A/N: ...TADA! *sprints for the hills*
He did end up presiding over the Sun Descending, dirty vestments not withstanding. Between distracting Jaina and finishing cleaning the kitchen the whole matter had been forgotten and Kir didn't mind. As much as it could be seen as a sign of disrespect, so much of worship of the Sunlord had turned into rituals and rites that only the worthy could perform – worthy in money, in political power, in appearance, in things that had nothing to do with true rightness, true Faith – he would take this as a sign that his Order was returning to something they had lost, where the trappings were less important than the belief behind them.
As many times as he'd given services in robes still drying from a hasty scrubbing in some bucket, or scraped off the worst of the dried mud and blood before stepping up to lead a prayer – no, he couldn't take faint discoloration from dishwater splashes too seriously.
"Rodri," he murmured after the dismissal hymn, waving Anur on – he'd mentioned this already, and Anur wanted to dig through the archives some more anyways, "A word."
His student met his gaze curiously before following him into the side-room that had started serving as a small meeting room ever since they'd dragged Maltin and Kavrick in here during that first visit to Sunhame. Taking a seat, he waited for Rodri to settle in his own chair of choice and clasped his hands together, leaning forward to brace himself on his knees.
"Is this about the arrowhead?" Rodri asked, a confused sort of worry starting to form on his features, "If Enforcer Anur needs it back - "
"No, no, you won that fairly," Kir assured him, smiling faintly at the reminder. "I simply needed to speak with you before rumors went out of control."
"Sir?" Rodri blinked, now looking even more concerned, "Rumors about your sister?"
"No, I don't have the privilege of dealing with one rumor-worthy event at a time," Kir said dryly, shaking his head – it should be easier to say, this second time, but here he was, struggling to find words. "No, after you left, while I was speaking with Jaina and Laskaris it came up that I'd given my Sun in Glory to a girl with an out of control witch-power to help anchor her shielding long enough to teach her. In the course of it Anur and I informed them that we each have a witch-power, the mental-speech one."
"Like what Kari can do to talk to us?" Rodri asked immediately, and Kir had to laugh, because Sunlord what a sign it was, that his first association with mental speech, with Mindspeech, was a Firecat.
"Exactly like," he admitted quietly, "Which raises interesting questions about how it came to be seen as evil, but for the moment irrelevant. I just wanted you to be aware before it came up elsewhere, because while I doubt it will spread widely, it very well might. We are planning to be less – careful about it."
"So people start thinking about it instead of just ignoring it," Rodri said, hesitating before continuing, "Is that why you told Laskaris?"
"He's been trying," Kir replied, inclining his head slightly, "But it's been nearly a year, and all signs point to Ancar invading this spring. I want as few secrets as possible within our Order by then."
"Oh," Rodri said quietly, hesitating before continuing cautiously, "Is that all?"
"Not – not quite," Kir huffed a laugh, dragging a hand down his face before shaking it off and looking to Rodri again, going for the oblique approach, "What do you know about the difference between witch-powers – Talents – and mage-craft?"
"Ah… one means you're definitely being burned as a witch and one means you might live?" Rodri winced, shaking his head, "No, no I remember – um. Something about mage-craft being an exercise of skill and choice and blessings from the Sunlord and Talents being forced into a particular path contrary to the Sunlord's will? Which isn't true, obviously but – no one's taught us what they actually are? Except not evil?"
Kir stared at his student incredulously, because while he hadn't expected Rodri to rattle off the distinction based on power-source, he also had expected something that wasn't essentially a direct quote from his own first lessons in witch-hunting, disclaimers for the current political opinion aside. "Well," he said faintly, "I suppose I'll have to get someone on designing a curriculum then – we won't be hunting them, but if children are brought for testing priests will still need to be able to distinguish between prophecy and empathy. When did these lessons start up?"
"Well – for the identification course it started right after Solaris' Ascent. Most classes this year have been pretty jagged, especially that one. Basic history and sums and tithe assessments didn't change too much – I'm very, very excited to finish with the tithe assessment courses, Father, they're so boring – but the identification and those more affected by the reforms?" he shrugged uncomfortably, "If anyone's made official changes to the topics or message, the instructors don't know that yet and they're sort of just... teaching the old stuff, but with new adjectives?"
"Right," Kir grimaced, shaking his head, "How many are in your course right now?"
"Four of us," Rodri said, tilting his head slightly and admitting, "That's probably part of it. My other classes and Etrius' seminar on priesthood-selection procedures have all been more coherently affected. I think the fact that there's so few of us and the fact that no one really knows any of this – not without the bias of them being evil, at least – is limiting instruction."
"Undoubtedly," Kir agreed, drumming his fingers on his knee for a moment before focusing on the topic he'd actually been aiming to address, "Right – I'll have to deal with that at some point, please remind me in the next few days that I need to do this."
"Of course Father – but, what is the difference, then, if you were expecting some other answer?" Rodri asked, shifting so he was sitting cross-legged on the chair.
