Maw of the Devourer, page 15
Solalyn looked expectantly at her father, waiting for the emperor to dismiss Lyon as well. But Solaren just smiled at his daughter. Solalyn shot Lyon an apologetic look and shrugged, marching from the room with purpose. Lyon watched her go, feeling a pit dig into his stomach. He had never been alone with the emperor before, and it almost matched the anxiety he had felt when Lith had first summoned him.
Once they were alone, Emperor Solaren gestured to the couch opposite him. “Come, sit down Lyon. I hardly see the need for me to crane my neck to look at you.” Lyon did as ordered. Emperor Solaren stared at Lyon for a minute before he nodded. “I know how everything has played out recently is not how Solalyn would have liked it. We both know if she had her way, the two of you would have been bunking at a border fort in a couple of months.” Emperor Solaren seemed amused by his daughter’s plans, but his tone quickly grew serious once more. “I can only hope that Solalyn won’t see this divine duty as an opportunity for heroics.”
Lyon stared at the emperor for a moment before he noticed the hesitation in Solaren’s expression. “Solalyn’s safety is still my priority, Your Majesty; Lord Lith has not released me from the first duty that he gave me, after all.”
Solaren’s eyes widened at Lyon’s bluntness, but a grateful smile passed over his lips before he nodded. “I shall not keep you any longer, Chosen. See yourself prepared for your journey.” Lyon stood, bowed and walked towards the door. “May the Lord of Light’s radiance guide you.”
Lyon bowed his head again and quickly retreated from the emperor’s serious gaze.
***
Squall vaulted over the wall of the governor’s estate using the same old cart that he had many times before. Clouds scattered across the sky and one occasionally drifted in front of the moon, darkening the world.
A week had passed since Governor Clargio’s party, and it was time for Squall to meet with Ceptin at the abandoned house. Squall skulked through the streets of Melta; the night’s chill caused his breath to leave a mist as he moved. He clutched at his cloak, holding it close it to keep out the cold. Unfortunately, the effort proved futile as the icy air seeped into his bones. It was just his luck that tonight was unseasonably cold.
Squall breathed a relieved sigh when the abandoned house came into view. When he reached the side door, he looked around to ensure that no one was looking and tried the handle. The door opened and Squall let himself in, quickly shutting the door behind him. He crept through the side room and followed the hallway to the room where he had met Ceptin before. Dust still kicked up as he moved through the abandoned house, and Squall could not stifle his cough as some got caught in his throat. Ceptin’s head popped around the doorway and nodded when he saw it was Squall. The man threw him a waterskin and Squall drank from it gratefully. When his lungs finally cleared, Squall tried to remember the anger that he had felt at how Ceptin had treated at the party, but found the emotion hard to stoke.
“Feeling better?” Ceptin asked.
His concern seemed out of character, and Squall blinked. “Yes, thank you. No! I mean…” Squall trailed off, feeling his face burn.
“Ah, I apologise for my brusqueness last week. It would have been a needless risk to spend more time than was necessary talking. We don’t want anyone to know about our association, after all.”
Squall had not expected the man to apologise. Part of him had hoped to get a promise to be politer when they talked if he had kicked up enough of a fuss. But for the man to apologise… “Uh, that’s f-fine…”
“Good.” Ceptin nodded and strode to the table at the back of the room. There were some papers spread across it, but nothing seemed any different from the last time that Squall had been here.
Squall took a deep breath and recovered a calmed down. “What is this meeting about? Have you thought of something to help my revenge?” The hunger that slipped into his tone as he asked the questions surprised Squall.
“First,” Ceptin said, “I would like to reaffirm your commitment, Squall. You are prepared to do anything to accomplish your goal, are you not?”
Squall bristled at the question. “O-of course!” Squall felt his chest sink at the slight hesitance he felt when he said the words. Riti’s face flashed through his mind. He should hate her!
