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CHAPTER FIFTEENFritjof

“What is the meaning of this?” Araxinthe asked the three sephalia standing before her.

“I’m Kagan. This is my brother, Keir.” He pointed. “And this is my brother, Killian.”

“We were expecting you.” Araxinthe gave Kagan a penetrating look. “And ONLY you! Brothers tagging along is seen by this body as acting in bad faith.”

“Is there a rule that says I’m no’ to have help? I did no’ see it in the contract.” Kagan asked. He watched Araxinthe’s lips tighten and knew before she said anything more that they’d gotten away with it.

“No. There is not. Clever of you, Sephalian. Perhaps Fritjof was wiser in her choice than I thought.”

“Who’s Fritjof?” Kagan asked.

“The person you came to…” She stopped and laughed softly. “Rescue.”

Kagan cocked his head to the side. “First, why is that funny?”

“The idea of being ‘rescued’ from here, the place where all creatures would wish to be, is ludicrous.”

“No’ if the victim would like to make her own choice. What’s ludicrous is your belief that all creatures want to be here. Does Esmerelda choose to be here?”

Lips pressed together even tighter, Araxinthe said, “Fritjof is one of us. A Cardinal.”

“Why are you calling Esmerelda Fritjof?”

“It’s her true name, derived from the Book of Principle. It means concord, peace, and harmony.”

“Concord, peace, and harmony?” He repeated, shaking his head. “You have much to learn about why Esmerelda’s true name is no’ Fritjof. Far from it.”

Araxinthe stared at Kagan for an uncomfortable duration before finally saying, “Perhaps.”

Esme was ushered to the edge of the pavilion by a couple of the bald, saffron-wearing members of the Cardinal Order.

Kagan took a step in her direction, but was stopped by an invisible barrier.

Esme wasn’t the overly evocative sort who would attempt to leap for joy.

Ever. She was happy and relieved to see that Kagan had come for her, but the only indication of that was in the penetrating way her glistening eyes were fixed upon his.

“I suppose you want to hear about the trials,” Araxinthe said, her eyes roaming over Keir and Killian.

“I do,” Kagan affirmed without pulling his gaze away from Esmerelda.

“You do look remarkably alike,” she said absently.

When Kagan didn’t respond and, after all, what was there to say to that, she proceeded to speak to Keir and Killian.

“While I admire your devotion to Fritjof’s knight, I’d like to encourage you to rethink your roles, or lack thereof, in this undertaking.

It comes with considerable risk as your brother will probably not survive.

If he does not, you will not. Are you certain you wish to tie your fate to his?

” Killian looked at Keir. “Think carefully. You’ll not be given another chance.

It’s better to return empty-handed than not return at all. Yes?”

Keir held a single finger up to indicate that he wanted a sidebar with Killian. Though Kagan wasn’t invited to participate, he rushed over and spoke first, in a whisper.

“Leave. Now. This is no’ what we… I will no’ ‘tie your fates to mine’. This is my quest.” He looked at Keir. “Go home to the magistrate, Enforcer. I do no’ want you here.”

Keir looked at Killian. He didn’t need words to know what was behind those eyes.

Keir’s only misgiving concerned leaving a grieving wife.

He’d have to hope for understanding. Of course, if it came to that, he wouldn’t be around for the consequences or the regret.

In the end, he opted for faith that the three of them would find a way to triumph.

He told himself it was just another adversity.

Keir nodded at Killian, who turned to Araxinthe. “We’re in.”

“No,” said Kagan, who was so angry his nostrils were flaring.

“The offer to leave wasn’t made to you,” Araxinthe said. “It was their choice.” Without further discussion, she began to recite the rules. “Here are the guidelines for the first challenge. If you accept, you’ll not be stopped from coming and going freely while completing the task.

“Listen carefully. When the gods of the seafarers vacated their home plane because of the encroachment of humans with their exploding population and abominable technologies, they recreated an exact replica of the Theban Mountain perch that had been home to the sphinx since ancient times.

“Your task is to bring an egg from her nest without harming her, or the nest, or other eggs. If she catches you, she’ll demand that you answer questions.

If you lie, she’ll know, and most likely eat you.

There might be a riddle. She likes riddles.

If you get it wrong, she’ll most likely eat you. Do you agree to this challenge?”

“Aye.”

“Mark that down as a yes answer,” she told one of the seated saffron wearers. To Kagan, she said, “You don’t want to think it over?”

