook off the trirecs. One fell flat on his face. Al calmly walked back to the room and sat down next to Anla, grabbing her hand and announcing that he had returned. “I told Raulin you were alive so that he would fight,” he explained. “Hope is an incredible thing, Anla. You gave that back to him.”
Al continued to clean her wounds, delicately tending to skin so frayed and cut up it appeared more like the bark of the trees he used to practice with his ax. Some color returned to her skin and he was able to see her chest rise and fall with her breathing.
He kept at it until two trirecs dragged Raulin in and helped him up on the slab. Isken stared at him. “I can’t believe he’s still alive, never mind walking.”
“I can,” Al said, touching Raulin’s back and giving him enough of the Calm to relax him into unconsciousness. “He’s more than what he seems.”
His cot barely fit between their slabs. Al had to crawl from the end to get into bed, but there was no place he wanted to be. He awoke several times in the night to hold their hands and make sure they were healing well.
Alistad arrived five days after the punishment, blindfolded and walking timidly into their room. Al jumped up and greeted her. “Thank you so much for coming,” he said.
“Of course,” she said, taking the blindfold off. “What…” She gasped and brought her hand to her mouth before running to Raulin’s side. “What happened? You said lacerations and possible organ trauma, but I thought you meant he got punched and sliced with a knife.”
“The shortened version is that all four of us were whipped, Anla and Raulin more severely than Telbarisk and I. I’ve done the best I’ve been able to with my wizard training, but it’s a bit much.”
She took a deep breath and tucked the strands of her walnut brown hair behind her ears before hefting the straw basket off her back. “How long ago did this occur? What was used to make these lacerations? How many did he receive? How many did she receive? What have you been using to care for them, other than your magic? Were there any other injuries?”
As Al began to answer her questions, she pulled out item after item from the basket, vials and unguents and herb packets and bandages and her mortar and pestle, and began to grind and mix a concoction together. When she finished with the paste, she very carefully measured out one drop from a clear vial into the mixture.
“What’s that?” Al asked.
She pressed the stopper back into the vial. “Tears of Zayine. It enhances the healing ability of anything mixed with it. It’s difficult to produce.”
“You’ve used that before.”
“I was reprimanded for taking it before,” she said, stirring the mixture. “We’re not supposed to use it until we understand the gravity of its presence and need.”
“Will you get in trouble for this, then?”
A small smirk tugged up the corner of her mouth. “They don’t know about this.”
“This is…yours?”
She nodded, laying out wet linens and brushing the paste onto strips. “One of the requirements to becoming a priestess is making your own vial of the Tears. I began working on mine early, as soon as I started having the dreams.”
“Dreams?”
“Nothing concrete, but whispers from someone that filled me with confidence. I had knowledge that something was going to happen, that I was going to travel south, that I would meet the person who holds my destiny. I’ve had a bag packed for weeks. I knew someone would call on me.” She gingerly placed the linen strips on Raulin’s back, smoothing them out to cover as much space as possible.
“When you say ‘holds your destiny’…”
“I know he’s a trirec. I know he can’t have relationships, though he seems to have one with you three. Still, I feel drawn to him.” She looked up from her work and met Al’s gaze. “Do you know why?”
“Yes.”
“Will you tell me?”
Al sighed and shook his head. “I want to, but I can’t.”
“Will you tell me some day? I’ll journey wherever is needed to find out.”
“That I will do for you. I don’t know if that day will come, but I will promise to remember you and to tell you what I can.”
“Can you give me a hint?”
While she ground and mixed the same ingredients for Anla, he finally said, “It might be worth your while to study the flora and fauna of Arvonne.”
“Arvonne?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing.
“That’s all I can say.”
She nodded and began laying the poultices on Anla’s back. “You’ve done well. They seem stable and recovering.”
“Anla was pronounced dead at the whipping post. They couldn’t find a pulse.”
Her eyes widened. “How did she survive?”
He cleared his throat. “If you think your destiny is wrapped up in ours somehow, perhaps it’s necessary to tell you how we met…”
Telbarisk came in from the walled garden and greeted Alistad. She continued to work as she listened to Al, checking the status of Anla and Raulin and taking notes. When he finished, she asked, “Have you heard of the Theory of Divine Equilibrium?”
“Yes. That was in my class on the Twelve in Amandorlam. I’ve even spoken to these three about it.”
“Albrever and its Noh Amairian counterpart, Costoli Bri’kavat, have announced that there is a very strong deitic and divine presence in our world right now, stronger than any they’ve ever recorded. Excessive natural disasters, famines, plagues, signs that things are out of order, they say. Until whatever was wronged is righted, it will continue to get worse.”
