Shrouded Sky (The Veils of Lore Book 1) (21 page)

“My inner voice is screaming me to silence,” he said, “but you’re clearly bound to the events unraveling around us, so have a right to know.” His face grew grim. “We’ll soon be forced to play our hand against Marcassett.”

“Marcassett?” she asked.

“The Sovereign.”

“So she has a name.” Chandra narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, ‘play our hand’?”

“My family has been working against her for many generations and—”

“
Generations?
Surely you’re not implying she’s immortal.”

“Her body, no. The rest of her, yes.”

Chandra sat a little straighter. If the story she’d read was real, and the Priestess had in fact been Marcassett, then maybe the demon, if that’s even what it was, had inhabited various hosts throughout the years until at last it became the Sovereign Lady. “She inhabits through touch,” she said. She rose to her feet.

“You know this?”

“Yes, and I know she touched you, and that I touched you and . . .”

Orryn stood to face her. “You have nothing to fear,” he said. “The Sovereign touches every Pedant at some point. But she does not utilize our bodies that way.”

Chandra tried to remember what she could of the Priestess, but all she knew ended with the pages she’d read. Was it time to confess to Orryn that her knowledge of this place had come from a novel? The barriers Jhon planted in her mind had not stayed assembled, and it had surprised him. Perhaps it was because he’d thought she had ancestral memory. Orryn said his father didn’t read minds freely, but he had to know something
of the ones he touched. How much had he already learned from her? And how much more was she willing to give?

“What is it your father does?” she asked. “To people’s minds, I mean.”

“He opens and closes portals to memory and passageways of thought,” he answered, “allowing one’s mind to wander in a desired direction.”

“So if he were to try it on us again, what could keep it from working? It didn’t exactly go well for you this last time, and my defenses broke down the minute I—” She stopped. The less he knew the better. “I just mean if he did it again, could it turn out differently?”

“I don’t know for certain,” Orryn said. “I don’t have the gift. But I know the more information he has, the more he has to work with.” He paused, suddenly aware. “Which means he didn’t have enough.”

Their eyes locked.

“What are you not telling me?” he asked.

“What are you not telling
him
?” Chandra tossed back.

Orryn quirked his brow. “It seems we are at a crossroads.”

Chandra felt rather than heard the clock ticking in her brain. “We don’t really know whether I have ancestral memory or not,” she conceded. “But we know your father’s defenses failed when he manipulated my mind based on the belief that I did.”

“What are you saying?”

“Maybe we should let him try again. Only next time do it assuming I’m not one of the Lost.”

Chandra prayed she hadn’t played her hand too soon. If she proved not to be who they thought she was, if her being here was nothing more than an elemental mistake, her life wouldn’t be worth much. “I’m just saying,” she added, “that if your father needs other possibilities to work with, then we should consider the options.”

“You do realize, the more he knows the more he and my family are at risk?”

“What do you mean?” Chandra asked with concern.

“My family and I are in this together. I imagine we’ll go out that way, too.”

“How do I fit into this?”

“You’re here. It must be for a reason.” He glanced away. “Perhaps that reason is me.”

“And if I’m not who you think I am?”

“You’ve proven that to me many times over.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“The only thing we can,” Orryn said. “We forget everything that links us, other than duty. No emotion or loyalty can exist between us.”

“And Tygg? We forget him, too?” Chandra shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

“You can. And you must.”

“Is it really so easy for you?” she asked angrily.

“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!”

Chandra felt tears sting her eyes. “I’m sorry, Orryn,” she said, losing her resolve. “It’s just, it’s all happening so fast and—”

“It will not be painful,” he assured her. “At least not the during or the after. It’s only the before that hurts, like now. Father must rework our memories to show we have absolute loyalty to the Sovereign. It must appear that the Pedant has won.”

“And me? How must I appear?”

“You must have no loyalty to me or to Tygg. And we must have none for you.”

“Is that what she sensed between us, loyalty?”

“How could she not? I should have told father, but it seemed too . . . private.”

“Private?” Chandra processed his words. “No, Orryn. Noble.”

