Storm Warning (13 page)

Rubrik nodded. “I take it that this was a fairly common practice?”

Karal snorted with disgust. “I never once saw the False Son bring forth a single true miracle. For that matter, he was so feeble in magic that the most he could do was to kindle flame in very dry, oily tinder. Well, that day, he never got the chance for his deceptions.”

He turned toward Rubrik, and lowered his voice like a true storyteller. “Imagine it for yourself—the crowd of worshipers filling the temple, the golden statue of Vkandis shining behind the Altar and the False Son standing beside it like a fat, black spider. The Processional ended just as the beam of sunlight crept up to the Altar platform; Solaris was no more than five paces away, watching, not the False Son, but the beam of light, her face mirroring her ecstasy.”

“Most of the important Priests only looked bored, though, on what
should
be an important day for them, the Holiest of all of Vkandis’ Holy Days. They couldn’t wait to get back to the Cloister and the feast that waited there for them.” Ulrich and a great many of the low-ranked Priests avoided the feast when they could. It was little more than an occasion for those in favor with the Son of the Sun to lord it over those who were not. Hardly Ulrich’s choice of a way to spend a Holy Day. He preferred to spend his rare free time reading.

“The beam of sunlight slowly moved onto the Altar itself, while the Children’s Choir sang. I saw the False Son’s hands moving as he prepared to trigger the fire-starting spell if the wood didn’t catch. Then, just before the beam touched the kindling in the middle of the Altar—”

As if he had triggered it himself, a tremendous bolt of lightning lanced down right beside the inn, and as they both jumped and Karal squeaked, the thunder deafened them and everyone else inside the inn.

He sat there for a moment, waiting for his ears to clear, and very grateful that he had not been looking out the window at that moment. If he had, he’d have been blinded!

Rubrik laughed shakily. “Next time, tell me when you are going to produce a surprise to liven up your tale!”

“I’m not responsible for that one!” Karal retorted, with a shaky chuckle of his own. “Perhaps you ought to ask Vkandis if He has widened His lands to include Valdemar! Because that was precisely what happened in the Temple—a bolt of lightning shot down through the opening in the Temple’s roof, out of the cloudless sky, and completely evaporated the False Son of the Sun.”

Rubrik stared at him skeptically, as if he suspected that this was just more tale-telling.

But Karal shook his head emphatically. “I promise you, I was there, and so was Ulrich. He’ll corroborate what I’ve said. There was literally nothing left but the man’s smoking vestments and boots, too—I’ve never seen anything like it, and neither had anyone else. But that wasn’t the end of the miracle, it was only the
beginning!”

“What next?” Rubrik asked, his tone conveying that even if he was not quite convinced, he was certain that Karal was telling the truth as he saw it.

“Next, was that when we could see again, every stone column in the Temple had been turned upside down, and since they all had carvings on them, it was pretty obvious that they’d been inverted. We didn’t know it at the time, but we found out later that every cloud vanished from over the whole of Karse, and the First Fires on every Altar blazed up and burned for a full week without any additional fuel.” He left out the other, smaller miracles—about the children waiting to be burned who had vanished from the hands of the Black-robes, only to be discovered long afterward, hidden in the homes of their families. He eliminated the story of the Priest’s Staffs—how some of the staffs turned brittle and disintegrated at a touch, while others put out green branches covered with flowers.

And the Staffs that turned to dust were the ones that belonged to the False Son’s favorites and cronies, and those Black-robes who had truly enjoyed the demon-summoning and the burnings....
He himself had held Ulrich’s Staff, which had so many tiny red flowers covering the branches at the top that the wood could scarcely be seen. It had remained that way for a week, the flowers sending out a heady perfume. Ulrich and every other possessor of a flowering Staff had planted their Staffs in the various Temple meditation gardens, where they remained as flowering bushes, living reminders of the day of the miracles.

