Kandrina sipped her tea carefully, keen to avoid dripping any on the antique journal she was currently taking notes from. She was sat at her desk in Remlik's study, helping him examine some of the old journals of the Pokole Explorer's Guild. They had disbanded centuries ago, before the tribal merging, and their findings had become the subject of myths and children's tales. Recently, however, there had been a surge of interest in the Guild and their explorations, and many people had cited her and Remlik as the reason behind it. Their recent discoveries about the Colourless and the Li Buqu seemed to have inspired a lot of people's curiosity about the lands and races outside of the People's territory; Remlik was overjoyed at that, and had immediately begun searching for the explorers' journals.

He had tracked down a few, hidden in the libraries of Pokole; slowly, others had surfaced, as scholars revealed parts of their own private collections that they had kept secret until the fall of the old priests. Remlika had made copies of those that the owners did not want to part with, and Remlik was starting to build up quite a collection himself. The two of them had been making notes from the journals for a few weeks now, in an attempt to build up a more detailed picture of what creatures and people existed outside of the tribal lands, and whether they were likely to be friend or foe.

She made a few more notes on her parchment about the elven villages scattered throughout the hills, and turned to watch Remlik for a moment. He sat at his desk on the other side of the room, head bowed low over a sheaf of notes in his lap. He occasionally leant forwards to draw something on the large sheet of parchment covering his entire desk; he had told her last week he wanted to make a detailed map of the entire known continent, based on information from the journals, hence all the note-taking Kandrina had been doing. She had officially become his apprentice six months ago, and moved into the twins' spare room once everything had settled more or less back to normal after the Lizard War. Although she had technically been working with him since her adulthood ceremony two years ago, they had been too busy to get around to declaring her apprenticeship at Tewen town hall.

Kandrina took the opportunity to stretch her neck and arms a bit; she'd lost track of how long she'd been hunched over her desk, but it felt as though every muscle in her body had seized up. The fire in the grate was burning low, she noticed, and her teacup was almost empty. Might as well fix both problems at once, she thought, as she grabbed her cup and walked across to the fireplace. "Do you need a refill, Remlik?" she asked while she poured out her own.

Remlik looked up from his map, his dark eyes glinting in the firelight, and his usually tidy ebony hair ruffled and uncombed. He tended to neglect personal grooming somewhat when he was engrossed in a particular study. "Oh, yes please, Kandi. How are your notes coming along?"

"Fairly well," she replied, pouring more tea into his cup before setting the kettle back on the fire. She tossed another log into the grate, and sat back down. "This one seems to be about the elf villages in the hills; there are a few mentions of the dwarves as well, though nothing detailed about them. It's mainly the elves," she told him.

"You haven't got one of C's journals, have you? I think he spent a bit of time in the hills, though he was more interested in the south and west," he said, half mumbling the last sentence to himself.

Kandrina checked the front page of the journal. Underneath the Explorer's Oath, which was faithfully hand-copied into every journal, the name 'Seranti' was just about legible. "No, it's someone called Seranti. I think the last one I read was one of C's, though," she told him. "It had a lot of entries about the ice giants in the south. Was C famous or something, then?" she asked, curious. Remlik had mentioned an explorer called 'C' a few times now, always with a certain amount of reverence in his tone. It reminded her of the way her father had once spoken about the priests.

Remlik finally set down his quill and leant back in his chair. "C isn't just famous, Kandi; he's practically legendary. He was one of the Guild's most adventurous members," he told her. She settled back in her chair, ready for one of Remlik's lectures. "He was the first to travel far enough south to discover the ice giants, and wrote several journals about them. They say he stayed among them long enough to learn their ways, and became accepted into their society. He was also well known amongst the dwarves, and spent a lot of time mapping out their lands. Rumour has it he was also the only person ever to venture into the Forest of the West, and return alive."

That caught Kandrina's interest. "Return alive?" She had never heard much about the Forest of the West, nor had anyone else she knew; the place was something of a mystery, only mentioned in passing in a few old books.

Remlik nodded. "Yes, according to some of these journals the Forest was supposed to be the home of vicious spirits, who were extremely protective of the place. The dwarves call them 'Diyrae'… I don't know if you remember, I think Worrald mentioned them last time we were out there. Anyway, the legend says that a handful of explorers tried going in there, but none of them returned. C refused to believe any of it, said it was all nonsensical superstition, and they'd probably just been eaten by wild cralek or something. I think we've got a copy of his last journal here somewhere… well, not his last one, but the last one that got back home." He stood up and rummaged around on the bookshelf for a moment. "Here it is. I'll read the final entry out for you:

'Entry seventy-one. As I intend to dispel these ridiculous rumours of evil spirits and phantoms lurking in the Great Forest, I have returned to the dwarves for a while. I shall spend some time here, preparing for the journey and reacquainting myself with my old friend Dallikey, whose village this is; he and his lady wife have kindly offered to house me while I am here. He tells me that although this is the furthest western boundary of the dwarven lands, I still have four days' riding and another three of walking ahead of me to reach the fabled Forest. Apparently, horses refuse to go near the Forest, so I shall have to hike the last stretch.

