Forty-nine

The goddess’ words resonated in his mind and Cyran couldn’t pull himself out of their contemplation. Imos was the god of justice, righteousness, he was supposed to put things right but according to the goddess it also meant he was the god of injustice, a god of wrongs… His desire to make his father do as he was meant to might be misplaced being unjust and wrong may be as much a part of him as… 

Eludora startled him by cupping his face. “Little one… I didn't mean to upset you. I should have known a son of Imos would be troubled by that lesson.” 

“I thank you for it, Divinity, but I have so many questions. Can a god-can gods be...” He struggled to put them into words.

“You can still be a god of honesty. At times our… purviews overlap. Mabor and I…” She stopped and smiled, “That wasn’t your concern.”

“No Divinity. I wanted to help him return to himself but if injustice and wrongs are-” Cyran stopped as her perfect pink mouth formed an O.

“You misunderstood, little one. They fall in his purview but he is meant to uphold justice for those who worship him and give redress where he can, it’s why they worship him. He should be able to see the lines clearly. I will speak to his father and he can be gently helped to become more himself again.” 

Her words felt like warm water on sore muscles and he relaxed, inclining his head, “I thank you, Divinity.”

“Come with me, little one. Your cousin should be caught once she tries to take the decoy stone I placed above the nave. It holds some power and it should be enough to confuse her.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“My stone is safely put away in the room she didn't want it in.” Eludora smiled mischievously. “Your father can listen to you as he pleases while you wear an object he’s blessed. I know she intended to sneak in dressed as one of the hopefuls and I object to them being called w****s.”

He smiled ruefully, “Even if I hadn’t prayed, you knew?”

She laughed again, “Yes. But your warning was sweet.”

“You know about the-”

“-The sigil that she gave ‘Magpie’, as she calls her brother? Yes. But it isn’t a true sigil. Either her father deceived her to protect her or she chose to deceive her brother.”

“It would have been her father’s doing, I’m certain. She wouldn’t do that.” Cyran gave the goddess looking at him curiously a small shrug, “You can rely on a Rook.”

“Volatile and reliable, I’ll try not to forget.” 

They went to wait in a room with luxurious couches, panels of colorful silk hung from rings in the ceiling and it looked as if the couches could be hidden from one another. He could hear a fountain nearby, making the room feel more pleasant and peaceful. After a short time, Kwes was brought to lounge with them.

“How did you know to expect us?” The half-elf eyed him with mild annoyance.

“His father can listen while he wears-”

“-That damnable armor!” Kwes narrowed his eyes, “Did you know?”

“No, cousin. Syreilla must not have known either.”

The man’s head tilted just slightly and he blinked, reaching into a pocket.

“Your sigil is a false sigil. It won’t summon Syreilla the Rook.” Eludora smiled and leaned forward slightly, “Cyran thinks her father deceived her, his sigil on the coin is true.”

Kwes smiled bitterly, “No, she was insistent that if I needed help I should call on the old man. She expected us to get caught, Cyran. That’s why she wasn’t concerned about you bungling things or the lack of planning before we went in.” 

The goddess’ smile faded.

“She knew about your armor, I would bet you a horse that the old man told her. My sister wouldn’t let me get caught and be helpless, I needed someone’s sigil-”

“She wanted the stone to be put in the…” The goddess vanished from sight.

“She intended for us to get caught?” Cyran looked at the half-elf curiously.

“We were the distraction. I don’t know how long she spent learning from the old man but… He might as well have planned this. The stone was placed exactly where she wanted it and all attention was directed away from it.”

Eludora returned with lines of annoyance marring her exquisite features. “It’s gone.”

“She’ll be back for us before we meet the headsman.” Kwes looked almost apologetic. “That was what she promised.”

“I’m not going to execute either of you.” 

The half-elf started to stand as if he intended to leave, “We won’t-”

“You’ll both stay and you’ll both serve, washing, sweeping, anything I can find to put you to until she returns to collect you.” She glanced at Cyran, “Even without intending to, you’ve both helped her to steal from me.”

“I understand.” Cyran inclined his head. “I will perform penance without-”

“You penance will be attending me.” Her face softened and he felt his knees grow weak. “I would keep you for myself if you weren’t already growing into your divinity.” She looked back at Kwes who’d folded his arms sourly. “You will start in the baths, I think, washing travellers. It will keep you from finding too much trouble.”