“Will you let Esmerelda go if I do no’ accept?”

“No.”

“Then ‘tis my answer.”

“I see you’re fully committed to our sister. Commendable. I’d expect nothing less. In the unlikely event you succeed, you’ll be informed of the next trial.”

“No.”

Araxinthe, thinking the discourse over, had prepared to move on. Her head jerked at Kagan’s surprising, negative response.

“You can’t accept and refuse as if these opposites are mutually exclusive. You either accept or refuse.”

“I want to hear the details of all three tests,” he said.

“No.” She laughed lightly, liking that she’d just mimicked his simple answer that begged further clarification. All was quiet until she looked around the pavilion. Picking up on that cue, the saffrons began to laugh at her joke.

Keir was thinking that she did indeed have a sense of humor, albeit twisted, along with a Tony Soprano-style grip on her authority over others.

“Why not?” Kagan asked.

“Though I’m under no obligation to answer, I will say this. There’s no point in offering the rules of the second and third challenge when it’s so very improbable that you’ll complete the first.”

“What harm could come from so small an indulgence?” Kagan asked.

Keir and Killian looked at each other, slack-jawed. For the whole of their lives, the two had been taking turns talking for Kagan because he was so reluctant to voice his thoughts. They hadn’t known he was capable of eloquence.

After pondering that for a short time, she concluded that there wasn’t any inherent virtue in inflexibility. No harm could come from hearing all three tests. So, why not?

“Very well. The second challenge will be to enter and return from the Land of the Unworthy Dead. While there, you will not be able to claim your sephalian form.”

“How will I gain access?”

“The usual way. You’ll die.”

“Die?”

“Well, yes. Once you step onto the barge, you’ll be unable to reenter the land of the living without assistance. Don’t worry. If you succeed in escaping, we’ll know. We’ll retrieve you and revive you.” She clapped her hands. “Good as new!” And laughed.

Kagan drew, frowning. It seemed Araxinthe was enjoying the prospect of his or their demise, far too much. Factoring that into the equation, it felt as though his chances of success were far less than he’d thought.

“Also, your ability to shift into your lion form will be restricted. You’ll either succeed or fail in your present form.”

“That means there’s no ban on shifting for the first challenge?”

With a smirk of appreciation, and Araxinthe did appreciate his quick deduction, she said, “Yes.”

“Beg pardon, but I need further explanation. Yes, there is no ban?”

All three could hear a slight tinge of irritation creeping into Araxinthe’s tone as she said, “Yes. There is no ban on shifting for the first challenge.”

“Alright. Tell me about the final trial.” Kagan asked.

Araxinthe had returned to visibly enjoying herself. Either the knight really thought he had a chance, or he was a master of self-delusion.

“While the first two trials are objective, meaning you either do or die, the third is subjective. You will stand before a tribunal of Fritjof’s peers and make a case for granting her independence. If we concur with your argument, she’ll be free to go.”

“Forever.”

“Yes. Forever.”

“Do you have proof that the judges are open-minded?”

Araxinthe’s patience with the novelty of Kagan’s gall was again wearing thin. “If I say it is so, that’s proof enough.”

“Oh. Well then. I’ve successfully completed the first two tests. Is that proof enough?” he quipped, beyond worrying over the appearance of arrogance.

Araxinthe exploded upward from her throne-like chair. Not to a standing position. To a position where she floated ten feet above the sephalian. All present braced for shouting, but instead she spoke with a quiet, calm stillness that felt deadly enough to raise hackles on all three sephalia.

“The tribunal will be composed of five members chosen by Fritjof. She’ll have an opportunity to interview anyone she wishes.”

“Anyone?” Kagan asked.

“ANYONE!!!” Araxinthe shouted in frustration. When she realized she’d been too flustered to recognize that she was being tricked, it was too late to take it back. Everyone had heard her answer clearly.

She’d agreed that the panel would be composed of Esme’s choice of five people. Not just Cardinals. Anyone of Esme’s choice.

Kagan couldn’t help himself. His face split into a huge grin. He couldn’t remember grinning like that, ever. Except after making love to Esmerelda. For hours.

Keir and Killian were too shocked by the sight of a grinning Kagan to finish their victory ritual that normally involved a fist bump, chest bump, and pelvis wiggle. They never claimed it was dignified, but no one had ever been around to witness it before.

Several of the saffrons ducked their heads and giggled. Araxinthe wheeled to pin them with a look that promised reprisal.