change. The eyes of the village today held no judgment. He saw many nod in agreement with the elder as he looked around.
As he looked about the circle, his eyes met Trelmar’s. There, he did not see acceptance. With Trelmar, it appeared that nothing had changed. That was not quite correct, he realized that it was hatred that seethed in the middlin’s eyes as the two’s vision connected for a long moment. Alador realized in that moment, he was no longer a mere victim of mischief. He had made an enemy.
Alador started when the chief elder began speaking again and snapped his attention back to Velkar. “Dorien, see your brother bathed and readied for the ritual. I will see to it that arrangements are made in the ceremonial hut.”
Dorien stepped up and nodded. “I will see him prepared Elder." Dorien took the stunned middlin by the arm and began to lead him through the people. Everyone seemed to want to touch him as he went by. It was an odd sensation of so many hands passing over him as Dorien led him away from the circle. Alador said nothing. He turned his head back and looked at Mesiande. She was biting her lip and looking concerned as Dorien pulled him off.
Chapter Seven
Luthian had not been able to sit still, and so he paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. His thoughts were on the size of that bloodstone and the sheer power it had held. Did the boy even know what he possessed? Had he found some rogue mage to instruct him? Was he as malleable as most outcasts of the Daezun? He must still be within the village ranks if he was mining and trading. It would make him not yet an adult. How old was that boy? His brother had told him in one of his long ramblings about his trips, but he could not remember. It had not really mattered to him much about what his brother spawned as long as those with some capacity for magics were brought into his elite force.
He continued to pace back and forth in his study. It was immaculately maintained, and the library was the most extensive in all of Silverport. Luthian had added every book he could find on magic. He had a collection of maps and tales of the known world beyond the isle. Every mage he had removed from his path had been brought down by the knowledge in Luthian's library and then in the mages' demise, he had pilfered to add to its voluminous shelves. It smelled heavily of old leather, a hint of dusty parchment and the rich sweet smell of a good tobacco. The floor was a black marble that was shined daily by the servants until it was almost mirror like. It was set off by rich warm thick carpets mulled in a deep red wine color. It spoke of slips, luxury, and power. It was the perfect backdrop for his meetings, for Luthian was as well maintained as his surroundings.
When Luthian had originally sent for his brother, Henrick, he had not been in the city. It turned out that he had been out on one of the routes assigned to him by the council. Luthian had been forced to wait three weeks for his brother’s return. He had received word that Henrick had returned to the city last evening. He had forced himself to be patient, and had not sent for him till a couple of hours ago. Patience was not Luthian’s virtue. He had forced his energy into bedding many of the Daezun women. There had been a certain pleasure in seeing them beneath him without the protection of their precious potion. Their fear had been almost intoxicating. He smiled at the memory before current matters wormed their way back into his thoughts once more.
Where was his brother? He was in the fifth tier and so had access to the council’s tier. He should have been here by now. Luthian’s brow was furrowed, and his eyes were narrow slits. His pace was hard, and his boots could be heard tapping out upon the marble floor. The Black Guards assigned to him had been wise enough to step out and guard his door outside
As he looked about the circle, his eyes met Trelmar’s. There, he did not see acceptance. With Trelmar, it appeared that nothing had changed. That was not quite correct, he realized that it was hatred that seethed in the middlin’s eyes as the two’s vision connected for a long moment. Alador realized in that moment, he was no longer a mere victim of mischief. He had made an enemy.
Alador started when the chief elder began speaking again and snapped his attention back to Velkar. “Dorien, see your brother bathed and readied for the ritual. I will see to it that arrangements are made in the ceremonial hut.”
Dorien stepped up and nodded. “I will see him prepared Elder." Dorien took the stunned middlin by the arm and began to lead him through the people. Everyone seemed to want to touch him as he went by. It was an odd sensation of so many hands passing over him as Dorien led him away from the circle. Alador said nothing. He turned his head back and looked at Mesiande. She was biting her lip and looking concerned as Dorien pulled him off.
Chapter Seven
Luthian had not been able to sit still, and so he paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. His thoughts were on the size of that bloodstone and the sheer power it had held. Did the boy even know what he possessed? Had he found some rogue mage to instruct him? Was he as malleable as most outcasts of the Daezun? He must still be within the village ranks if he was mining and trading. It would make him not yet an adult. How old was that boy? His brother had told him in one of his long ramblings about his trips, but he could not remember. It had not really mattered to him much about what his brother spawned as long as those with some capacity for magics were brought into his elite force.
He continued to pace back and forth in his study. It was immaculately maintained, and the library was the most extensive in all of Silverport. Luthian had added every book he could find on magic. He had a collection of maps and tales of the known world beyond the isle. Every mage he had removed from his path had been brought down by the knowledge in Luthian's library and then in the mages' demise, he had pilfered to add to its voluminous shelves. It smelled heavily of old leather, a hint of dusty parchment and the rich sweet smell of a good tobacco. The floor was a black marble that was shined daily by the servants until it was almost mirror like. It was set off by rich warm thick carpets mulled in a deep red wine color. It spoke of slips, luxury, and power. It was the perfect backdrop for his meetings, for Luthian was as well maintained as his surroundings.
When Luthian had originally sent for his brother, Henrick, he had not been in the city. It turned out that he had been out on one of the routes assigned to him by the council. Luthian had been forced to wait three weeks for his brother’s return. He had received word that Henrick had returned to the city last evening. He had forced himself to be patient, and had not sent for him till a couple of hours ago. Patience was not Luthian’s virtue. He had forced his energy into bedding many of the Daezun women. There had been a certain pleasure in seeing them beneath him without the protection of their precious potion. Their fear had been almost intoxicating. He smiled at the memory before current matters wormed their way back into his thoughts once more.
Where was his brother? He was in the fifth tier and so had access to the council’s tier. He should have been here by now. Luthian’s brow was furrowed, and his eyes were narrow slits. His pace was hard, and his boots could be heard tapping out upon the marble floor. The Black Guards assigned to him had been wise enough to step out and guard his door outside
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