“Don’t mind him,” the other sentry said. “We’ll see how proud he stands when the Elder finishes with him. I’ve seen lads two Silvan years older than him weeping like babies when it’s over.” He gave Thealos a challenging glare.
He’s mocking my youth, Thealos thought and tried not to smile. What an idiot. Thealos then ignored them, focusing his thoughts on what would happen beyond the sculpted doorway. The gnawing considerations infuriated him. Correl didn’t understand. Neither did Sorrel. How could they? They had both followed the proper paths of the Shae all their lives. They were content to spin out their days in Avisahn even though the Shae had once controlled the entire valley. Did they even know what he was going through? Could they know? Thealos clenched his fists, pacing swiftly. It was time to leave Avisahn. Not for the rest of his life. Not until the gods returned with Safehome and made the world new again. Only for a season or two. Why? How could he explain it? A feeling – a prompting. A whisper from the gods? Or maybe from his own mind, desperately hungering for what lay beyond the borders of the Shae kingdom. For knowledge, not just history lessons. For a chance to wear a sword and not only as a decoration like the two sentries did. But if Nordain banished Thealos from Avisahn, he would never be able to return. Was a little freedom truly worth risking that?
The council door opened.
“Thealos of the house of Quickfellow,” the robed attendant said. He stared at the young Shae with emotionless eyes. As if the young Shae were a rock or a pond – some unliving thing.
“I am Thealos.”
“The Council Elders will now see you.”
Elders? Thealos thought in confusion. He was expecting to see Nordain and his priests, certainly not the Council Elders of Shenalle or Keasorn too. Thealos nodded and followed the attendant into the chamber. He was greeted with the flavored scent of spice candles, a musky smell that always made him think of Nordain. He saw the fat Elder sitting in the cushioned armchair behind a wide desk. Two thick candles illuminated the polished desk inset with streaks of blue marble. A sheaf of papers sat arranged before him along with a tall chalice of spiced wine, the Elder’s favorite drink. He was a big man, for a Shae, with curling ash-blond hair that was cut above the frill of his shirt. He was already balding, but his face was smooth except for a single pockmark on his right cheek. His eyes were gray and fierce. A platter sat just within arm’s reach, and his belly showed his weakness for the delights of the baking guilds assembled there.
Entering the council chamber, Thealos saw the witnesses assembled in the stuffed chairs around the room. He recognized the Council Elder of Shenalle, Trinton by name, and two captains from the Legion Army of Avisahn were obviously representing Keasorn. There were other witnesses too. His eyes quickly scanned those assembled, one from each section of society. There were more than enough already to banish him tonight. His blood went cold. Nordain obviously wanted an audience.
“Greet the Council Elder, Thealos,” Correl whispered from behind him. Thealos felt his father’s tight grip on his arm.
He twisted free of his father’s grasp and gave him a challenging look. “I’ve been here before, Correl,” he said, seething, uncomfortable with the stares pricking him.
“Be seated, Thestyr,” Nordain said, casually waving Correl away. “You’re his Correl, but I’d like to speak to your son for a moment. Yes, your seat…over there. Very good. Come in, Thealos.”
Thealos took a deep breath and approached the table. He dropped to one knee, bowed his head and then rose. “I come as summoned, Council Elder.”
“Oh, I do appreciate your obedience,” Nordain said with a mocking smile. He sipped from the silver chalice and regarded Thealos coolly. “Do I understand correctly that you have not chosen your calling yet?”
Thealos was forced to stand in the center of the hall, all eyes upon him. That was intimidating enough. He could feel the intensity of their eyes, so he stared down at the floor to steel his courage. Nordain would not make him cry. No matter what happened. He quelled the trembling in his stomach so his voice wouldn’t falter. Nordain would try and trick him with his words if he could. He always did. “No, I don’t think you do, Elder Nordain.”
“Then you have decided?” He sounded amused. “Which of our three gods will you serve then?”
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t think you really understand what my calling is.”
“Ahh, your ‘true’ calling. This…calling of yours is the one we’ve spoken of before?” Thealos nodded. “And you feel – what, inspired that you should leave the home of the Shae to wander about aimlessly with the humans in the valley?”
Thealos’ stomach twisted with frustration. Nordain was trying to belittle his feelings again. He gave the Council Elder an arch look. “Didn’t this entire valley once belong to the Shae, Elder Nordain? From the Ravenstone to the Kingshadow and down to the sea. Am I wrong? Then how can you say I’m leaving my homeland?”