The Fractured Sky by Thomas M. Reid Page A

friendship, the half-drow supposed.
    He has more charity than I, Kael thought. I couldn’t be quite so generous after such a besmirching.
    Micus nodded. “I overheard a conversation today,” he said, “between Tauran and a servant of Helm.”
    Tauran gasped, and Kael jerked his eyes in the angel’s direction. Tauran stared at Micus with a look of both dismay and betrayal. “You spied on me?”
    Micus ignored him. “As you can see, he does not deny it. Yes, I enlisted the assistance of a lantern archon today, and I heard, with my own ears, Tauran suggest that Tyr’s judgment in certain matters pertaining to the membership of the Triad is questionable, and that perhaps he is unfit to dispense a ruling on the matter. Tauran has actually claimed that Helm might be correct in challenging the Maimed One.”
    More murmuring issued from the Council, but the High Councilor silenced it with a loud query. “What say you to these charges, Tauran?”
    The angel stepped forward, peering up in the direction of the solar. “I don’t deny it,” he said without a hint of shame or regret. “I do believe that Tyr’s wisdom has failed him.”
    The murmuring returned and rose in volume to outright dismay.
    “And this,” Tauran continued, “is why I believe we desperately need the half-fiends’ help.” The noise level increased. Tauran raised his hands, asking for patience. “This destructive argument that roils throughout our home, this bitter feud between beloved Tyr and noble Helm”—more than one solar frowned at that appellation—”is not the conduct suited to two benevolent and wise deities.”
    The murmuring grew louder, and one Councilor rose to her feet, incensed at the deva’s words. “You overstep your bounds, Tauran!” she shouted. “It is not your place to presume to know the wisdom of Tyr!”
    “Perhaps,” Tauran countered, raising his own voice to be heard, “but no one else seems willing to question these events. I believe this crass debate has been contrived, engineered by those who would see the House brought low.”
    Even more dissent filled the chamber as the members of the Council all began talking at once. Kael sensed the anger in their demeanors, and it shocked him to see the stoic solars, always inscrutable, exhibiting such passion.
    They are frightened, he realized. What could scare a solar? he wondered, growing more uneasy with each passing moment.
    A particularly deep and rumbling disturbance shook the chamber. The champion of Torm had to take a step to steady himself as the floor pitched. He saw the much more graceful angels spread their wings to compensate for the undulating foundations. The rumble subsided, and with it, the solars’ berating of Tauran.
    See? Kael wanted to shout. That’s what scares you. You know he speaks the truth.
    “I sense some malevolent manipulation behind this”—Tauran paused, waving one hand vaguely around himself—”this furious dispute between them. Whatever their disagreement—and I do not profess to understand the ways of the gods—but whatever their disagreement, it strikes me as unduly vehement and bitter. This is not the behavior of the immortals I have served. Furthermore, our disparaging treatment of Helm’s loyal servants is not in keeping with what I know in my heart to be just and fair. The same holds true, I suspect, for you. It is not who we are, Councilors.” The deva scanned the room once, locking gazes with each member of the Council, before he proceeded. “I witnessed events today that have convinced me that Cyric has a hand in Tyr and Helm’s disagreement. I think Vhok and Aliisza were unwittingly caught up in the Liar’s machinations, and they can help me find out if I’m right.”
    “No!” shouted one of the solars.
    “The impertinence!” yelled another.
    Kael could not remember a time when he had witnessed the powerful creatures in such emotional disarray. They clearly found the entire prospect of their own god stumbling in his