“Let me guess, it began about seventeen years ago.”
“Likely, they’re unsure if it’s sixteen or seventeen. Some signs might not have been reported previously. How did you know?”
Al shook his head.
“It’s all right. I’m just curious. There are some possible answers, but none that really make sense. But, I brought up the Theory to substantiate why I’m not surprised you have a deitic artifact. It’s been rumored that all thirty-six of the major artifacts are in play right now.”
“Wait, ‘major’ artifacts?”
“Let me check on your back,” she said and he sat on the edge of a slab. “The chalice isn’t just an artifact. There are three major artifacts for each god. Zayine’s, for example, are the Healing Bowl, the Blessed Grain, and the Spoon of Abundance. Mikros has the Everlasting Clover, the Glove of Charisma, and the Chalice of Friendship.”
“He has other chalices, though?”
“No. Just the one, and because it’s a major artifact, no other god has a chalice.”
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He puffed his breath out of his cheeks. “I knew it was His chalice, but I didn’t realize He only had one and that was it.”
“It’s very special. We don’t learn much about each one, especially not another god’s artifact, but I can tell you that it’s not the reason why Anla was pulled from the brink of death. That’s healing and it isn’t His realm. The chalice would only effect bonds and friendship and brotherhood.”
He turned to face her. “Well, yes, it’s not healing that happened, but our bond. At one point we believed that if one of us died, all four of us would die. But I think it may be the opposite, that the bond won’t allow the soul as well as the body to travel a mile from all of the members, so the other three souls won’t allow the fourth to depart.”
She gave him a sweet smile. “That may be true, but I don’t think that’s it. Al, you said you were whipped ten times less than a week ago?”
“Yes, why?”
“Have you seen your back since that point?”
“I’ve been too busy to take care of myself. I had to heal Isken, Tel, Anla, and Raulin. I know, I know, you’re first patient is always yourself, but I can’t take time away from helping them. I’m too afraid something will go wrong when I’m sleeping or eating.”
“You do need to start taking care of yourself, at least for a healthy mind and spirit. Your body, though, is healing at extraordinary levels. Save right here,” she said, drawing her finger over his shoulder, “and here,” she said, crossing her finger on his middle left back, “there’s no sign that you were whipped. You have the lightest of scars.”
“My magic is augmented by the chalice.”
“Why do you think that? I wouldn’t assume that of something of Mikros’s.”
“Anla has gotten much stronger in the last year with her own magic…”
“Anla has been training,” Tel said, finally chiming in after listening to their conversation for some time. “That’s different.”
“Well, I’ve been training, too. I’ve gotten a higher tolerance to magic consumption and I can switch between the Unease and the Calm without a thought.”
“One of my teachers is a Calm wizard who also took her vows to Zayine after her training,” Alistad said. “She’s never described her abilities on that level. You took about one tenth the time to heal with no scarring while sleeping and eating poorly. What if you’re a cyclical wizard?”
He sighed. “You as well? I’m not. They’re exceptionally rare and there’s already one this generation.”
“One in a million doesn’t always mean there’s only one in a million.”
Al took in a sharp inhale. “Alistad, no. I’m not a cyclical wizard. I am barely keeping myself together right now and I’m fraying at the edges. Cyclical wizards don’t have issues like that.”
“But we don’t know very much about cyclical wizards. That could be normal for them. I think you should at least consider-”
“No!” he yelled, startling Alistad. “I am not a cyclical wizard! I am tired of people trying to foist that term on me! I’m…” He clenched his teeth and growled, then left the room for the garden.
Alistad turned to Telbarisk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him.”
“It will be fine. This is something I’m sure he’ll get over quickly. But it would be best not to speak about it around him.”
“Why not? It makes such sense to me. The Chalice of Mikros wouldn’t do what he’s suggesting. It has to be him! And it would explain why the Chalice fell into his possession. It’s attracted to the people that can correct issues of imbalance, who are usually powerful themselves.”
“He’s already quite powerful as a cross-switcher.”
“But cross-switchers have limitations, if my training serves me well. Cyclical wizards can do incredible things, like bring people back from the brink of death. He did that with Anladet.”
“Yes, as well as a baby and a man who lost a duel.”
“So why won’t he at least consider what he could be?”
Telbarisk quietly considered her question while she began tending to his wounds. “Did Alpine tell you what happened late last year?”
“No.”
“He had a crisis of the mind. He felt we were going to kill him and replace him with another companion. In fact, he tried to kill that man, but didn’t succeed. It was a terrible time for him. We kept him tied to a tree until we could figure out what we should do. He escaped his bonds and jumped off a cliff.”
