"They don't," Tauran admitted. Tyr knows I wish this one weren't so hard. "But diving off these rocks was supposed to remind me to stay vigilant against growing complacent. That means recognizing when the harder route is the right one."
Micus sat without speaking for another moment. "It sounds as though you've already made up your mind, Tauran," he said at last. "You've already decided what you're going to do, and nothing I say will change your decision."
"Perhaps," Tauran said. Yes, he admitted to himself. I have.
"Then what do you want from me?" Micus asked. "What purpose can I possibly serve by sitting out here in this wretched storm?"
I need you to believe in me, Tauran thought. I need you to tell me that I'm not trying to dive off this cliff right now. Because that's what this feels like. "I just wanted you to understand that I'm clear headed, steady in my faith," he said aloud. "I just wanted you to know that I believe in my heart that something is profoundly wrong with the universe right now, and I can see it, even where others cannot."
"Tauran," Micus said. His voice was odd, almost warning his friend. "I can't support what I don't believe in. We have existed with Tyr's laws for millennia, and they have served all who dwell within this realm quite well. Right now, at this moment, when so much else is in turmoil, is the very time to uphold them. That is how they endure, how we survive."
"I know," Tauran said, suddenly feeling very tired.
"You want to bend one rule, and then another, and another. You claim that it's because you see some catastrophe on the horizon, and you intend to stop it, but what if the very catastrophe you envision is the result of your own misguided transgressions? What if some calamity does befall the House, and it all could have been avoided if you had just adhered to the rules?"
Tauran held his hands up in despair. "It is always possible," he admitted. "I cannot foresee the outcomes any better than you." That's why I feel like I'm standing on the edge of this maelstrom, ready to throw myself over. "But every way I look at this, I see the same thing. Every part of my body just feels that I am right."
It was Micus's turn to throw his hands up. "We are not creatures of gut instincts and intuitive guesswork, Tauran. Watching you place so much emphasis on 'feelings' troubles me more than anything. As far as I'm concerned, the path is clear. There is no deliberation necessary. The law is the law, and we are bound to abide by it."
Tauran nodded, staring at the wet rock before him. "I understand," he said. He felt a great sadness wash over him. "You would handle this differently. I had hoped you would see my viewpoint, had hoped that all these years of diving together from this point had allowed us to share some common insight. I guess it is not to be."
Micus reached out and placed his hand upon Tauran's arm. "I'm sorry, my friend. I do see the value in what you taught me, but vigilance can only carry one so far. Powers much greater than ourselves have both the wisdom and insight to guide the rest of us, and we have the wisdom-and the responsibility-to be guided. If you doubt, turn to Tyr. He is mysterious, but he will not lead you astray."
Tauran smiled. How can you be so sure? he thought. "I hope you are right," he said.
Micus rose up onto his knees. "Do not stay out here much longer, my friend," he said. "This storm seems to grow worse by the moment."
"I won't," Tauran promised. "See you in a while."
Micus stood and launched himself into the tempest. Fighting the winds, he flew off, leaving his friend alone to contemplate.
Tauran frowned as he watched the other angel grow small before vanishing within a cloud bank. The storm is going to get worse, he thought. Much, much worse.
Micus had not been gone long when another angel arrived at Tauran's ledge. She swooped up from below and hovered for a heartbeat or two, then she settled in the spot where Micus had stood only a moment before. She reached out to steady herself against the buffeting winds.
Tauran started at her arrival, then he smiled and stood. "Eirwyn!" he said. "I hate it when you do that."
"Oh, you do not!" she replied. "You're very glad to see me, and you know it."
She looked older than Tauran, her bronze skin crisscrossed with wrinkles. Her merry eyes twinkled with genuine friendship as she smiled. Her long, flowing hair hung down in a single braid over one shoulder. It gleamed silver in the cloudy day.
She went straight to Tauran. "You look very tired," she said, embracing him.
I am tired, he thought. Bone weary, as the mortals say. "I'm better now that you're here," he said. "What's brought you?"
The elder deva adapted a look of mock indignation. "Why, Tauran! You wound me! Think you so little of my divination skills that you would doubt my ability to know when and where I am needed?"
Tauran laughed, gladness filling him for a moment. "You divined that I would be here?" he asked.
"No, I did not expect to find you here," she answered. "I merely augured that I would be needed here, at this time. As usual, I was right." She hugged him again, then pulled back to stare the angel squarely in the face. "What troubles you?" she asked.
Tauran looked away and felt the full weight of his worries. "I don't know," he said, watching the storm-tossed clouds roil around the two of them. "I fear that I am losing my way, Eirwyn," he said, returning to gaze earnestly at her. "No one seems to see what I see, the menace that seems to be gathering in the House. Not even Micus shows any grasp of the threats I fear."
Eirwyn sighed. "This feud between Tyr and Helm has upset the balance. The sooner they settle it, the better off we'll all be."
For a moment, they sat together unspeaking, with only the roar of wind and waterfall filling their ears. The moment stretched out, became a bit uncomfortable. Tauran wanted to share more, but he fretted that he was about to cross a threshold from which he could not return.
"You can tell me, Tauran," Eirwyn said at last. "It won't hurt my feelings. We've been friends too long to let this feud come between us."
If only it were that benign, Tauran thought. He smiled slightly. "It's actually the opposite," he said. He drew a deep breath before proceeding. "I believe Tyr has lost his reason."
Eirwyn drew her head back a bit when she heard the angel's words. She scrutinized him for several heartbeats, until he began to fear that he had misjudged her. I thought she would understand better than most. But maybe-
"That's a dangerous thing you say, Tauran," the elder deva said. "Most within the House-or at least the Court-would not take kindly to hearing those words."
"Believe me," Tauran said, "I know. I dare not blaspheme that way in front of"-he cast a quick glance in Eyrwin's direction-"anyone less sympathetic to the notion." He saw her smile slightly then. "But I believe it," he continued, "and furthermore, I think I can prove that Cyric has his hand in it."
Eirwyn gave a small gasp. "You don't really have a good grasp for building support for your ideas, do you?"
Tauran's chuckle felt mirthless. "It would seem not," he said. "And yet, I'm about to go before the High Council and argue that very thing."
"Tauran!" she said, admonishing him. "I don't think that's wise."
Tauran sighed. "Perhaps," he said. "But if I'm correct and do nothing, then I fear I have committed the greater crime. The risk I take in revealing my suspicions pales in comparison to the repercussions if I am right."
"What leads you to believe this?" she asked.
Tauran explained what he knew of Aliisza, Vhok, and Zasian.
When he was done, Eirwyn sat very still. Finally, she rose to her feet. "What you claim is very serious, Tauran. But my divinations did not lead me here to talk you out of your plan. Of that I am confident."
Tauran stared up at her, waiting to see what she would say next. What he thought he had lost in Micus, he hoped against hope he had gained in Eirwyn.