The Deliverer Page 3

  Kieran chuckled. “Good. See you later.” He and Nolan sauntered down the hall as if the threat of discovery added fun to their day.

  I felt a sudden impulse to knock their heads together. Clearly I was absorbing too much of the violence of this culture. If I stayed in Hazor long enough, maybe I’d understand the appeal of banging at each other with swords. I frowned at a rack of wooden practice weapons.

  Leather gauntlets hanging from a peg triggered a flare of memory: Dylan on his lehkan, charging across the plateau at the end of a day of training, his smile bright under a face smudged with dirt, his strong hand reaching down to snare a flower. He had pulled up before me in a skidding of hooves. Bounding off his mount, he presented the small red-bud stem to me while other guardians nearby cheered and I blushed.

  With a deep breath, I pressed my grief back into its cubby. I had work to do.

  An afternoon of classes with a group of tradeswomen from the city restored my equilibrium. They seemed genuine in their curiosity and asked challenging questions. The Verses’ call to keep the night separate from the day was a sticking point for them, since they all counted on Sidian’s huge outdoor lightwalls to keep the shops in business half the night.

  My passion kindled as I explained the love behind His Verses. At times, I felt as if the melody of our Maker flowed through me while we talked. My time with the women helped me remember my purpose. By suppertime, as I wove my way along the jagged corridors to Kieran and Nolan’s rooms, my doubts and anxieties had faded like a stray sour note.

  Kieran answered my knock and waved me inside. He turned to a side table, where steam rose from a bowl over a heat trivet. I sank onto the couch.

  Garish banners appliquéd the angled walls of Kieran’s common room. He hadn’t bothered making any changes to the palace apartment that Zarek had given him. He probably couldn’t describe the décor if he were asked. But he undoubtedly knew every exit, obvious and hidden, and the location of each weapon. His sword never strayed far from his side.

  I tucked my legs under me and studied a particularly ugly sculpture. The stone was polished, exquisitely threaded with variegated colors. But the image of faces contorted in rage and pain made me shudder.

  A longing for Braide Wood welled up in me like mist in the Lyric tower. I missed simple log homes. I hungered to compose songs under the trees near the healers’ lodge, or pray with Lukyan while afternoon rain pattered his roof, or join the tower musicians on feast days. I was tired of the harsh lines of the buildings in Hazor, the crowded city, and the wary people.

  Kieran handed me a steaming mug, then began prowling his room.

  I bit back a sigh. Sidian clavo tasted stronger than the clans’ and had a bitter tang, but I sipped without complaint. I wouldn’t burden Kieran with my homesickness.

  “So do you think Royan and Havid will keep their arguments out of class tomorrow?” He didn’t hide the frustration in his voice. The other songkeepers with us, an older married couple, seemed to delight in arguing—about interpretations of the Verses, about how they should be taught, about each step in the work here.

  Once again, it fell on me to be a peacemaker. “They only fight because every detail matters to them so much.”

  Kieran made a snarling sound in his throat and stopped to face me. “Well, it’s not helping. The Hazorites are confused enough. Maybe Zarek threw too much support behind our work. The people are substituting the One for the hill-gods because they think they have no choice.”

  He was tired. Zarek’s invitation to teach the Verses had been a rare opportunity, but one that carried weight. Kieran looked leaner than usual and hollow-eyed. With the constant intrigues at the palace, he probably slept with his bootknife in his hand and one eye open. Each day was a balancing act on a thin truce with the king. And I’d seen the longing in Kieran’s eyes when he looked toward the mountains. I knew he was as homesick as I was.

  “Be patient. Look at how much you’ve done already. The shrines are all closed.” For a renegade with little knowledge of the Verses, he’d brought tremendous change, especially through his friendship with King Zarek.

  He resumed his pacing, tight and focused as a mountain cat.

  His anxiety was contagious, and I fought to keep my voice calm. “The One isn’t asking you to carry this alone.” Couldn’t he sit still for a moment?