"It's in power source, though focus also, so your answer isn't entirely false," Kir said, taking care to explain this relatively simply, as Rodri wouldn't be familiar with the terminology associated with mage-craft, much less with Talents. "For focus – mage-craft is more a general ability to manipulate the energies of the world in various ways. You can have an inclination for something, a natural gift for some branch – Jaina took very well to protective enchantments, Laskaris has a gift for unraveling coercion webs – but that's not the only thing they can do with magic. Technically, so long as the power requirements are appropriate to their level, a mage can cast any spell with any focus, not limited to those areas where they're a natural."
"Okay," Rodri frowned, resting his chin on his fists, "So that's where the free-will bit came in, you can choose to focus on a particular area of magic – so if someone had a natural talent – um. Gift? For some form of mage-craft, they wouldn't have to practice that, they could choose whatever focus they wanted – within reason?"
"Exactly," Kir agreed, smiling ruefully at the stumble over the word talent – it would take some time for them to be able to figure out how the new title for witch-power would shift in their language.
"And Talents can't, like you and Enforcer Anur have the mind-speaking one," Rodri said thoughtfully, shifting to tick them off on his fingers, "So there's the mind-speaking one, and the heart-twisting one, and seeing-unseen one, and then you said Prophecy? I thought that was a Blessed Sign, not a Talent?"
"I think there's a distinction between the Talent for seeing glimpses of the future, and true Prophecy, but I don't actually know the difference," Kir admitted, "I just know that there's a witch-power which involves glimpsing the future, having a chance to shift things or react to that knowledge – that is what the Great Traitor had, reportedly."
At least he managed to catch himself before he referred to Herald-Captain Alberich by the conglomerate title he'd come to use as a default, and even better referred to the man in the past tense.
"Maybe Prophecy has to happen?" Rodri mused, "And you can't change it, and the Talent one can be changed?"
"Also, a less negative name for heart-twisting would be empathy. It allows the individual to feel the emotions of others, and potentially affect them – calming down someone furious, driving someone to suicidal despair – most of my examples are negative, I'm afraid."
"I understand," Rodri said, nodding thoughtfully before clapping his hands together, "Right! So that's the focus bit – Talents can't be turned from their given purpose, or at least, not as effectively as with magic. What about the power source part?"
"Mages can draw on sources of power from the world around them – you might have heard about ley-lines or nodes?" at Rodri's nod he continued, "That's really the identifier of mage-craft, having the ability to access and use those energy sources – the different sources you're capable of safely drawing from result in the classifications you'll hear tossed about – journeyman, master, adept and so on. Talents don't have that, they draw solely from the person's own stores. You can increase efficiency, or endurance – it's like exercise – your body becomes capable of more, the same thing happens with Talents, your capabilities grow with practice and time, but you're never drawing on truly external power to fuel whatever it is you're doing."
Rodri had begun looking deeply disturbed partway through his explanation, so when he had finished he sat back and waited. Whatever it was that was bothering him, he'd rather hear about it now and try and work through it with him, or at least start thinking on how. He'd also take any chance to delay telling a child raised in Karse that they had a witch-power.
"One of the objections to blood-magic is that the mages in question aren't content with the power the Sunlord granted them," Rodri said carefully, "Why were Talents condemned, if they drew only on the person in questions power?"
"Well first you have to acknowledge that whatever got Talents condemned as evil was wrong, was incorrect, so whatever justification is offered may very well not make sense, not any longer – but you raise an interesting point. Here's a different question – in what case can blood magic be forgiven?"
"Clearly the answer is not never," Rodri muttered, frowning as he looked away before hesitantly glancing back and saying, "Ari's story? When you – when you kill yourself?"
"When you make the sacrifice yourself," Kir corrected gently, "Not all blood-magic requires death. Old land fertility rites required offering blood to the soil – we don't do that in Karse, officially speaking, but some still might. I wouldn't burn them for that – I would burn them for sacrificing other lives, lives they have no right to claim."
"Like farmers that live nearby," Rodri said quietly.
"Or the neighborhood cats," Kir pointed out, "Blood-magic taints the land, if it's not done carefully, regardless of who or what is sacrificed. Burning someone immediately for sacrificing pigeons so the crops succeeded would be an overreaction, but if we found someone doing that – it would require careful thought and examination. Things can escalate so quickly – and there are no guarantees in magic, never. Ari's story tells us that at the very beginning!"
"Magic raged, wild and twisted, and only ones hands, kin, and God could be trusted," Rodri murmured, reciting one of the more poetic versions of Ari's tale.
"It's a choice, Rodri, that's the core of it. People have the right to choose – to choose to be content with what the Sunlord gave them the ability to access, is the message that particular piece of the condemnation of blood-magic is trying to deliver. So in that sense, choosing to be content with being a journeyman versus being content with having a Talent that lets you hear people's unshielded thoughts are similar."
"Oh," Rodri said, looking abruptly concerned and tilting his head slightly, "If that song – the humming. It's loud, and it's just things – you said people are louder. Is that because of the thoughts too?"
"Undoubtedly that's a part of it," Kir agreed, "But my mental Talent isn't strong, I can't hear someone that has no Talent of their own, and then they have to be – quite loud, and unshielded themselves. The hum is different."
"But it's still a witch-power," Rodri said, voice small and knuckles white, "That's what – that's the rumors you mean. Your knack for fire – our knack for fire it's – it's a witch-power. That's why it's so different from everyone else's tricks for fire."