“Al? Al did?” She shook her head. “What happened?”
“Anladet followed him, which caused Raulin to follow her. He managed to make it in time and lassoed him. He dislocated his shoulder and Al fell into a torpor of sorts.”
“That happens sometimes when the mind is overwhelmed.”
“He slowly pulled out of it and has been working to understand life from a different angle. He’s become quite good at listening, for instance. But he still feels inadequate and inferior. He’s not a man who comes to change easily and being in a low place is a miserable comfort for him. I am proud that he’s changed as much as he has, but he still needs time to consider that he is just as worthy of life and love as the rest of us are.
“He is what he is, whatever he wishes to call himself. He is using his gifts naturally. If it makes him feel better to call himself a cross-switcher, but to be and act as a cyclical wizard, then that’s fine to me.”
“He should receive training, though…”
“From what he tells us, there are so few cyclical wizards that there is no curriculum for it. He would have to seek out the other cyclical wizard for training.”
She began grinding his medicine. “So it is best to leave him alone about this?”
“Sometimes you don’t need to intervene to heal.”
Alistad paused in thought, then nodded.
Al came in a few minutes later and dealt with his outburst by forgetting it had happened. Alistad and he spoke of different healing methods for their situation. Despite the strange circumstance, Arvarikor considered them guests and fed them dinner, as they had since they had arrived. Alistad picked a cot and got comfortable, stating she was staying the night to see how well Anla and Raulin were developing.
Nighttime in the compound had its own kind of comfortable routine meted out by sounds and fragrances. After dinner smells of roasting meat and spices, there was always dust kicked into the air and whisking noises of two men sweeping the grounds. Al thought he could even smell the scents of soap and herbs from men washing themselves before bed. He wondered what they would be doing on the morrow.
It was in the silence of the hours just after midnight, when he couldn’t even hear the carriages outside, that he heard something that tugged at his consciousness. The sound reminded him of something concerning that was due his attention, but also something that set him at ease. It was the latter reason why he didn’t awake until he was grabbed from his cot and shoved towards Anla.
“Heal her,” Raulin said, his voice gruff from disuse.
“I…I have been. She’s stable. Raulin! You’re awake!”
“Heal her,” he repeated. He pushed Al until he was standing right next to her table.
“Okay, okay,” he said, putting his hand on her bare leg. “She’s been doing really well. Alistad is here and Anla’s wounds look so much better after the treatments.” He rambled on about the medicine used and her progress, but Raulin said nothing. Instead, he sat on his cot and stared at his wife.
“You should rest,” Al said. “It’s the best thing you can do for your healing. If you move around too much, you’ll rip open your wounds.”
It was an hour later when Al started to feel tired and moved back to his cot. “Heal her,” Raulin said again.
“No, Raulin, I can’t heal her constantly. It’ll be too much magic for her to take in. Besides, I need to sleep.”
“If you had done a better job, she would be healed by now.”
Al recoiled as if he had been slapped. “Yes, you’re right. Maybe I could have-”
“That’s enough,” Tel said, sitting up from his cot. “Anla will awaken when she can due in large part to Alpine. He has sacrificed sleep and time and ease of mind tending to all of us. He could not have done better. If he says that he needs to rest and Anla needs a break from magic, then that’s how it will be.”
Everyone settled after this, even Alistad, who had awoken at the noise. Raulin, however, didn’t go back to sleep. He continued to stare at Anla.
He was like that when the dawn rose and the group still lay sleeping. He heard a scuffling noise, but paid no attention to it.
“Kemor,” Curvorn said. “I heard you had awoken. How are you feeling?”
Raulin didn’t say anything.
“Perhaps you have forgotten who I am and what respect I deserve, how I am the reason why you are alive right now.”
Raulin snapped his hands at his sides and bowed quickly, hissing at the pain. “Forgive me, master.”
“You’ve had a terrible week. You are forgiven. Now, I’d like you to take a walk with me. Don’t worry about your shirt.”
Raulin arose, his eyes lingering on Anla for as long as he could before leaving the clinic.
“My, it’s been quite an interesting week for me, Kemor. I’ve been in contact with several of the trivren from the Riyalan office. I’ve had to explain my actions to them as well as a few of my own fellow trivren, at times coming close to blows. They are not happy about what I’ve done.
“Of course, what I’ve told them and what I will tell you are two different things. I’m going to tell you the truth.”
They climbed the stairs to his office. “I would imagine you don’t believe me. I assure you that by the end of our discussion, you will come to know I am speaking the truth. And perhaps you will also be truthful with me. I think we can reach a common understanding.”
