The following pages were blank but there was still half a book filled with the cramped, spikey script. Alira stood next to Therin, a deep frown creasing her brow. He had asked her to quickly go through the journal and glean what she could from it. Thumbing through it and scanning each page, Alira allowed Henry to tell her when something important may have been mentioned. Finally, he became frustrated and she felt the cold power leak into her and the words blurred, nonsense to legible scrawl and back. She blinked a few times and suddenly, she could read the pages herself.

Thank you. She said to Henry, but in the back of her mind was a small alarm bell wondering how many times he could pass the small gifts of his power before the damage was irreversible and she lost control of herself completely. The only reply was a distant, sad impression of a dismissive nod and wave.

“We don’t have time for you to read it all right now. We have one more thing we need to do here.” Alira set the book down and looked up at Therin, still taller than her even while sitting on the high stool. “You still have to get your hands on that book, right?”

“Yes, nothing has changed.” She lowered her lashes and fought the overwhelming wave that threatened to take down her exhausted mind. His hand grasped her forearm, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Then Devan’s study might have something useful.” Her eyes snapped up to his. “Let’s be quick.”

The High Lord’s personal study was up a flight of stairs, tucked away in a gabled room at the very top of the manse. It was unlocked, surprisingly, but they crept in quietly and locked the door behind them. Even though the sun was rising, Therin spent a few minutes lighting the candles and lamps. He tugged the curtains open and then stood in the centre of the room, his hands on his hips.

The room was spectacular, gold and maroon carpets and drapery. It was furnished with heavy red-brown chairs, tables and a desk. The desk was tidy, a writing set off to the side. Outside the window, Alira could see a huge oak tree nearly close enough to touch the upper branches.

“What kind of man is Devan?” Alira asked as she ran a finger across the spines of the thick books that lined one wall.

“Stern. Rigid.” Therin had set to work trying to find a spare key for the enormous desk that stood in front of the window.

“What redeeming qualities does he have? He’s got to have some if he’s a High Lord in the church.” She paused on a title she thought she recognized and tilted the book out, letting it fall into her open hand.

“I suppose he has a good heart,” Therin’s tacit admission was quiet. “Why else did he take in two orphaned boys? I mean,” he signed, resigned, “He was good friends with my father and I’d hoped my father was a good judge of character.”

“He knew your father?” She flipped open the cover of the book, and frowned as she tried to read the flowery script. She blinked and let her eyes adjust and then the writing came into focus, legible. Therin continued talking but Alira had tuned him out.

What language is this written in? She nudged Henry. I recognized the title but I couldn’t read the words at first.

Henry shifted inside her, uncoiling from the depths of her that he sulked in.

It’s Dinari. Ancient language across the sea. Entirely human. It’s a book of fairy tales from their culture, magical beings who grant wishes and whatnot. His tone was matter of fact, lacking any humour or ease that he usually had, even when angry.

“My mother used to read to me from this book.” She flipped the cover closed again and read the title. “No, not this exact one, but one very like it.” She opened the book again and read the title page. It was the first of four books in a series.

Acting on a hunch that she had started forming earlier in the library at the basilica, Alira looked on the shelves for the second volume. The first was in her hands, then the third and finally the fourth. All in order, all the same binding, clearly a set. The second volume was missing.

“Therin,” Alira whispered, finally willing to admit what she already had known deep inside her.

“Gimme a second,” he grunted. He had resorted to picking the lock and was concentrating. A soft click and he grinned, laughing softly. “Still got it,” he said to himself. He looked up to Alira and noticed her pale face, her eyes wide and staring.

“Therin,” she said again. “I’m going to give you some of those answers you wanted.”

“Now? Let’s look through the office first and then go back to my room–”

“Now,” Alira said and the tone of her adamance made him freeze. He stood slowly from his crouching position at the desk and nodded.

“Alright, go ahead.”

“I think I know who stole your copy of the book.” Her hands trembled as she said the words aloud. She swallowed and she felt Henry perk up as he read her thoughts before she said them.

