Treacher grunts. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t remember a Tenet of Othrix against a hot bath.” He grins, clearly trying to forge a connection with me.
I give him nothing.
His fingers drum his knees. “Since the klericks took charge, we’ve haven’t been able to train any new riders.”
My eyes widen.
Encouraged, he leans forward again. “The klericks deemed mounting a dragon pommel to be an obscenity. They confiscated our sphincter trainers, and none of the remaining candidates will be permitted to attempt a mounting.”
I gnaw on the chunk of bread, as I fight to hide my reactions to Treacher’s disturbing news—assuming he’s speaking the truth. Roule shared none of this during his visits.
“For a time,” Treacher continues, “existing riders were permitted to perform daily patrols. But evenpatrolsare forbidden now.”
To hide my reaction, I tip the pitcher to my lips. The water tastes of metal and is full of gritty stone dust. If I told Treacher this, he’d have it replaced—he’s trying to butter me up—but I’m not going to talk. And right now, I’ve caught him in an obvious lie.
When we crossed back through the veil, we were met by dragons. Clearly, there are still patrols. Or were two moon cycles ago.
“Riders are only permitted to mount their dragons when the veil is breached.” Treacher shakes his head. “Hence your greeting party when you arrived.” His hands grip his thighs. “In the past four moon cycles, I’ve only mounted Ersot seven times.”
I set down the pitcher, and the metal clatters against the stone. I fear the action revealed more than I meant to.
“The entire time you were gone,” Treacher continues, “there were no breaches in the veil. Not one demon came through—just like the last time Rosomon and the behemoth were gone.”
He waits for my reaction. I give him none.
“Kaelus declared that the lack of demons was a sign from Othrix. A reward for expelling the blasphemous female rider from the Light.” He shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure the bastard sent word to the Prime Klerick, claiming he was the one responsible for banishing Rosomon from the Light.”
Treacher leans forward and whispers. “Where is she? Does she still live?”
Anger shudders inside me, but I contain it.
Treacher waits for a response. Let him. I’m well practiced at remaining silent.
He finally gives up. “To seize control, the head klericks of the other six kingdoms accused their kings of various forms of blasphemy. After that, Khotor seized power with the Prime Klerick’s support.
“He sent his knyghts armies to capture castles and execute kings, like he had a fucking divine right to do it.” Treacher folds his arms over his chest and leans back, and the wooden chair creaks from the strain.
I look directly into his eyes for the first time.
I’m too sleep deprived and delirious to trust my instincts, but I see nothing but sincerity in Treacher’s expression, and I’ve heard no hint of lies in his words. In fact, this is the best conversation I’ve ever had with this man, even though I’ve said nothing, and we’ve known each other over twenty years.
The Kingdoms of Light were meant to be an egalitarian coalition between seven benevolent sovereigns. I knew that even before Zogar told us about the Founding Principles.
Everyone knew that. No single king was meant to hold power over another, and each was to provide for and watch over his subjects—orhersubjects according to Zogar. According to Zogar and Surath, there was to be no war in the Light—and no religion.
But it’s hard to imagine the Seven Kingdoms without the Tenets of Othrix.
Something went terribly wrong during or after the Separation, beyond the fact that Zogar’s people were trapped on this side of the veil. No wonder the dragons are furious. I’m furious too.
And if all Darkness, all access to magic, was to remain on the other side of the veil, how does one explainmyexistence? Not to mention all the other boys sent to the seminary, or the little girls put to death when they showed signs of magic.
Realizing I’m not going to respond, Treacher leans forward again. “So, that’s the gist of what’s happened here.” He eyes the dry crust of bread in my hand. “But since you’re still busy eating, I guess it’s up to me to keep the conversation going.”
He smirks. “I’ll bring you up to date on what’s happened, since you were tossed in this dungeon. Then you can tell me what went on in the Darkness.”
I chew slowly on the bread.
“Tynan told us that less time passed for you.” He looks at me quizzically, and so I stuff more stale bread in my mouth, hoping to hide any hint of an answer that my eyes might betray. The hard edges of crust scrape my cheeks, but I crunch on it anyway, the sound deafening after the hours of near silence I’ve endured.
