Page 86 of Court of Talons
“It’s not what I’ve learned, but what you have,” Nazar says. He takes another pull on his pipe. “You’ve endured much in this tournament already, and a warrior deserves to know the truth of those with whom he fights.”
I frown at him. The priest seems older than he should, suddenly, his face lined with new sorrows. “I don’t understand.”
He offers me the pipe, and my brows shoot up. I get the sense this isn’t an idle offering, but I’ve never drawn pipe smoke and suspect I’ll choke to death if I try.
Still, he doesn’t speak, merely lifts the pipe higher. I take it, and as Nazar’s eyes crinkle with the faintest amusement, I fit the mouthpiece to my lips.
“Draw soft and don’t swallow, bringing the smoke to the mind but not the heart.”
I don’t know if Nazar is speaking those words aloud or not, but I take a shallow, cautious breath, not trusting myself to do more. The taste of the smoke is curiously sweet, heady, and I blow it as quickly, waiting as long as I dare to take another shallow breath of fresh air. My eyes water, but I manage only the slightest cough.
Nazar nods as I blink away the moisture, but he doesn’t take the pipe back at first.
Instead, he unshoulders part of his cloak, leaving his left arm bare.
“Know the truth, Warrior Talia,” he says.
I blink again hard, then a second time, but the horror of what’s in front of me doesn’t flow away like smoke and tears.
“Nazar,” I gasp.
The priest who stands before me has been horribly, grievously wounded. Scars rip and rend their way in a ragged scream down his left arm, making the once-muscular length of it a shredded waste, deformed and twisted. The bones appear to have been broken and poorly reset, and the devastationcontinues all the way to the base of the priest’s hand—where, unmistakably, a thick scrap of leather is still buried in his wrist, like some forsaken relic. The skin around that knot is white with scars, clear proof of the attempt to fully remove it…an attempt that apparently had been stopped before Nazar lost his hand entirely.
“What…” I begin to ask the question, then realize I don’t need to. The answer has been waiting for me to see it from the very first day. “Youwere that banded soldier you told me about, from all those years ago.” All Nazar’s training, his guidance, and his knowledge make sudden, irrefutable sense. “You have aDivh.”
Nazar’s mouth creases into a tired smile, his eyes suddenly as old as the Sounding Sea. “Had,” he says, his voice sounding very far away. “Wrath. He was the mightiest creature in the capital—in all of the Imperium, perhaps. Noble, strong, and true.”
“But what…”
My words seem to bring Nazar back to the moment. “The Imperium, in its weakness, forbade the connection of warrior and Divh outside the Protectorate many, many years ago. But that’s not the truth you must know now, merely the test of that truth. In my privation, I sought the Light, and I learned that such weakness as I encountered in the Imperium takes many forms. Each equally damning.”
Whether it’s the heaviness of the smoke still in the air or the lulling cadence of Nazar’s voice, I find myself riveted to attention as he continues.
“In the waning days of the Imperial Wars, entire households had been established in the western frontier. Once those warriors understood what lay outside our borders in the Western Realms, both men and women fought to turn back the threat. In that time of dire need, the emperor discovered the unlikely ally of the Divh, and a contract of protection betweenour races was struck. The Imperium to lead, the Divh to follow, and the Protectorate was formed.”
I nod, my gaze still fixed on Nazar’s shattered arm. How had he…whyhad he been unbanded so gruesomely? What did he mean by the Imperium’s weakness?
Then his next words command my undivided focus.
“But that contract was not—could not—have been made by men,” the priest says quietly. “Instead, it was proven that the firstborndaughtersof the imperial warlords fought with the fiercest strength and greatest connection to the Divhs, and that only they could broker this agreement with the mighty foreign race. Accordingly, they were granted the mightiest of the beasts. Those women became the true first line of warriors.”
I gape at him. “The…daughters?” Unbidden, the image of the Savasci springs to my mind. It’s not so difficult to imagine those women as warriors, having seen their faces, their eyes.
“This is why the law is so harsh in the Protectorate, Talia. Because once upon a time, women were the mightiest warriors in the land. Eventually, men could no longer stomach that truth. But the truth, it still remains.” He fixes me with a hard gaze. “It’s why Gent evolved to match the strength he saw in you, Talia—notbecause you were weak, but because you were stronger than any son of the Tenth House had been for generations. It’s also why you have taken both to the band and to the way of the warrior with instinctive truth. And why you can succeed now.”
I flinch back, immediately rejecting his words out of habit and yet…and yet…Iwantto believe him. I want to think that maybe one day I’ll be worthy of the enormous, beautiful Divh who has pledged his bond to me. I want to be the warrior knight both Gent and Nazar believe me to be—someday.
I’m definitely not there yet.
“But it’s not enough.I’mnot enough. I’m not trained,” I protest, still staring as the priest slowly reshoulders his cloak,hiding his ruined arm from view. “There’s still so much I don’t know.”
“That’s true,” Nazar says gravely, reclaiming his pipe from my frozen fingers. “But what is also true is that you are Talia of the Tenth House, first-blooded and firstborn. As such, you will fight with power and with honor, and with the strength your blood has given you. And you willalwaysbe enough.”
Chapter 36
The next day, standing on the platform of warriors as Rihad reads the assignments of the new combatants, I don’t feel like I’ll be enough, despite the roaring of the crowd. Dutifully, I jolt in momentary dismay as Rihad announces Hantor’s name, holding my startled expression long enough that the Lord Protector gets his moment of preening.Unmitigated ass.
The moment he glances away I wipe all emotion from my face.