Free Forging Divinity by Andrew Rowe

me who you work for and why you’re here, and I’ll tell you who I work for and why I’m here,” she offered Jonan. “Do we have a deal?”
    Jonan nodded without hesitating. This should be interesting, if nothing else.
    “You first, then,” Lydia said.
    Oh, come on. I didn’t expect that?
    “Very well,” Jonan said. “I am a humble servant of the priesthood of his majesty Vaelien, the King of Thorns.”
    Lydia’s eyes narrowed.
    That can’t be good. Jonan tried to subtly reach for one of the pouches at his side, but it was too far away at his current angle.
    “You’re a Kesite?” Lydia asked, tilting her head to the side.
    Jonan nodded. “Yes, of sorts.”
    “Bad luck for you, I’m afraid.” She gave him an apologetic look, standing up. “I’m Lydia Hastings of the Paladins of Sytira, and you are my prisoner.”
     
    All things considered, Lydia was a fairly courteous captor. She had bound Jonan’s wrists with some of his own hemp rope – which he had “graciously” provided to her – and ordered Taelien to keep an eye on him.
    A gods-curst paladin. Really? I couldn’t have been fairly expected to guess that.
    Lydia apparently worshiped Sytira, one of the seven gods of the Tae’os Pantheon. Sytira was particularly associated with the acquisition and distribution of information, which made Lydia’s usage of knowledge sorcery unsurprising within that context. More surprising was that she was a paladin – essentially a warrior dedicated to enforcing the tenants of her religion. Paladins of Sytira were usually assigned to finding and stopping abuses of sorcery – he had never heard of one being utilized as a long-term spy.
    Jonan, on the other hand, was a follower of Vaelien, a solitary deity with many demigods – known as the Vae’kes – in his service. The two religions were often at odds, and many legends depicted the leader of the Tae’os Pantheon as Vaelien’s personal rival. At present, the followers of the two religions were not engaged in any open hostilities with one another, but they tended to keep their distance. For Lydia, Jonan knew that the sword would be a symbol of the strength and love of her gods. For Jonan, it was a bargaining chip – the weapon of Vaelien’s legendary opponent.
    Deciding to steal a Tae’os artifact is probably a bit above my level of authority, Jonan considered. But it’s awfully tempting. Using the wielder of the Sae’kes as a tool, however, fits perfectly within my mission parameters. It even cleanly deflects blame away from Vaelien. The Tae’os Pantheon would look responsible.
    “You can still help yourselves to the food,” Jonan offered weakly.
    “It’s probably poisoned,” Lydia replied dryly. She hadn’t drawn her sword, thankfully, but now she was watching him with twice the intensity she had been before. This was impressive, seeing as she had already looked like she could burrow straight through a wall with her eyes.
    “It’s not poisoned. It’s food. I eat it. Here, bring me some bread. I’ll take the first bite,” Jonan offered.
    “You’re probably immune to your own poison.” Lydia shifted in her seat.
    “That’s absurd. Look, I admitted I work for the priesthood of Vaelien. I’m not a priest myself, and even if I was, that wouldn’t make me some sort of assassin,” he offered.
    “No, working for the priesthood and not being a priest is what makes you an assassin, or at very least a spy,” Lydia replied.
    She’s not entirely wrong, Jonan admitted silently. They did have other branches to the organization, but he was a field agent, not a civilian or even a member of their own pseudo-military. He had never killed anyone, but he was certainly a spy.
    “Right, yes, I’m clearly a spy,” Jonan said in a deadpan tone. Lydia tilted her head to the side inquisitively. “No more or less than you are, if you’ll forgive me for saying so. And I doubt you poison the contents of your cupboard, just for the contingency that you