Page 8 of Salt in the Seas
Bartholem’s face fell. “Are they not valuable?”
“Priceless,” Gaeren breathed out, placing a protective hand over the lump under his shirt, where his own tear-shaped starlock rested against his skin. “Inside each one there’s a lock of hair, freely given by a Star to enhance a progeny’s magic. But they’re only given to half-lights chosen by the Sun. Supposedly people used to pass the starlocks down in their families, but corruption made that unpredictable. Now, when a progeny dies, their starlock and body are retrieved by the Star who blessed them. Starlocks left behind like these are ancient and rare. They would only be available in black market trade.”
“Would they even work for someone not chosen by the Stars?” Cyrus asked.
“It’s the Sun who does the choosing.” Gaeren flicked an apologetic glance at Bartholem. The old man tolerated Gaeren and Riveran’s worship of the Sun quite well for a Lorvandan priest, but talk of theirdifferences always reminded the priest of the death of his wife. “And yes, they would work, but not with the same intensity. Selling these on the black market could fund an entire war, but it could also be putting power in the hands of our enemies.”
“Perhaps we should keep them here, then. Out of the half-lights’ reach.” Bartholem covered them with the linen and set them back by the door. “The Stars will provide other resources.”
“Even so, the reward is a good idea,” Gaeren said, and Cyrus and Riveran hummed their assent. “After sending out letters, Riveran and I can return to Vendaras. Then, after updating the other Recreants, we’ll return to collect both Cyrus and Rildan.”
Cyrus frowned, but this time he didn’t argue. After dinner, he pulled out maps of Lorvandas, and the three men huddled in the chancery, writing letters and marking off all the cities they needed to contact, well into the night. It would likely take a week just to get all the letters sent out, and even that delay left Gaeren on edge.
A tense quiet sat between them as they worked. Cyrus seemed to support the plan, but Gaeren sensed he still didn’t care for it. It made the most sense for Cyrus to stay behind. He knew the area best. But was this one of those moments where Gaeren was supposed to set aside the authority he took for granted and let other people make decisions? Were they supposed to vote like he’d seen the Lorvandans doing? Like the Recreants back home wanted in their democracy?
If Larkos, his first mate, were here, he’d have plenty to say about it.
They continued their strained silence until Riveran yawned and stretched, wishing them a good rest of their night. Cyrus and Gaeren sealed the last of the letters and blew out their candles before dropping them off in the kitchen.
Instead of going to bed, Cyrus stepped into the Stargazer to perform his nightly ritual of worship. Like always, Gaeren followed him, mostly to observe the customs of the Lorvandans. He didn’t understand why they worshiped the Stars, who were created by the Sun just like people.
“Which Star are you praying to tonight?” Gaeren asked the question softly so as not to disturb the other worshipers.
“Andreas,” Cyrus said without turning his eyes from the heavens.The Stargazer was designed exactly like the Vendaran Sungazers—a tall tower with an open roof, allowing worshipers to see the Stars above. Except in Vendaras, worship was done during the day when the Sun was out.
“And he’s a leader among the Stars, correct?” Gaeren asked.
“Yes. If there were ever a hierarchy among the Stars, he would be among the top five.”
“And his role is typically to oversee disputes among the people?”
Cyrus nodded and turned to Gaeren. “You have a good memory.”
“What do you suppose his role is now that the Stars have been so silent?” Gaeren liked needling Cyrus, partly because it was a challenge to fluster the other man’s faith and partly because he truly wanted the answers.
“Perhaps they’ve found other ways to influence us without being physically present.”
Gaeren hummed his skepticism. “And why do you choose to pray to him tonight?”
Cyrus hesitated. “We’ve agreed that some of us should remain behind and some of us should go back to Vendaras. I’m asking him to make it clear who should go and who should stay so it doesn’t turn into another fight.”
Gaeren raised his eyebrows. He thought the decision had already been made. Besides, their bickering didn’t seem worthy of a deity’s intervention. It wasn’t as if their actions would have an impact on the world at large. That was one of the biggest differences he’d noticed between their faiths. The human Lorvandans worshiped the Stars but saw them as friends. Vendaran half-lights worshiped the Sun, but their worship held more fear and respect than love.
“Well, then, I hope he answers your prayer.”
This time Cyrus smiled and tipped his face back to the sky.
Gaeren followed suit, running through the names of the Stars Cyrus had mentioned in the past. “Which one would you pray to for direction in your life’s purpose?”
“I already know my life’s purpose.” Cyrus’ frown gave less weight to his confident words. “I’m meant to challenge people to grow in their faith.”
“But if you didn’t—” Gaeren scratched the back of his neck and avoided Cyrus’ eyes. “If you thought you had one purpose for your whole life only to discover you never wanted that in the first place, which one would you ask to help you find your new purpose?”
“I suppose Bryton,” Cyrus said. “His role is to reveal truth. He’s one people are often reluctant to pray to, because sometimes the truth isn’t what we want it to be.”
Gaeren let out a bitter laugh. “Well said.”
Cyrus grinned. “It’s said you should always pray to Sheen when you pray to Bryton. He brings truth and she brings mercy. One without the other is unbalanced.”
