Chapter I

Swells Over Still Waters, Part 1: Stealing (+Audiobook)

10th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year

I must let you go now,

like a pebble to the sea.

I release you, my love,

and watch you drift into the deep

“Canticle for a Lost Life”, From Order of Loss Funeral Rites, Written by Saint Wōde in the Unreckoned Years

Petsune shouts after the boy as he melts into the crowded marketplace, “Hey! Stop, thief!” The little rascal stole the offering plate that Petsune was collecting donations in but pitched all the money into the street before scampering off. Petsune gives chase, but almost immediately loses sight of the quick thief. He packs a light kit, that’s for certain. He wades through the sea of people, some trying to sell him things and others seeking to peruse the wares. A glint from above catches his eye. When Petsune looks up to the place, he sees the thief leaping from an awning onto an opposing rooftop, the shining offering plate still in hand. Petsune bumbles his way out of the bustling market and into the alley, following the thief as best he can. When he exits the alley on the other side however, he finds no trace of the nimble boy. He looks up and down the streets but eventually gives it up as a lost cause. Suddenly he realizes he left all the money in the street where the thief tossed it.

Petsune runs back up the alley past the Finger Weaver, and through the marketplace to his place in front of the Church bridge. As expected, the street is picked clean of every coin, not even a scale left. Petsune growls with frustration, knowing that Father Haltur will hold him responsible for this. He gets into the simple ferry and pushes off from the edge of the mass. He begins pulling himself across the water to the floating Church, marveling at the simple beauty of the building. He is always struck by this church’s craftsmanship. It’s made entirely of wood and built to resemble a droplet of water. The expert carpenters that crafted this building must have used Saintstone tools because not even a seam of wood is visible. Saintstone is an extremely valuable material, more valuable than gold. It is harder than anything else, almost unbreakable, extremely light, and capable of holding the sharpest of edges. Since the North War, it comes from the mountains of Broadfell Keep, though it is exceedingly rare to find, making it even more expensive here in the Kingdom of Dintash. Petsune finds himself amazed at the capabilities of craftsmen with Saintstone tools. There are simple designs adorning the inside walls but nothing on the outside. The only feature visible as Petsune docks the ferry is the curving window that winds around the building, culminating in a stained-glass wave over the entrance. He wonders as he walks closer how such a marvelous piece of glass was wrought.

Petsune walks through the entrance doors and into the sanctuary, with its high vaulted ceiling. The Saint’s sun has fully set and now the Second sun is melting into the horizon like a hot disk. Glaring red light pierces through the stained glass to illuminate the altar at the front in iridescent splendor. Standing at the front and staring into the Window to the Deep is Father Haltur, as though waiting for him. Petsune sighs as he begins to walk down the center aisle. To his left and right are the water-filled grooves that all supplicants kneel in during the service. He mounts the steps and joins Father Haltur by the large Window. Gazing down into the Window to the Deep, Petsune feels a small knot form in his stomach. He isn’t afraid of the deep water, exactly, he thinks of it as a healthy respect for the dangers that lurk therein. There is something innately dreadful about the unplumbed depths of Yath.

Neither of them speak as they plumb the depths of the unfathomable well. The unobstructed view into the eerie leagues of dark ocean below sends a shiver crawling up Petsune’s spine. The sea is slightly cloudy due to the Church’s proximity to the markets, save for in the early morning when it is crystal clear. For now however, the streets are filled with townsfolk and merchants, all emptying chamber pots and refuse into the sea. Father Haltur speaks but Petsune hears not a word. He is gripped by a morbid curiosity for what lay below him at this very moment, other than the dozens, if not hundreds, of corpses. Every Church of the Deep funeral consists of deadweights being tied to the casket, which is slathered with glowing millie juice, and then the entire thing is sunken to the bottom through the Window. Petsune suppresses another shiver as he pictures all the bodies down there, wrinkled and emaciated, floating just above the bottom on their ghostly tether.

Petsune is startled out of his contemplation. “What?”

Father Haltur rolls his eyes imperceptibly, then repeats himself, “I said, where is the collection plate?”

Petsune has the good grace to appear abashed as he says, “Someone… stole it.”

Father Haltur grips his forehead with one hand and shakes his head as he quietly says, “Of course someone did.”

He then motions for Petsune to follow him. Pard and Wendell are walking by as Petsune follows Father Haltur, Pard sporting a devilish grin as he draws a line across his neck with one finger. Father leads Petsune off to the side of the sanctuary and enters a narrow alcove of archives and desks. Father Haltur motions for Petsune to sit, and suddenly he has a feeling that this is not going to be a good chat.

Father Haltur begins resignedly, looking as though he just buried someone, “Petsune, you are a bright boy: you must know what this is regarding?”

