Asunder by David Gaider Read Free Book Online Page B

the massive oaken desk. Salt- and- pepper hair showed the man had some age, but his face was hewn from solid stone. The armor he wore was like a templar's, but was charcoal black and emblazoned with a strange image that looked like the Chantry's sunburst but with an eye in the center. Most noticeable were the man's grey eyes: sharp and cold. This man was a warrior, and one who would kill without a second thought. For the first time Rhys wondered if he was in real danger.
                "Sit," the man snapped, nodding to the small chair across from the desk. Rhys found himself complying before he realized it. He sat there quietly as the man perused several sheets of parchment. The air was tense, and Rhys couldn't decide what made him more nervous: the idea that what ever was written on those sheets was about him, or that Ser Evangeline stood at crisp attention next to the desk, her face completely blank.
                He cleared his throat. No need for this to be unpleasant, after all. "Is the Knight- Commander going to be joining us?" he ventured.
                The man glanced up from his reading, raising his eyebrows curiously at this impertinence. For a moment it seemed like he might say nothing. Then he put the sheets down, straightening them into a neat pile with slow deliberation. "Knight- Commander Eron is no longer the head of this order. I am Lord Seeker Lambert, and I will be in command of the White Spire until further notice."
                Rhys felt a chill run down his spine. He may not have recognized the symbol on the man's armor, but the name he'd heard of. The Seekers of Truth, an order that stood above the templars as personal servants to the Divine. Nobody spoke of them except in whispers, and even then only to say that when a Seeker showed up you knew there was trouble. "Does this have something to do with the murders?" Rhys asked.
                The Lord Seeker paused, his eyes boring a hole into Rhys's skull. "You know about them?"
                "Everyone knows. Just because you don't tell us what's going on doesn't mean we won't figure it out. We're not idiots."
                The Lord Seeker glared over at Ser Evangeline, but she steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. The slight twitch in the corner of her mouth said I told you so . Then he looked back at Rhys, folding his arms. "Odd that every other mage in this tower professes ignorance on the matter. I'd be curious as to what you think you know."
                Rhys could lie, but what would be the point? It was entirely possible the Lord Seeker already knew what he was going to say. Still, it galled him to give in. He didn't possess Adrian's talent for invective, but he believed in standing up for himself. These templars didn't control the tower because the mages asked them to, after all. They did it because they could, and because the Chantry said it was their holy duty. Mages were required only to be obedient, and Rhys wasn't the sort of mage who could accept such an imbalance of power without chafing.
                "I think there've been five," he said lightly, "but I've heard as many as twelve. Nobody knows how many for sure."
                "Go on."
                "The first one was an initiate. A farm boy who was brought in from the southern Heartlands. We never even got to find out his name because he was killed in his cell two days after the templars brought him in."
                "Strange you would hear anything."
                "Not so strange. Initiates aren't the only ones you stick in those dungeons, and they're not soundproof. Someone heard screaming from one of the other cells, and not the normal kind. The day after, the templars were buzzing around the tower like hornets."
                The Lord Seeker shrugged. "Initiates die."
                Rhys felt his temper rising. The way the man said it,