'I intend to gather as much information as I can from the dwarves regarding the Forest and what I am likely to find there; though many of the more superstitious are reluctant to speak of the place, there must be some with more reasonable minds. I shall begin a fresh journal tomorrow, and use it to detail all the dwarves can tell me about the Great Forest. This journal ought to arrive back at the Guild Hall within a few weeks, as I am sending it by mounted messenger. My preparations for the trip to the Forest, and my findings within, shall be detailed in a fresh journal.' That's it; the fresh journal he said he'd start never made it back," Remlik told her.

"Why not? Did he lose it in the Forest?" Kandrina asked.

"Maybe. No one knows what happened out there," he replied. "C lost more than a journal in the Forest, though; the legend says that when he finally returned, he was never the same. There are a lot of different versions of the story, people supposing and imagining what he might have found out there, but nothing certain. He spent the rest of his life locked in his home, paranoid about something. Nobody has ever figured out what affected him so badly. It's probably in the lost journal, but I suppose we'll never know unless someone finds it," he said wistfully.

Kandrina thought hard, staring absently into the fire. This lost journal sounded like quite a mystery, and according to Remlik, it was a scholar's job to unravel mysteries and uncover the facts at the heart of them. Besides, the entry he had just read to her had caught her interest, and now she was curious about the Forest herself. "If C was staying with the dwarves before his journey, would he have gone back there after leaving the Forest?" she asked idly, turning to look at him.

Remlik tipped his head, looking thoughtful. "Possibly. He'd certainly have gone through the dwarven lands to get back home; he might have stopped at a few villages along the way," he replied. "Do you think he might have left his journal with the dwarves, Kandi?"

She shrugged. That particular possibility hadn't occurred to her, but she had had another thought. "Maybe, but I'd bet that he at least told some of them what happened, or what he found. It might be worth going out there to see what we can find out."

"You could be right," Remlik said with a smile. "We can make some plans, head out there and investigate a bit. I'll ask Wordarla if she's got a map of the dwarf lands next time she comes over."

Kandrina smiled back. Wordarla, the dwarven alchemist and a childhood friend of Remlik and his sister, had come back to the People's lands to help during the Lizard War, and had decided to stay after it ended. She had reopened her potion shop in Tewen, and often came to visit her old friends. "Sounds like a plan," she yawned. It was long past sunset, and she was starting to feel weary.

Remlik glanced up at the clock on the mantel, clearly trying to stifle a yawn of his own. "It's getting late. Shall we call it a night? We can carry on in the morning," he said, standing up to put out the fire. "Leave everything where it is; we'll only have to get it all back out again. Go get some sleep, Kandi, I'll wake you at sunrise."

She stood and stretched. "Alright. Goodnight, Remlik." She gave him a quick hug, then headed to her room. Since their first kiss at Chief Jindara's party, they had not had a lot of time or space to examine their budding romance. In a way, that was one reason Kandrina wanted to go on another journey with him, so they could work out their feelings away from distractions and her father's watchful eye. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about it; they had been friends for a long time, and she had enjoyed their one and only kiss, but she had absolutely no idea how to have a relationship with someone. Until a few years ago, she'd been too young to think about it, and since coming of age, she'd been too busy. She fluffed her pillow into shape and settled down, drifting into sleep quickly.

{--------------------}

Braklarn gazed thoughtfully out of the window at the setting sun, trying to bring to mind anything that could help his wife with her current problems. Not only was she unsure of what to do with the displaced citizens of Marnak, many of whom had set up a camp on the plains north of Tewen, but also her brothers Onkadal and Semark had been acting oddly since the end of the Lizard War. Onkadal had been behaving far more aggressively than usual, making a habit of marshalling his soldiers on the plains and drilling them as though preparing for battle; Semark had become very distant and uncommunicative, which seemed to be worrying Jindara more than Onkadal's behaviour.

"It's no use; I can't think of any way to get through to the pair of them," she exclaimed from behind him. He turned to face her. "Onka won't listen to me, no matter what I try; he's never been able to accept my authority. But at least he responds to my messengers, even if it is just to argue. Semark has ignored everything I've sent him, and now I have no word from the east at all. We haven't heard from Entamar lately, either."

Braklarn shook his head. "Not since that note from your ex-assistant four months ago. But Entamar has always been quiet; that's probably nothing to worry over." Jindara's assistant had gone out to the small, isolated village to check on things shortly after the end of the war, and had sent a letter of resignation back, declaring his intention to remain there and start a family with his new wife. "Tironde has been in touch though, hasn't she?"

