was Gargarin who led them to the entrance on the outskirts of the province, knowing the exact words to speak to the Sebastabolian who lived in a cottage above it. The woman signalled for them to follow with their horses to the stable outside. When the horses were settled, she showed them back inside wordlessly and led them down into the basement.
‘Something’s wrong,’ Froi whispered to Gargarin and Lirah as they climbed down the shaft. Gargarin didn’t respond. Froi glanced at him, wondering what his relationship with the hidden Priests was. A fury remained in Gargarin after his reaction to Arjuro’s imprisonment in Lumatere. Froi had no idea when it was going to unleash itself.
Froi knew exactly where to find Arjuro’s cavern, hurrying through the strangely quiet passageways that he had last seen bustling with voices and life. But Arjuro’s chamber lay empty. His books and surgical instruments were still there, but Froi sensed that the room hadn’t been inhabited for days. He wondered if Arjuro had returned from accompanying him, or had the Priestling met foul play somewhere on that ghostly road that cut across the kingdom?
Froi watched Gargarin pick up one of Arjuro’s medical chronicles. They heard a sound behind them and Marte was there. She beckoned with a hand, but didn’t speak.
‘Marte, what’s happened here?’ Froi asked as they followed her down the passageway. But she didn’t respond. ‘Marte, speak to me!’
Gargarin placed a finger to his own lips to quieten Froi. He pointed to the inside of one of the caverns they passed and Froi saw a couple huddled together, weeping quietly.
‘They’re in mourning,’ Gargarin whispered. ‘It’s forbidden to speak outside a private chamber.’
Although Froi could see no sign of destruction, his memory of Tariq’s compound made him fear the worst. They reached the residence of the
The girl left them there and Froi climbed down before helping Lirah and Gargarin.
Simeon was seated at his desk, head bent over his correspondence. He continued with his work, not indicating he knew they were there.
‘Where’s my brother?’ Gargarin demanded, his voice abrupt.
Simeon finished what he was writing and only then did he put down his quill.
‘What’s happened here, Simeon?’ Froi asked, giving Gargarin a warning look. ‘Why the silence?’
The Head Priest finally stood up and Froi saw emptiness in the man’s stare.
‘Gargarin says you’re in a state of mourning.’
Simeon glanced at Gargarin, ignoring Lirah completely.
‘Who’s dead, Simeon?’ Froi asked. ‘Where’s Arjuro?’
‘Arjuro has gone to sing home the spirits of the dead. I don’t know when he’ll be back. Last time he was sent on a mission he didn’t return for ten years.’
Before Froi could speak another word, Gargarin hobbled to Simeon and pressed the Trist leader to the wall of the cave.
‘I came here and begged to know where my brother was,’ Gargarin hissed, close to Simeon’s ear. ‘And all those years you told me nothing.
Froi stood between them, shoving Gargarin away gently. After months of contained silence, suddenly Gargarin had turned into a madman.
Simeon pushed past them and walked back to his stool.
‘You were last seen in the palace throwing the Oracle and a child to their deaths, Gargarin,’ the Priest said calmly. ‘Witnessed by your brother. Regardless of what I know now, how could I possibly have trusted you when you came searching for Arjuro?’
‘Because he was my brother and I had the right to know he was trapped in Lumatere.’
Simeon rubbed at his jaw and poured water from the pitcher.
‘Ten years ago when you came searching for him, we had no idea where Arjuro was. We suspected he had reached Sarnak and that he had been forced to travel the long way home back to Charyn because of the Lumateran curse.’
He took a sip of his water and Froi noticed his trembling hands.
‘We never imagined Arjuro was trapped inside Lumatere, let alone imprisoned. Most of us hoped he had found the boy and kept him safe all that time. We were shocked when he returned as skin and bones with no idea of Dafar’s whereabouts.’
But Gargarin was shaking his head and if it wasn’t for Lirah’s hand on his shoulder, Froi knew he would have attacked Simeon again.
‘You know what I think frightened you, Priest?’ Gargarin spat. ‘That I would have searched and found him. That I would have convinced him to stay away from this cesspit of a kingdom. You Priests were no better than the palace. You wanted to own the most powerful spirits in this kingdom and you weren’t willing to let Arjuro go.’
Simeon’s stare stayed impassive.
‘We see events in different ways, Gargarin,’ he said. ‘You say we wanted to own, and we say we wanted to protect. From the very beginning the palace wanted what the godshouse nurtured. And what they couldn’t possess, they destroyed. There’s nothing more frightening to those in charge than learned people; it’s why the palace always strikes at brilliant young minds and those who teach them.’
Gargarin made a sound of disgust.
‘Your weakness, Gargarin, was your ambition. Did you know the Oracle didn’t trust you and would have done everything to keep Arjuro away from his brother in the palace?’
‘Oh, she told you that, did she? After your elders snatched her from her people when she was thirteen? Don’t talk to me about ambition, old man.’
Gargarin’s eyes blazed with emotion. ‘My weakness was my brother,’ he continued, ‘and nothing awed me more than his blessings. My ambition sprung from wanting his respect. And you didn’t trust me with the truth of where he was because you would have done anything to sever the tie between us.’
Simeon waved away Gargarin’s words.
‘All the same, we’ve finally found a use for you.’
Froi bristled at Simeon’s tone and words. He had never seen Gargarin as the lesser brother, but until Gargarin’s time in the palace as a young man, it seemed he had always come second to Arjuro. Especially in the eyes of those in the godshouse.
‘The Provincari are meeting in Sebastabol city as we speak,’ Simeon said. ‘To decide the fate of the kingdom and to determine if there is truth in the mad Quintana’s words. Yet there was no invitation to those of us who represent the godshouse.’
Simeon’s lips thinned with displeasure. ‘Charyn cannot start anew without the blessing of the godshouse. It’s a good thing you’ve arrived at this time, Gargarin. The Provincari will listen to you. If you want a place for those like your brother in the new Charyn, you go and see them. Talk on our behalf.’
Gargarin shook his head. ‘I’m here to collect Arjuro, not to be sent on a fool’s errand for the godshouse. Haven’t my brother and I given enough for Charyn?’
‘We all have,’ Simeon said, and Froi saw a flare of pain in the old man’s eyes.
‘You Priests all hid the moment you could and let this kingdom go to ruin,’ Gargarin accused.
‘Yet you trusted us with the lastborn all those years ago,’ Simeon reminded him. ‘We must have been worth something once, Gargarin.’
‘Necessity. Nothing else.’
Simeon nodded, his eyes suddenly on Froi.
‘It’s a good thing, then. Because despite everything, our lastborn was clever enough to stay alive. And if we are to believe Arjuro, Dafar has done more than stay alive. He’s fathered a cursebreaker.’
‘So you’ll take credit for that now?’ Gargarin asked. ‘Are you writing your letters to Priests across the kingdom, Simeon?’ he added, looking at the quill and parchment on Simeon’s desk. ‘Congratulating yourself?’
‘No, not at all,’ Simeon said. ‘I’m writing a letter to my daughter to advise that the corpse of her son is lying in the grasslands beyond Serker with his eyes gouged out by vultures. His spirit perhaps lost for eternity. You see,
