Six Heirs (9 page)

Lana closed her eyes to say a silent prayer. Wise Eurydis, why this new hardship? Hadn’t she suffered enough from these recent struggles?

The morning’s events invaded her memory despite her efforts to forget. She had just begun leading her disciples in a reflection on the vanity of wealth, a subject that she held particularly dear; such corruption is difficult to resist even for the wisest of the wise. They convened, as was their habit, in the gardens at the foot of Mount Fleuri, and peacefully debated the numerous references to vanity found in religious literature.

This type of teaching was open to anyone; it wasn’t uncommon to see strangers sit in the circle with the order’s members, out of intellectual interest or mere curiosity. So no one made any objection when a young man without a mask and wearing the common robe of a novice joined them.

The stranger kept silent, but avidly listened to each of the speakers, particularly the women. This hadn’t escaped Lana who, having merely been intrigued at the time, understood perfectly well now.

When the stranger was sure he knew who was leading the class, he jumped to his feet like a cat and leaped, brandishing a dagger.

Toward her.

Lana didn’t make any movement to defend herself, and would never understand why. She saw the assassin approach her, very clearly, as if time had slowed down. And she simply told herself her earthly life was about to end.

Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately, some of her disciples reacted quickly enough to save her.

Finally, she allowed the tears to come, feeling them run down her cheeks. No one, no one, deserved such a sacrifice.

Four were killed, simply grazed by that horrible dagger. Four young people who had always condemned violence. Four children who only aspired to serve Eurydis their whole lives.

Lopan, Vascal, Durenn.

Orphaëlle...

Lana let the pain overwhelm her. Poor Orphaëlle. So young, so innocent.

Tragically, the assassin realized his failure an instant after stabbing the young novice who had jumped in his path.

Halted, seized by several pairs of hands, he stabbed the terrifying weapon, which they were trying to wrest from him, straight into his own heart.

Lana had woken up in her cell, Rimon at her side. She didn’t even remember fainting. He had told her the few things he knew: the Temple’s officers had dispersed the curious crowd and then escorted those involved in the affair to their homes. Each of them would be questioned and placed under protection for a while.

They took justice very seriously in Ith.

Three knocks sounded at her door, and Lana went to open it, forcing herself to recover a dignified bearing. Self-pity was far from being a valued virtue in the Eurydis cult.

An old man looked at her compassionately. Short, thin, without a mask, dressed in a plain robe, and barefoot. Emaz Drékin.

“Your Excellence,” she said, inviting him in.

“Come now, Lana. This is no time for protocol,” he scolded gently, taking her in his delicate arms.

She returned his embrace, sobbing, her dignity ceding to emotion.

They released each other after a moment, and Lana closed the door behind them.

“Do you want an infusion?” she offered, trying to sound natural again.

“Another time, my child, another time. Before anything else, we must speak about important matters.”

Lana agreed and went to sit at the small bench in front of her table, inviting the Emaz to do the same. She had a feeling that Drékin came not only as a friend, but also as a high-ranking leader of the Temple.

He sighed for a moment, searching for words, then launched into a discussion that, despite his calm tone, was nothing short of an interrogation.

“Lana, did you know this man?”

“No. Not at all.”

Lana was making an effort not to burst into tears.

“Had you ever seen him before?”

“No, I don’t think so. Not in my class, anyhow. Unless he was wearing a mask, of course.”

The Emaz let the silence linger. He was still hesitant to speak about certain things.

“Do you know what the Züu are?” he asked her, finally.

Lana’s eyes widened in fright. Yes, of course she knew. A sect of murderers who committed their crimes in the name of a judiciary goddess, that’s who they were. In previous centuries, the Züu had systematically massacred all the Eurydians who disembarked on their island. How could she not know that, she who had studied the history of Ith?

“You think that...?”

She didn’t finish her sentence.

“Sadly, yes. The officers found your name in a note on his body, and other details about you. It was written in Ramzü.”

Lana let it sink in. She thought she had simply come across a demon. She understood now that the attempt was premeditated.

And that she was far from out of danger.

“Lana, what I ask of you now is very important. The Temple cannot allow for renewed opposition with the Züu, new martyrs, a new crusade. So, tell me why they are after you.”

Lana thought for a moment, which seemed to be an eternity to the Emaz.

“Unfortunately, I do not know. I have no idea.”

The old man looked disappointed.

“Ah, well. We couldn’t have changed their minds anyhow, but we might have known how to protect you.”

“What you’re saying is awful! This means that they will try and try again until they succeed!”

“Perhaps not, my child, perhaps not. This is the other thing I must speak with you about. The Temple can arrange to shelter you, but at the price of a large sacrifice, one that you are not obliged to accept.”

Lana prepared herself for the worst.

“Go on.”

“Except for the young Rimon, all of your disciples are still wondering whether you’ve survived. The Temple has kept this information secret up until now...”

Lana was horrified.

“You aren’t about to suggest that...”

“It’s the best thing to do, my child. Consider it. Unfortunately, the young Orphaëlle perished in the attack. Don’t let her sacrifice be in vain by dying in the next dékade.”

Lana wondered how the Emaz could think such a thing. To take advantage of the young girl’s misfortune.

“The witnesses will be unable to say who was killed,” the Grand Priest continued. “For them, there was at least one masked woman among the victims. If we announce you are deceased, we won’t need anything else to trick the Züu.”

“I understand perfectly well, Your Excellence. I just need some time to think. This strategy will force me to leave Ith, won’t it?”

“Unfortunately, for some time. Your salvation depends on it.”

“My salvation.”

Lana stood up and admired the landscape from her window with new eyes. It seemed to her already that it was the last time she would enjoy it.