“That, too, must be forgotten,” he said. “If we are to convince the Sovereign Lady there is no conspiracy, we must erase all traces. She cannot know we ever cared for each other. Even as friends.”

“Orryn, no.” He couldn’t abandon her—he couldn’t!

“I don’t wish to forget you,” he said, stopping her protest. “But there’s nothing else to be done. The Sovereign mustn’t find flaw in us. And that’s how she will see it.”

“What about Tygg?”

“We have no choice but to trust Father and the Council.”

“So we just forget everything we know and hand our hope for Tygg over to the Council? No! I won’t do it.”

“Would you rather he suffer a slow painful death!” Orryn grabbed her arm and jerked her toward him. “Is that what you want?”

“Of course not!”

Orryn’s gaze burned into hers. “All we have left is this moment, Chandria.”

“And Tygg; what does he have left?”

“Only what my father can bring him.”

“There has to be another way.”

“Not if we want to live!”

Chandra stared at Orryn, flashbacks of him and Tygg streaming through her mind: the beach, the springs, their eyes, their arms . . . soon all would be forgotten. Soon they would be like strangers to each other. She ran her eyes over Orryn’s face, desperate to memorize it. “I don’t want to forget,” she said. “Not you. Not Tygg. Not ever.”

Orryn released his hold on her arm, but Chandra stood fast. “You said we have this moment,” she said. “That there is nothing more for us.”

“Yes.”

“Then kiss me, Orryn. Before you are erased from me forever.”

Orryn stepped back. “You don’t understand,” he said.

“I do understand.”

“No. It would be too difficult.”

Chandra moved closer. “Is that how you imagine it, difficult?”

“I don’t imagine it, not if I can help it. There’s too much risk.”

“Of what?”

“Of me acting on it!” he said. “Of not being able to stop myself!”

Chandra realized she didn’t want Orryn to stop himself. It was as if her own survival demanded that he take her in his arms and love her. Why did she suddenly need him so badly? She had never really thought of him that way, yet now it was like he was the breath to her lungs. “Please, Orryn,” she said.

Chandra saw the conflict in his eyes then, the struggle to remain true to his convictions at the denial of self. He gathered her face into his hands, and she realized how badly they were shaking.

She closed her eyes, willing him to kiss her, willing him to stay. “Please don’t leave me,” she whispered.

For a moment he was quiet, but then she felt his warm breath upon her face.

“I will never leave you, Chandria. How could I?” he said, and covered her mouth with his.

Orryn sat on the edge of the bed, staring blindly across the room.
How could I have allowed this to happen? How could I have been so weak?
He leaned his elbows on his knees and shook his head. She had only asked for a kiss—a kiss! But had that been enough for him? Why couldn’t that have been enough?

He looked at the clothes crumpled at his feet, feeling shame for his weakness and regret for his defeat. The Pedant in him was dead, killed as surely as if he had taken a blade to his heart, but a far greater weapon had been used in the murder of him: the full awakening of himself. He glanced at Chandra who slept next to him, longing to reach out for her, to touch her one last time. But the bed sheet wrapped around his hips told him he had done enough.

The door creaked open. “Orryn?” his father said.

Orryn lifted his eyes to him. “Come,” he said quietly.

The door closed and Jhon approached the bed.

“I’m sorry, Father,” Orryn said, unable to meet his gaze.

Jhon sat down on the chair facing him. “So the Pedant is dead,” he said.

“I did not mean for it to happen.”

“And yet it did.”

Orryn looked over his shoulder at Chandria. “You must make her forget,” he said.

“Son—”

He turned to his father. “You have to destroy the memory. Otherwise the Sovereign will know.”

“And you? What do you wish to forget?”

“The same. Everything that has happened between her and me, other than duty and the most rudimentary of memories.”

“Do you wish to forget Tygg also?” Jhon asked. “Do you wish Chandra to?”

“Of course. Otherwise there is no hope for him, or for her.”

“I fear there is little hope for him regardless,” Jhon said.

Orryn took his father’s hands in his.

Jhon blinked with surprise.

“You must speak with the Council,” Orryn said. “The Taubastets do not yet know Syddia has nullified the treaty. Could they not send Tygg back to Adjo with the proclamation?”