Ah, that makes sense. What a small world we live in. A touch of the humor was back in his voice and Alira dimmed him, gently pushing him back inside her mind.

“My mother.” The silence that followed her declaration was palpable. Finally, Therin choked out a strangled chuckle and shook his head.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Therin, listen to me. My mother went all over the world looking for every copy she could get her hands on. She wanted it for her…” She stopped herself and shook her head, silencing herself. “She wanted the book badly. I think she was the one who seduced Devan and took the book.” She waved the book in her hands at him. “And she stole other things, too. Like the second volume of this book. Who knows what else.” She cast her gaze around the room as if she could figure out what her mother had pilfered.

Something about Alira’s serious stiffness, her resolute demeanour and the way she refused to be persuaded otherwise convinced Therin she must be right. For some reason, it changed how he saw Alira, more of an ally than she was a moment before. Both of them the adult children of parents who had connected once, an echo in their relationship rippling across time.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“Let’s look for clues.” He yanked open the drawers of the desk and began rifling through his adoptive father’s personal effects, the small hint of shame quickly quashed.

“What are we looking for?”

“Well, Noran’s diary turned out to be useful. Think we can get lucky a second time?” Alira nodded and turned back to the bookshelf to find books that had no titles on their spines, hopeful journals.

The first few she pulled were just ledgers, the High Lord’s accounts and household business. Crouching low to see the bottom shelf she found a leather folder, thick with loose sheafs of paper and pulled it out carefully so as not to spill it.

With very little reading she discovered that she had found copies of certain documents that the High Lord had drawn up pertaining to the Paladins. On top was the report of a sentry detailing disorderly conduct of a fellow member of the order. It was followed by several more but they all bore the same name of the sentry reporting. She turned over more pages and found the name springing out at her again. Henry’s cold shock flowed into her consciousness and she froze, waiting for his voice.

It’s him. He said softly and while she was momentarily stunned, he flowed into her hands and flipped more pages, scanning the pages for words she could not read fast enough.

Who is it?

I knew this man. He was very kind, a true gentleman. He left everything he loved to help someone.

Like Therin?

Henry scoffed inside her mind. Hardly. This man was truly a good man.

I think Therin’s a good man. She argued.

You’ve only met a handful of men in your short life. Believe me, he’s just ambitious.

Who is this man, Henry? Alira demanded.

Sometimes you don’t want the answers I give you, remember? Sometimes you blame me for being the bearer of tough news. He skulked to the back of her mind and shut himself away. When she nudged him gently, he sent a zap of icy anger down her and she pulled away from him.

Therin had noticed her stillness and sat on the floor beside her to see what she had found.

“Ah, Devan’s records. He keeps a copy of every report filed from everyone on duty in a folder with their name on it. He also adds in any letters of recommendation he has or awards or notices of merit that a man may be awarded while training to become a paladin. It’s given to them when they are awarded their mace so they have a comprehensive record of character.” Therin twisted and pulled out another folder. “See? This is mine.” He opened it on his lap and leafed through it. His file was double the size of the mysterious one she held.

“Hah, he also puts in our disciplinary write ups. Look at this.” He flicked through a stack of several doze and scoffed. “Cataloguing all my failures.”

“But who does this file belong to?” She had flipped to the last page and saw a very neat, tidy page written in red ink. Across the top was scrawled, in a very official looking script: Notice of Revocation. Just below was the subheading: Title, Lands, and Rank.

“Oh,” Therin said quietly. “That must be Galvyn’s file.” He lifted the cover of the folder and peeked then nodded. “I heard about him.”

Alira read the rest of the notice aloud, though it was short and didn’t appear to be very comprehensive.

“Notice of Revocation of Title, Lands and Rank. Lord Galvyn, son of Burke, to be stripped of all aforementioned properties. Reason: abandonment of post and oath breaking. Signed High Lord Devan, High Inquisitor Benedict.” She looked askance at Therin for clarification.

