He stared at her and then followed the sentries without a word to her.
The streets of Avisahn were empty for the most part. The heavily wooded grounds of the Quickfellow manor fell behind them and the horses’ hooves clacked against the smooth paving stones of the main city road. From his vantage near the window of the carriage, Thealos could see the tall spire of the Temple of Keasorn rising in the center of the beautiful city like a mountain amidst of sea of slate-shingled manors and gilded churchyards. The carriage picked up speed as they started down the slope of the wooded foothills towards the center of Avisahn. But that majestic temple was not his destination. The Shae had three gods: Keasorn, Shenalle, and Vannier. Thealos’ family worshipped the third, as was customary among trading families. These deities had their own High Council with a stern Council Elder to rebuke the wayward young. An ironic smile twisted Thealos’ mouth. He knew what he was doing went well beyond wayward young.
It was dark by the time the sentries escorted Thealos into the keeping chamber of the High Council of Vannier. Though its dome couldn’t rival the spire of Keasorn’s temple, Vannier’s temple was just as opulent and situated closer to the docks near Barters Row. It had always reminded Thealos of a giant eggshell. He watched the two sentries take taciturn positions by the entry door after shutting and locking it. Turning, he stared blankly at the double doors leading into the High Council chamber. He’d been here four times in the last year. Each time, the Council Elder had tried coaxing him into obeying his parents’ wishes or repenting some foolish childhood thought. Thealos wasn’t expecting any coaxing this time. He’d get a stern warning and a few threats to unman him. Thealos swallowed, preparing himself for it. His eyes bored into the double doors, wondering who had been gathered to witness this meeting. Would Correl be there? He’d been gone all afternoon, and Thealos wondered where his father was. Trying a last-minute bribe probably. The fluted scrollwork of the door shone with a heavy waxed polish. It was an immaculate design and finish, stained a rich auburn, and revealed the symbol of the god Vannier – entwining crescents facing opposite ways. Looking closely at the trim edges, he saw little gouges in the wood. He wanted to click his tongue, but he’d run out of spit along the way. Instead, he sighed nervously. No, this wasn’t the first time he had been summoned to speak to Nordain. But it was the first time he’d been summoned anywhere under guard.
“Sit down, Quickfellow,” one of the sentries said, a disdainful clip to his voice. They both regarded Thealos with open animosity. They should, after all. According to the customs of his people, he was practically anathema just being there. Was it only a formality now? A foregone conclusion in everyone’s mind?
Thealos regarded them coolly and then began to pace the keeping chamber. He was never one for sitting quietly for long bouts of time, and he walked in a short circle, thinking about what he would tell the Council Elder when he was brought in to speak to him. He was expecting another censure, that unless he followed the Shae customs as he ought, he would be banished from Avisahn and attainted from his family name. From that moment on, he would be Thealos Kil-Quickfellow. Being a Kilshae was enough of a threat to bully most from abandoning the Shae homeland. But Thealos thought that if he could show Nordain that he wasn’t frightened of it, perhaps he could convince him to change his mind or at least open it a little. Was that asking too much?
Knowing Nordain as he did, it probably was.
“You might as well sit down,” the taller sentry said. They were both shorter than Thealos, though wider around the chest. The sentry who addressed him had crisp blue eyes and a narrow face. “Elder Nordain will call for you soon enough.”
“Am I breaking a rule of Forbiddance by standing?” The last thing he needed was advice from the very men who would be called to escort him out of the city into exile. It would be done hours before dawn, before the city had awakened to witness the shame of it. Avisahn didn’t want its dirty linens wagging in the streets for all to see.