Fifty-six

Kwes turned the coin over in his hands, running his fingers over the two sigils. Syreilla’s made him angry, but Odos’ sigil… he didn’t want to draw the old man into this if it wasn’t necessary. 

“He will be able to smooth the matter over, Riellan.” Eludora spoke reassuringly.

“I hate that name. I go by Kwes.”

“The elven goddess’ name means beauty in their language. It angers you that when you were born your mortal father thought you were beautiful?”

“No… though I am angry with him.”

The goddess came closer and ran her hands over his shoulders. “Odos’ name means-”

He couldn’t help but laugh, “I speak elvish. I know what it means. It always amused me.”

“What does it mean?” Cyran’s brow furrowed.

“Deceitful, untrustworthy, or cruel of jest, is probably how it’s best translated. There are stories of him being too clever for the clever boy.” Kwes grinned and then gave the baffled priest a pitying look. “They were good stories.”

“Elven stories, your cousin is human.” Eludora smiled. “Your father can be all of those things but he’s also charming and reasonable. I need him to come and speak to the others. He’s ignoring us.”

The thought that he might not come if called was worse than the thought of dragging the old man into something and getting him in trouble. Kwes ran his fingers over the sigil again. He also didn’t know if he could or should call the old man ‘Father’ to his face, they hadn’t exactly discussed it, but calling him Odos when everyone else kept saying… He took a breath and tried the word on for size, “Father-”

Before he could say more, Odos was standing there in front of him. He broke into a relieved grin, “I’m sorry to bother you-”

“You’re never a bother, my little magpie.” Odos glanced at Eludora and a sly smile graced his face, “You’re sour with me.”

“You’ve been aiding your daughter. She’s stolen three stones in three days and Silfeya wants these two executed to draw her out. I’m not pleased with your Syreilla but I understand her reasons. Silfeya wants her brought before your father and the stones returned.”

“She doesn’t need much aid from me, I traded doors with her and lent her a stone to put a little bit of power in…” 

“That’s a great deal of aid.” A dark-haired woman in a lovely but old-fashioned loose dress stepped into the chamber from nowhere, scowling at all of them. 

“Not so great. I didn’t help her choose where or how to enter, I didn’t provide her with direction or clear paths in your temples,” as the angry goddess opened her mouth he lifted his hand, “I swear to you, Silfeya, she hasn’t asked for my help with her thefts beyond needing my doors. She used the power I had put in the stone well before the thefts and has been putting her own in.”

“Isca said she was impressive.” Silfeya folded her arms. “But I will not be stolen from.”

“She isn’t really stealing them, more like borrowing without permission. You’ll get it back.”

Eludora sighed. “She wants to help Hevtos free Zyulla and she’s been told she’ll be free as well if she can complete the task. Syreilla the Rook is volatile but reliable, I’m told, and she has compelling reasons to take the stones. Beyond offering Atos, the dwarves, and the elves a warning, I don’t believe there's more we can do.”

“She’s more devious than her father, according to Isca. She used the draped mantle against us as effectively as she used the armor against Imos. I doubt Hevtos could keep her against her will.”

“She entered his service with Vezar Edra, my little rook is bound by her word. I lent her my doors because I want her back.”

Silfeya glowered at him. “I want to hear all of this from her.”

“I’ll have it arranged. I’ll pull her to my home when she next uses a door and you can speak to her there.” Odos waved his hand as Silfeya began to speak a language that made his ears feel as if they were running and his eyes want to cross. “Not in front of the children. I wouldn’t ask you to take your child to my home for a scolding and you can’t ask me to do that either.”

“I want to speak to her today.” The angry goddess pointed her finger at Odos and the old man bowed with a grin.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The dark-haired woman vanished and Odos gave Eludora a faint smile, “Thank you for looking after my son and my nephew.”

“Your nephew is a delight, your son however…” 

Odos laughed, “He likes to keep me busy. Would you like a favor in-”

“The last time I accepted a favor from you I had to apologize to your father. No favors. I made the children pay for their room and board in service.” Eludora looked as if she were trying not to smile as the old man grinned mischievously. “But I would like to meet Syreilla the Rook.”

“I’ll invite you.”

“You may take them-”

“And their things?” 

“And their things.” Eludora waved her hand at someone and their clothing was brought.

Kwes took a moment to go over all of his kit and clothing before putting it on. When he turned, Cyran was already dressed.

“Tell me you’re not still wearing that damned armor.”

“Blessed armor, and yes. It-”

“Your father will be watching you while you wear it.”

“If he does he will see that Syreilla isn’t evil and that I want to help him not to harm him.”

“He’ll also see you giving my daughter the glad eye.” Odos looked the priest over with a frown. “I’m not sure why she tolerates it.”

Cyran flushed and tugged at his jacket. 

“They won’t have kept your rooms in Lew but we can get your things from the dwarves and set up a camp near the mine. My little rook went back to speak to a friend of mine.”

“I’m not going to wait for long.” Kwes folded his arms. “I’m going home to Withia. If she wants to apologize she can find me there.”