Blood Song

Over the next few weeks there were more tales of riots and discord beyond the walls. Deniers, real or suspected, were being set upon by angry mobs, hundreds had died and the Realm Guard was hard pressed to keep order. Eventually, as summer slipped into autumn, the Realm calmed. Contrary to the expectations of many there were no more assassinations, no hidden army of Cumbraelins beneath the streets, in fact the heretical fief was calmer than it had been for over a decade. The Summer of Fire, as it became known, faded into memory leaving only corpses, grief and ash in its wake.

In the aftermath of the assassinations new Aspects had to be chosen for the Fourth and Second Orders, a process which required a Conclave of the Faithful. Vaelin and Caenis were chosen to accompany Aspect Arlyn to the proceedings, ostensibly to act as bodyguards, the Order House being short on confirmed brothers as the discord in the Realm had called most of them away. But Vaelin suspected the Aspect wanted them to learn something of how the different Orders governed the Faith.

The Conclave took place in the debating hall of the House of the Third Order, a cavernous chamber of vaulted ceilings and long benches lining the walls. In addition to the Aspects, many of the senior masters of each Order were also present and allowed a voice in the discussion. Caenis and Vaelin however had been told to offer no opinions.

“I never dreamed I would be allowed to come here, brother,” Caenis enthused in a whisper, almost shaking with excitement as they took their seats behind Aspect Arlyn who sat in the front row. “Present at the choosing of two new Aspects. A blessing indeed.”

Vaelin noted he had brought along a good supply of parchment and a stub of charcoal. “Started the Tale of Brother Caenis, already?”

“Actually, I was going to call it The Book of Five Brothers.”

“It’s six, counting Frentis.”

“Oh, he’ll get a page or two, don’t worry.”

Aspect Silla Colvis of the First Order was already present along with twenty or so of his masters, all wearing the white robes of their Order. They were all men in their sixties or older, their deeply lined faces apparently lost in contemplation, either that or they were asleep. Aspect Elera was next to arrive, accompanied by only three brothers and two sisters, Vaelin’s heart sinking when he saw that Sherin was not amongst them. Aspect Dendrish Hendrahl of the Third Order arrived last, sweating profusely as he heaved his bulk into the chamber and settled it on the front row bench opposite Aspect Arlyn. His brush with death had clearly left its mark, his skin now a pallid grey contrasting with its previous porcine pinkness, his eyes sunken into the fleshy mass of his face like two stones pushed into soft dough. He had brought more masters than the other Aspects, over thirty, mostly men, all sharing a singular characteristic in that they seemed to be smelling the same bad smell. There was only the barest of flicker of recognition when he caught sight of Caenis and no offer of a greeting to the young man who had saved his life. If anything Vaelin sensed a resentment in the Aspect’s demeanour.

It must have hurt almost as much as the poison, he surmised, to be saved by one of us.

Aspect Colvis rose and walked to the dais in the centre of the chamber, his bearded face sombre with the gravity of the occasion. “Aspects, masters, brothers, sisters, we are called to conclave. It is in our hands to decide the future of two Orders. Such a thing has never happened before in our Faith and is only forced upon us now by the dire events that claimed two of our most exalted brethren. It does not take a wise man to realise we are at the dawn of a new day for our Faith, a day of trial, a day where the tenets we hold so dear will face the most ardent challenge. Heed this well when we make our decisions today.” He turned to a brother of the Third Order standing ready near the dais. “Brother, please ask the candidates to join us.”

The two prospective Aspects were led into the chamber, a woman in her early thirties and a man Vaelin had seen before, a sharp faced man in a black robe: Tendris Al Forne. The woman was introduced as Mistress Liesa Ilnien of the Second Order, a plain and serene figure in a dun coloured robe who met the combined gaze of the chamber’s occupants with calm acceptance. Tendris Al Forne of the Fourth Order was a contrast, staring back at his audience with a fierceness that could almost be defiance, the odd cheerfulness Vaelin had seen in him three years ago had disappeared this day but the fanaticism remained. He scanned the assembly briefly, pausing when he saw Vaelin to offer a small nod.

“These two come before us for recognition,” Aspect Colvis told the assembled representatives of the Orders. “The Faith requires we meet to consider the merits of their appointment. We will hear questions now.”