"A Talent," he corrected gently, "But yes."
"I – I guessed, something was different," Rodri murmured, hunching in on himself and a curl of fire appearing between his palms, "I mean – it had to be, for it to be so – for fire to make so much sense, but when I came here Sister Jaina and Father Seras they took one look at it – at me, and they knew it was like yours. That we were the same. So I didn't think it was that."
"Mental Talents were the ones that immediately condemned," Kir said, shifting to kneel in front of his student and reaching up to cradle his own flame near Rodri's. "Those that were physical – that affected things visible in the world, those were easier to use and subsume under priestly attributes and not worry about the individual's chance to threaten those in power, because they were limited as individuals. Empaths, mind-speakers, people with prophecy – they could galvanize a population, they could affect crowds, and crowds are always dangerous."
"I remember," Rodri said quietly, gaze locked on their flames.
"As far as I can tell, you don't have any others," Kir said finally, looking up from his flames to his student's face, "That may change, you're still growing – but I think this fire-talent is all you'll be stuck with."
"...I'm glad," he confessed, sounding near ashamed and Kir let his flames dispel, wrapping his hands around Rodri's and waiting for him to meet his eyes before replying.
"Be glad, Rodri. Be thrilled – it's what you have, and you're using it well. There's no need for anything more," he murmured. He waited for Rodri to nod, ducking his head and smiling slightly, flame between his hands fading away.
"Are you going to be all right?" he asked finally, Rodri nodding again and only then did he rise to his feet. "If you need me, find me – or Anur, he can reach me anywhere. But for the moment, if you're truly all right I need to go find Laskaris."
"I'll be all right," Rodri said, standing and smiling up at him before admitting, "Probably. But I'll let you know if I need anything. Thank you for telling me Father, and for explaining."
"Of course, Rodri," Kir murmured, squeezing his shoulder before heading out. He had some idea of where he would find Laskaris, though he didn't quite know what he was going to say to the man. All he knew was that he needed to make some effort to reach out, even if to just assure the man he could take all the time he needed to think.
In theory. In practice, Laskaris needed to have most things squared away by next Midsummer or the next set of reforms would damn near crush him.
He let one hand trail along the wall as he headed down the stairs, crafting a small orb of fire to hover in front of him for lighting. There wasn't much down here – with no access point to the catacombs, the Hall's sublevel had remained for the Firestarting Order alone, and as all Firestarters were burned upon their death there were none of the bone-rooms typical to the underground structures of the District.
Turning left, he headed down the corridor that ringed the sub-level – there were a few rooms down here, primarily for relic storage but the focal point of this level – the central point for the Hall, truly, lay under the Incendiary's seat in the entry hall. Rounding the corner, he let his flame die. It was unnecessary, the sconces flanking the bronze and copper adorned wooden door to the Trial always held lit torches, fueled by the same working that contained the chamber's firestorm.
Laskaris was seated across from the door, leaning against the stone wall and staring up at the carved Sun in Glory, empty mug beside him and Kari sprawled across his legs.
Kir rapped his knuckles on the wall, Laskaris only inclining his head slightly but that was enough. He sat down next to him, keeping the mug and some space between them because he didn't know this man, not really, but he knew what staring at this door could lead to.
"Do you want to take the Trial one day?" Kir asked finally, keeping his own gaze on the half-circle eyes of bronze and gold inlaid in the wall. They had always flickered in the firelight of the ever-burning torches, but he fancied it was more dramatic when a person was around to see.
Laskaris scoffed, shaking his head and continuing to card his fingers through Kari's fur, "I completed the Second Order trial two years ago and have spent little to no time working with fire since – my coercion web studies have been used far more. Walking through those doors would be suicide."
Kir hummed an acknowledgement but pointed out, "Yes, that is true now. But one day, do you want it?"
"For what purpose?" Laskaris shook his head, "Two First Order Firestarters is enough, and you are younger than me beside – I would never hold the post of Incendiary, and eligibility for that promotion is the only thing I can see as a benefit to the rank."
"Ah," Kir managed, chuckling slightly, "I suppose that is fair. I never thought much on the uses of being First Order Firestarter, beyond being able to browbeat some of the other chaplains and priests that came to the northern stretches and bothered my unit."
"It's all you've ever been," Laskaris shook his head, "I'd been in the middle of considering training for the Second Order Trials when you were ordained – when Seras confirmed that Verius had recommended you for First Order Trials – I was convinced you'd been marked for death."
"That was rather the point, I suspect," Kir admitted, "Aside from Jaina and Verius – maybe Bron, but we didn't speak much of fire. I doubt anyone expected me to live. That got us time to put other things into place."
"Such as Jaina's ascent," Laskaris snorted, "Quite a few egos were bruised when she took the mantle of Incendiary. Most outside the order expected Seras or Colbern to finally take the Trial. That surprise bought us time too. She credited her survival to your help, you know."
"Oh?" Kir blinked, honestly surprised at that, "I suppose she helped me with my own training for it, and I told her what I could of my interpretation but – it never seemed useful, to anyone else."
"That must have been frustrating."
"It was," Kir admitted, looking over at the man and raising an eyebrow, "That tone spoke of experience. The coercion-webs?"