“Because it is necessary, I will abandon everything I have. Everything that makes up my life. May Eurydis give me strength.”

“Wise words,” concluded the relieved Emaz, standing up. “It would hurt me immeasurably to lose you. We will figure out the details later; until then, I will make the arrangements I must for...for what we have decided.”

He took his leave, briefly embracing her again.

Alone again, Lana argued with her conscience. She had lied to an Emaz. Blatantly. She knew why the Züu were looking for her. At least, she knew the basic cause.

Her ancestor Maz Achem, and his mysterious voyage to a small Lorelien island. The Island of Ji.

The Züu had only started her on a journey she had been planning for years.

But the Grand Temple couldn’t know anything about that.

Yan slowly emerged from darkness, struggling with the throbbing pain in the back of his skull that was trying to drag him back down. He was lying on his back, and opening his eyes, all he could see was pale morning sky through the branches hanging above.

“He’s waking up,” announced a quavering voice. Yan’s heart leaped in his chest: it was Léti’s, unmistakably. He sat up too abruptly, bringing back the pain, and immediately passed out again.

When he came to, the sun was higher in the sky; it must have been the start of the third deciday. Yan propped himself up on his elbows, cautiously this time.

To his relief, he realized that he was not mistaken: Léti was sitting nearby, and she appeared to be in good health, with the exception of her eyes, reddened with tears. Her aunt was there too and stared at him disapprovingly. There was also a stranger dressed in black, facing him with an openly hostile expression on his face.

Even though he hadn’t met many, Yan was almost certain that the stranger was a native of the Lower Kingdoms. He was rather short—shorter than him, at least—but the first adjective that came to mind looking at him was “imposing.”

The second, definitely, was “dangerous.”

He must have been in his forties, at least. That’s what his appearance suggested: his leathery skin, already full of small wrinkles, his profound, somber gaze, and the gray strands among his dark head of hair. A thick mustache and an ugly scar drew crisscrossing lines on his face. He was quite obviously dressed for battle: pieces of leather solidly attached to
one another, with flashes of metal here and there, from head to toe. This handmade outfit wasn’t brand new anymore; it was worn at the joints, scuffed everywhere, and patched up in some places. The man carried, rather comfortably, a bare curved blade and a dagger at his waist. Yan thought to himself that he must handle those weapons just as naturally as he slipped on his tunic in the morning. And this imposing and dangerous man was staring right at him with a fiery look.

“You were told to stay in your village? Were you not?” he scolded.

His strong accent was typical of the Lower Kingdoms.

Still in shock, Yan looked at Léti and her aunt with the hope of finding some support. But Léti was sobbing, her face buried in her palms, while her aunt seemed to be in agreement with the stranger. His head felt heavy. He worried that he might faint again.

“Who are you?” he managed. His throat was dry and his own speech sounded strange to his ears.

“This is Grigán,” Corenn answered for the man in black. “He’s...a cousin of mine. A very distant cousin.”

Yan looked back at the strange man, who was nervously pacing as he stroked his mustache. This man was related to Léti?

“If it weren’t for him, we would be dead by now,” continued Corenn in a conciliatory tone. “He saved our lives yesterday. He won’t harm you,” she concluded loudly, turning to the warrior.

“We’ll have to see about that,” he grunted. “Are you alone? Does anyone know where you were headed? Were you followed?”

Yan’s mind was clouded by the pain, and it took him some time to process all of the questions and to answer, which
appeared to annoy the man—apparently called Grigán—even further.

“No, I’m alone, and I wasn’t followed. I went through the scrubland. What’s going on?”

The man in black stared at him for a moment.

“Are you sure?”

“If he says so, it’s true. That’s it. Yan isn’t the type to lie, and he has no reason to.”

Yan shot an appreciative look at Corenn for the unexpected intervention. But the man in black wasn’t going to settle for that.

“How did you find us?”

“I spotted hoofprints at the edge of the trail. Because of the fog, I practically had my nose in the dirt.”

“I think that’s enough, Grigán.”

“All right, all right. In any case, we can’t waste any more time. We need to get back on the road as soon as possible. Which means now.”

He made as if to retrieve the horses.

“And what about me, what am I to do?”

Yan wasn’t at all happy with what the warrior had implied in his last comment.

“You? You can rest up if you wish, then you’ll return to your village. You won’t speak of this to anyone. Understood?”

It wasn’t really a question.

Yan looked at Léti, who was sobbing silently. The Day of the Promise was near. This man had saved their life? Why were they in danger in the first place?

“No, I’m staying. I’m coming with you,” he answered, in a voice he wished were louder.

Grigán let out a sigh of exasperation and took a few steps away from him. Yan was well aware that if it weren’t for the presence of the two women, the warrior wouldn’t waste his time with a boy who dared to argue with him, and would resort to more persuasive measures.

“Yan, I know you very well,” attempted Corenn. “Perhaps better than you think. I’ve watched you grow up all these years, along with Léti. And I know you’re doing this for her.”

He remained silent, but avidly watched for Léti’s reaction.

She didn’t appear to react at all, apart from a sob that might have been louder than the others. Léti seemed to be in complete shock, overwhelmed, utterly closed off to her surroundings. Yan had seen her like this before, when Norine disappeared.

“By staying with us, you’ll be putting her in danger,” continued Corenn, softly. “As well as me, and Grigán, and others whom you don’t know, whose survival isn’t at all guaranteed and depends, in part, on ours. Not to mention, you’d put your own life in danger. Do you realize that you could have gotten yourself killed by Grigán last night? Do you see? Léti cries enough as it is, don’t you think?”