The Inner Circle: The Knowing

  *

  El-i-miir knew that being a rei required an unyielding devotion to her gil. She remembered very well the oath she’d taken when first entering into the law enforceable contract.

  I, El-i-miir of the Eighth Cleff, the Elglair Frozen Lands, swear to uphold and bind myself in connection to the ancient law of the gil’rei to obey my gil, irrespective of personal beliefs or wishes. Where he leads, I shall follow. His order shall be my purpose. I, El-i-miir, hereby swear this oath upon the true hope of salvation and peace amongst the Ways of the Lord, so help me Maker.

  Behind the oath’s fanciful words laid the clear and unyielding message that when becoming a gil’rei a gil attained the legal capacity to put their rei to death. But Far-a-mael had lied in the most despicable fashion. He’d lied when telling Seteal that she’d die if she didn’t come to the Frozen Lands. Because of that and only that, she’d come. El-i-miir shuddered at the thought of what that one lie had cost poor Seteal. She’d lost so much and El-i-miir had supported Far-a-mael through it all. In many ways, she was as bad as him.

  El-i-miir slowed her horse, allowing herself to drop behind Far-a-mael. Reasoning with him had proved useless. Now she would have to resort to other means. Having promised Ilgrin his freedom and acknowledging that Seteal deserved hers too, El-i-miir decided on the one remaining available course of action. The cost would be very great. El-i-miir cast one last look at the home she’d never see again.

  ‘Seteal,’ El-i-miir said quietly as she dropped back beside her. ‘Slow up with me for a minute.’

  When El-i-miir felt sure that Far-a-mael was out of earshot, she turned to confront Seteal. ‘I have to tell you something.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Seteal replied, distractedly. She seemed to be looking for something, perhaps some sign of Seeol’s presence.

  ‘We haven’t been honest with you,’ El-i-miir began.

  ‘About what?’ Seteal’s face became dark.

  ‘You’re not really going to die,’ El-i-miir said slowly. ‘None of that was true.’

  ‘I know.’ Seteal shrugged.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know,’ she insisted. ‘I figured that out a long time ago. It’s a bit embarrassing and reflects badly on you both, but I’ve come to accept it.’

  ‘Then why in Maker’s name haven’t you turned around and gone home?’

  ‘Well that wouldn’t do me much good, would it?’ Seteal frowned. ‘There would be no demons there.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ El-i-miir shook her head.

  ‘It’s all so obvious,’ Seteal replied. ‘Far-a-mael wants me to help him destroy Old World and I very much intend to do so.’ She gave Ilgrin a dirty glance. ‘I’d love to empty his disgusting blue blood onto the snow and watch him squirm.’

  ‘Oh, that’s enough,’ El-i-miir fumed. ‘This isn’t you Seteal. You . . . the real you, is indifferent toward silts. Haven’t you ever questioned where all this hatred came from?’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Seteal retorted. ‘If Ilgrin hadn’t taken me hostage and left me in the middle of that field, then I wouldn’t have been . . . hurt like that.’

  ‘You might just as easily blame Far-a-mael,’ El-i-miir said in frustration. ‘You know what? I like you too much to let him do this to you. Enough is enough.’

  Focusing on Seteal’s aura took only a little concentration. Locating Far-a-mael’s insidiously implanted affiliation took a little more practice. ‘There,’ El-i-miir murmured as she felt the ugly black weaving pulsing and squirming throughout Seteal’s being.

  ‘What’re you doing?’ Seteal’s eyes widened fearfully as El-i-miir set to work unpicking Far-a-mael’s knots with her own tendrils of light. ‘Maker, please stop! What’re you doing to me?’

  ‘Come on, girls,’ Far-a-mael turned back toward them. ‘We really must be on our . . . what are you doing? El-i-miir, stop!’

  ‘Just a second,’ El-i-miir clenched her teeth as she worked on an especially large knot that’d been doubled over several times. ‘Nearly got it.’

  ‘El-i-miir!’ Far-a-mael shrieked in fury, turning his horse around and setting off at a gallop. ‘Stop!’

  ‘Come on!’ El-i-miir cried as she struggled with the knot. Finally the cord unravelled, squirmed about for a moment and then vanished.

  ‘Oh,’ Seteal gasped, clutching at her chest. ‘Oh, I . . . can’t.’ Her face became broken as she again realised the horrors of what she’d been through. El-i-miir put a hand to her mouth, immediately realising her mistake. The only thing that’d kept Seteal going was the hatred Far-a-mael had planted within her. Now she was free--free to feel the pain she’d suffered without any focus or hatred to hide behind.