“Good!” Ceptin smiled—an actual, genuine smile, it seemed—and clapped his hands together. Before Squall could react, Ceptin strode from the room and left him alone. He had viewed Ceptin as a serious, emotionless man of mystery, but the man was shocked him twice tonight. That disconnect unnerved Squall, but he liked the more expressive Ceptin. He felt more like a person, but he had to remind himself not to get too attached—they were only using each other, after all.
But maybe having an ally that he liked and who knew his true goal could help Squall feel more at ease. Maybe Ceptin wouldn’t cast him aside if he proved useless…
Ceptin returned a moment later, carrying an odd box in his arms. The box was large, though it looked simple, with no outward ornamentation. Leather straps hung from the back, but Ceptin carried it carefully in his arms and set it down on the table. When Ceptin unlatched the box and opened it, Squall saw the lush red cloth padding on the inside that clashed with the box’s simple outer appearance.
More than that, though, the contents drew Squall’s attention; an odd white-grey dagger. The blade of the dagger was a little jagged, while the colour faded between white and grey along its short length. The hilt was white and there were no leather wrappings, nor was there a guard between the hilt and the blade. It was hard to tell what the dagger was made from, as it did not seem to be some kind of metal.
“What’s this?” Squall asked.
“This is the sole weapon on this continent that can slay a deity.”
Squall blinked in surprise. It took a moment to process what the man had said, and he shook his head. Surely that was impossible. Goddesses like Stormrider were eternal. They were things that never changed. Yet if it were true… This was so much more. Squall looked at Ceptin, searching his face for an answer.
Ceptin’s eyes were serious.
A dark part of Squall woke when he saw those eyes. That part of him hungered for blood like a ravenous beast. Squall reached for the dagger, but stopped himself. He looked at it again, taking it in with fresh eyes. It looked sinister—and powerful. Maybe it really could do what Ceptin claimed.
“Are… are you sure about it?” Squall stared at the dagger.
“It can kill one. Of that, I can assure you.”
“How did you get it? Where did you get it?” Squall had never heard a story about weapons capable of slaying a deity, and he did not know where he would look for one.
“We shall need to be in Stormrider’s presence to accomplish the deed, of course. Ideally, there would be no one around to stop us—not that they would know what the dagger is capable of.”
Ceptin’s words didn’t explain how he knew about it, but Squall gave up on worming an answer out of the man. As long as Ceptin’s claim was true, then that was all that really mattered to Squall in the end. “Okay.”
“I need you to think about how we will approach Stormrider. Any options that you can come up with are worthy of consideration. Consider chartering a ship and sailing after her to be a last resort. Not only would it be very dangerous to sail into the Storm, we would have an entire crew of witnesses not happy with us once the deed is done.”
“I’ll think about it,” Squall said. A sinking pit of doubt formed in his stomach at the pressure.
“If you hear any mention of Stormrider visiting the coast, come find me or leave a message here. I will work out the finer details then.”
Squall nodded and reached for the dagger. In one deft move, Ceptin closed the box and picked it up, pulling it out of Squall’s reach. Squall felt a flash of anger and he turned on Ceptin. “What are you doing? I need that!”
“It will be impossible for you to hide the dagger in the governor’s estate,” Ceptin said in a flat voice. “I shall keep it with me, but do not worry, I shall give it to you when the time is right.”
Squall scowled, but he could see the logic in the man’s words. Slowly, his anger cooled, and he nodded his understanding. Still, he snarled as Ceptin walked away with the one tool that could enact his revenge, and it took a strong will not to follow the man to see where he hid the dagger.
After a minute, Ceptin returned. “Do not speak of this meeting or what we discussed to anyone—no cryptic hints or speaking your thoughts aloud. We don’t need to take any unnecessary risks.” Squall nodded his agreement with a scowl. He wasn’t a fool. “Be careful on your way back to the estate and make certain no one sees you.”
Squall nodded a terse farewell to Ceptin. He crept out of the abandoned house, taking extra care this time not to breathe in any dust. Then he hurried back to the governor’s estate, remaining vigil for the sounds of any patrols or passers-by. Luckily, his journey back to the estate passed without incident and Squall relaxed. The estate gates came into view and Squall let out a relieved sigh.
