Splintered Loyalties, Page 3

  "Traitor?" Bahjal asked evenly, "according to who?"

  "My uncle Derone," Merkim hissed, watching them both with venomous eyes. "If you were really loyal to Issamere, you wouldn't have gotten its best Harbor Master in a century, arrested. He was a Suadan too, after all. You're superior."

  Keevan grit his teeth in frustration. Merkim's command of water was formidable indeed if he could dispel his angry feelings at will and concentrate on his sparring so completely. Not for the first time, he felt grateful his emotions didn't show up in a public display of the elements. One of the few perks to an element-less existence.

  "Your uncle shouldn't have tried to attack us before the High Priestess herself," Bahjal countered, water buoying up the loops in her dress. "I hope it's not a habit your family holds in high regard." She glanced at the masters caught up in an intense debate by a weapons table, only a dozen feet away. The instructors looked down on infighting and punished the behavior accordingly.

  Merkim hissed at the challenge, but could only make the air around him bend with fervent heat. Without the controlled environment of the sparring arena, his anger took hold. What little water he could muster bubbled and steamed away. "Don't worry," he muttered, "I learn from my uncle's mistakes. You'll see."

  "Until tomorrow then," Bahjal said curtly, pinching her nose. "Meanwhile, take a bath. You stink." With that, she caught Keevan by the wrist and dragged him out of the training hall. Merkim watched them leave with a predatory gaze.

  "It would seem Nariem's shipment arrived just in time," Bahjal offered, taking Keevan's gloved hand in hers. "You're going to need a few tricks if you ever have to contend with that Suadan. I'm not sure he's completely sane. He's a completely different person when he's got a sword in his hand."

  "You saw us sparring today?" Keevan asked.

  "Of course. I had to see how you were doing," Bahjal answered with a smile. "You've really come a long way since your first day here. You know that, right?"

  "You're the second person to mention that today," Keevan echoed thoughtfully. He grit his teeth, fighting the urge to wince as she affectionately squeezed his bruised hand.

  "It must be true then," Bahjal finished, leading them onto the open street. "Now, let's go see what Nariem's got planned. He and Madol have spent weeks gathering ideas and tricks you can use as a Persuader."

  "Like what?" Keevan asked. After what felt like endless days studying Persuader manuals, learning their procedures and training with Hadrian, time at home only allowed for sleeping and eating. If pressed, Nariem only said there wasn't much sense in discussing the matter until the necessary supplies arrived anyway.

  "I don't want to spoil the surprise," Bahjal said with a mischievous smile. "But I will say this. It involves Danica. Boom."

  Chapter 2

  "I get the feeling you met Merkim before you started sparring together," Bahjal said as they walked out of the Persuader's Academy. The building's tall, granite towers were low and thick, remnants of the earlier days of Issamere where Guilds and Towers were less united and Issamere was more prone to internal conflicts. Beletok's bearded face was carved above each entryway, marking the Persuaders training there as vessels of the fire god's search for justice.

  Keevan resisted the urge to peek into the elemental plane when they reached the main courtyard. Here, Tri-Beings of every description milled about together. Merchants, traders and craftsman parked their carts in long lines, aiming to draw in a combat oriented crowd with their assortments of weapons and armor.

  This was one of the few places in Issamere where Etrendi, Haustran and Rhetans alike associated with each other. From Keevan's elemental perspective, seeing so many fields of varying intensities interacting with each other presented an interesting sight. As the arms master Hadrian proved that soldiering did not necessarily require a strong connection to the elements, many a muscle-bound Rhetan shouldered their way into the headquarters, hoping to find an apprenticeship.

  While beautiful, the sight also made Keevan feel unusually small by comparison. Here soldiers and former blacksmith's alike, combat experienced men and women, sought the Malik's favor to join the Persuaders. Somehow, thin and wiry Keevan had already managed to gain entry.

  Whether or not he'd survive the training... his bruised body and battered muscles groaned ominously on that subject.

