He stood, reached out, and pulled on the metal ring of the door, which swung open toward him on silent, oiled hinges. Beyond it was what looked like an anteroom, where a number of figures in the pure black cloaks of Searchers, the novice level of the Seekers, were lighting rows of candles. The room was large, and perfectly circular. He stepped inside, and as he did, the Searchers stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him, their faces concealed by the tall hoods of their robes.
For a long moment, he stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do next. The room contained three doors aside from the one he’d just come through, two at right angles to him, and the third directly across the circle of candles.
In the end, it was the third door that opened, breaking the silence, and through it came three men, two in silver armor outlined in gold, and a third in robes an unnatural, snowy white, completely out of place in this dark, underground chamber. The two in armor were large and moved with the fluid motions of practiced soldiers, while the third was elderly, with long, flowing hair almost as white as his robes, tied neatly behind his head. Ornate makeupand tattoos covered his face: bright golden sunbursts, the All Seeing Eye etched in silver upon his forehead, and various seven-pointed stars on his neck, cheeks, and in the hollow of his throat. Both of his hands, clasped together in front of him, bore twisting circles of black briars.
“Good evening, my son,” the man in white said. “I was informed that we had a very promising Child of the Light seeking us along the Path, but I am….”
The man trailed off as the Prince stepped forward, coming into the full light of the candles, breaking the Seeker out of the traditional welcome.
“I am no Child of the Light, Seeker,” the Prince said, lowering the hood of his cloak. “I am a Child of the Empress.”
Immediately, the silence in the room went from contemplative to deadly. The welcoming, fatherly expression on the Seeker’s face curdled, and one of the Searchers was startled so badly that he dropped his metal candle lighter, which crashed to the floor with a hollow brassy sound that echoed through the circular room.
“Good… good evening, my Prince,” the Seeker said. He had regained his composure and spoke with soft assurance, but he was staring at the Prince so intensely a lesser man would have cowered. The Prince knew immediately that this was not a man who was used to being commanded, and certainly not one used to being taken by surprise. He felt himself beginning to form an apology—and then realized he was no longer with the Exiles. He was one of the Children and would again be given the respect he deserved. There was no need to apologize or to explain himself here.
A sick feeling kindled in the pit of his stomach, which he dismissed as hunger.
“We need to speak, Seeker,” the Prince said. “And I will need proper clothing. I prefer black robes, as befitting my office.”
The Seeker bowed his head, and the Prince felt a brief flash of amusement as both guards exchanged a shocked glance at such deference.
“Indeed, my Prince. Please, follow me.”
The Seeker turned, and as he did the Prince noticed his hands make a small motion toward one of the guards. No doubt telling him to fetch the robes.
The guards stepped to either side of the Seeker, and once the old man had passed through the door, they waited for the Prince to enter as well. A voice in the back of the Prince’s head told him not to enter, but he ignored it. Exiles listened to such voices. Princes, as his siblings had often told him, did not.
He found himself in a large, well-lit office. The Seeker moved across the room and sat behind a large desk, then motioned for the Prince to take the seat opposite. The Prince crossed the room, and as he did his eyes fell on a small dagger in a rack on the desk, no doubt used as a letter opener. It was heavily gilded and gem-encrusted, but sharp and serviceable.
He sat in the chair to which the Seeker had motioned and wondered idly why he did not feel relieved. He looked up into the eyes of the Seeker and told himself that he was being foolish. Here he was, in the lair of a Seeker. As a Child of the Empress this was one of the safest places he could find himself. All who lived and worked here were sworn to obey his smallest whim.
“Seeker,” he began briskly, “I will need pen and paper immediately. I must send a message to my Mother.”
“Indeed, my Prince,” the Seeker said, inclining his white head. “I will send for my scribe immediately. But first, wouldn’t you like refreshment? You look very worn.”
The Seeker motioned to a guards—of which, the Prince realized, there was now only one. Where had the other gone? Hopefully to fetch him his robes. They would no doubt be Searcher robes, but as long as they were not this Commons filth, they would be serviceable.
The remaining guard poured two cups of a blood-red wine and handed them to the Seeker, who then offered one to the Prince. The Prince took it but did not drink. He didn’t have much of a head for wine, and he needed to keep his wits.
“Your scribe is competent, I am sure, but this is a message I must write myself. There has been treason in the Empire, and I must inform both the Empress and you of the events of the past few weeks.”
“Indeed, my Prince,” the Seeker repeated, though he made no motion to do anything. A long moment passed wherein the Prince and the Seeker simply looked at each other.
A terrible foreboding swept over the Prince.
A door to his left opened, and the second guard re-entered. He was now accompanied by four others.
“I gave you an order, Seeker,” the Prince said, trying to remain calm.
“Yes, but you see… another order came this morning, borne by the Empress’ Hand.”
The Seeker’s eyes seemed to glow red in the reflected light of the candles that lit the room. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.
“What were these orders?” the Prince asked. He moved a hand across the table to grasp his cup, which lay next to the sharp, dagger-like letter opener.
The Seeker smiled sadly.
“Please, my son, do not attempt to make this more difficult than it has to be.”
