Ren of Atikala: The Scars of Northaven by David Adams

Author:David Adams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-02-24T05:00:00+00:00

If anything convinced me that the Lady had nothing to do with the poisoning, it was the pained, twisted look on her insectoid face. Even her servants seemed as though the poison had been given to one of their own.

“Ren,” said Leali, her voice unable to hide a tremor that filtered through every word. “The Lady of Stone and Clay has given me permission to address you directly, as this seems to be more in keeping with your personal morals. She wishes to have me beg for your forgiveness. To have something like this occur under her own roof is inexcusable. We all share the guilt of this pain. The only ray of light in this whole affair is that Valen will live.”

That, too, was the only thing I was vaguely grateful for. As much as I needed answers, I needed to make sure of this myself.

“I want to see him.”

Wordlessly, as though expecting this request, the Lady beckoned to the doorway. A wheeled box was brought in. Valen lay atop, several tubes and pipes leading out of his body and to bottles full of strange fluids. His eyelids fluttered open. I gave him a little wave. He managed to return it, although the strength had clearly fled his tiny body.

“Good.” I turned back to the Lady. “I think it’s time we left.”

“Leaving?” Leali inclined her head. “Why?”

“To be frank,” I said, acutely aware that the Lady of Stone and Clay was listening, “the mark of righteousness is how one treats those they have power over; pleasant slavery is still slavery, and the whole business leaves the taste of dirt on my lips.”

Leali, uncomfortable with the topic, smiled. A genuine smile. “Serving is not such a distasteful thing as you make it out to be. Often we are forced to do things against our wills, in our lifetimes. Surely you have experienced the same.”

Had I? It was a hard question for me to answer. I had wanted to kill the gnomes outside Atikala, and I had walked my patrols with honest fervour. So far, every action I’d taken in my life had been one of my choosing. I had agency in Drathari. If I didn’t, if my fate wasn’t my own, I don’t know what I would do.

“There’s something that I’ve been thinking about since we came here,” I said. “The slaving parties would have captured us outside, but they stopped when they realised who I was. Why? The Lady says my fame has preceded me. I trust her in that matter, however now we are in her house, and she keeps us as honoured guests, fed to excess and kept in a beautiful room. She treats us well. As she treats other pieces of her property.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dorydd staring at me. The guards surrounding the Lady did not react, so I continued. “I mentioned Contremulus’s name, and she did not seem interested in discussing him. Of those I have spoken to of Contremulus, I have seen only three reactions: servitude, hatred, and fear.

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