“That sounds like the best path,” Torval said.
“I’ll go speak with Ovir right now,” Gavin said. “Unless there are any objections, this Conclave is adjourned.”
Chapter 49
A young man sat at a desk just inside the double doors, and Gavin waited until the young man noticed his presence. The young man jerked as he saw someone standing in front of his desk.
“Oh, I’m sorry…” the young man said as he lifted his head to face Gavin, but his eyes never quite made it to Gavin’s face. The young man’s eyes locked on Gavin’s medallion, and he froze.
Gavin smiled, saying, “Hello. My name is Gavin Cross, and I’m hoping Ovir has some time available.”
The young man blinked and shook his head as if trying to clear it. “W-who?”
“Ovir Thatcherson,” Gavin said. “I believe he’s the Royal Priest of Tel.”
Back on familiar territory, some of the young man’s confidence returned, and he squared his shoulders before saying, “I’m sorry, sir, but you’ll have to make an appointment to see the Royal Priest. Other clerics are available, though; perhaps, one of them can assist you.”
Gavin stood in silence, regarding the young man for several moments. He considered several responses before settling on a course of action. Gavin pivoted on his heel and walked deeper into the temple.
“Sir!” the young man said. “Sir, you have to wait! Sir!”
The doors that led deeper into the temple from the vestibule opened into the Hall of the Gods. The statues represented all those who had chosen to take on the mantle of divinity after the Godswar, and they were angled so that, if a person stood on the proper spot, all the statues seemed to face him or her.
Gavin found that spot.
Even the young man from the vestibule seemed reluctant to interrupt Gavin’s moment of silence as he looked to each statue in turn.
“Hello, uncle,” Gavin said as he looked upon the statue of Marin.
Marin was the youngest of the three Kirloth brothers during the Godswar, and if Dakkor’s information was accurate, Gavin assumed that he had descended from the middle brother, Gerrus, who fled with the refugees.
Gavin’s eyes found Dakkor next, and he couldn’t help but notice how real the statue looked. Gavin couldn’t help but be taken aback, either, when Dakkor’s statue seemed to wink at him. Not knowing what else to do, Gavin nodded once in acknowledgement.
The next statue Gavin located was that of Bellos. Gavin bowed once to the statue of Bellos before allowing his eyes to roam across the rest of the statues there. Gavin knew them all by reputation, for he had read Mivar’s Histories. He allowed himself a few more moments of silence before he took a deep breath, scanned the faces once more, and said, “Thank you…for everything.”
A strong, welcoming warmth suffused Gavin’s entire being as he resumed his stride into the temple. As much as he would like to remain and consider those who had come before, Gavin had work to do.
Gavin stepped through the door at the far end of the Hall of the Gods and soon found himself in the concourse outside the shrine of Valthon. Now, at last, Gavin found people. Almost thirty people occupied the space; they were separated into groups of varying sizes, and their conversations created a background noise for the room that would easily overwhelm any but the loudest voices.
Like every other room Gavin had ever seen inside the city walls, this space was lit with sconces that neither burned fuel nor radiated heat, and Gavin felt the evocation effects that powered the sconces through his skathos.
A door opened on the far side of the concourse, and Gavin smiled at seeing Ovir exit whatever room lay beyond. He set off at a determined gait and crossed the space in little time.
Ovir looked up from the book in his hands just as Gavin approached, and his face split into a wide smile.
“Gavin,” Ovir said. “How good to see you. Tell me, how have you been?”
The young man from the front vestibule skidded to a stop at Gavin’s shoulder.
“Sir, please forgive me,” the young man said. “This man entered the temple asking for you and walked off when I said he’d need an appointment.”
Ovir’s smile faded as he turned to face the young man, saying, “Acolyte, there is one man who always has immediate and unrestricted access to me. Who is that?”
“The black-robe wizard known as Marcus, sir,” the young man said.
“Now, there are two. Do not hinder Kirloth’s passage ever again,” Ovir said. “You should return to your post. I’ll distribute notification of the policy change by the end of the day.”
Gavin kept his silence until the young man’s footfalls disappeared beneath the ambient noise. Once he had a reasonable assurance of semi-privacy, Gavin said, “I’m sorry about distressing your acolyte, Ovir.”
“Nonsense,” Ovir said, taking Gavin by the arm and leading him deeper into the temple. “Acolytes are made to be distressed. It teaches them fortitude. So, tell me, Gavin; what brings you here today? As much as I would like to believe so, I rather doubt it’s to visit a friend of your mentor.”
Gavin allowed himself a rueful chuckle before he said, “You are very perceptive, Ovir. I have a matter on my hands that might require your insight, if not your assistance.”
“Well then,” Ovir said as he turned a corner, still leading Gavin, “let’s go to my study. Marcus and I had many weighty conversations there.”
Ovir led Gavin to the second floor of the temple and to a suite that occupied the far-right corner, relative to the main doors. The suite was well appointed, with thick carpets and tapestries depicting notable events in the world’s history. The one thing that caught Gavin’s eye was the Vushaari flag hanging from one corner of the suite’s anteroom.
Ovir saw Gavin’s focus and smiled. He said, “Does it shock you to see Vushaar’s flag hanging in the residence of the Royal Priest of Tel?”
“No,” Gavin said. “A man should be free to decorate his quarters however he chooses, including displaying the flag of his homeland.”
“Not many people know I’m from Vushaar, Gavin,” Ovir said, “though I’ve never tried to hide it.”
“Marcus mentioned it once, but he did not say how you came to be in Tel in the first place.”
Ovir laughed and motioned for Gavin to follow him.
“That is a very long story, young man,” Ovir said, as he stepped through the door leading deeper into the suite. “Suffice it to say, I felt a calling to pursue membership in the Warpriests of Tel when I was but a boy, and that calling led me here.”
The door leading off the vestibule allowed them entrance to a living room that felt like the common room of Gavin’s suite back at the tower. Carpets lined the floor, and tapestries hung down the walls. Two sofas and several armchairs occupied the space, but Ovir didn’t even slow. He led Gavin through this room to a door on the right.
Upon entering this room, Gavin found himself in what could be nothing other than Ovir’s study. Bookshelves lined every wall, except two. The wall across from the door held a massive hearth and fireplace, and the north wall (to the left of the door) held a large wooden desk and a set of double doors that led onto a balcony. Two armchairs sat in front of the hearth, and a small stand stood between the two armchairs.
“Pick whichever chair suits you,” Ovir said. “I shall return in a moment with refreshment.”
Gavin walked across the room and chose the chair on the right, similar in placement to the chair he used in his suite. It was upholstered in a gray fabric with loops of colored thread running throughout the fabric, and Gavin seemed to sink into it when he sat; it might have even been more comfortable than his chairs.