“It’s plausible,” Jhon said after a moment’s contemplation. “It’s convincing the Sovereign that’s going to be difficult.”

Orryn released his hold. “Surely the Council has some sway with her on this.”

“Some, but not enough. The emissaries from the Three might, however.”

Orryn straightened. “The emissaries? They are here?”

“Yes. But moments ago I received a message. Edrea from Tearia, as well as Dar from Oonayei and a new ambassador from the Basyls, arrived earlier this afternoon. It seems the Three realms have learned of Syddia’s treaty nullification. Someone must have ridden the news to them shortly thereafter. They have come to negotiate.”

“Negotiate what?”

“The reinstatement of the treaty.”

“But they have never been involved in our disputes with the Taubastets before.”

“Not directly, but it has affected all the realms both politically and economically. They’ve worked hard to stay out of Syddia’s affairs, but if the Sovereign Lady betrays the Treaty of Pax and resumes her campaign against the Taubastets, the Three may be forced to choose a side. And it won’t be Syddia’s.”

“How do you think our Lady will react to them?” Orryn asked.

“I think she’ll put on a great show.”

“If you were to get word to the emissaries about Tygg, do you think they would have any sway over his release?”

“Possibly, but it’s risky. If the Sovereign knows they have learned of Tygg, she will only accelerate her plans to examine him. And you know as well as I, once she does, there won’t be much of him left to send back to Adjo.”

“She has not yet sent for him?”

“I have not received word of it.”

“Then you must reach him right away,” Orryn insisted. “She cannot know what he knows. You must perform subjugation—on all three of us.”

Shock registered on Jhon’s face. He rose to his feet. “What you ask is blasphemous.”

Orryn stood to face him, keeping the sheet secure around his waist. He ushered his father across the room. “The Sovereign broke through some of my blocks this last time, did she not?” he said in a hushed voice. “Clearly she has found a way.”

“I simply didn’t have enough time,” Jhon protested.

“Perhaps, but we don’t have time now either. My mind may have been breached. Chances are, Chandria’s will be also when the time comes for examination, which will be soon. If that happens, the Sovereign will realize what we’ve done and that we’ve been tampered with by a Mind Walker. She does not yet know of your abilities, but it will not be difficult for her to put two and one together. Unless you seal the pathways, unless you perform subjugation, our survival and yours are at imminent risk.”

Jhon raked a hand through his hair. “But to wipe your memories, it’s like stealing a part of your lives. It’s the worst form of abuse.”

“Would you rather we were dead?”

“Of course not! But what you ask, it would be like what Chandra said. It would be—”

“Please, Father. Don’t think of it like that. I’m begging you to do this.”

“And the girl? Is she begging me to do this also?”

“I told her what had to be done. She seemed to understand.”

Jhon looked skeptical. “She understood it would be permanent? That she would be giving up a part of herself?”

Orryn nodded, though it was only halfhearted. He had assumed she understood, hoped she understood, but now he realized he hadn’t given her much choice.

“I will not force her,” Jhon warned.

“You’ll not have to. Do it now, while she sleeps.”

“Orryn—”

“Don’t you understand?” Orryn said, struggling to keep his voice low. “I broke my vow. Under the law, Chandria is equally guilty.

Jhon glanced at the girl.

“Please, Father. She cannot remember what happened between us, nor can I. You must do this. It’s the only way.”

“But subjugation has only ever been used in extreme cases,” Jhon said. “There’s no going back once done.”

“We’re so close, Father! Marcassett is within our grasp. I can feel it.”

“You understand what this means for you?” Jhon said. “That you’ll act like a Pedant and think like a Pedant, that you’ll have no memories of anything else, regardless of the outcome I work in you regarding Marcassett?” Jhon gestured toward the bed. “That girl there, the one you just claimed, she’ll become only a means to an end for you. You realize this? As for the rest of us—”

“At least you’ll all be safe!”

“We’ll never be safe,” Jhon said. “But that is what we chose, I suppose.”

“Let us destroy Marcassett once and for all. We’ve been handed an opportunity with the visiting emissaries. Let us take advantage of it.”