The Knife's Edge

Chapter Three

The Neophyte Palace

The corridor shook with the peal of tower bells, announcing the completion of the Seven Trials. Vera ground her teeth in irritation and turned the corner swiftly, running headlong into a figure. She rubbed her arm, looking up to see the worried frown of Enise, a bookish Neophyte.

“I’m so sorry, are you all right?” Enise asked.

The girl looked every bit like a startled bird—sharp nose, spiky fray of white hair like plumage, which was even more frayed and bristly than normal, and bright, wide eyes. Enise was one of the few who didn’t loathe Vera. She wondered if the girl had never heard the rumors. Either way, she liked Enise.

“I’m fine Enise. It was my fault.”

“No no, it’s mine, I know I shouldn’t read and walk, Ali—err, Reaver Aliye always yells at me for it.” Enise fell to her knees, gathering up the fallen volumes.

Vera knelt at her side and helped, noticing the faded gold titles. The Last Reliquaries of Tremwar. Accounts of the Final Battles of the Kimon. Tales of the Great Schism. The Battle of Gal, Letters of a General. The Kyomen Wars, and a dictionary on Yorin, the old tongue. “Quite the collection. Brushing up on your history?”

Enise blushed nervously. “Just a little reading. Ethelwin—I mean, Reaver Ethelwin lectured briefly on the betrayal and how they destroyed the world. She explained their heresy, but even as a girl I knew of their betrayal. Yet even back then I felt something was missing, but it was smaller, like an itch I couldn’t scratch. Then yesterday, during Ethelwin’s speech, I felt the itch grow. And I knew something was truly wrong with the stories.”

“You’re talking about the Ronin,” Vera said.

Enise’s gaze flickered to either end of the hall. “Vera! You can’t say that name.”

“I’ve gotten in enough trouble today, what else can they do?”

“They’ll hang you. You know that.”

“No one will hear,” she said. “Have you found anything yet?”

The girl sighed. “Not yet. Just the same history we all know. It’s strange, but it seems as if even these old things are missing pieces.” Enise shook her head as if coming to her senses. “I really shouldn’t be talking of this. Wait, why were you in such a hurry?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Vera glanced upward.

“You passed!” Enise exclaimed. “Congratulations! When are the ceremonies? Are you going to—”

Vera wasn’t listening as two Devari passed, moving with deadly grace. Where many men dared to eye her slender form and perfect curves, the Devari’s attention never wavered, eyes on their destination. She looked back. Enise was still talking. “Enise,” she interrupted, “if you see Kirin, can you tell him I’m looking for him? I’ll be in my room if he asks.” She thrust the books into the girl’s arms and left her kneeling wide- eyed.

She moved through the halls until she reached the grand antechamber of the Neophyte Palace. Hundreds of Neophytes swarmed the broad floor, rushing to chores or lectures. In the center of the room was a grand staircase, each step large enough for a small house to sit comfortably upon.

Feeling too exposed, Vera took the staircase swiftly. Above was a dome with a series of large windows. Between each window were huge portraits of the Arbiters. Only five Arbiters had ever been born, and each lived for thousands of years. It was said their lifespan was due to the power of the spark they held, for the weakest Arbiter was stronger than a hundred Reavers working together with a link. The thought of such power made her knees weak and she glanced to the painting of the man in grand flowing robes of gold and white. The Patriarch. He was the oldest and strongest of all the Arbiters and Guardian of the Citadel. There had only ever been one Arbiter to hold the mantle of Patriarch in all time. The man was a legend.

Suddenly she spotted a familiar face. Evalyn, tall, buxom, and never two steps away from her pet Rosalyn. She hated Evalyn. The girl was admittedly beautiful, and powerful too, but she used others to no end. No to mention, Evalyn had an obvious taste for Kirin, which put a sour taste in Vera’s mouth. So she was glad to see Evalyn turn the corner towards the courtyards.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she took a crowded hallway when a presence ripped her breath from her lungs. At the end of the hall, a tall man walked briskly towards her. All others in the crowded corridor seemed to disappear. Despite his simple brown robes and gray cape with a flaring collar, he filled the corridor with his presence. His eyes fell on her. Despite all her confidence and power, in that moment, Vera felt like a shriveled weed beneath his foot.

Arbiter Ezrah.

What is he doing down here? Arbiters kept to themselves, rarely seen beyond the restricted upper halls of the Citadel where great magic resided.

Ezrah passed, lips moving soundlessly. Something touched her. Vera felt a chill as if dunked in ice water. Suddenly, the tolling of bells was absent. There was only silence and Ezrah’s quiet mumbling. A spell... she realized. Ezrah quickly passed, taking the bubble of silence with him as he turned the corner. She took a breath and the others in the hall came back into her awareness. Neophytes and Reavers whispered in fear and awe at having seen an Arbiter.

She left them, knowing what awaited her.

Today, Vera would unlock the sword’s true power. Today, she would surpass the limits of a mere Reaver.