"Lumira and I started studying them together before we were claimed for Firestarting," Laskaris said, scowling, "The sheer volume of times – there were nets laid throughout the District, students would run into them and they were traps, most of the time. Seldom harmless. It was frustrating, and dangerous, and if they believed us that they were there, they would just say priests needed strength of mind."
"Are there still any?" Kir asked, knowing his tone was cold, was threatening, but the very idea of any of his people walking into a net and losing their free will made his blood run to ice.
"Every time I came to Sunhame I would clear out the ones I could find," Laskaris shook his head, "The ones I've cleared out since Solaris' Ascent haven't been replaced – and when I was able to identify the people placing them I would pass the word to Elder Jaina, and they would be dealt with somehow."
"Good," Kir said shortly, feeling his lips twist into a snarl before he shook it off. Infuriating, yes, but he had come here for another purpose.
"I can feel it, when a web snags my mind," Laskaris said finally, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably, lips thinning, "It's – sticky is the best way I've found to describe it, but that is so lacking. I know my mind, my thoughts, and when they alter I know. Lumira helped me burn out the first one when we stumbled into them, and she was targeted for that sort of thing to begin with. It was all the motivation we needed but trying to explain some of the things I just understood to her – it was so very frustrating, to find her staring at me blankly when I knew, just knew that what I had said was right."
"Interesting," Kir mused, eyes narrowing. "And witch-powers – Talents, I've got to stop doing that – that affect the mind are less detectable?"
"By magic, certainly," Laskaris agreed, shaking his head, "But that is an excuse. I have no traumatic experiences or hard evidence to support my bias, I just – for them to use their abilities, they have to mentally influence others. Any use – any at all – affects the minds and hearts of other people and how can – it's not right."
"With the right spoken words, you can affect minds too," Kir pointed out, frowning thoughtfully though because he had a point, "I suppose the question then, is in what scenario would using the ability to affect minds be acceptable to you. Are there any?"
"No," Laskaris snarled, finally looking away from the door to glare at him before looking down at the Firecat sprawled on his lap and deflating, "Maybe?"
"The mental Talent I have – it allows me to hear people who project their thoughts as conversation – I can hear Kari, and others with the Talent, but no one else, not unless they're under extreme distress and I am too."
"Like when you're burning someone alive and you doubt their guilt," Laskaris said dryly, Kir snorting and nodding an acknowledgment before continuing.
"Perhaps I could insert some phrase or dialogue into someone's mind but I don't think so – is the conversing aspect of it acceptable to you?"
"Can someone get away?" Laskaris asked promptly, "Can someone get out of range? I assume so, but for physical speech – if you leave the room, the building at the worst, you don't have to listen to someone spew bile at you. If someone were under verbal assault with this mind power of yours, would they have to leave the building or the town?"
"For me, the building probably, but I haven't exactly cultivated it – it's possible to get a boost, Kari has done that so Anur and I can speak when we're separated by some mel," Kir replied frankly, taking in Laskaris' apparent objection to the talent and understanding, really.
"Right, but it could be worse," Laskaris said, accepting that with a grimace, shaking his head, "And how could one prove it? We can identify mental talents sometimes, but with our right to interrogate and accuse taken away, could we even intervene if someone was suffering that? The victim wouldn't report it, even if now they wouldn't be burned by some over-enthusiastic imbecile for hearing other voices in their minds, they could be compelled to remain silent through some sort of coercion – magical or otherwise."
Kir leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and thinking that over, because it raised a good point. Witch-powers weren't policed now – now people with them weren't even required to become part of the priesthood or receive training unless they or their parents asked for it – hells, the way Solaris had announced things priests couldn't even approach parents to tell them their child might have a Talent, the parents had to approach the priest for testing.
Which could lead to some disastrous incidents.
"It sounds like," he began carefully, "What you find most disturbing is the ease with which witch – damn and blast, Talented individuals – could slip through the cracks and use their abilities in immoral ways, either via lack of training and good intentions or malicious intent from the start."
"At least physical crimes there is a chance for evidence to be presented," Laskaris agreed, "It doesn't mean the person is listened to, or that the perpetrator is caught or punished, but at least there is a chance. A heart-twister could drive someone to suicide or murder and never fall under suspicion. One of those future-seers could arrange for their enemy to take a walk into an avalanche, or a bandit raid, or a fire – and everyone would say oh so sad, what a coincidence. You know this, you mentioned that heart-twister in the Sunsguard, when would that ever be acceptable?"
"When a panicked crowd is about to turn into a mob trampling the children in their midst – project calm, and proceed with an orderly evacuation," Kir replied promptly. Admittedly, the only reason he could rattle that scenario off so quickly was because he had asked much the same to Anur some time ago. Valdemaran history was full of stories where Heraldic Gifts saved the day, and even had a few where they went wrong – before their story swap Kir only had the latter and the bone-deep certainty that those stories weren't all there were.
"I suppose that would have helped extract Rodri," Laskaris muttered, the admission sounding like it cost him deeply and Kir smiled wryly.
"At that moment, my fire was enough to intimidate them but yes, that is one place it could have been used. Heart-twisting – I was thinking empathy for a name that isn't so negative, by the by – is the one I have the most trouble justifying – but if the Sunlord crafted people with that Talent, there must be some purpose."