Jindara sighed heavily. "Yes, she's still speaking to us. Not that she's sent much good news of late. You read her last letter, didn't you?"

"I did, and I still don't see what's so awful about it," Braklarn replied. "Just because some fishermen are starting to pray to Alrin-Fora again doesn't mean we're all heading for anarchy. They make their living from the sea; it makes sense that they worship a sea goddess," he said.

"Alrin-Fora isn't the problem, husband. I don't care if an absent sea goddess returns or not; the trouble will start when people begin worshipping some of the other old gods. We do not need disciples of war, vengeance and chaos running around spreading their vicious doctrines. It's bad enough having temples to death and suffering around here." She paused, staring into space. "What if the return to the old gods also means a return to the old ways? The tribes have been united for a century and a half now, and we have all come to rely on each other; we may not be able to cope with a separation, especially if it is forced on us by a few impulsive malcontents," she said.

This gave Braklarn pause; he had not considered that angle before. He had to admit things were looking uncertain, though. Onkadal was probably plotting ways to take over the Chieftaincy, gods only knew what Semark was doing out in Wirba, and now that he thought about it there had been a small number of dissidents among the People for some time. Since the old priests fell almost three years ago, there had been whispered rumours about splitting up the tribes and going back to the old ways. In light of all that, he could see why Jindara was so concerned. "Then you and your siblings need to show the People that the tribes are better off together," he told her softly.

Jindara focused on him, her concern for her people clearly etched into her face. "How can we? Two of my brothers are hardly even speaking to the rest of us at the moment."

"What about Devurak? If they spoke man-to-man, could he make Onkadal see reason?" asked Braklarn after a few minutes' thought. "That could at least help solve the known problem."

"That could work," Jindara replied slowly. "I can talk to Devurak about it; he's just as bothered by Onka's attitude as I am. But what about Semark? It's not just me he's ignoring, nobody else has heard much from Wirba since the Lizard War, either. Entamar going quiet is one thing, but…" she allowed her sentence to trail off, and resumed staring into the distance.

Braklarn turned back to the window, thinking hard. He remembered from his history lessons that before the tribal merging, Entamar and Wirba had been close allies; if the union did break down, they may well revive that alliance, but did it have anything to do with both towns' current silence? "He'd find it harder to ignore a personal visit," he murmured. "Maybe you or I should go out there and see what's happening for ourselves."

"Do you think that's wise?" Jindara sounded sceptical. "We've got no idea what's happening out there; maybe a group of secessionists has overthrown him, and that's why we haven't heard anything. If that is the case, it could be dangerous for either of us to show our faces."

Braklarn was fairly certain that was the worst-case scenario, but even if it was true, they would still need to find out in order to do something about it. He would go to Wirba himself, but first he needed to calm Jindara's nerves. He turned to face her, only to find that she was gazing at the floor. "If secessionists had taken over Wirba, wouldn't they be trying to keep suspicion at bay until they were able to assert their position? Cutting off contact would be the quickest way to ensure everyone knows something's wrong out there, so I don't think they'd do it. Why don't I head out there in a few days for a surprise visit to my brother-in-law? I can see what's going on, at least, and come back and report to you and the others," he suggested. "I can take care of myself, and I can always transport out if things do get ugly."

"Well… if you're sure you can keep yourself safe," Jindara replied. "I don't want Larinde growing up without her father." She smiled weakly at him before resuming her staring contest with the floor. "Now we just need to make a decision about Marnak. Do you think it's worth trying to rebuild the town?"

That was a much more complex topic. Personally, Braklarn would have said they should cut their losses, leave the rubble as it was, and try to settle the people from Marnak elsewhere. But while some of them might be able and willing to move to other towns, many of Marnak's citizens had lost their homes, livelihoods, and families. Those people were not inclined to completely abandon the town that had been home to their ancestors for generations. "I would say not, but I can't make that kind of decision for so many people. Maybe you should ask them; after all, it's their homes that were lost. They should have some say in whether they have to leave their past behind."

Jindara finally looked up and met his eyes properly. "Maybe you're right. But I don't like the idea of spending an enormous amount of time and resources to build a whole new town. Those damned lizards didn't exactly leave us much to work with; we probably can't re-use much of that pile of rubble." She rose and walked over to the window. For a while, husband and wife stood side-by-side, looking out. On a clear day, one could just make out some smudges of brownish-grey on the horizon – the nearest two villages of Akram. Today, however, a thick fog obscured almost everything beyond the glass. "I'll draft a notice tonight, asking former citizens of Marnak to attend a meeting in the town hall. I can lay out the facts and hold a vote; whatever the majority decide, we can work out a plan from there."

