“You said that you knew the Arch-Rike had the fireblood,” Annon said, brushing dust from his eyes. “How did you learn this?”
Lukias craned his neck, staring up at the mountains with a grim look. “Many of the great men of this world have it. Some suggest it is merely an ample surplus of ambition. If you look through the histories, as I have, you will see its evidence. Band-Imas is one of the greatest Arch-Rikes who has ever lived. But to answer your question, I was warned of it when I was younger. It was said that the Arch-Rike is a calm man, but possesses a fiery temper. When angry, his hands begin to glow. That is one of the marks of the fireblood, is it not?”
“It is. But have you seen it yourself in him?”
Lukias nodded. “Yes, but only rarely. The last time was when Tyrus Paracelsus escaped the city, destroying the tower in his wake. I was in the room when the news was brought. His face went black, his eyes glittered, and then I saw his hands. The hunt began immediately.”
Annon was curious to know more about their enemy. “How did the Arch-Rike come to power?”
“He was one of the many orphans raised in the city with a great mind for philosophy. Rather than joining the ranks of the Paracelsus, he devoted himself to the Rikes and rose quickly. He was wise for one so young and earned respect for his natural abilities as a leader. Men twice his age deferred to him for his unique wisdom. When there were problems, he solved them. I myself knew him as a younger man. He was the greatest among us. When the last Arch-Rike died, he was chosen despite his youth.”
Annon rubbed his chin. “How did the previous one die?”
Lukias glanced at him, brow furrowing. “He was old, Annon. His heart gave out. You cannot understand the pressures that come with the position. When Band-Imas was younger, his hair was like yours. Now it is white.”
“What I do not understand is why he stands in the way. Surely he has seen the destruction caused by the Plague. He has lived through it twice in his life, at least. Maybe three times. Is it merely ambition? He seeks to preserve his power?”
Lukias shook his head. “He and Tyrus were once very close. I think, at one time, he even considered Tyrus as a potential successor.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. Something happened between them. Something regarding Tyrus’s older sister. I do not know what it was. Both men are very private.”
Annon mulled over Lukias’s statements, adding them to the information he already knew from Tyrus. Something nagged at his mind.
“You said that the Arch-Rike was known for his wisdom, especially as a younger man. Do you know how he achieved it? Was he known to travel much?” Annon wondered if the Arch-Rike had been kissed by a Dryad.
“He did travel a great deal. He was an emissary for his predecessor and a shrewd negotiator and influencer. The only kingdom he would not visit was Stonehollow, for obvious reasons. They persecute those with the fireblood.”
“Do you know why that is?”
“They have a pagan belief that those with the fireblood are immune to the Plague. It is nonsense, of course.”
“Some myths have elements of truth,” Annon observed.
“It is said that the Druidecht run naked through the woods performing secret rites.” He looked at Annon quizzically, his mouth twitching with a smirk.
“That is not true,” Annon replied. “Your point is taken.”
“I have answered your questions about my master. Answer some for me.”
“If I can. About Tyrus or the Druidecht?”
“You would doubt my motives if I asked about Tyrus. Yes, I see the look—you would. So tell me of your order. Why will the Druidecht not allow their lore to be documented? Clearly you run the risk of losing all power should the Plague strike Canton Vaud. It is not logical. I have never understood the reason.”
Annon was pensive. It always made him uncomfortable when Lukias asked about the Druidecht or probed more about their plans following Basilides. While the ring on his finger helped him believe Lukias was not intending to betray them, he felt it prudent to withhold secrets, just as Tyrus had always done. He was beginning to believe that Lukias was sincere. But he did not wish to trust him recklessly.
“It is difficult to explain,” Annon replied. “Some knowledge is precious. If used wrongly, it can cause great harm. A Druidecht is trained piece by piece, bit by bit. We prove ourselves worthy of new knowledge by faithfully using what we have been given. Only when we have mastered the obligations of the knowledge already given are we allowed to learn more. Writing it down would be a temptation for some to gulp the knowledge instead of only sipping it. Every Druidecht learns at their own pace, not according to age or race. This talisman that I wear”—Annon fingered it respectfully—“is proof that I have mastered the knowledge and have earned the trust to learn more. Were I too ambitious to learn or failed to demonstrate the knowledge properly, I would lose the confidence of the spirits and would lose the talisman eventually. Even if a Preachán stole it from me, it would do them little good in the woods. It would become very clear to a spirit that he had not earned it.”
