Shadow of the Avatar

Chapter 38 -- Dawning in the Citadel

The moment we met, I liked the smell of her. Sweet sweet blood with an aroma like fine wine, and a life vibrancy that just hummed on the lips...

--Gabriella

While returning to their rooms, Wren's head was filled with all manner of questions, few of which had answers. She didn't know what to think of Loric's place or its numerous, mysterious, comely, and inviting residents. She could only liken it to a spider web baited with sweet promises. Accept the promise, find yourself stuck and unable to leave. She was especially confused by the interplay between Loric, Cassandra, Desiray, and the D'klace twins. It all made her head hurt and it was late.

The hard floor underfoot made flat padded sounds underneath her soft boots. She looked up at Jharon. The priest walked along with his hands behind his back, his expression could only be described as reflective.

"What's the matter?" Wren asked. "I mean besides the obvious?"

Jharon winced as if her words had been painful. "Oh, there's a great deal going on, and I'm not sure I can keep up with these people."

"What do you mean, 'keep up'?"

"I don't want to let you down. However, there is a great deal more history than I imagined."

They turned a corner onto the final hall before entering their suite. The lamps in the hall had been lowered, but there was still enough light to see by. The shadows were long and dark.

"Do you know what an immort is Wren?"

"An immortal, you mean like a god?"

"No, an 'immort', those who are 'like' but not quite gods. The oldest of these ageless people are called elders, and great elders."

"What does that have to do with here?"

"Loric is a great elder. Didn't you hear what he said? Damay gave the nuptials for his third marriage. He was old then."

"Nonsense, he was speaking congenitally from that magic or whatever he was doing."

"No, he wasn't. Sindra and Drucilla weren't joking about knowing ancient Silissian royalty. They were there."

"How? You said yourself that was thousands of summers ago!"

"I don't know how, but I'm certain it's true. I'm not sure where the sisters fit in, but they are ancient too. You were there Wren, how did they move us like that?"

"The same way Desiray does it--with magic."

They stopped at the door and Jharon opened it. "The way Sovereign Dauntless sent you to Ivaneth; that's magic. What they did...I don't know what that was. I have felt it before when Cassandra brought us here. It is magic practiced by will alone. That is a power reserved to immorts."

"You're saying we're in a house full of demi-gods?" Wren asked as they walked in their quarters.

"Come now, did you look at those people at dinner, does it seem all that far fetched."

She thought about Desiray's beautiful twin sons, Everia's brother Darin'Kel. He did have a point. Still what did it mean to them? "So, how does it change things?"

"I don't know yet."

She looked at the huge four poster bed. It looked soft and inviting. She didn't know how well she would sleep in this strange place, but she was tired enough to try. She pulled off the little shoulder coat then fought the straps confining her in the bustier. It was the most attractive torture device she'd ever worn. The elder had fine taste in clothes, but terrible taste in comfort. "Jharon can you help me out of this thing?"