2: Chapter 2

Enkarini watched in fascination as Remlika demonstrated a simple levitation spell for her. She had finally persuaded her father to let her study magic, as well as alchemy; Remlika had offered to teach her months ago, if she wanted to learn, but Harndak had initially said no. ‘You’re too young to be messing about with something that dangerous,’ he had told her. After several weeks of pestering, cajoling and outright begging, though, he had given in. She had become Remlika’s student two weeks ago, and with a lesson almost every day, she was learning fast.
“Right then; your turn,” Remlika said as she made the old pillow they were using hover across to her. “Just like before. Think about the pillow floating, concentrate on that image, and open yourself up to the magic.”
The girl shut her eyes, picturing the flying pillow. When she felt the image was clear enough, she opened her eyes again, held out a hand, and tried to feel magical. She had no idea how this worked, but she had managed a couple of simple spells already; last week she had made her fingertips glow with a weird green light, and only yesterday she had managed to do what Remlika called a ‘projected sight’ spell, which conjured a flying magic eye that let her see far away things and places. She had only been able to send her magic eye into the next room before it faded, but Remlika had told her that was good for a new student, and the more she practiced the further she would be able to see.
The hovering pillow wobbled slightly as Enkarini took control of it, but stayed in the air. She let out a whoop of glee, incredibly pleased with herself for casting her third spell in two weeks – and the pillow flopped onto the floor, taking her pride with it. She stared morosely at it; she had really thought she’d got it then.
Remlika bent and picked it up. “Don’t look so down; that was good. Just remember to keep your focus while you’re casting. It’s okay to feel proud of yourself – you’re doing very well so far – but don’t let it distract you.” She held out the pillow, balanced on her palms, and smiled encouragingly. “Let’s try again, and hold on to your concentration this time.”
Enkarini smiled back, and focused once more on the pillow. She tried to build a detailed imaginary version of it; the deep red cover, the silvery embroidered pattern, the frayed tassel on one corner, all became part of her mental image. Then she visualized her imaginary pillow rising up from Remlika’s palms. Slowly, hesitantly, the real one wobbled into the air and hung there, just above Remlika’s head. Enkarini felt pleased again, but tried to stay focused on her spell. She wanted to try making it move around, but wasn’t quite sure how; maybe if she just pictured it moving, like she had pictured it floating, it would work. She imagined the pillow gently hovering around the room in a slow circle.
The pillow zoomed off, bouncing around the walls and bumping into ornaments before it flew out of an open window. They heard someone shout in surprise, and both student and teacher ran across to see what had happened. A man stood in the middle of the road, looking quizzically at the pillow, which lay innocently on the ground at his feet. “Sorry, student mage,” Remlika called to him. “Can we have our pillow back?”
The man tossed it over and walked off grumbling. Enkarini stared at her shoes, feeling embarrassed and quite tired. Magic was really hard work; her brain felt like it had been pounded against her father’s anvil. “I didn’t mean to make it go so fast,” she apologized. “I was just trying to make it float around the room a bit.”
“It’s fine, no permanent damage done. That’s what we call an overcall; where the mage is so intent on the spell that they call up more magic than they need to cast it. The excess magic has to go somewhere, and it ends up overcharging the spell. Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us; more often than we’d like to admit, actually,” Remlika reassured her. “That’s probably enough casting for today though. I expect you have a rather large headache after that.”
Enkarini nodded, thanked her for the lesson and went to pick up her coat. Since the lizards had burnt up their old home, her father had decided to buy an old, unused forge in Tewen. It was only a few streets away, so Enkarini could walk home by herself.
“You’re not leaving yet, young lady,” Remlika called. “Have you forgotten you’re supposed to be taking a history lesson from my brother?”
The girl turned back. She had hoped to get away with it this time… When Harndak had agreed to let her learn magic, his only condition had been that Remlik kept her up to speed with what she should be learning at school. She didn’t mind too much, as she liked Remlik and sometimes got to chat with Kandrina if she wasn’t busy, but the lessons could be so dull and her poor head was really hurting today. “Oh, alright,” she said heavily, dragging her feet up the stairs to Remlik’s study. When she reached the door, she knocked quietly and waited, rubbing her head with one hand. Maybe Remlik would let her off lightly if she explained about the headache and the overcall. “Come in,” she heard. She pushed the door open and entered the small, cosy room.
The door was halfway between the two desks, directly opposite the fireplace. A small fire was burning there, enough to keep the kettle warm and gently heat the room. The window behind Kandrina’s desk let in the late autumn sunlight, bathing the room in a soft glow. Both Remlik and Kandrina stood behind Remlik’s desk, examining a big map and an old book.
“So if we head out this way, we should reach that dwarf village within a month or so,” Kandrina mumbled, tracing a line on the map with her finger. “Should we take a cart, do you think?”
Remlik tilted his head slightly. “I’m not sure. We’d be able to travel quicker if we just had a couple of horses, but we’d need to be careful with supplies. A cart could carry more, but… let’s think about it. We’ve got a while before we leave, and we still need to find out what weather to expect along the way. I don’t fancy camping under ten feet of snow,” he joked.
“Um, Remlik? I’m supposed to be learning history now,” Enkarini said quietly. Both of them looked up at her. She wasn’t sure, but she thought they looked a little bit guilty about something. “If you’re busy I don’t mind skipping it today,” she told them.
Kandrina and Remlik exchanged an amused look. “Let’s finish this off later, Kandi. I’d hate to disappoint your sister when she’s so eager for her lessons,” Remlik said. Kandrina smiled, and rolled up the map. Remlik walked across to one of the bookshelves and pulled out a small, battered looking book. “Don’t worry; I heard my sister saying something about an overcall, so I’ll go easy on you. I know they can be a real pain if you’re not used to handling magic. We’ll just review the succession of Chieftains since the uniting, then you can go home.”
Enkarini almost sighed with relief. She had learnt the succession of Chieftains in school, and could remember all of them. There hadn’t been that many, only four since old Morendir, so it should only take half an hour or so to recap who they were and what they’d done. With any luck, she’d be home before the streets got too crowded.