"Because it's not a warping to evil," Laskaris grumbled, "Which made understanding why it existed much easier."
"Certainly," Kir agreed, spreading his hands helplessly, "Condemning what we cannot understand or do ourself is always easier. But why would mage-craft be any different? Be any easier to detect?"
"I don't know," Laskaris ground out, hand not resting on Kari's fur clenching into a fist and shaking. "I don't – it was trainable, it was something we could see and it was accepted so I didn't think of the similarities!"
Kir waited, leaning back against the wall and looking back to the door of the Trial room. He had pushed hard enough for the moment, and Laskaris was seeing and acknowledging the inconsistencies in his beliefs. He hadn't come here to force Laskaris to make progress.
"I did not mean to push you harder," Kir finally murmured, smiling wryly, "My whole purpose coming to find you was to assure you that you could take as much time as you needed to think this over, but instead I push harder. My apologies."
Laskaris huffed, eyeing him sidelong and saying, "As long as I need? I doubt that, Eldest."
"Let's not push it past next Midsummer, hmm?" Kir suggested. Laskaris only groaned and let his head drop back against the wall.
"Midsummer," the man said after a few long moments. "Well. At least it's not Midwinter."
"Oh no, for Solaris' anniversary? Best that stay as calm and stable as possible," Kir shook his head, "Or at least that's the logic I heard."
"Lull them all into a false sense of security," Laskaris grinned suddenly, the expression taking years off his face and Kir was startled to realize he'd never actually seen the man smile before, "I might have to start placing bets outside the Order. I can probably get a few good favors out of it."
Kir snorted, shaking his head and pushing himself to his feet, taking Laskaris' empty mug with him. "If you want to discuss these things again, I would gladly do so – you raise good points about accountability, saying that these abilities aren't evil doesn't remove the need for identification and instruction, so something will have to be developed."
"I don't like it still," Laskaris shook his head, not moving from his own post and looking back to the door. "I don't think I ever will, but if there were something in place – I would at least feel better about it. Thank you for your time, Eldest – and when your vestments are done, leave them in the Hall. Lumira and Fabron have gotten very good at weaving protection spells into existing brocade."
"I'll keep that in mind," Kir said, inclining his head to the pair and walking away, letting a streamer of flame light his way this time. Laskaris had been heard, knew he had been heard, and showed no signs of walking through those doors and letting the flames take him.
He wasn't going to lose any of his Firestarters without a fight.
***===***pagebreak***===***
It was a gaudy monstrosity and wearing it would give anyone neck-cramps, of that Anur was certain. Why would anyone even make this thing?
:Maybe if it's anchored to your robes it's less of a burden?: Aelius asked dubiously, :More than five gemstones, take a swig.:
"I might have been generous when I set the rules for this," Anur mumbled aloud, taking a swig of his prodka splashed tea and setting the Sun in Glory medallion aside. Kir just snorted from where he was stretched out on their bed sorting through his own pile of adornments. Jaina had given them a box of potential Sun in Glory replacements from what had to be a horrific horde somewhere in the depths of the Hall, with strict instructions to choose their top three so she could pick between them tomorrow.
They'd already found the first one – a literal duplicate of the standard Sun in Glory issued to every priest upon their ordaining, and exactly what Kir had given away minus the carved modifications – but the next two were a challenge, particularly as neither of them quite dared to pick the two most hideous ones in the hopes Jaina would leave them with the plain one.
She would definitely pick something terrible just to spite them if they tried that.
"You don't even have to wear the things," Kir grumbled, eyeing the intertwined rose and plain gold that made up the chain for the one he'd pulled from the box. Plenty of tigers-eye, maybe opals for the eyes on the Sun Disk itself, but in comparison remarkably tasteful.
"Just be seen next to you," Anur teased, tossing his previous horror into the discard pile. "Think we can have these melted down and converted for the treasury?"
"Hopefully some of them," Kir agreed, "Depends on the history of the pieces."
"Nothing but death, despair and neck-cramps, I'm sure," Anur scoffed, shaking his head and grabbing a promisingly plain chain from the pile, carefully untangling it and promptly gagging.
It was encrusted with clear crystals – hopefully not diamonds, that would be truly excessive – and what he suspected were actually peridots. That was a definite no.
Kir huffed a laugh, shaking his head and saying, "Read the letter on the desk instead."
Anur reached over his head and felt around for a folded letter – snagging it with his fingertips he hauled it down in front of him and raised an eyebrow at the slanted hand. "Your brother?" he asked, surprised, "You want me to read this?"
"It at least gives me somewhere to start," Kir said bleakly.
Anur frowned and set his mug aside, pulling himself to his feet and sitting down next to Kir, tangling their fingers together before asking, "Start for what?"
"For what sort of nightmares are going to be waking us up tonight," Kir said, sounding exhausted. "Half the reason I told Laskaris today was to at least have a shot of mixing things up a bit."
"Whatever injured Lukas," Anur murmured, frowning.
"Whatever," Kir snorted, a bitter sort of grief in his voice, face turned away from him, "Whoever, would be more accurate. I can't – I can't say it, Anur, I can't just tell it, it's been – it's been decades. Read it. Please."