Petsune can't look at the Father, not in this shame, and so he looks over at his desk where he spent hours translating and copying texts. His emotions are a jumbled mix of anger at the injustice of this moment, at himself for feeling ashamed of his beliefs and actions, and a profound sadness and embarrassment. His anger wins over for a moment however and he replies indignantly, “No, I have no idea, Father. Why don’t you tell me?”

Of course, Father Haltur blusters slightly under this sudden aggression and responds with a slight temper, “You have taken things too far this time, Petsune. The Church cannot stand idly by while you openly preach heresy in the streets. The Coldor Cleave is an evil thing, not to be trifled with. Are you forgetting that they are the betrayers of the Alliance of Nations? They are sworn enemies of the crown, Petsune. There is animosity in the hearts of these people. The hurt of the North War still burns in the breast of many. I cannot in good conscience allow you to continue this… crusade. You have been warned and punished before; you have brought this on yourself. However,” Father looks kindly at Petsune, “I feel you should know this is not personal.” His tone becomes as avuncular as his demeanor at the end.

Petsune is still upset however, so he doesn’t let up. He has been reprimanded by too many Fathers too often, and a small flame of resentment burns in him now. He snaps back, “Then why is the Church doing this - why in the depths are you doing this? I thought the Church professed to value questions?”

But Father Haltur doesn’t stoop to his anger this time, replying kindly, “You know the Church values: Change and Truth. Questions are a part of that, yes, but not like this Petsune. You cannot openly support the Coldor, you will end up in a Royal cell, or worse.” Now Father Haltur turns away and he sounds deeply saddened when he speaks, “I understand your… past, but that is behind you now, Petsune. You are a good young man; you no longer need to defend those savages. You are different in your thinking, and that is what I love about you, but this goes too far. I do not wish to see you hurt over something so… trivial.”

Petsune looks away from the Father, his anger cooling slightly, “It isn’t trivial to me, Father. I know you think I am only defending them out of some twisted sense of duty, but it’s more than that…” Petsune grows quiet with the weight of unspoken words pressing on his throat.

He doesn’t believe the Coldor are evil, they simply can’t be — how could his people be everything people say they are? It isn’t a twisted sense of loyalty that drives his propensity toward arguments, it’s a fierce desire for truth. Something about his people's betrayal of the Alliance simply doesn’t make sense. Why would they agree to the peace talks and meet with the leaders, only to make a doomed attempt at breaking the Alliance as soon as it was signed? If he could just prove his people’s innocence, then perhaps he could return home one day. But how is he to say all of this? How can he say that he feels he wasn’t rescued from his people, but that he was stolen? How can he say that he wishes to prove the Coldor were innocent in the betrayal of the Alliance? He looks at Father Haltur and knows he cannot give voice to these thoughts, not while the Coldor are so widely hated. Instead, he simply looks at Father Haltur, who turns to him kindly and says, “I want you to think and to raise questions, I do, but this is too far. I’m afraid I must forbid you from this topic altogether. You must not speak or read or write of this matter anymore. Otherwise, I will be forced to have you excommunicated from the church.”

Petsune is beginning to feel small, and now the weight of his situation is pressing in on him. “I see…”

Father Haltur looks him in the eyes and says solemnly, “I do not want to do that, Petsune. By the Saints, I don’t. I am trying to give you a fresh start here, another chance.” Father Haltur begins to walk away but seems to decide on something, turning back. “I understand it isn’t just trivial for you. But I don’t want to see you forced out of the Church of the Deep as you were the others. Please, Petsune. Heed my words, understand my heart for you.” Petsune doesn’t respond, instead turning to walk away.

Petsune feels a fool as he leaves the study and walks out past the Window on the altar. Father Haltur looks on in disappointment and sadness. Petsune steps down off the altar and passes the rows of grooves in the floor. Petsune briefly considers leaving the Church, The Tapestry would let him in, but as much as he enjoys the art of the storytellers, he knows it isn’t for him.

For now, he would have to stay here and try to make the best of a poor situation. Petsune exits the church sanctuary and walks the short path across to the sleeping quarters. He removes three of his only possessions in the world: an ornate Saintstone dagger given to a True Soul of the Sanctum, a tattered belt woven from tower vines that is given to every Empty Hand of the Order, and the small leather pouch that bears each Deepblood’s talisman. Petsune removes each article carefully and places it below his cot, removing the leather pouch from around his neck last. He opens it and tips out his talisman, his most prized possession: a ring worn om two fingers. It is the only item he has of his past: Coldor wedding bands. He is certain they belonged to his parents. The only way he even knows they are Coldor bands is because of their usage of the number four in the design rather than three. Only the Coldor Cleave would deliberately use four as a holy number, honoring all four Saints, rather than only recognizing three. He rubs the intricate design fondly, then places it back into the pouch and stashes it beneath his cot. He lies down on his thin cot, the tailor’s moon shining through a thin window and making a line across the cool floor. He takes some time to fall asleep, and when he does it’s a fitful night, filled with anxiety and cold sweat.

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