Lukias craned his neck, staring up at the mountains with a grim look. “Many of the great men of this world have it. Some suggest it is merely an ample surplus of ambition. If you look through the histories, as I have, you will see its evidence. Band-Imas is one of the greatest Arch-Rikes who has ever lived. But to answer your question, I was warned of it when I was younger. It was said that the Arch-Rike is a calm man, but possesses a fiery temper. When angry, his hands begin to glow. That is one of the marks of the fireblood, is it not?”
“It is. But have you seen it yourself in him?”
Lukias nodded. “Yes, but only rarely. The last time was when Tyrus Paracelsus escaped the city, destroying the tower in his wake. I was in the room when the news was brought. His face went black, his eyes glittered, and then I saw his hands. The hunt began immediately.”
Annon was curious to know more about their enemy. “How did the Arch-Rike come to power?”
“He was one of the many orphans raised in the city with a great mind for philosophy. Rather than joining the ranks of the Paracelsus, he devoted himself to the Rikes and rose quickly. He was wise for one so young and earned respect for his natural abilities as a leader. Men twice his age deferred to him for his unique wisdom. When there were problems, he solved them. I myself knew him as a younger man. He was the greatest among us. When the last Arch-Rike died, he was chosen despite his youth.”
Annon rubbed his chin. “How did the previous one die?”
Lukias glanced at him, brow furrowing. “He was old, Annon. His heart gave out. You cannot understand the pressures that come with the position. When Band-Imas was younger, his hair was like yours. Now it is white.”
“What I do not understand is why he stands in the way. Surely he has seen the destruction caused by the Plague. He has lived through it twice in his life, at least. Maybe three times. Is it merely ambition? He seeks to preserve his power?”
Lukias shook his head. “He and Tyrus were once very close. I think, at one time, he even considered Tyrus as a potential successor.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. Something happened between them. Something regarding Tyrus’s older sister. I do not know what it was. Both men are very private.”
Annon mulled over Lukias’s statements, adding them to the information he already knew from Tyrus. Something nagged at his mind.
“You said that the Arch-Rike was known for his wisdom, especially as a younger man. Do you know how he achieved it? Was he known to travel much?” Annon wondered if the Arch-Rike had been kissed by a Dryad.
“He did travel a great deal. He was an emissary for his predecessor and a shrewd negotiator and influencer. The only kingdom he would not visit was Stonehollow, for obvious reasons. They persecute those with the fireblood.”
“Do you know why that is?”
“They have a pagan belief that those with the fireblood are immune to the Plague. It is nonsense, of course.”
“Some myths have elements of truth,” Annon observed.
“It is said that the Druidecht run naked through the woods performing secret rites.” He looked at Annon quizzically, his mouth twitching with a smirk.
“That is not true,” Annon replied. “Your point is taken.”
“I have answered your questions about my master. Answer some for me.”
“If I can. About Tyrus or the Druidecht?”
“You would doubt my motives if I asked about Tyrus. Yes, I see the look—you would. So tell me of your order. Why will the Druidecht not allow their lore to be documented? Clearly you run the risk of losing all power should the Plague strike Canton Vaud. It is not logical. I have never understood the reason.”
Annon was pensive. It always made him uncomfortable when Lukias asked about the Druidecht or probed more about their plans following Basilides. While the ring on his finger helped him believe Lukias was not intending to betray them, he felt it prudent to withhold secrets, just as Tyrus had always done. He was beginning to believe that Lukias was sincere. But he did not wish to trust him recklessly.
“It is difficult to explain,” Annon replied. “Some knowledge is precious. If used wrongly, it can cause great harm. A Druidecht is trained piece by piece, bit by bit. We prove ourselves worthy of new knowledge by faithfully using what we have been given. Only when we have mastered the obligations of the knowledge already given are we allowed to learn more. Writing it down would be a temptation for some to gulp the knowledge instead of only sipping it. Every Druidecht learns at their own pace, not according to age or race. This talisman that I wear”—Annon fingered it respectfully—“is proof that I have mastered the knowledge and have earned the trust to learn more. Were I too ambitious to learn or failed to demonstrate the knowledge properly, I would lose the confidence of the spirits and would lose the talisman eventually. Even if a Preachán stole it from me, it would do them little good in the woods. It would become very clear to a spirit that he had not earned it.”