{----------}

Kolena watched the priest quietly from her position behind the bookshelves. Gistran, high priest of Vrenid-Malchor, had been spending a lot of time in the library lately, and he had been looking up the oddest things. Today, for example, he had spent practically the entire afternoon reading about the ice cults of Pokole before moving on to the nature gods of Wirba. She was curious about why the Creator’s high priest might be researching the old religions, as the temple of Vrenid-Malchor had always been one to reject anything that might challenge their god’s supremacy. Perhaps this was a consequence of the recent interest in history and exploration, she thought. Gistran had always seemed more open-minded than previous high priests; rumour had it he even dabbled in sorcery now and then, something no priest or priestess outside the knowledge temple had ever done before. For some reason, being near him for any length of time gave her the creeps, although he had not done or said anything to make her uncomfortable. Her mother would have referred to the feeling as ‘bad vibes’; Kolena simply thought of it as her own mind playing tricks on her. Priests were good men, right? She tried to shake off the feeling; it was probably nothing, anyway.
As she watched, he raised his head from the tattered scroll he was reading. “Kolena,” he called softly.
She waited a moment, then stepped out from behind the shelf. “Yes, holiness?” Benign as he seemed on the surface, she did not want him to suspect she had been spying on him.
“Would you bring me a new candle, dear? I’m almost blind over here,” he said, nodding towards his sputtering candle with a faint smile.
“Of course,” she replied, ducking back behind the shelf to fetch a candle from the nearest sconce. She would have time to replace it before tomorrow evening, and she did not want to keep Gistran waiting too long. She had a feeling he could be important in some way, and wanted to stay in his good books. She carried it carefully back to his table, replaced the almost burnt out one in the holder, and stood waiting for any further instructions. He watched her for a few minutes, and she found herself hoping that he would keep to his vows of celibacy. She knew she was not a beautiful woman, but her dark skin and small, almost boyish body had attracted unwanted attention in the past. She was twenty-one summers old, well aware of the desires of men, and also knew that some were rather deviant from what was accepted. The temple sheltered her to some degree; other young girls had not been so lucky.
“Thank you, dear,” he said as he looked back at his scrolls, his brief interest in her apparently faded. “Have you any further duties, or are you able to assist me with my note taking for a while?”
Kolena blinked, considering her options. She had more or less finished her duties around the shrine, and the library itself was tidied for the night; she could make some excuse, she supposed, but this could be her chance to speak with him a little, and perhaps find out why he was researching the old religions. “I have completed my duties for now, so I have some time to help you. I shall fetch more parchment and join you in a moment, holiness,” she said slowly. She wandered off to the desk in the corner, to take some sheets of parchment and a spare quill from the drawers. Not for the first time, she wondered where the other acolyte, Crenkari, had gone. Rumours abounded that she had abandoned her temple vows and run off with Prince Michael; she had always thought the girl was too embroiled in her own emotions to properly serve the goddess, anyway. She, and her flirtatious manner, had been the main reason many people visited the library; curvy, vivacious and with hair a wonderful shade of fiery red, Kolena had been jealous of the younger girl, in a detached sort of way. But now she was gone, and Kolena tended the library alone until the next acolyte arrived.
She returned with her sheaf of parchment and pulled over a spare chair. “Shall I annotate from the text, or would you like me to take dictation, holiness?” she asked politely.
“Take notes from the text where I indicate, I can add in my own observations later,” he replied. “Start here, with this passage about Wirba’s god of water.” He tapped a section of the scroll nearest her.
Kolena examined it for a moment, and began scribbling notes. ‘God of the Water, Banak-Rothk – ruler of the Lakes and bringer of rain…’ The passage was quite short, and mostly babbled on about the god’s love for the goddess Venri, Wirba’s Queen of Gods. She completed her notes fairly quickly, and looked up expectantly, ready for the next passage. Gistran did not speak, but tapped another section of the scroll lower down. She scanned it briefly, saw that it was a passage on Hikli-Yari, Wirba’s goddess of light, and wrote down the important points on her parchment.
“Excellent, dear.” Gistran reviewed her notes so far, and swapped the Wirba scroll with another. This one was very faded and torn in places, but still mostly readable. “Now, this one is about the old god of Chaos; this is a particular area of interest to me, so if you could make some nice, detailed notes that would be appreciated.”
Kolena nodded, and began her notes. ‘Rolar-Triak, the ancient god of Chaos. Legend says he is brother to Ralor-Kanj, the god of balance. Once worshipped by the Marnak tribe, considered second to their High God Chor. Of all the gods, absent and present, Rolar-Triak is thought to be one of the five most powerful, alongside Entamar’s Mistress, Dranj-Aria, Ralor-Kanj and the Creator himself. Chaos is an unpredictable god, and is prone to impulsive, reckless behaviour that has been known to endanger many mortal lives in the past.’ The scroll continued in this vein for some time, and Kolena got the impression that the writer, whoever he or she had been, was not fond of the temple of Chaos. She continued with her notes, glancing across at the high priest now and then. Outwardly, he appeared to be absorbed in the tome he was reading, but his eyes were not moving across the text as they should have been. She decided to be bold and ask him what his interest was in the old gods.
“Holiness, might I ask you something?” she began respectfully. “I was only wondering, why has the Creator’s temple suddenly shown such an interest in the absent gods?”
Gistran looked over at her, his pale grey eyes almost shining in the candlelight. “Oh, I have no doubt the temple is just as indifferent to the absent gods as ever; this is a personal study of mine. You see, before I felt called to the temple, I was something of a scholar myself. I could not join your order, as it only admits women, so the Creator’s temple was the obvious choice. Even our acolytes have access to information the priests of other orders are hard pushed to find,” he told her. “With the exception of Talri-Pekra’s followers, of course. Your order is incredibly lucky to be the keepers of knowledge,” he said, his tone almost admiring.
Kolena held his gaze for a moment, before smiling and returning to her notes on the chaos god. He had sounded sincere, a genuine scholar expressing his desire for knowledge; yet something in his eyes told a different story. Perhaps he was like her, someone looking to revive old practices and restore lost knowledge in a more tangible way than ink on parchment. She would have to let her friends know about her suspicions, so they could discuss it next time they met. Maybe Gistran was part of another secessionist group – if so, they might be able to join forces and gain further support for their cause. Since the Lizard War and the destruction of Marnak, more people were seeking a return to independence from a single Chief’s rule. After all, what was good for one tribe was not always good for another. She frowned to herself as she wrote down the details of Chaos’ priests and their sermons. She hoped she was right about him; as sincere as he seemed, and as useful as he might be, she still had an uneasy feeling about him.