  "You did well in there," Bahjal offered, the linen loops from her Suadan robe waving in step with her as she walked. She trailed a few inches of water along behind her, keeping them suspended until they hung easily over her shoulders. The elemental manipulation marked her as a skilled Suadan Etrendi, handling water with ease. The very sight still unnerved Keevan to no end. His closest friend posed as an elementally weak Rhetan for years, without him ever noticing her true strength.

  "Not sure I'd call it 'well', to be honest," Keevan grumbled, rubbing his shoulder. Merkim's blows fell so hard, Keevan sometimes wondered if his leather pads had fallen off and he just hadn't noticed.

  "Try to consider where you were a month ago," Bahjal said, taking his hand in hers. Despite the gallon of water floating after her, her hands were still dry, warm and soft. The callouses she developed pretending to be a Rhetan were quickly fading. Keevan felt like the friend he'd loved for years was slowly falling away, one layer at a time, with each passing day. But would the person he found at her core be someone he could trust as dearly as the Bahjal he knew a few short months ago?

  Shrugging away the doubts, he squeezed Bahjal's hand and turned his mind toward her train of thought. "I suppose you have a point," He relented. "Master Hadrian had me working straw filled dummies for the first week, that felt more humiliating."

  "I bet Persuader Madol spoke with him, to speed up your training," Bahjal said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "You're already at a bit of a disadvantage, because a lot of Persuaders are trained from a younger age than you."

  "You wouldn't know that by looking around here," Keevan countered, pointing at the shuffling crowd they skirted around. "It looks like all kinds want to be Persuaders these days."

  "Don't forget, this is where the Malik's palace guards and the Arnadi house's men train as well," Bahjal corrected him. "They aren't all here to be Persuaders. But you're right, many start out as soldiers or guards. You're a special case is all."

  "You know, I gave up an endless supply of gold for these," Keevan chuckled, rolling up his shirt sleeve to show her a fresh bruise across his bicep, already purpling. "You think I made a mistake? Most of my body insists I did."

  "I think people who constantly rely on others for their defense, leave themselves vulnerable," Bahjal said, guiding Keevan passed a pair of burly guards arguing over a bag of coins. "Money and influence have a way of drying up when you least expect it, but what is yours in your mind remains with you always. Combat training is a great example."

  The guards' argument faded into a mild conversation as she neared, the moisture of her elemental field touching the soldiers' cloud-like frames. They didn't realize the water around Bahjal was calming them down, neutralizing the anger behind their argument.

  Keevan felt a familiar twinge of jealousy. She was so strong and subtle in her command of water that others nearby didn't realize she was influencing them. Then again, he envied the lowest Rhet who could light a candle by heating his fingertips. They left the marketplace and turned toward the Forger's District. The soldiers' voices rose in anger as Bahjal walked away, taking her calming influence with her.

  As the smells of Issamere shifted from oiled leather to smoking coals, anticipation nibbled away at Keevan's imagination. What manner of tools did Madol and Nariem have in store for him? Without the ability to command elements on his own, his options seemed rather limited, but the enthusiasm in Nariem's eyes when he hinted at their 'project' suggested otherwise. Keevan's anticipation only grew when Bahjal turned them away from his home, guiding them deeper into the Forger's District.

  "Aren't we going to my father's shop?" Keevan asked.

&nb
sp; "Madol decided Nariem's shop wasn't a good fit for this 'project' of theirs," Bahjal said with a sly smile. "Something about it being too cramped and public."

  "Public?" Keevan echoed, arching an eyebrow in confusion. "It's behind closed doors, and closed windows. What would people be able to see anyway?"

  "Dunno, yet," Bahjal groaned. "They've been torturing me about it all week. Nariem seemed awfully proud of himself."

  "So, where are we going then?" Keevan pried.

  "We're almost there," Bahjal said with a sly grin.

  "Not much of an answer," Keevan grumbled, rolling his eyes as he relented.

  Bahjal led them off a main street to a smaller road, lined with brick houses and slate tile roofs. Since most of the residents worked in the nearby forges, this neighborhood was nearly empty during the day. A thin trickle of Rhetans occupied one such road, all heading east, toward the markets to purchase the day's supply of food. Many Rhetans lived day-to-day off the proceeds of their labor, since the Haustrans were the ones elementally capable of earning a larger salary.