  ‘You fool,’ Far-a-mael’s face was red and his eyes bulged in rage. ‘You!’ He waved a finger in El-i-miir’s face. I’ll see you damned to Vish’el’Tei.’

  ‘What did you do to me?’ Seteal shrieked the sound bouncing on into the infinite distance over vast stretches of ice. ‘What did you do?’ She turned from Far-a-mael to El-i-miir and back again. ‘I wanted to kill them,’ she cried. ‘I wanted to kill them all and it felt so good. I felt alive and now I feel nothing!’

  ‘This is the real you, Seteal,’ El-i-miir cried, tears pouring down the sides of her face. ‘It might be horrible, but what he gave you wasn’t real. You were living in a fantasy.’

  ‘I don’t care.’ Seteal burst into tears. ‘I don’t want reality. Don’t you see? It hurts. It hurts too much. Give it back. Put it back. Please!’

  ‘I can’t,’ El-i-miir put a hand over her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would be like this.’

  ‘I hate you,’ Seteal glared at her. ‘And you.’ She jabbed a finger at Far-a-mael. ‘I hate you more than you’ll ever know. You’re disgusting.’

  ‘Seteal.’ Far-a-mael spread his arms out before him. ‘I was only trying to ease your pain, my child.’

  ‘With hatred?’ Seteal shouted. ‘You don’t care about me. All you care about is them.’ She jabbed a finger at Ilgrin. ‘You’re infectious. You spread your hatred like a disease and I . . . I’m going to tell people. I’m going to see these elders of yours and make them understand exactly who you are.’ With that Seteal snatched up her reins and kicked her horse into a gallop.

  ‘Seteal, wait!’ Far-a-mael gripped onto his horse and chased after her as quickly as possible.

  Without wasting another second, El-i-miir threw herself off her horse and ran over to Ilgrin. She snatched at the ropes that bound him and started untying them with shaking hands. ‘I’ve got you,’ she reassured him. ‘We’ll be free. We’ll run away. You’ll see.’

  ‘Quickly,’ Ilgrin urged once his hands and feet had been untied. ‘My wings.’ His voice was filled with fear. ‘He’s coming back.’ A glance over her shoulder told El-i-miir that Far-a-mael had realised what she was up to and he was now headed straight for them. ‘Get a knife,’ Ilgrin urged.

  El-i-miir thrust out a hand, affiliating her horse instantly so that it trotted over. She threw open a bag, wrapped her hand around the knife within, pulled it free, and in one fluid motion sliced the rope that bound Ilgrin’s wings. The silt wrapped El-i-miir tight in his muscular arms, bent his knees and threw open his wings.

  ‘Don’t move,’ Far-a-mael commanded, his horse having come to a stop just strides away. ‘Don’t. You’re both going to die anyway, but you don’t want it to be like this.’

  El-i-miir turned slowly to see Far-a-mael’s pistol aimed directly at Ilgrin’s head. The silt retracted his wings and stepped away from El-i-miir. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

  ‘If I see so much as a single tendril sneaking away from your fingertips,’ Far-a-mael turned to El-i-miir, ‘I’ll shoot him and then you.’

  ‘Gil’rei,’ El-i-miir pleaded. ‘Don’t do this.’

  ‘You’re asking me not to do this?’ Far-a-mael laughed hysterically. ‘You’re in love with a silt, El-i-miir. What has become of you? Have you lost all sense? And to think, you onc
e showed so much promise.’

  ‘We’re not all the same you know,’ Ilgrin said sadly.

  ‘Actually, I do know that.’ Far-a-mael nodded. ‘I’m not one of those idiots who believe you’re all bloodthirsty, slobbering monsters. But I also know that as long as your kind exists, whisps will also exist. And I, for one, am tired of watching innocent people die. Now move. Both of you.’ Far-a-mael indicated with the pistol. ‘We’ll go by foot the remainder of the way.’

  Her heart racing, El-i-miir started taking steady steps toward the Sixth Cleff with Ilgrin by her side. She had hoped that one day they’d be able to walk together, but not like this. Her fingers brushed against his for a moment, before Ilgrin found her hand and closed his around it.

  ‘I love you,’ he whispered.

  ‘I love you, too,’ El-i-miir replied.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ICE