Raulin opened the door to Curvorn’s office and stepped inside, holding the door open for the trivren. It was a courtesy and an understanding that trirecs looked out for their trivren by sweeping rooms like this. Curvorn nodded his head in thanks and sat at his desk, offering the chair where Al had been beaten to Raulin. He sat gingerly.
“I think it’s time to be blunt and open. I don’t like Arvarikor’s harsh punishments.” Raulin raised his eyebrows at this, but said nothing. “You know this because twice now I’ve softened the blow for you, once after your shipwreck and once when you passed through Hanala late last year. It does me no good to see my trirecs beaten so badly that they cannot perform their contracts, especially not with one who takes full dockets. Your last contract has been revoked, by the way, so don’t worry about it.
“I’m sure you may have guessed that Stavro doesn’t agree with me. In fact, he and I are like the full moon and the sun, always at odds and trying to steal the sky from one another. I say this because I want you to know that, if it were up to me, I would have had you birched instead of them using the beraki. I did what I could.”
“Thank you, master.”
“You’re welcome. Now, since I have done so much for you, it’s time for you to return the favor. You put up a good front when speaking to all of us trivrens. The wizard did, too, blubbering about how he looked up to you because you remind him of some tragic, romantic figure from some books he reads. I wouldn’t have thought he would have held out for one punch never mind dozens. I almost believed him, too, but my gut was telling me it was a ruse.”
“May I ask why you beat him in the first place, then?”
“I had to put up a good front myself. I had interrogated him, Tashke can attest to that, and that whatever his reasons were, he stuck to them enough to be convincing. If any other trivren wanted to do the same, he would play them like he played me. That was all I cared about.
“If this wizard, who had likely never been put to the fist in his life, was willing to hold out for hours and present a bluff, it tells me two things: one is that he is a clever man who sticks to his convictions, and two is that he is fiercely loyal to you. The latter is not something I would think would be inspired from a mere casual acquaintance. Therefore, I believe you two are closer than that. As is your relationship to that woman. I watched you stare at her for some time before I introduced myself this morning. You are deeply concerned for her. Noble, but I think it’s because you are infatuated with her. The wizard admitted she felt the same for you. And by both of your reactions at the trial, her taking forty lashes and you becoming that upset by it, I can only assume that you are in love with each other, if not worse.”
“No, that would be against our code, master. Even if I were to love her, I wouldn’t act upon it.”
Curvorn sighed in disappointment. “I still feel I’m right about this. I understand, though. Admitting that you two are paramours would put you right out on that block again. That’s something that we can’t abide. Which reminds me, why didn’t you tell us about Afren Merak’s family?”
Raulin swallowed. “I didn’t know until he told me, when we last met. I was distracted when I came through Hanala. I apologize, master.”
He folded his hands on the desk. “Well, since no one has brought up the fact that you knew and should have reported it, I think we can forget about it. See, I’m not a man quick to punish. I’m also forgiving. I can’t make you trust me and admit how you truly felt about these three companions of yours, but I also don’t need you to admit it. I’m going to assume I am correct and we’ll sidestep that fact.
“You have a friend from Ervaskin, a loyal servant in the wizard, and a paramour. You’ve made allies who risked life for you. Let’s wave that away as part of this chalice business and that you weren’t thinking with your right mind. Since only you and I know this, I don’t see any reason why we can’t move forward. You can start fresh and forget this whole business happened. Tell me, when does the chalice spell end exactly?”
“I was honest when I said we don’t know much about it,” Raulin said. “The wizard couldn’t find much about it. The woman, Anladet, found some information in a short book that stated it was likely that the spell lasted one year. That will be June Twelfth, I believe.”
“June Twelfth. That’s…three weeks. A sufficient amount of time to accomplish what we’re going to do.”
“Which is what, master?”
“You and I will be speaking several times daily. We’ll discuss many things, including what will happen should you decide to continue your relationship with your friends. All the while, you will assure them that everything is fine. And finally, when the spell is broken, you will leave on the first ship to Noh Amair. You, of course, realize you must go through a retraining at Arvarikor.”
Raulin’s shoulders dropped, but he recovered quickly. “Of course, master. I have broken the laws and must relearn them.”
“You will also work with Atelo, when he returns. He will be traveling to Arvarikor himself to be instated officially as a trivren. I will be making a covert contract for you to protect him, just to sweeten this deal.”
“Which is what, precisely? Just so I understand.”
“I need you to fool your friends into thinking you have fooled Arvarikor, then leave while they suspect nothing. A fresh start. No more encumbrances. Fair?” he asked, holding out his arm.
Raulin hesitated. After a few moments of thought, he said, “Fair,” and grasped Curvorn’s forearm.