Page 95 of The Shadowed Oracle
“There’s no?—”
“Yes, there is.”
He slid his hand up to her shoulder, dragging it over her back.
Ingrid almost leapt off the ground trying to shake him off. “Don’t touch me.”
“Now now,” Ballius crooned, “Why so combative, girl? You’re not in any trouble. What you’re doing isn’t a crime.” The corners of his mouth pulled into a sinister smirk. “No secret why a human would want to pay their respects to Izadora.”
“I’m not a human.” It was the first thing Ingrid could think of, surprisingly. A sign that things were truly and finally sinking in.
“Apologies,” Ballius corrected himself. “We true-born Viator do tend to mix the two up. Of course,youaren’t human. But your loyalty lies with them. With the people that Queen Izadora so valiantly saved.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do know. I told you, the charade is unnecessary.” He turned and, lacing his fingers over his chest, started into a slow stroll.
Ingrid almost believed that was the end of it. That he’d had his fun with the ignorant Earth-dweller, and now he would retire to his room. She thought he’d grown tired, or bored.
But then Ballius stopped. “Fortune shines on you tonight, world-walker. I will tell you the truth about the great Izadora.”
He walked on, all pomp and posturing. A fear stirred in Ingrid’s veins as she watched him. His flowing robe had many hiding spots, and if he simply ducked behind one of the manycorridors, he’d be able to strike when she was blind. Then again, at that angle, keeping a few paces behind him, it occurred to her that shecould be the one to attack first. Pounce on his back, strangle him until the breath left him permanently, then waltz back to bed like nothing happened.
When they turned the dark corner, however, all thoughts of violence seemed wholly wrong. For she was now looking at the face of a great advocate of peace. The Queen of the East, the first Oracle of Ealis. Izadora.
She was as stunning as Ingrid remembered. Even in the dim lighting, her poise was undeniable. Her crown of flowers and thorns acted as more of a halo than a diadem. Ingrid allowed the fact that artists tended to glorify figures as important as Izadora, opting for beautiful icons over likeness, but her allure wasn’t the traditional sort. It was her uniqueness, the complex combination of features that made her seem so immediately charming.
Even in this recreation, she was the most interesting, captivating, and otherworldly female Ingrid had ever seen.
Lifting one of the torches from its mount, Ballius walked to the stone slab that the statue sat atop, staring into the marble eyes. “Here she is. The great Oracle.”
“Big deal,” Ingrid muttered under her breath.
“Oh come now, world-walker. I thought we’d dropped the act?”
Ingrid didn’t answer.
“After all, you might learn something.” Ballius held the torch a little lower. “I’m sure you are like most young Viator these days, believing the legend instead of searching for the truth. Most think of Izadora as a great philosopher. That her peaceful, altruistic thoughts were hers alone. But they couldn’t be more wrong. Izadora never wrote down a word.”
Ingrid strained not to roll her eyes.
How dumb did he think she was?
Emphasizing her shock to absurd levels, she said, “You mean… the book of Pax? Izadora didn’t… she didn’t write it!?”
“So you’ve come to our world prepared, have you?”
Ingrid shrugged. “Her followers wrote the book. Izadora didn’t linger on thoughts of the future beyond what her visions allowed her to see. She knew her story would be told. And so she let it be told by those who knew her.”
“Ahh,” Ballius pointed his index finger to the stone ceiling. “But do you know of the translations?”
Stumped, Ingrid could only remain still, non-reactive. She didn’t want to give the male the satisfaction.
“There were three versions, in total,” Ballius went on. “As you must know, most of our western language is rooted in early Latin, back when humans and Viator travelled the worlds together.” There was a hint of distaste in his voice at the last word. “However, as a result of the banishment and the subsequent war, many of your religious texts on Earth have been misinterpreted. Taking any mention of Ealis as a reference to the afterlife.”
Noticing Ingrid’s curiosity, he let out a self-satisfied hum. “Lost in translation, yes. The humans who first discovered our world saw our immortal bloodlines, our living forests, our regenerative remedies, even our luminous sky as God-like. Ealis became synonymous with the afterlife. The stories warped over time, and their children and their children’s children took liberties with future recounting. Unfortunately, our scholars and clerics were guilty of the same. When the Book of Pax was translated and updated for the modern Viator, things were changed. Altered and embellished. Which is why we’ve had so much conflict over it. Overbothour great texts.”
A distant sound, maybe a door or a servant dropping one of the pewter laundry buckets, echoed behind them. Ingrid turned, seeing nothing.