“What I heard was he got into an argument with Devan and just left the monastery one night. This was around the time Devan fell and nearly lost the rank of High Lord. When…” he trailed off, embarrassed. “You know.”

“When my mother came and did whatever she had to to get her hands on the book.” Alira said softly. “I wonder if this man was a casualty of her ambition as well?”

“Devan paid a heavy fine, served penance that was doled out by the then High Inquisitor.” He tapped the name on the page. “Benedict. He died a few years ago and Mara took over for him.” He scowled, his history with her playing quickly across his face before he continued. “But why Galvyn fled has never been discussed openly. Lots of theories floating around, but so few are left in the monastery and at the basilica to really remember.”

“What have you heard?” Alira asked as she closed the file and opened it from the first page again.

“Galvyn was on track to be Devan’s right hand. They had trained together, won their spurs together. But Galvyn took longer to get his mace.” Alira nodded, showing she was listening as she scanned the pages of Galvyn’s record.

“The rumours are that he tried to warn Devan about the supposed nun. It’s said that he didn’t trust her and they fought and sometime around the theft, he just left.”

“What happened to him?” Alira asked as she slowly turned the pages. Therin was quiet as he took the folder from her hands and showed her the back. Alira blinked at the silver script inscribed into the leather cover of the folder.

“Rest in Peace, May the Father Forgive Thee of Thy Sins, May your Soul Find Peace Among the Stars,” she read quietly. She looked up to Therin’s face, frowning.

“About a year or so after he left, word was sent that he killed himself. He had written a letter and sent it back to Devan asking for forgiveness and shortly after, Devan felt his name being written in the Book of Heroes.”

“The what?”

“The enormous tome attached to Devan’s mace. It’s a book of all the names of the fallen Paladins. When a paladin dies, his soul is judged worthy or not and his name is inscribed on the gilt pages of the Book of Heroes. It’s said when the pages are full, it will mean that mankind will have reached its potential for greatness and the Paladins will no longer be needed.” Therin’s voice had dropped in reverence.

Alira felt a tear slide down her cheek and Therin flicked a finger out and brushed it off her face before it could land on the papers in her lap.

“What’s wrong?”

“She just destroyed so many lives to get what she wanted,” Alira sobbed. She put her face in her hands and finally let the reality of her existence fold in on her. “My mother was a monster and I loved her so blindly.”

“Hey, no, no.” Therin slid an arm around her thin, quaking shoulders and his chest was warm against her cheek. “Children don’t often have a choice if they love their parents or not. We have to love them in some capacity because we trust them to care for us. Unless they are outrightly nasty to us, we are designed to look past their flaws and trust and love them implicitly. It’s only as adults do we have the capacity to judge with clear eyes whether or not our parents were good people.” She sobbed into her hands as he stroked her arm. Her head on his chest made his voice deeper and rumbly.

“While I feared Devan, I did love him, once. And perhaps I still do, in some way, but as a man myself now, I see his faults and find him lacking. It’s part of growing up, Alira.”

“She was so good to me,” she sobbed. “I always thought she was doing her best.”

She did do her best. But she had already been poisoned by the Morinn by the time you were born. I knew her heart, before she was so angry and bitter and she was a good person, once upon a time. Henry’s voice was the kindest she had heard him be in a long while. Don’t fall into this despair. As dramatic as it may seem, the world needs you to be strong right now. She felt his warmth as an invisible smile.

Besides, being this sentimental is so disgustingly human, it’s going to make me sick.

She pulled away from Therin’s arm and wiped her wet face on her hands, hiding the smile she let slip.

She patted his leg and looked up at him.

“I want to keep this file. To remind me that even in my darkest hour, my deepest ambition, I will never be as ruthless as my mother.”

Through the window across the room, perched on the branch of the giant oak, Alira watched a huge black raven preen itself and click its beak. It looked directly at Alira before it let out a caw that she could not hear through the high quality glass, spread its enormous wings, and took off.