  As if he heard my thoughts, Kieran slouched onto the couch near me. “I know.” He propped a foot on the low table. “But it’s not what I expected.”

  His quiet honesty tugged at my heart. Hard work and danger weren’t the challenges that strained him the most. Shortly after arriving, we’d gotten word that Cameron had declared himself king in Lyric. Kieran’s newfound faith had been shaken. He’d prepared to return to the clans, but the One appeared to him and told him to stay in Hazor. In spite of the direction, the inner struggle almost tore him in two.

  He turned to me with a wry smile. “After everything that’s happened, a couple of idiot songkeepers shouldn’t get to me.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I think I should be offended.”

  He stretched. “You may be a songkeeper, but you’re no idiot.” His expression hardened. “Most of the time.”

  He wasn’t going to ignore my clumsy spying earlier. “I’m sorry. Nolan was worried about you, and I didn’t want him getting into trouble.”

  Kieran shook his head slowly. “I’m sure there’s logic I’m missing somehow.”

  “These matches with Zarek. Why do you take the risk? If he hadn’t hurried off today, he would have noticed you didn’t heal.”

  “I can’t tell what he’s thinking lately.” Kieran rubbed his temples.

  “Headache?”

  He dropped his head onto the couch back and closed his eyes. “Yes.” He sat in silence for a few minutes. “Tell me it’s making a difference.”

  “I’ve already told you that.”

  He squinted at me. “Then why? What did I do wrong?”

  Good. Honest doubts. He hadn’t talked about his loss of Restorer powers for a long time. “Who said you did anything wrong? Did Susan do something wrong when the Restorer gift lifted from her?”

  “No. But she needed to go back to her world. It made sense that the One chose a new Restorer.”

  I grinned. “You didn’t think so at the time.”

  He frowned. “Point taken. But once I offered my life to Him . . .”

  “He used you to save Lyric and to remove poison from Jake.”

  He made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “But if I did what I was supposed to do, then why . . . why did He take away the gift?”

  “Kieran, He still speaks with you. He’s given you an important role. That hasn’t changed just because Jake is the Restorer now.” I paused, searching for the right thing to say. “Susan told me that she began to find peace when she stopped demanding explanations.”

  He sat up and met my eyes. “And you? Have you stopped asking for reasons?” He studied me in the way he watched everything around him. Intent. Absorbing and analyzing every detail. He saw too much.

  I set my mug on the table and edged away. “We aren’t talking about me.”

  Quiet spread over him. “You never talk about him.”

  Of course I didn’t. Because if I talked about Dylan, I might shatter. I might start crying and never stop. And Kieran needed me. Hazor needed me. The One needed me. I couldn’t afford to be weak.

  “Linette?” His voice was rough, insistent.

  Why was he tormenting me? Whole days went by when I didn’t think about Dylan. At night when I tried to remember him, his face blurred as if I saw him through tears. I was afraid of forgetting him. Of betraying his memory.

  How could my memories of Dylan be fading? I had no trouble remembering the moment when Tristan told me—the details of that searing pain. A giant fist had reached inside of me and wr
enched away every bit of life and joy, leaving a husk of chaff—and little else. I wasn’t the same person.

  But I couldn’t explain all that to the man beside me. I folded my hands in my lap. “The One is perfect in His love and purposes. That’s all I need to know.” My voice was prim, hollow. When I dared to glance at Kieran, undisguised disappointment shadowed his face.

  I stood. “I should go.”

  “Maybe you should.” Then he sighed. “Linette, I wasn’t prying. I was asking because of Nolan.”

  “Nolan?”

  “He doesn’t talk about Shayla.” He shifted, then winced from his recent injury. “I thought you’d know . . .”

  Shame burned my face. Kieran wanted to help his son with grief about his mother’s death, and I shut him out with songkeeper clichés.

  Dear Maker, I keep doing the wrong thing.