:Oh I don't like this at all,: Anur said to Aelius, unfolding the letter with one hand and judicious use of Fetching, because he wasn't letting go of Kir.
:We'd best go for a ride tomorrow, because being stuck in the stables for all of this is terrible.:
:Agreed.:
The hand was slashing, but readable – if anything it resembled Kir's script, though Kir's was neater, a little more careful more careful.
Little brother,
Kiara has agreed to carry this letter to you, and if you don't want to come home she'll take me to you one day and that is non-negotiable. I refuse to have my last memory of you be that Firestarter dragging you screaming through those ashes if there's some other option.
She'll tell you father disappeared, presumed dead. Presumed suicidal, is what she means but doesn't know enough to say – he lasted long enough to see Kiara safe from being taken to the priesthood, but that's all he was waiting for. That burning broke him.
One of those healer-priests came through in the days after you were taken – I don't remember this, but I've been told it enough. The man managed to save my arm, but it's mangled – my wrist has limited movement, all but one finger have a permanent bend and I can't fully clench a fist either, but it's enough to get by. My ribs were fully healed and the arm is the only long-term damage I suffered, though most of my right side aches with weather shifts. I was able to retain my apprenticeship at the shipyard and am a master shipbuilder now, one of three. The Sundancer was one of my projects, actually.
Father considered you dead the moment that thing burned. Ma considered you dead the moment the priest dragged you off. We all did, really, because we'd never hear from you or of you again. I don't think Kiara even knew you had existed until she was seven or so, we just – never spoke of the hole in our family. It wasn't fair to her, father called her Kir half the time and nana tried to force her into knotwork for years when she hated trying to track all those strings, but she managed.
Sunlord Kir, when Kiara came to me with stories she'd overheard of a Firestarter not acting like a fire-breathing mad man who might or might not be named Dinesh – I didn't sleep for weeks. I still think I'm dreaming half the time, when I walk into the Temple and hear no rhetoric on witches, when I hear people wondering about Sunhame without being drenched in fear – I'm terrified that I'm going to wake up and it's all going to be gone, you'll still be as good as dead, people will still be choking on terror every time a priest looks our way and everyone will scoff at the very idea of a Firestarter not being a terror.
But I have to try. Please brother, come home.
Lukas
Anur carefully set the letter aside and equally carefully did not think about the questions that letter had prompted, about the lump in his throat at the idea of – at the description -
He buried his face in Kir's hair, breathing harshly and felt Kir's hands tangle in his shirt. His brother was alive, he could hear his mind crackling against his, feel his chest rise and fall, and had no reason at all to think his brother had disappeared in the past few minutes. But that letter -
"Kir," he finally breathed, finally was able to voice a question, to do what his brother had asked in the first place, "Kir, why were you screaming? Who burned, and why did it break your father? Who hurt your brother, and why?"
"His name," Kir managed, voice strangled and shaking, "His name was Wes. I think – I think the Companion's name was Seraphi."
:Oh, Chosen…:
***===***pagebreak***===***
Kir hadn't let himself think of details in – in decades, at the least, but more honestly ever. He couldn't, he'd made a deal with Verius and he couldn't break it, he couldn't afford to -
"Cease your hysterics, come quietly, and I'll send a healer to your brother – that was the boy with you, yes? Your older brother? A pity if his arm is lost, few traders take a one-armed apprentice - "
Anur made a wounded noise, arms tightening and Kir realized his shields weren't fully up, weren't steady he was pressing memories into Anur's mind but if he stopped he'd have to say it, he'd have to speak of it and he couldn't Sunlord, working up the nerve to say – to admit – Laskaris would never harm them, could never harm them he would crush him if he tried but the words the admission he'd still choked on it still barely managed to say -
Aelius called for Anur again, :Chosen, you need to shield, he can't, you need to at least separate a bit - :
:CHOSEN!: he heard searing across his mind and he choked, fires blazing white-hot and Wes – the monster, the demon rider the witch – was dead, he was gone he wasn't screaming anymore but someone else was and he'd just wanted the screaming. To. Stop.
:You killed him! YOU KILLED HIM!: the voice couldn't shut up and he heard screaming why was there so much screaming everything was so loud.
"Kir! Kir, listen to me, hear my voice, please, let me help you," Anur was whispering, hands shaking as they cradled his face, foreheads pressed together, "You're safe, I'm here, no one is screaming, brother, please. Talk to me."
"His name was Wes – he was a tinker," Kir managed, shuddering, "My father – they were friends I remember him coming by – for meals, when he was in town, or hitching rides on the ships, when they went the right way. He wasn't odd, wasn't out of place he was – he was Karsite. But he wasn't, he couldn't – Verius found him. I don't know how, not – I don't know how. But he found him, and he – he was burned."
"Deception, lies – let the falsehoods be burned away," the Firestarter said, flames starting to crackle and his voice echoing and Kir couldn't – he was supposed to agree with priests, he knew that, priests were right, always, never say otherwise -
:Run Seraphi, please run escape you can still run - :
:Chosen no! We can both flee, we can both run there's a chance, just keep trying at those ropes, please!:
Wes wasn't – hadn't seemed evil. Nana said evil hid, though, so maybe Wes had just hid really well? Maybe that was why a Firestarter had to find him instead if Father Yanci? They were supposed to hunt evil, he thought. Hunt it and burn it out. But they were so loud and so scared, why would evil things be scared?