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Jindara sat in her chair, waiting for her sister to finish flirting with the guards and enter the hall. The place seemed emptier than usual; not only was the fussy, fidgety presence of her old assistant missing, but several of the old tapestries around the walls were also gone. She had sent them to be restored over the summer, and most of them had not yet been returned. Still, at least her favourite had been brought back to its’ former glory; a large, detailed expanse of weaving that told the story of how the Sun Lord Alch had created the Angel Stars. Though worship of the old sun god had long since been abandoned, the tale of the Angel Stars had remained popular with generations of children since, and it had been one of Jindara’s favourites growing up. She admired it while she waited; the restorers had done an excellent job on it. A sudden burst of fanfare roused her from contemplation, and she realised Hinasi must finally be on her way into the hall. Jindara sat up straighter, and awaited her sister’s entrance.
The double doors swung open, and Hinasi’s escort of four dress-armoured soldiers and two incense-swinging acolytes preceded her into the hall. Bewein’s Vice-Chief entered last, wearing an overly intricate dress and a serious expression. She bowed to Jindara, dismissed her escort, and at last took her seat opposite the Chief.
“Must you always put on such a production, Hinasi?” Jindara asked fondly.
Hinasi adjusted her sleeves before answering. “One of us ought to remember proper decorum, sister,” she said pompously. Jindara would have been irritated by her attitude, except she knew Hinasi didn’t mean any insult and genuinely did consider her elaborate entrance a simple matter of propriety; a visit to the Chief of the People required pomp and ceremony, even if the Chief was also her sister. “How are things in Tewen?”
Jindara nodded. “Fairly well, considering; it seems most of our People are putting their lives back together again after the war. And Bewein?”
“Bewein is doing fine; we have had an influx of people from Marnak moving to the village, so we have a fair amount of building work going on at the moment,” Hinasi told her. “We may even be able to call ourselves a town soon.”
 “That sounds good,” Jindara replied, clapping for a maid to bring refreshments. When they arrived, she continued. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
Hinasi looked faintly uncomfortable. “Can I not simply call upon my sister?” she asked, making a big fuss of pouring out her tea so that she did not have to meet Jindara’s eyes.
Jindara smiled. “Hinasi, if this had been a simple social call, you would be overflowing with gossip and I would not have gotten a word in edgeways.”
The cup rattled in its’ saucer as Hinasi looked up. “You always could read me like an open book, sister.” She took a deep breath. “I find myself in need of advice, on a matter that has been troubling me for some time. Though I do not know where to begin; this is a rather unusual issue, and quite disturbing.”
Jindara nodded, and asked her maid to send in her husband, Braklarn, if he had not yet left for Wirba. His advice was always insightful, and had helped her on many occasions. “I am sure that between the three of us, we can find some solution to your troubles, sister,” she said kindly, while they waited.
 “I sincerely hope so. I have a note from Devurak on the matter as well, and it seems he has been experiencing the same problem for a while now.”
“What problem might this be?” asked Braklarn as he entered the room. He bowed to Hinasi before taking his place next to his wife. “I was about to leave, but your maid said you were discussing something important.”
Hinasi looked over at him, her usual calm and collected manner absent for once. “We are indeed. I have been made aware of something that is occurring amongst the people of Bewein, Pokole, and perhaps Tewen, though I cannot be certain of that,” she said quietly. “Are you aware, sister, of the amount of people that have been disappearing over the last year or so?”
Jindara thought back. She remembered her father had called a meeting last autumn, and one of the subjects discussed had been some missing people, but they had all put it down to the nayrim attacks that had been happening. Now that she thought about it, she recalled Devurak mentioning something about a missing townsperson being found in a bit of a state, but she had thought little of it at the time. “I have heard mention of people vanishing,” she said. “Have you discovered the cause, then?”
