Celestine continued with the introductions. She indicated to the man on the Admiral’s right. “This is Justarch Yuri Osten, of Isle Parish.”
Selena bowed low. “Justarch Osten. An honor.”
An honor, she thought, so long as you are not here to send me to war.
A slender man with a salt-and-pepper beard worn impeccably neat and trimmed, Justarch Osten regarded her with a stony, thin-lipped silence. His doublet was a fine rich green in color, and gold rings glinted on several fingers. He might have been handsome had his expression been warmer. His answering nod was short and shallow.
“I understand your devotions on lesser isles have gone well,” Celestine said to Selena.
“I believe so, High Reverent.”
“I have heard your healing has brought relief to a great many who required it.”
“That was my aim, High Reverent.”
“Modest, eh?” Taliah muttered. “The news of your service arrived quicker than you.”
“You are strong in Aluren magic, Paladin Koren.” Celestine threw Taliah a short look. “The god has Heard you and Heard you clearly. And yet,” the High Reverent said stiffly, as if bracing herself, “your wound remains. And it’s with the intention of helping you find a means of healing it, did we summon you.”
Heal my wound.
She was stunned silent. Hope flared at the words. In the six years that Skye was the High Reverent and the four of Celestine’s rule, no one had offered or suggested any means of healing her wound.
“My petition…?” Selena ventured.
Celestine shook her head. “My hands are, as ever, tied on that matter, Paladin.”
Selena should have expected such an answer, but it was a sharp blow to the gut anyway. She swallowed her humiliation, mindful of every eye trained on her.
“Forgive me, I don’t wish to sound rude but why then must Admiral Crane and Justarch Osten be a party to Aluren business?”
Why must they be a party to my shame?
“The matter of your wound,” Justarch Osten said, his lips turning upward on the word as if he had tasted something sour, “is part and parcel to a greater issue concerning the Alliance.”
“We convened this morning before your arrival,” Celestine said, “and will continue our talks after you have taken your leave, such is the gravitas of the news that arrived this morning.”
Selena swallowed. “What news?”
“The not good kind,” Gerus said.
“The worst of it concerns the Bazira,” Celestine said. “It seems the faithful to our god’s darker aspect have grown mightily in numbers since the Zak’reth war, even as our own dwindle. The war’s devastation has proven very lucrative for them.”
“They grow and spread like a fungus in the dark,” Taliah muttered.
“Indeed,” Celestine said. “The Alliance saved many people of the Eastern Edge islands from the Zak’reth but then we—”
“Abandoned them,” Gerus put in.
“—returned home,” Celestine continued as if she hadn’t heard, “and they have few resources to rebuild. Many are angry and have turned to the Bazira.”
“Turned to the Bazira for what?” Selena asked. “To become adherents? Have that many Heard the Shadow face of the God?”
“Not adherents,” Gerus said. “The Bazira are building a damn army. A rough-shod, unorganized army of brutes and rogues, but an army nonetheless.”
“Inhabitants of the island cluster known as the Farendus Isles have taken to calling themselves the Forgotten Isles,” Celestine said. “These Forgotten Isles have suffered terrible atrocities, even though the war is ten years ended: murder, rape, robbery and such. Thieves and scoundrels and mercenaries have been ravaging the islands for a decade. But now, we believe these ruffians are being enticed to serve the Bazira.”
“If I recall, the Farendus Isles were always fiercely independent,” Selena said. “Why would they agree to serve anyone?”
“Doubloons. Food. Survival,” Gerus said. “The Forgotten Isles are a mess, and that’s all there is to it. Of course those Baziran bastards are behind it. Preying on the fears of people who have no hope. Goading and prodding them into thinking their way is the best way…”
“And so they are amassing willing soldiers, not adherents, though they outnumber us in that regard, as well.”
“Of course they do,” Taliah snapped. “During the war the Bazira sat back and watched us get slaughtered by the Zak’reth.” She turned to Selena. “Baziran strength is what makes it imperative that we obey Skye’s directives.”
Selena’s eyes widened and she took a step back. “You’ve heard from Skye?”
Without meaning to, her gaze went to Archer Crane. He remained slouched but she saw the tension in his jawline and he twisted his wedding ring with a vengeance. Selena had heard the whispering about him, that he would abandon the Western Watch—and his own son by his first marriage—to chase after Skye if he could. But having been the subject of so many rumors and whispering herself, Selena disdained such talk.
But to hear from Skye after all this time. Four years since the night she left Isle Lillomet with only a short list of orders to carry out in her absence. The rumor went that the list declined even a passing mention of her husband, the Admiral.
Celestine pursed her lips in annoyance. “One thing at a time, Reverent Taliah, if you please.” She sighed and turned to Selena. “A peliteryx came several days ago. We know not from where; the bird was unmarked for return and near mad with hunger. It killed two other peliteryxes and had to be put down. It carried a message from Skye, warning us of the unrest in the Forgotten Isles and how the Bazira seek to benefit from it.”
She drew forth several pages of parchment that wanted to curl for having been rolled to fit a peliteryx’s pouch canister.
“This is the better news. Here, she finally answers for us the question we have all been asking: why did she leave four years ago without word to her Temple, the Justarchy, or her…family,” she said, not looking at the Admiral. “Time is short to relay every detail. Suffice to say that Skye intends to bring harmony to all of Lunos, just as she did to the Western Watch.”
Selena let this information wash over her, hoping to feel relief or joy. She felt only confused. “To bring harmony? But how?”
“That’s the question, eh?” Gerus snorted. “It’s an empty promise if I ever heard one.”
Taliah rounded on him fiercely. “Your disrespect of Skye was galling enough in private chambers,” the Juskaran woman seethed. “It is made worse when displayed before this august council.”
“Respect Skye, do you?” Gerus huffed. “Is that what blind devotion is called nowadays?”
Taliah’s reddish-hued skin turned crimson and her gold eyes flared wide. The High Reverent laid a restraining hand on her arm.
“Reverent Gerus,” Celestine said, “now is not the time to state your concerns all over again.”
“No? I think it’s exactly the time and place, and I’ll state them over and over again until I’m heard.” The old warrior shook his head. “Cover your ruddy ears, Taliah,” he said, “because what I’m about to say will sound mighty disrespectful.”