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Relief floods me as I am freed to watch the proceedings from the shadows.
In no time ten names have been read out, and a ragtag group of hunters stands before the crowd. One may doubt their capabilities based on stature, but a single look at their determined faces is enough to assure that a sola will be killed this day.
Father disguises his feelings at how everything has unfolded, but to my trained eye, his anger is as obvious as the lantern in his white-knuckled hand.
A knot of dread slips into my intestines. I know he will save his rage for behind closed doors.
Through all of this, Myrzeth remains unmoved. I frown. What’s his game?
Turning to the valefolk, the Foremost says, “When we return to you, we will once again have an opportunity to prove our devotion to the kaligorven.”
A halfhearted cheer answers him, and I make out his conflicted face as he turns to lead the hunting party out of Utsanek.
Once they are gone, Myrzeth steps forward. He does not need to motion for silence. Every eye is on him.
I creep from my hiding place.
“Good people, aren’t you tired of this pathetic system that requires you to wait for a sola to find you?”
Mumblings ripple through the captive audience.
“You have been taking a passive role with the kaligorven for far too many years. It isn’t your fault. I blame it entirely on poor leadership.”
My stomach twists.
“But we’ve had peace for years,” a woman cries.
Myrzeth raises a brow. “Have you really? Or has it been a steady descent into darkness?” He paces across the fanum steps. “What would you say if I told you we could not only have peace with the Shrouded, but light as well? And not just that—we can have power.”
The whispers of the crowd grow into louder conversations. He is playing off their fears and desperation, enticing them with something that has been an altogether foreign concept in the Vale.
A reedy man emerges from the people and approaches Myrzeth. “Show us the way.”
Who does this man think he is?I wonder. No way the rest of the valefolk will be so eager to change our method of doing things.
But I am wrong.
A cheer—much more enthusiastic than the one my father received—erupts.
“You have already begun the process by reporting those who hold to an alternate system of beliefs. They will be prosecuted and made to pay. And I assure you, your efforts will be rewarded.”
A disheveled man a few feet from me grins hideously, revealing a maw filled with gaping holes and blackened stubs of teeth. He makes me feel filthy.
“Now, I counsel you to take it one step further. Don’t merely report those worshippers of Elyon. Actively persecute them. Make them feel the consequences of their misguided beliefs so they may be convinced to recant their ways.”
My jaw drops. Is he condoning violence against our neighbors?
“The more we can assure the kaligorven their presence and ways will not be challenged in the Vale, the more willing you will find them to share their strength with us.”
The men give throaty grunts of appreciation, but I notice the women are more hesitant to voice their approval. Myrzeth is appealing to a more masculine obsession with power.
“And consider whether or not you are making your own home a welcoming place to the mighty dark beasts. Do not merely lay offerings on these ancient steps, so far removed from your daily lives. Set aside shrines to the kaligorven within your houses, showing them they are welcome in our midst.”
The women look at each other nervously. This entreaty to the womenfolk is not quite as well-received.
Sensing their unease, Myrzeth smiles. “I can assure you that, when properly acknowledged and honored, they pose no threat to you or your children. A decade’s worth of neglect has made them so hostile to the valefolk.”
Myrzeth’s words are so calm, so smoothly delivered, I am not surprised to see the women’s faces relaxing. But I have lived under the roof of a man skilled in manipulation for too many years for them to sway me.