“More than that; many of them have been found, or what is left of them, at least.” She paused to take a long gulp of her tea, and seemed to be gathering her nerve. Jindara had never seen her garrulous sister so lost for words before. “My town watch discovered a body, some weeks ago; it had been dumped in the offal pit outside our slaughterhouse. One of the knowledge priestesses identified him as a homeless man, who quite often took shelter in the library in bad weather. He… was in an awful state, sister. The marks and cuts on his flesh…” she shuddered. “I have never seen the like of it before.”
Jindara frowned in concern. “You think there is a murderer on the loose?” While killings were always a cause for disquiet, she wondered why Hinasi was so shaken by this; while uncommon, murder was not unheard of amongst the People. Anonymous remains occasionally appeared in shallow graves, or were dumped in gutters or back alleys. She must have dealt with a few in her time as Vice-Chief.
Hinasi shook her head. “I honestly do not know, but if there is it is a far worse killer than we have ever known. The body in the offal pit was not the only one the watch found, once they started looking.” She refilled her cup shakily, and stirred in three generous spoonfuls of syrup before continuing. “A hunter had noticed some disturbed patches of dirt on the plains to the west of the village, and one of the watchmen heard him talking about it in an inn. He asked the hunter to show him where these patches were, and the next morning he took a small patrol and some shovels to see what was there. They uncovered fifty corpses in all, sister. The western boundary of our village has become a graveyard, and we have yet to identify most of the remains.”
The three of them sat watching each other in shocked silence for a while. Braklarn had simply listened, taking in the information with his usual impassivity; Jindara had grown more worried by the minute. She remembered, from when she was still a girl, that the People had once had a prolific serial murderer running rampant through the lands; known as the Slasher, he had killed eight people before being caught and hung. But everyone had known there was a dangerous man roaming the streets after his third victim was discovered, so how could this person have killed so many without even being noticed?
Hinasi cleared her throat. “Sister, I have a letter from Devurak that explains his own town watch’s findings; there have also been thirty-five killed in Pokole, that he knows of.” She handed Jindara a furled scroll, bearing Devurak’s seal. “I have heard rumours that similar numbers are still missing, with no trace found yet, and that the same thing is happening here, in Tewen.”
“Impossible! If my townspeople were being brutally murdered, I would know about it!” Jindara exclaimed indignantly. “Have you considered, sister, that these people may simply have died from beast attacks? Many of the nayrim victims were never found, perhaps these are the ones lost to the beasts last year, that some compassionate person has discovered and buried in paupers’ graves.” She knew she spoke more from wishful thinking than actual possibility, but surely someone would have noticed so many people vanishing; it had to be possible that these deaths were not the work of some insane murderer.
Hinasi fidgeted in her chair, looking extremely disturbed. “I saw some of the bodies, sister. It looked as though a butcher had attacked them; they were not animal wounds. The poor souls have been tortured and carved up like Eighth Day roast.” She looked at Braklarn for a moment, then back at Jindara. “You do realise why nobody has noticed anything before now?”
Jindara shook her head. She had no idea, but she had a nasty feeling about this whole thing.
“The people who have been killed are not worth noticing,” murmured Braklarn. “At least, not in many people’s eyes. You said the man found in the offal pit was a homeless beggar, Hinasi?” She nodded. “And I would guess that the ones found buried on the plains were also beggars, homeless, or even thieves and orphans?”
“The ones we have been able to identify, yes,” she replied. “Devurak has said the exact same thing; beggars and thieves, poor orphaned children, those with nobody to report when they disappear, and nobody to care when they show up dead.”
It suddenly made an awful kind of sense to Jindara. “But why has this person – or people – taken so many lives?” she asked, not really expecting an answer; after all, what sane person could fathom the motives of a crazed killer?
“Perhaps they are performing some kind of experiments,” Braklarn mused. “Much as scholars studying anatomy will dissect a frog, or a nentila, perhaps this person is experimenting with humans. Who truly knows? Maybe they are part of a cult that engages in human sacrifice; we all know they have existed in the past, and who is to say they won’t be revived?”
