Graid was a creature in torment. He almost fled out the chamber, feeling his mind at war with himself. He felt great love, and hope swelling within him, felt an understanding about his people, and his purpose in relation to him.
I don’t want this! Curse my people—all of them be damned. He shoved aside people as he walked, his frustration turning to anger. Storming through the hallways he appeared as a man crazed, his eyes darting back and forth, his mouth hung open. He stopped in front of a door, a place he headed for, but not sure if he wanted to go.
Why should I give up my life of pleasure? Why should I devote myself to a people who care less about me? He knew the statement was false, but forced himself to believe in it. I didn’t ask to be born, didn’t ask to become their Kal-Alçon—I just want to live! The face of the meta he saw in his mind, simple and honest hung over his thoughts, refusing to leave. Martel’s image rose as well, his kindness and strength breaking Graid down. The door opened in front of him.
“Graid!” It was Selva. His expression grew pained, then the conflict faded, his mind replaced with thoughts of lust.
“I’m so glad I brought you here,” he said, gathering her in his arms.
Uonil was not far behind him, seeking to congratulate him on his alliance with the meta, and his skillful handling of them. She had almost caught up to him several times, only to lose him for a moment. She stumbled on him in the arms of Selva, locked in a lustful embrace in the entrance to his quarters.
“Graid!”
They were kissing, their bodies locked in an embrace Graid was loathe to break. He turned to her.
“What?” he spat out.
“What is she doing here? She is a Novan! How dare you—”
“Uonil,” Graid held up his hand. “You are about to cross a line, when I am not in the mood to forgive.”
“This is too much! Your plaything in these sacred halls? What are you thinking?”
“Enough!” he shouted. His hand turned to a fist, and Uonil felt the pressure in an instant. She bent down for a moment, then balanced herself under his weight.
“Not this time Graid, not this time!” she yelled back as she grimaced under the pain “I will not accept this—”
“You will not accept?” he asked, smiling wryly at her.
He broke from Selva, and brought more of his mind to bear on her. Despite her best efforts, and all the reinforcement she created on her mind, she collapsed under the strain, and before long she was on the floor, writhing in pain.
“I have tried to impress on you the need for complicity and obedience,” rebuked Graid almost sweetly. “I may have given you the illusion of camaraderie, of equality, but it is only an illusion. You have overstepped your bounds, Mentra. You have displeased the Kal-Alçon. And you must suffer.”
He focused more on her, and her whole mind felt as if it were on fire. She stifled a scream, as her skin began to turn shades of purple, as her mouth foamed with yellow pus. She wanted to scream at him, to curse him, but couldn’t form even the thoughts, so she kept her focus on him, her gaze carrying all the hatred she could muster. Selva cringed at the sight of Uonil in pain.
^Please, Graid! She’s your friend, isn’t she?^
^I have no friends, Selva. Any of them would turn on me in an instant, if they were so ordered.^
^Please,^ she pleaded, grasping his arm, kissing his shoulder. ^Have pity.^
Graid felt her kiss on his shoulder, and softened under her touch, releasing his hold on Uonil.
“Remember this lesson, Mentra. If not for her, you would be dead.”
He walked off with Selva, leaving Uonil broken and bleeding on the floor.
Later that roa, Arciss caught up with Uonil as she was walking the streets of Piros, searching for something to eat. She recovered eventually from Graid’s attack, and could not stand to be in the capital building any longer. She needed some fresh air, something to make her feel good. Whenever she came to Piros, she always went to one place, a Sura stand that made food the same way since time immemorial. She craved one hot creation called lilliz, consisting of layers of cheese with their own unique gravy in between, all cooked in a light pastry dough, then dipped in deht seeds. She missed it most on Novan, where most of their food consisted of bland squares of vegetable protein made in different textures, meant to be eaten while its flavor was enhanced by the cast-net. After her experience with Graid, she decided to indulge her desire.
“Mentra!”
Though they all possessed casting ability, most preferred to use voice when back on Rell. Arciss ran up, a little out of breath, next to Uonil.
“Why did you leave so quickly?”
“Graid wanted to be alone. With Selva.”
She felt embarrassed by her encounter with him, and couldn’t look Arciss in the eyes.
“She is here?” he asked, surprised, and a little disappointed.
“Yes, he must have brought her up secretly before our meeting with the council. He’s showing her around now, much to the chagrin of the Alçons. And I can’t blame them.”
“Why are you angry with him? You know how he is.”
“Because—” she started to get agitated, tears welling in her eyes “—because he is capable of so much! And for a few moments, I thought he understood what was needed from him, and was ready to fulfill his role in the destiny of our world. And now, I see I was wrong,” she said, turning to Arciss with clear eyes. “He has gone too far, Arciss. Too far this time.”
Arciss looked at her with sad eyes, and put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned in, putting her arm around his waist.
“I know you miss Martel, and I know I could never be him. But I am here for you. And I am trying with Graid.”
“I know you are, Arciss. And while I miss Martel, I think you’ll work out just fine. But let’s not speak of Graid. I just want to relax, and have my favorite food. This may be the last time we can enjoy Rell, can truly relax, before the time of crisis is upon us,” she said as she breathed in deeply. “Smell that air, Arciss. It is so good to be home, among our own people. Even if some of them don’t know or appreciate what we do.”
Arciss stopped, and turned to her.
“He will mature—you must have faith in that. As I have faith in the Kal-Durrell. They have a plan for us, one far beyond our conception. Too much is different this time, and they are not shocked by the inconsistencies. Graid will become the man we know he can be. Just have faith.”
Uonil smiled, a joy returning to her eyes.
“I see the Kal-Durrell chose well indeed,” she said, stopping in the middle of the street, holding her lilliz at her side, the cheese dripping onto the pavement, as her gaze focused absently on the ground in front of her.
“Uonil?”
“Arciss, I need a rest,” blurted Uonil, as she gazed longingly at all the people laughing and talking, buying food and browsing the goods in the street bazaar. “It is time for me to gain a new perspective on things. We have some time, while Nahlai is getting closer to Kolob, and Graid works out the details of this alliance with the meta. I am going home.”
“Home? You’re staying here? For how long?”
“A few roas, maybe a full dozen,” she said, as the decision grew clearer in her mind. She had never felt more sure of anything for quite a while. “I am going back and pack a few things. Take care of things while I’m gone!”
Arciss watched her throw away the lilliz and head through the crowd, blending in and disappearing.
She’s not going without me.
Chapter 5
“Look to your own people. For in times of strife, they stand united, but it is the times of peace that do divide.” - first words from the resurrected Mal