“But none of that would have gotten Solaris made Son of the Sun,” he continued. “No woman had ever been named Son of the Sun, the very idea was absurd. No, if that had been all that happened, the Priests would have convened and elected a new Son, perhaps one a
little
more pious than the old one, but still—”

“It would have been business as usual,” Rubrik supplied, his ironic nod showing that he understood the situation all too well. “So what did happen?”

“Another miracle. The last, and greatest of all. Silence hung over the entire Temple, for the worshipers were too stunned to cry out or even move. Then, before anyone could recover enough to say or do anything to break that silence, the golden statue of Vkandis began to move.” He closed his eyes to picture it again in his mind, and described the vivid memory as best he could. “It moved exactly like a living man—there was nothing stilted or jerky about the way that it looked about, then stepped slowly down out of the niche behind the Altar. That convinced me it couldn’t be some mechanical thing substituted for the real statue. I remember staring up at it, and thinking how
much
like a man it was; the skin moved properly over the muscles; the muscles rippled as it stepped over the Altar and stopped in front of Solaris.
She
was staring up at it, with that same enraptured expression on her face, even though most of the Priests were groveling and babbling out a litany of every sin they’d ever committed.”

That had been rather funny, actually. For some reason, it never occurred to him to be
afraid
of the image, and there were a few more, like Solaris and Ulrich, who actually seemed to be in a trance of ecstasy as they gazed upon it. The face of the statue wore a look of complete serenity, as it always had—yet there seemed to be a hint of good humor in the eyes, a ghost of a smile about the lips, as if Vkandis found the groveling Priests just as funny as Karal did.

“The statue took the Crown of Prophecy off its own head; once the Crown was in its hands, it shrank. It dwindled until it was small enough to fit a human. Then the statue bent down and placed the Crown on Solaris’ head.”

The eyes of the image and of Solaris had met and locked.
Something
passed between them; Karal didn’t know what it was, and on the whole, he would really rather not find out.
I’m just not ready for the personal attentions of Vkandis. I would be very happy to stay with Ulrich and work researching the old Rites and never have Him notice me.

“Then the image went back to the pedestal behind the Altar; that was when the fire there on the Altar in front of it blazed up so quickly and so high we thought another lightning bolt had hit it. When the flames died down so we could see the niche again, the statue was exactly as it had been, except that it wasn’t wearing the Crown anymore. Solaris was.”

“And you’re sure that there was no trickery involved?” Rubrik persisted.

Karal nodded. “Absolutely. It wasn’t an illusion, or how would Solaris have gotten the Crown? It wasn’t a mechanical device, because no mechanical could have moved as the statue did. And besides that, how would a mechanical creature make the Crown shrink like that? And Ulrich says it definitely wasn’t human magic, or he would have known immediately; even without summoning demons, he’s still one of the most powerful mages in the Priesthood. None of us have ever seen Solaris work
any
magic, before or since, except for the demon-summoning she was required to perform because she was a Black-robe. Ulrich says he doesn’t see how any mage could have delivered a lightning strike like that, animate the statue, and light the First Fire and still be standing afterward. Even if she or a confederate, or even a number of conspirators,
could
have done all that with magic, there’s still one question—
how
would she have gotten the Crown off the statue, and shrunk it down to fit her? The Crown wasn’t just some piece of jewelry that had been made to fit the statue—it was part of the statue, part of the original casting. The Crown is part of the statue’s head. It was deliberately cast that way to discourage thieves.”

“Huh.” Rubrik stared at the rain which was coming down in a solid sheet. Karal watched his expression very carefully, trying to guess his thoughts. “Well,” he said, very slowly, “I would have said that I didn’t believe in miracles, if I hadn’t seen one or two lately with my own eyes. Smallish ones, mind, compared to your moving statues and shrinking Crowns, but they definitely qualified.” He paused, and Karal had the sense that he was choosing his words with the utmost care. “The Lady-Goddess of the Hawkbrothers and Shin’a’in seems to intervene now and then on behalf of her own people, so why not the Sunlord, right?”

Karal nodded cautiously. He wasn’t entirely certain he ought to be agreeing to anything that compared Vkandis with some outlandish heathen Goddess—but Rubrik said he’d seen this Goddess working miracles....