  "How are things among the Rhets?" Keevan asked, after they passed a pair of twins, about eight years old. Fresh thread patched together old seems in a number of places and the sunken flesh behind their eyes suggested whatever foods they were about to purchase wouldn't be enough to stave off hunger. They watched Keevan with cautious eyes before slipping past him wordlessly.

  "Honestly, they're getting worse." Bahjal said, glancing warily from side to side as she spoke. That action alone gave Keevan pause. He glanced back at the passing Rhetans again, noting that the twins he'd noticed earlier were not exceptions to the norm. The Rhetans were never wealthy, by any means, but their temperaments and diets were generally healthy.

  "What happened?" Keevan persisted, squeezing Bahjal's hand insistently. "Between training and studying to work with the Persuaders, I only have time to go home, eat a late dinner and sleep. If you can convince Hadrian or Madol to leave me some time to socialize, I'm in."

  "It turns out, the Great Crystal served as a sort of dam, keeping much of the harsh weather outside of Issamere, and the farms further inland." Bahjal said, licking her lips uneasily.

  "The Great Crystal I broke, dealing with Kors," Keevan said. He leaned against a nearby wall and watched the Rhetans pass, each group as destitute as the last, if not more so. "What happened to the farms?"

  "There was a flood," Bahjal confessed, glancing up at the grey clouds in the sky. "The worst in decades. Usually, if it rains that much, they dispatch Suadans to deflect the worst it. The local priests did their best, but the storm was so sudden and intense, a large portion of this year's crops were destroyed."

  "Then, why is this the first I've heard of it?" Keevan asked, his gaze never breaking from the tide of hunger and desperation. A different kind of flood. Sure, a few too many of the meals at the academy involved soup and dried fruit, but no one ever mentioned famine. No wonder she wanted to keep their conversation from prying ears. The damage to the Great Crystal was his doing.

  "The Etrendi and some of the Haustrans are still eating well, because they bought up all the grains and storable food the moment the Great Crystal fell. One of the scholars realized what would happen and spread the word, among the Etrendi at least." Bahjal explained, rubbing her temples. "They realized what was coming before the Rhetans did. Now a large portion of Issamere is just struggling to eat."

  "So the Etrendi are hording all the food," Keevan surmised.

  "They were," Bahjal admitted, pursing her lips. "But there's been widespread thievery. Sometimes whole stores are destroyed in the fighting. Even the Etrendi are running out of food, unless Malik Morgra can get a handle on it all."

  "Then there's the elemental field issue," Keevan grumbled, folding his arms as he slid to the ground, dragging his back against the wall's roughly cut bricks. "The Great Crystal controlled the amount of moisture in the city at a given time. When the Malik wanted them calm, he could add more. Bored, add less. Now he can't regulate their emotions."

  "There have been more fights and arrests lately." Bahjal confirmed, tapping her thumb against each finger as she counted silently. "I wouldn't be surprised if some people were getting desperate enough to prefer incarceration. At least they'd get two helpings of gruel each day. Some Rhets don't even have that. Once the price of fresh food went up, a lot of businesses couldn't afford to hire as many Rhets."

  "Because of me," Keevan finished, massaging his temples. "Are any of the Guilds working to help the Rhetans? Maybe there's something I can do to help the farmers."

  "Unless you suddenly developed the power to command the growing season to change, I don't think you'd have much success." Bahjal said grimly, "Plus, announcing yourself as the Sight Seeker in a crowd of Rhets would attract unwanted attention. By unwanted, I mean potentially violent."

  She knelt down next to him, wrapping her arms around his chest and resting her head on his shoulder. One of the linen loops in her hair tickled his ear. She smelled like lavender and honey, while after his recent training, his scent resembled a battered workhorse. She didn't seem to mind, though.

  "So, flashing my eyes while I'm out and about wouldn't be a safe idea then, huh?" Keevan asked.

  "Was it ever?" Bahjal countered.

  "Not really, although in the past it was more dangerous to use my power in front of the Etrendi, the Rhetans didn't mind so much." Keevan admitted, "Now it's all backward. Everything is backward, even you."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Bahjal said, her tender hug stiffening around him. Her tone carried a dangerous edge of warning, like a freshly sharpened blade.

