Aralim had learned a few things during the last few weeks. He had learned a lot about the culture of Maga and the religion of the similarly named Goddess. He had learned how loyal his soldiers were to one another—Grendar rarely left Lerela’s bedside. He had also learned that his birthday had come and gone during their frantic trek toward the city. Aralim was now forty-eight years of age, though he had scarcely noticed as they carried Lerela’s stretcher toward the Eye those last few days.
On the last day of the Moon, he gathered his friends together for a quick refresher on their current situation. The best place for this meeting, of course, was in the infirmary of the Palace. The healers had reduced Lerela’s fever, though her consciousness had not reached a state of lucidity and her health was still unpredictable.
Aralim sat across Lerela’s bed once they arrived. Grendar sat in his armchair on the other side, while Nill joined the others in gathering around the foot of the bed. When Aralim had fetched her from her quarters a few moments ago, Nill had been massaging her feet with a soothing cream; she had hurriedly hidden the unpleasant blisters clustered around her heels and toes and now stood on them as though nothing was amiss.
After everyone quietly checked in with one another, Aralim cleared his throat. “In five days time, I will make a proposal for Lerela to be given access to the Eye for healing.”
Nill smiled hopefully. “Do you think we’ll get to see the healing properties of the Goddess firsthand?” she asked. Ever the believer.
“The Eye hasn’t been used in over a year, but I think there’s a chance.” Aralim looked at Grendar, and then followed his gaze back to Lerela. He strongly hoped they would see the Eye in action.
“Is it irrefutable that the lake can heal?” Devran asked. “How do we know they haven’t decided to stop using it because it doesn’t do anything—because it’s been a sham all along?”
Aralim smirked. “We don’t. But, our next best option is in Rema. Much more than six days away.”
“So why don’t they want us to use it?” Nill questioned.
“They disapproved of the previous rulers use of the waters,” Aralim explained. “So, their new ruler is much more conservative.” It was not entirely accurate, but got the point across.
Aralim had heard a lot of repeated explanations—that the city had made Maga angry at them—but only one cleric of the Palace revealed the details frankly. When he had usurped the late Queen Zanna, King Eilar had arranged for an attack at her most vulnerable: upon the lake. According to the beliefs of the people here, the Goddess was a distant, non-interactive deity who had given the healing waters as a gift to her people. Committing murder upon the waters had corrupted the gift, or drawn the ire of Maga herself.
The manner of the assassination was not public knowledge, nor were the other details of Zanna’s downfall. Aralim had learned that the bones hanging in a cage over the palace gate upon their first arrival had not even been Zanna’s, despite the public address from the courts. According to Aralim’s priestly source, the body of Queen Zanna had never been recovered.
Aralim had never known a reason to be forthcoming with someone’s secrets when unpredictable comrades were within earshot. Devran might have begun publishing the “Tales of Zanna” in a pamphlet for all Aralim knew.
His friends considered their need for the healing water. “Do you think your authority as an Ambassador of Numa’nakres will be enough to sway the new leader’s conservatism?” Nill asked.
Aralim sighed. “That would require me to use Maga and Rema’s relations as a bargaining chip. Imagine the consequence if they refused…”
“I’m not aware of any such relations to begin with,” Grendar pointed out dryly.
“All the worse.”
Devran wrung his hands together. “If we cannot use our country as a means of persuasion, then what? Can we afford a bribe?”
Aralim shook his head grimly. “That sort of negotiation would require a private audience. My appeal must be made in public court, as the use of the waters are a ‘public affair.’”
Ever hopeful, Nill spoke up again. “Perhaps you should make an argument of reasoning. If the water is dangerous to use or cursed somehow… can that really reduce Lerela’s condition?” She waved to the comatose woman on the bed. “She’s not going to recover otherwise.”
“Maybe you should tell the King that Lerela was only hurt because he can’t protect his own road!” Devran blurted bitterly.
Aralim shrugged. “I think the key will be forcing his hand through the opinion of the public. Eilar refused to make time to meet me last time we were here. Political motivation will likely only work against us.”
“Will we be standing before the court with you?” Nill asked. “I don’t know if I will have much to offer. Public speaking is not my strongest trait.”
“I’m not certain on the proceedings, to be honest.” After a moment, Aralim looked at Grendar. “I feel that, regardless of outcome, we need to discuss our departure home.”
“What about it?” Grendar asked. He glanced at Lerela’s pale face again, and then back to Aralim.
Aralim nodded. “Find a boat that will support Lerela’s condition. Also find a healer willing to travel to Rema with us. If we don’t gain access to the Eye, there is no need for us to stay here.” In that case, Aralim decided they would need to hurry toward Rema as fast as possible.
“I can begin looking into this right away, if you would like.” Next, Grendar pulled out his own map, which extended this far east of Numa’nakres. “Will we take the same route—the Toringa River to Varravar, then along the coast?”
Aralim nodded. “Hopefully it will be a pleasant journey with our friend, and not an anxious flight toward the master mages in Rema.”
“And the Eternal Emperor,” Devran said. He liked to correct Aralim when there was an opportunity to praise his god-king.
After Aralim’s friends had departed, Grendar stood up to begin his riverboat arrangements. He looked at Aralim again and quietly asked, “Just to be clear, would you like our means of transport to be ready for the day of the public audience?”
“Plan for two days following. I’m not sure how long this could take,” Aralim explained. He knew Grendar was asking out of strategic worry—should they need to depart suddenly—but Aralim intended to avoid issuing any ultimatums to a foreign King.
Grendar bowed stiffly. “Certainly,” he said, and finally departed Lerela’s bedside.
Alone with Lerela, Aralim reached for his charred staff. Then he paused, and turned back to the injured guardswoman. “Lerela, I’ve had a lot of close friends die in my life, yet somehow I feel the others haven’t…. I want you to know that you’re strong for staying with us this long and I also want you to know that if you’re strong enough to keep fighting, I’ll become strong enough to help you. I’m starting to think that might be my way on the Path….” He watched her quietly for a moment, and then picked up his staff to leave.