Then he felt a hand land on his shoulder and a familiar voice asked, “What are you doing out here, Squall?”
***
Riti lounged in Agil’s workshop, leaning back in a chair while bracing her legs against a wall. She let her head loll and watched her friend still hard at work this late into the night; Agil sat at a desk near Riti, writing letters by candlelight. The flames flickered and caught in Agil’s spectacles as she wrote, somehow making the simple task of correspondence look sinister. Apparently, Agil exchanged information with someone in Solare, the capital of the Lithyan Empire. Not that Riti was jealous or anything that Agil had a friend she would work so late into the night to contact. Not jealous at all—that would be childish…
But Riti was childish… occasionally…
“How about asking them about candles or something?” Riti asked. “I hear Lithyans worship candles and all that. You know, their god is called the Light Lord or something.”
“Lord of Light,” Agil said without looking up from her letter, “And even I know enough asking something like that would be offensive. Which is something I would have thought a diplomat would have known…”
“Blame it on being from a backwater city in a tiny nation. I hear they think we’re no better than country bumpkins or the like!”
“Do you honestly base your knowledge of other nations and peoples on hearsay and the drunken ramblings of insecure merchants?”
“Well…” Riti dragged out the word and Agil finally turned a flat stare on her. “No. But it’s fun to pretend, right?”
“And waste years of building a professional relationship with one of the brightest minds in the Empire? Hardly.” Agil turned back to her letter and let out a yawn. “Now shush. Let me focus.”
Despite Agil’s words, Riti knew her friend enjoyed the conversation regardless of how it distracted her. Because of that, Riti couldn’t help herself. “Maybe ask for some recommendations on candles, though. I hear Lithyans make the best scented candles.”
Agil’s pen stilled, and she turned back to Riti. The makings of a smile twitched at Agil’s lips, but she held onto her scowl. “Fine. I’ll ask about candles if you will please be quiet for five more minutes so I can finish this.”
Riti nodded her assent, but Agil had already turned back to her work. She watched the woman write, impatiently counting the seconds as they passed by. After what Riti assumed was three and a half minutes—she’d never been good at counting time and matching a clock—Agil set her pen down and inspected the letter. Once satisfied, Agil set the paper down and turned to Riti, smirking at her.
Yes, her friend knew she was impatiently counting each second of silence that she had to endure. But Riti was not about to lose. She locked eyes with Agil and counted the last few seconds until five minutes had passed.
“Finally!” Riti threw up her hands, only for her chair to wobble dangerously. She caught herself on a nearby desk and pulled herself forward so all four legs of the chair touched the ground. “You mentioned the candles, right?”
Agil rolled her eyes. “Yes, since you were so kind as to stay silent for six minutes and twenty-three seconds…”
“Oh, come on!” Riti collapsed into a heap, pleased by the brief chuckle she heard escape from Agil. “Well, you can’t say that I’m not generous!”
“I’m sure that was what it was and not at all your inability to calculate time in your head.” Agil yawned. “Now, not to sound rude, but could you leave? I am tired and need to sleep.”
“All right.” Riti stood and gathered her cloak. She draped the cloak around her shoulders and gave Agil’s arm a squeeze as she walked past. “Get some sleep. And dream of candles!”
Agil shook her head at her and Riti stumbled out of the workshop while stifling a yawn of her own. She really should have headed back to her room hours ago. She needed to rise early tomorrow morning—or this morning, as it probably was at this point—but that kind of forethought had never been her strong suit. If only she had learnt her lesson.
Riti strolled through the estate grounds. As she passed the entrance, she heard a familiar gruff voice lecturing someone. Riti angled towards the gates and poked her head out of the estate grounds. Maeve loomed over a dejected Squall and Riti blinked.
“You can’t be sneaking out like this, young man!” Maeve said. “Think of how dangerous it is for someone of your status to be wandering about at an hour like this!”