He could smell the flames-on-flesh, pirates had been burned last winter and Wes had turned away – maybe that was the clue? That he hadn't watched pirates-monsters-evil get burned and been happy, because he was evil too?
Lukas was shaking – Elisia wasn't. Kir couldn't quite see past Nana to Ma and father, but they were holding hands and Ma didn't usually like that -
The screams were so loud, they were loud and it smelled and the fire was – fire was pretty, it was warm why were they screaming -
Suddenly he was wrenched out of the memory, able to watch without falling back in as his younger self worked out that the fire was too slow, that the screams were going to last far too long and they were all far too loud and if he just took the fire he could feel like warmth against his skin – nonsensical, he'd been too far away to feel that degree of warmth, not with the flames barely licking Wes' flesh but he'd been seven and about to actively control fire for the first time in his life.
He could hear ragged breathing, and recognized it as his own, opening his eyes – when had he closed them? - and seeing Anur hunched over him, palms pressed against the side of his head and eyes shut, chin bowed and breathing slowly.
Anur must have pulled him out of it, Kir realized, though he was still remembering events – distorted from memory, from time – the screams were so much louder in his mind than they ever could have been, the Companion so much larger, so much brighter, than she could have been to have hidden in Karse for any length of time – but the story was the same, was true.
"The screaming was so loud," he said, Anur shuddering but not shifting away. "I don't know how I did it, how I knew what to do – but I set the flames to blazing, to white-hot and hoped the screams would stop, that it would be over quicker but Seraphi – the Companion she'd still hoped to save him..."
"She couldn't have," Anur choked out, shaking his head, "If he hadn't freed himself from the ropes already – if she didn't have allies waiting in the wings – she wouldn't have been able to save him, not if he'd become known as a Herald."
"She broke," Kir said faintly, "She broke and people – people died. More people died. She knew I was – she knew I had done it, you see, I had taken that hope away and she - "
"She charged you," Anur murmured, undoubtedly seeing it as it played out again in his mind, "She trampled anyone in her way – she must have been hiding in an alley somehow, managed to sneak close but – oh, Kir no wonder you thought he was dead!"
Lukas had seen the danger coming, Kir remembered, Kir knew deep in his bones because he'd been seven, frantic and terrified from the enraged screaming beating against his mind and scalding his senses and half-way to screaming himself. He was in no condition to notice a blazingly white horse charge towards them with maddened blue eyes, but Lukas was, and somehow guessed or knew or just suspected the target.
Silver hooves had flashed and crashed down and his brother's right side had taken the blow, blood and bone spattering while Elisia lashed out with her hair-pin and his mother had her knitting needles and father had a cane – nana had dragged him away and near tossed him aside and Kir -
He had answered that terror with fire. Looking back, remembering now, he wasn't sure if the buzzing he heard echoing in that memory was imagined from what he knew he would have heard, had he been aware of the hidden fire in everything or if it was the first time he'd heard that buzz, and the last until it had broken free in his teens.
The creature – because she had been, at that point, a Companion he knew now, not a demon, not evil, but maddened with grief and pain and no longer coherent or rational or sane – she had died in a burst of flame and been reduced to ashes in minutes – Kir had barely managed to try and make his way to Lukas – watched over by his father, his ma and nana and Elisia trying to keep him alive and the crowd scattered and watching and so wary -
Verius had grabbed him them, hauled him off by the arm and he didn't remember screaming, but he must have, because by the time he rounded the burning platform Verius had lost patience and slapped him across the face, grabbing his chin in the sudden silence and yanking his head round to meet his eyes, blue eyes so brilliantly cold in that childhood recollection.
And they had made their deal.
Lukas was alive – he hadn't known, hadn't dared ask because what if Verius decided to back out? What if the healing had only been half-done and any misstep on his part meant Lukas died, or was crippled, or was shoved into an icy lake? It was absurd, looking back, because why would Verius bother going to that effort after a healing, the easiest thing would be to make that promise and never follow through because how would Kir know – but his younger self – his current self, any self of his – hadn't wanted to think that. Hadn't wanted to assume Lukas had died there, maimed and murdered in his defense by the White Demon – Companion, she'd been a Companion he knew Companions, Aelius was no monster Harevis had seemed fine, Glenn had been so worried but not mad -
Verius had kept his bargain, miracle of miracles, and Lukas was alive. He hadn't made that deal in vain.
"He's alive," Kir repeated, said again, would say a hundred times because he had never dared hope that Lukas had lived. "He's alive. Verius kept his word."
"He did," Anur agreed, "He did Kir, Lukas is – your brother is alive."
"All my brothers are alive," Kir said, opening his eyes again and meeting Anur's gaze, smiling faintly, "Both of my brothers are alive, and Sunlord willing I'll never have to doubt that again."