Vkandis was supposed to have a Goddess-Consort in the oldest records, but she seemed to have gotten misplaced somewhere far back in the past. Or had the Priests in that far past been right to eliminate her?

This was getting more confusing by the moment. “Goddess?” he replied weakly. “What Goddess?”

Rubrik shook his head, and chuckled. “Oh, this theology business is too much for a simple soul like me! Let me order us some dinner, and you tell me just what Solaris did once she had that crown on her head, all right?”

Karal agreed to that with relief. Rubrik summoned a serving-girl, who eyed Karal in a way that made him blush and wish secretly that he wasn’t sharing a room with his master. He was only a novice; he hadn’t taken any oaths yet, much less oaths of celibacy and chastity....

Rubrik must have ordered something that the kitchen already had prepared, for the girl returned with laden platters in short order. Karal’s stomach growled as the aroma of hot sausage pie hit his nose. The scent was unfamiliar, as unfamiliar as most of the Valdemaran food, but even if he hadn’t been starving, it would have been enticing. He felt ready to eat the pie and the plate it was baked in.

Rubrik dug into his own portion without hesitation. “So,” he said, gesturing with a fork, “what did your Solaris do next?”

“There was no question of naming anyone else the Son of the Sun, of course,” Karal replied, around a mouthful of sausage and crust. He swallowed; the pie was wonderful, and the spices weren’t
too
different from the ones used at home. “Everyone who would have protested was there for the Miracles, and they were terrified that any more miracles would target
them.
Solaris was invested right then and there with the White Robes—she already had a Crown—and the acolytes swept what was left of the False Son out with the ashes of last year’s Fire. The next day she called a convocation, and told everyone that the duties of the Black-robes would change from that moment. She ordered that Black-robes would retain their rank, but they would serve exactly the same duties as the Red-robe Priests. Demon-summoning was declared anathema, forbidden, and the texts that taught the means of summoning the creatures were to be burned.”

“That’s a good start, though normally I don’t hold with burning books,” Rubrik observed. “But destroying something so open to misuse instead of burning innocent people was a pretty good way of beginning her rule.”

Karal nodded enthusiastically and had another couple of bites before continuing. “She said that she had been having visions for some time now, and that the event in the Temple merely confirmed that her visions had been from Vkandis and not mere dreaming and vainglory. She told us all that she had been shown that the ways of the Writ and Rule were not the ancient and true ways of worship.”

“I’d hardly expect her to say anything else,” Rubrik pointed out dryly. “If she was going to establish herself as an authority, she would have to shake up things in your Temple right from the beginning. First day.”

Karal bit his tongue to keep from making a sharp retort, and took a little time eating before continuing, lest he say something he shouldn’t. No matter what Solaris was, one thing she
wasn’t
was a mere political creature. Yes, she understood politics, but it was only to take them into account. When politics didn’t agree with what she was going to do, she worked around them.

“She made quite a few changes in the first week,” he told the Valdemaran, “And later, when Ulrich and I were doing research into the older ways, we found out that the changes she had made
were
nothing more than a reestablishment of those ancient paths. ‘The Sunlord has always been a God of life, not destruction,’ she said. ‘His Fire is the life-giving Fire of the Sun, not the Fires that eat the lives of children.’ She decreed an end to the Cleansing Ceremonies as we knew them. She declared the Feast of the Children to be a time of testing youngsters for their powers and intelligence, but ordered that no child was to be dragged away from its family; children must come to the Temple by consent of their families and their own will.” He answered Rubrik’s slightly raised eyebrow with a sardonic smile of his own. “She also pointed out that in families with many children and limited resources, telling the child and its parents that from now on the Priesthood would feed and clothe it would get them to at least give the Cloisters a try. I have to admit that I was fed and housed better than my parents could afford when I was in the Cloisters, and on the whole I had less work to do. I’m told now that children sometimes cry when they
aren’t
taken, instead of crying when they are.”