  Nolan darted in from the back room and skidded to a stop. “Linette? Can you stay for supper?” He noticed our tension and glanced at Kieran uneasily. Nolan still moved with the agile speed of a sixteen-year-old messenger, yet he was often awkward around his newfound father, as if he were wearing boots that weren’t quite the right size.

  Kieran’s eyes softened as he looked at his son, but the planes of his face remained hard. “She can’t stay.”

  I’d been dismissed—relegated to the ranks of the annoying songkeepers that Kieran barely tolerated. And I deserved it.

  Nolan threw me a questioning glance.

  My lips forced a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I crossed to the doorway and slipped out, then hurried along the hallway, trying to outrun my failure. When I reached my room I shut out the confusing world of Hazor and fell to my knees. My throat felt thick as I sang a feast day litany over and over, the melody scarcely above a whisper.

  “Where can we seek Him?

  He seeks us.

  What can we give Him?

  What He first gave.

  Holy One, we answer Your call.

  Holy One, we give You our lives.

  Holy One, change our hearts.”

  Slowly, my heart calmed. Tomorrow I’d find a time to broach the subject of his mother’s death with Nolan. I’d diffuse the tension between the other songkeepers and protect Kieran from that unnecessary conflict. And King Zarek planned to visit the class I taught for the palace women. Perhaps I could find out if Kieran was in any danger from him.

  Food held no appeal, so I didn’t bother with supper. As I curled up on my sleep pallet, I tried to conjure images of Dylan riding across the plains near Braide Wood. Instead, I kept seeing Kieran’s dark eyes—glaring at me in annoyance, flickering with inner doubts, and assessing me with cold disappointment.

  Holy One, I want to go home.

  Chapter

  4

  Linette

  King Zarek had arrived. Energy surged higher in the room, and the palace women focused on the door behind me. Eyes grew wider, spines straighter. Some smiled coyly, some swallowed nervously. I turned to welcome him, and his gaze raked me with a raw appreciation that made me grateful for my long, full songkeeper’s robe.

  Even so, heat flushed my neck and my confidence wobbled. Teaching under the king’s observation no longer seemed like a good idea. I managed a pleasant nod. “Thank you for coming.” Turning back to the women arranged on comfortable chairs and cushions around me, I caught several courtesans sending covert winks and giggles in the king’s direction as he came farther into the room and took up a position against the side wall where he could watch everyone.

  I folded my hands in my lap. I was not here to impress a human king. If I became distracted, the other women would get nothing from our conversation. “Let’s review the creed. Awesome in majesty . . .”

  “Is the One eternal.” I felt some measure of relief that they remembered the response. We continued in unison.

  “Perfect in His might and power, the only truth and only source.

  He made all that is, and loves all He made.

  His works are beyond our understanding.”

  The tangible power of the words never failed to move me. My heart steadied, and my gaze moved around the room as my students continued reciting the basic tenants of faith. One young woman closed her eyes, her face glowing as the truth washed over her. Others nodded.

  I glanced over at Zarek. He watched closely, arms crossed and brow furrowed. At least he had stopped leering.

  “In every time of great need, a Restorer is sent

  To fight for the people and help the guardians.

  The Restorer is empowered with gifts to defeat our enemies . . .”

  I shot another glance at the king. How did he feel about this prophecy when he had so recently been one of the enemies? His face gave nothing away.

  “And turn the people’s hearts back to the Verses.” The women finished and looked at me.

  “Very good. The next part of the Verses is more challenging. It talks about a promise that we don’t fully understand.

  ‘We wait in the darkness for the One who brings light.

  The Deliverer will come.

  And with His coming all darkness will be defeated.’

  “Some of the songkeepers believe that the Deliverer will be a final Restorer who will create a world with no more wars.”

  Zarek made a sound like a chuckle.

  I pressed on. “My teacher, Lukyan, believed that the Deliverer will defeat more than the darkness of the world; he will also give us a way to be rid of the darkness within ourselves.”