  "You were always my Rhetan friend," Keevan said, raising his hands defensively. He meant to nullify her temper, but the gesture broke her hug, so Bahjal backed away. She rested on her haunches like a feral cat, a posture more akin to the Rhetan Keevan grew up with, than the Suadan worshipper she now portrayed. "I thought you understood my limitations because you didn't have much elemental power of your own."

  "And now that I'm an Etrendi, I'm what exactly? Part of the problem? Untrustworthy? I don't understand you as well?" Bahjal challenged, pointing an incriminating finger in Keevan's face. "You should be glad your closest friend happens to have enough elemental power to cover your back. The Rhetan you miss so much wouldn't have stood a chance against anyone else."

  "I knew who she was and what she wanted," Keevan countered, feeling a month's worth of tainted frustrations bubbling over. "For all I know, the years that I knew you were a lie. You could have been just following orders, doing the Malik's bidding the entire time. Our friendship's was just a-"

  "Just the most important thing in my life," Bahjal cut off, hoping to her feet. "I chose to work among the Rhets because I didn't have a better option, short of joining Kors. I chose to serve the Malik because he's the best leader Issamere has seen in two centuries. I'm your friend because I trust you. I've seen you grow up and I've seen your curiosity and compassion grow over the last few years. For the love of the elements, I watched you hurl my brother from the Suadan Tower."

  Keevan paled at those words, his temper vanishing in a flickering memory of Kors tumbling end-over-end out the Temple window. "I'm sorry about that. Truly. I wish there had been another way. They never did find a body. Perhaps he survived."

  Bahjal paused a moment at those words, sighing in relent. "I don't know what I want for Kors. If he's dead, then Issamere and you are safe. If he's not, there's no chance of reconnecting with him. We grew up together. I miss who he was before the war claimed our parents."

  "You don't mention him much," Keevan said carefully.

  "He chose Zerik. I chose Malik Morgra. There's not much else to tell," Bahjal said evenly.

  "Well, why don't we see what Nariem has planned for me," Keevan suggested. "We'll worry about the rest later."

  "Alright," Bahjal consented. "This way."

  Chapter 3

  They wove through a couple more small streets until they re
ached a narrow alley. The edges of this lonely corner of Issamere were lined with broken tiles, familiar looking hunks of twisted metal, tattered linens, and a few animal remains at various stages of decomposing. Bahjal lead the way in, pausing next to an iron cage that rose up about waist high, covered in a thick layer of rust.

  "If this were anyone but you leading me here, I'd be worried," Keevan said offhandedly, looking around the desolate alley. "This is exactly where I'd expect to find a body or two. Not a lot of potential witnesses."

  "Well, we worked hard to make it that way," Bahjal said with a proud grin, gesturing toward the broken cage before her. "Masha and I make sure the Suadans in charge of cleaning the city never quite make it to this alley. Getting all this junk here without anyone asking questions wasn't too hard. Some of this junk is from Nariem's shop. Ready to see it?"

  "It's a broken cage, Bahjal," Keevan sighed, rubbing his head and grimacing. "Maybe I got hit harder than I thought. Are you sure I'm not just dreaming this and still lying on the ground at the training hall? Merkim did ring my head pretty good with one of those blows."

  "You always were a creative dreamer," Bahjal said, lifting the far side of the cage. The rusty limbs shifted with surprising ease as the metal container bent in on itself, pulling the stone slab beneath it up and over to reveal a gaping black hole and the top of a ladder. "Go ahead, Keevan. I'll shut the cage after us."

  "This feels so much less like a place where you'd dump a body," Keevan grumbled darkly, as he leaned over the hole. The ladder looked sturdy enough, but the black hole of the catacombs below was anything but inviting. Particularly when his last memory within those tunnels involved seared flesh and near death. Sure, with the breaking of the Watcher's bracers, such attacks couldn't happen anymore, but something in the corner of Keevan's mind felt extra wary of the dark all the same.

  "Keevan?" Nariem grunted from somewhere in the rocky crags. "Come on down son, Madol and I have a treat for you."