"I'll do my best," Anur promised, his relief crashing down on Kir in waves and he yanked Anur down next to him, burying his face in his chest and shuddering. He couldn't even tell why, the motion was practically convulsive but he was terrified and relieved and so desperately sad – too late, always too late, it was a tradition, on both sides and his father had watched his soul-brother burn to ash and how could he have borne waiting thirteen years to join him -
He had no idea how long it took him to fall asleep, had no idea how long he had lain there, empty-minded and shaking, but eventually darkness swallowed him up and he barely had a thought to spare to hope for a dreamless sleep.
***===***pagebreak***===***
Anur waited for Kir to fall asleep, to be truly unconscious for long enough that the jagged, wild sparks and guttering contact against his mind smoothed out a bit, before he reached fully for Aelius, sinking into his Companion's bond and love and support and letting himself ache. Aelius had tried to help them, but even his few words to Anur during Kir's mix of flashback and night-terror and old, newly raw grief had caused Kir pain and neither of them could bear that.
:Aelius, Aelius what do we do who – how did this happen?: he asked, feeling lost and adrift and hating every second of it even as he felt tears start to fall, curling tighter around Kir.
:Wes – I never knew him, or Seraphi but I heard about the program. He was one of four, helped by Herald Alberich to become truly Karsite in persona, and sent behind the lines during the Tedrel Wars – he was the only one to die in Karse afterwards. No one knew – well, people knew he'd been caught, that he'd been burned, but no one knew details. No one was really close with him after the Wars.:
:He was Karsite,: Anur echoed Kir's half-hysterical thoughts, :He was – I'm Karsite, at this point, hells I'm more at home in Sunhame than in Haven, that could have been – that could have been me.:
:I'd have killed Verius, not the boy you screamed your mind and pain into. And I wouldn't have done it in public, where White Demons would be recognized and vilified forever in the minds of the locals. He'd have lived until he left town, was out of sight, and then he'd have died, trampled and screaming and I'd have dragged his corpse into the wilderness so he vanished, and all evidence of his triumph had disappeared,: Aelius replied, voice dark.
:You were going to do that to Cristan,: Anur realized, :If Kir hadn't come.:
:If I hadn't been able to get you out, I'd have been mad with grief and rage,: Aelius agreed, :But not so mad as to target innocents. Henri would have escaped, for example. But Cristan himself, those who had traveled with him? No. I would have killed every last one before letting myself die. But Chosen, I've trained to deal with those worst scenarios, if Seraphi hadn't – she'd be far from the first, to have gone so mad.:
:I don't blame her,: Anur said, heartbroken because Sunlord what a blasted mess this whole thing was, :I can't blame her – or Wes – or even Verius – except he slapped Kir and made Lukas' life a bargaining chip I can blame him for that the absolute bastard - :
:I'll trample his right side, you light his left side on fire?:
:Deal. But for – for doing what he though was his job, I don't blame Jaina or Laskaris or even Seras – well, okay some I blame Seras for but not the ones he burned for witchcraft – I can't blame him for that. I can be upset that he didn't think otherwise – that he went along with Sunhame but – but I can't blame him. I can't blame any of them – Aelius, the situation was – is – oh we're walking into such a mess.:
:Chosen, at this point, if we weren't walking into a mess I'd be wondering what terror is lurking around the corner,: Aelius said, sounding wry and exhausted at the same time and Anur could completely relate.
:Kir's going to think I'll hate him,: he finally admitted, mental voice small and he felt absolutely miniscule, like absolute scum because that fear and resignation had been lurking in Kir's mind and in his horror and disgust at the situation he was watching, at the story he was hearing – not with Kir, never with Kir – he hadn't recognized it until later, hadn't known what to say and hadn't – he hadn't told Kir there was nothing to worry about, that he understood, that he was sorry.
:Never,: Aelius said staunchly, and Anur was so, so lucky that he had a Companion who understood, who wasn't jealous or confused or even questioning why he had latched onto this Sunpriest so hard, had built so much of their lives around this man. :You could never. Be angry, certainly, be frustrated, naturally, but never hatred. Not of Kir.:
:I don't know what I did to deserve you, but it must have been amazing,: Anur said, letting all his love and awe and thankfulness – gratefulness, thank the Sunlord this was his Companion, that Aelius understood – echo through their bond.
Aelius only chuckled, warmth and love and certainty washing back over him.
:Oh Chosen, it's not deserving – it's simply something you receive. We'll go riding tomorrow, all of us, and we'll get Kari to take us somewhere remote and empty once we're out of sight of Sunhame, and I'll be an overbearing four-legged nuisance until you and Kir straighten this out – or at least actually talk about it, beyond half-terrified venting.:
:...I don't know that we'll make it out of Sunhame composure intact.:
:Then Riva and I will mysteriously vanish and reappear in our stalls, and the Mystery of the Two Horses shall continue – trust me, I have been having schemes all my own out here. But in the meantime, rest Chosen. I've gotten Kari to teach me how to guard dreams, and I can manage for at least one night.:
:You mean half of one night,: Anur said dryly, grateful again for mindspeech because speaking around the lump in his throat would be impossible.
:Well, a little over half, technically.:
A/N: I've had this Wes/Sephira plan in the works since... well, since I realized Kir and Anur had a story, basically. It's one of the first backstory pieces I filled in for Kir. Hope you enjoyed, and hope you enjoyed the bits with Laskaris and Rodri too!