  “We are full of life force, not evil,” said an older woman who was a practitioner, a type of healer in Sidian.

  Another woman leaned forward. “Maybe some. But I’ve known a few people that carry evil within their bodies.”

  Nods and murmurs of agreement rose from the group.

  “But darkness isn’t so bad.” A hawk-faced girl addressed the others. “We gain power from touching darkness.”

  “No,” I said quickly. “We weren’t meant to carry darkness.” That stirred more debate and eager questions. I forgot all about Zarek as I shared my understanding of the One’s intent and how He planned to restore us one day. Music hummed in my heart—echoes of the last time I joined the songkeepers in tower worship. How I wished I could take all these women there so they, too, could feel the mist lower onto their faces and hear the gentle whisper of their Maker.

  “Interesting tales.” Zarek’s deep voice drew instant attention. “But you all have places to be, don’t you?” The women scattered like a burst of feathered moths from a cluster of ferns, a few murmuring quick good-byes, some barely glancing at me.

  I rose, keeping my gaze on the polished black floor. “I’m sorry. I was told you approved this meeting time. It wasn’t my intention to keep anyone from her work . . .”

  Zarek strode farther into the room and took a seat on the bench where I’d been teaching. He gestured at me to join him. “If Restorers arise only at times of specific need, what happens when the need has passed?”

  I perched on the edge of the bench and tucked my hands into my sleeves to hide their tremor. “Whatever the One chooses to do next.” Don’t let me say the wrong thing. “Early in the last generation, Kahlareans invaded Sandor clan near the sea. Oren was called by the One and spoke to the Council, giving them courage to unite against the threat.”

  The tension in my fingers eased as I continued the history lesson, pretending the man beside me was another young messenger curious about clan legends. Oren, Illias, Mikkel.

  Zarek shifted, drawing my attention back to him.

  “And the one before Kieran?”

  My heart warmed, and I smiled. “Susan. Her husband came from Rendor, but he found her from beyond the clans. She was different from any Restorer that came before, not a guardian, but more like a healer or songkeeper. She was on
e of the few who didn’t die in battle.”

  The king’s eyes narrowed. Was it curiosity or some darker intent? “Did she pass her gifts to Kieran, then?”

  “I . . . I’m not sure. The day after the battle of Morsal Plains, she returned to her home. That might have been when . . . but . . . Kieran didn’t tell me about his Restorer signs until much later.” Sweat prickled along my hairline. “You should ask him.”

  He stretched and rose to his feet, then braced one foot on the bench and leaned toward me. “You have a true gift for patient explanation. Not like Kieran.”

  “I was trained as a songkeeper. But he—”

  “Will you meet with me tomorrow morning?” His expression seemed open, sincere. No different from the young messengers or palace women I taught.

  Kieran had warned me to stay out of Zarek’s line of sight as much as possible, but Kieran didn’t trust anyone. Yes, the king made me uneasy, but I didn’t want my fears to hinder me from an opportunity to help someone searching for truth. “Of course. I’m happy to answer any questions I can.”

  The king rewarded me with a broad smile. “Tomorrow, then.” He strode from the room, several guards falling in behind him. I used my sleeve to blot moisture from my forehead. Had I done the right thing?

  The door to Kieran’s apartment was braced open when I arrived that evening. As I often did when the songkeepers gathered to meet with Kieran, I walked straight into his common room.

  And stopped short.

  Between the low couches on the left side of the room and the eating area to the right, a barely dressed Hazorite woman was wrapping herself around Kieran. He was trying to pry her off but didn’t seem to be making much progress. I took a step back, ready to slip out before they noticed me. Then I hesitated. Kieran looked like he could use some help.

  I cleared my throat.

  He looked my direction and blanched. “Zarek’s idea of a thank-you gift.” He peeled the woman away and held her at arm’s length. Was that a blush creeping up his neck?

  Seeing him flustered tempted me to grin, but I kept my face expressionless. “Should I come back later?”