Jindara tried not to think too far along that path, and pulled her mind back to the issue at hand – finding and capturing this person before anyone else died. Before she could say anything, though, Braklarn spoke up again.
“You know, now that I think about it, I haven’t heard anything from Dekarem since the war ended,” he said thoughtfully. “An old acquaintance of mine, we studied magic together. Remember, he was my groomsman at our wedding; he went up to the Li Buqu lands with Remlika and her brother,” he reminded them.
Jindara thought quickly. “Bald, skinny, sarcastic and annoying?” she asked to confirm she was thinking of the right man. Braklarn nodded. “I recall. Did he come back from the lizards’ lands, then?”
“Yes, I saw him at the feast you threw for Prince Michael. He was making plans with Remlika to start teaching apprentice mages some of the lizard magic, I think. I haven’t seen or heard from him since then, though.”
“Do you think he might know something about these bodies?” Hinasi asked, leaning forwards. Her embroidered sleeve trailed into the dregs of her tea, but she didn’t seem to notice.
Braklarn shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I just mentioned it because he could be missing too. Or maybe he’s just not talking to me for some reason.”
Jindara looked at him. “You don’t seem very worried,” she remarked. If it had been one of her friends, she would be a lot more anxious knowing there could be some kind of madman running around.
“He’s done this before, just stopped speaking to everyone and vanished from sight for months. Usually there’s no explanation, he just turns up one day and says ‘so what have I missed?’ It’s something you get used to if you’ve known the guy for a few years.” He stared pensively into his cup. “Although, there might be a connection… you’ve both met him, you know how cantankerous he can be… he was talking about ‘the evil within the temples’ the last time I spoke to him, getting really antsy about it, but he wouldn’t say what he meant.” He started chewing on his nails, a habit Jindara had tried to get him to break many times. “Hinasi, you said something about marks on the remains; what kind of marks?”
Hinasi rubbed at her eyes. “Bruises, mainly, but there seemed to be a pattern to the cuts. Seven shallow cuts down each side of the chest, and a clockwise spiral etched into their backs. The death cut was the same on each body; a deep cut to the left side of the neck. It almost looks like some kind of ritual, but my scholars have not found anything like it in religious texts yet.”
Braklarn frowned deeply, obviously thinking hard. “A clockwise spiral… Let me think on this for a while. I’m sure I remember reading something about the number seven, and a clockwise spiral, but I don’t recall where. I’ll have to do some digging in my old texts… excuse me, ladies. I have a trip to prepare for, and a lot of books to check for obscure references.” He stood, bowed to each of them, and left in a great hurry.
“So what should we do in the meantime?” Hinasi wondered aloud. She had finally noticed her wet sleeve, and was trying to wring it out over her cup. “Can we spare any watchmen to make extra patrols through the poor quarters? Or would that simply force this killer to retreat further into the shadows?”
“He has been clever so far, sister,” said Jindara. “I say he, of course we cannot discount the possibility this is a woman, or more than one person, but for simplicity’s sake let us call him a he. He has operated slowly, and methodically; scheduling extra patrols would probably only force him to become even more calculating than he already is. Perhaps we could use the watchmen in another way,” she suggested, remembering an idea that had helped to catch the Slasher. “Rather than increasing patrols through the poor quarter, we appear to decrease them. We station watchmen disguised as beggars throughout the streets, and have them report in anything they think is suspicious.”
Hinasi smiled for the first time since arriving. “Brilliant, sister!” she exclaimed. “A kind of spy network, a trap to catch a killer. I shall return to Bewein and set it in place immediately,” she said, leaping up from her seat and almost running from the room, forgetting for once the fuss she usually made on her exit. Jindara watched her leave, once again mired in worries and uncertainties, and wondering how her father had done this for so long. Perhaps it would be for the best if the tribes did go their separate ways, she thought wryly. At least then I would only need to worry about what happens in this town.