Squall wilted under the guard captain’s tirade and Riti’s heart moved at the sight. She had thought that he was asleep in his room, but that clearly had not been the case, and it reminded her of the countless times she had snuck out when she was young. When she saw Squall fold in on himself, Riti had to help the boy. Riti approached the pair and fought to keep the smile from her face. “Good evening, Captain. I think I can take it from here.”
Squall looked up at the sound of her voice and flinched at the sight of her—Riti must have been doing a better job at appearing stern than she realised. It was a little painful to see the boy shrink more into himself at her arrival, but she had to keep up the façade while Maeve was nearby.
The guard captain rolled her eyes at Riti. “I can hardly trust you to lecture the boy, ma’am. You snuck out so much as a child—and still did when you were old enough to be considered an adult, must I remind you?”
“Ah,” Riti stumbled back in feigned shock, “don’t reveal my misguided youth in front of Squall!” She turned to Squall. “I assure you I am nothing but the picture of responsibility!”
Maeve shook her head affectionately at Riti. “I guess my lectures weren’t very effective, considering how you snuck out even after you became an advisor…”
Riti did not have to feign her shock this time, blinking at the guard captain. How could she have revealed that in front of Squall? It had been one time and Maeve had never let her live it down. There were some mistakes that came back to haunt you and, even as harmless as this one was, remembering it still made Riti cringe. It hadn’t been her fault that she’d gotten fed up with work and decided that she needed a night—and a dozen tankards—at a tavern.
She just hadn’t expected Maeve to be the one to find her passed out, covered in her own vomit. That and the horrendous hangover had made her reaffirm her promise not to over drink again. Not that she kept that promise for long.
Luckily, Maeve laughed and relented. “Fine, take the boy. Just make sure that you lecture him properly, else I’ll have to tell him some stories about when you were younger. I can think of one in particular that involves a tavern brawl he might enjoy.” It was unfair how many embarrassing stories Maeve knew about her.
The older woman left them with that threat and Riti turned to Squall. He looked more than a little afraid of her. The sight pulled at her heart and she waited for Maeve to disappear before she spoke. “Don’t worry, Squall. I won’t punish you for sneaking out—as that would be a little unfair given what you just heard about my past.” Squall looked up at her, his fearful expression slowly being replaced with hope. “Just promise me you will be careful when you sneak out, okay? We can’t have you getting hurt—or worse, getting spotted by Maeve again. Oh, and don’t sneak out so often that you are constantly tired during the day, okay? It might sound like a good idea at first, but it isn’t. Trust me.”
Squall nodded, but he seemed distracted. “Does Stormrider visit Melta often? Or anywhere else on land?”
I didn’t think he cared about Stormrider, Riti thought. Perhaps it is his way of making up for sneaking out. The thought made Riti smile.
“Stormrider has only ever visited Melta once,” Riti said. “That was when she dropped you off, of course. The only other place she visits on land is Stormrider’s Cove, which is a few hours east of here by carriage.” Her words piqued Squall’s attention and Riti felt it was her duty to teach him while he was interested. “She only ever visits the cove when a new Chosen is to be born, or when one has passed and the surviving Chosen are to hold their funeral at the cove. She accepts the Chosen’s body and blesses their successor so that they can take over their duties.”
“Oh… okay…” Squall mumbled. He seemed more distressed now and Riti wondered whether it was because he wanted to see the goddess again. He had been unconscious when he had arrived and Stormrider was a sight to see.
“Don’t worry, she might visit Melta on her own again—we don’t know any precedent for her visiting the city, so who can know? Or maybe a new Chosen will be born in one of the other cities soon and you can see her then!” When her words did not calm the boy down, she frowned. “Are you okay?”
Squall flinched and lowered his eyes. “Uh, yes…”
Does he think I’ll die soon? Riti thought.
The thought warmed her heart, and she cleared her throat to hide the smile that tried to worm its way out. “Squall. Chosen don’t just pass away immediately if they have successors. Some successors even live with their predecessor for decades before fulfilling their roles. So don’t go killing me off, okay?” She ruffled his hair affectionately.
