The Obsidian Temple (17 page)

Soon there were ­people everywhere, torches lit in the deepening night. Dogs barked, and Djinn made himself scarce, not liking the restless crowd. Sulis had to fetch an item of Ava's clothing from the room for the dogs to scent.

Master Tull divided the warriors with the dogs into two packs.

“Start at the main hall,” she ordered one group. “See if you can get the dogs to catch her scent. I'm still not convinced that she hasn't found a small place to hide in the buildings.” She turned to the other. “Scout around the edges of the forest. If she did go in, you should be able to find an entry point.”

Sulis fretted and paced. The dogs by the main hall caught a scent but lost it in the courtyard where so many ­people had been. Finally, the dogs at the perimeter found where Ava had gone into the forest.

Master Tull shook her head and ordered a group of warriors to guard the rest of the Chosen.

“I want to help,” Ashraf protested. “I can take care of myself. I am a warrior.”

Tull shook her head. “Ava is too responsible to just take off like this; I don't care how upset she was. I think someone's taken her, and I want to make sure there isn't an attack planned on you as well if her kidnapping was a distraction.”

“Who would attack the Chosen?” Sulis scoffed.

Tull sent the warriors into the forest and turned back to them. “More ­people than you think. We have deity loyalists, even here in the South. They have an affinity for a particular deity and have been seduced by them,” she said. “There are also ­people who think the prophecy is fake. They think we are blasphemous and trying to destroy the harmony between the One and the deities for some evil purpose.” She snorted and shook her head. “We will get Ava back safely and protect you at the same time.”

It was a long night. Most of the Chosen eventually settled into the front yard to meditate, but Sulis was distracted and went through parts of her dance forms to quiet her mind. She carefully kept the link between her and Ashraf blocked, not wanting it to distract her from finding Ava.

Late into the night, almost morning, Sulis's body wore out. She could occasionally hear the baying of hounds in the distance, but no word on Ava. She settled beside her grandmother and looked around at the tired, worried faces. Clay was the only one who looked peacefully in a trance. Anchee wore a frown of concentration, and Grandmother just looked weary.

Sulis closed her eyes, wondering if she could just nap out here.

“There's no reason you all can't go in and sleep,” Master Tull said, and she jerked and opened her eyes. She must have drifted off. The torches were burning down.

“I'll have someone wake you if we find something. The dogs have found her trail a ­couple of times, but they keep losing it in the tangle of brush. There isn't a sign of a second person. Hopefully, all the movement and barking will have scared off any major predators in the area, keeping her safe if she has hidden herself somewhere. Go, sleep.”

Clay stayed still, and Grandmother just leaned against Palou, but Sulis shook herself, and Anchee stood. Sulis followed Anchee up the stairs, and he turned into his room and shut the door. Sulis was so tired she turned into her old bedroom by mistake.

The mother
feli
growled, and Sulis realized with a start the
feli
was in Ava's bed. She glanced over and realized the kits were still in her old bed. But the mother
feli
was lying in front of a still shape. Sulis exclaimed and fumbled around for the quickstrike, lighting the oil lamp on the holder in the wall.

She ignored the mother cat's growl as she held the lamp closer to the bed. Golden hair poked out from a form that was curled into a ball, robe twisted around her.

“Ava!” Sulis exclaimed. She reached to touch the girl and the
feli
lashed out. Sulis yelled and snatched her arm back, but the
feli
caught the edge of her sleeve, tearing it to ribbons. Sulis examined the scores on her arm.

“Sulis? What's going on?” Anchee's tired voice asked from the doorway.

Sulis gestured. “Ava's here. Tell everyone. The blasted
feli
won't let me touch her.”

Anchee moved to stand beside Sulis, and the
feli
hissed.

“She slashed at me,” Sulis said, indicating her arm.

“Ava wasn't here earlier when I looked,” Anchee said, his voice baffled.

“She wasn't here when I got her shirt for the dogs to scent by. Her robe looks dirty,” Sulis said. “I'm calling Djinn. Maybe he can get the mother
feli
to let us touch her.”

“I'll tell the others,” Anchee said, and darted out of the room. Sulis could hear shouting outside and the sound of orders. Then footsteps up the stairs.

“Stay out in the hall,” Sulis called. “I don't want to upset the
feli
more.”

Palou wormed his way through the bodies in the hall and slipped in beside Sulis. The
feli
started purring when she saw him, and he spoke to her in a soothing voice.

“There, that's a good mama,” he said, putting a hand on her head. “We've got this now, just go back to your little ones.”

It took a ­couple of minutes, and Sulis had to approach the bed with the kits to get the mother to stop protecting Ava and go back to protecting her own brood.

The light was brightening in the window as Sulis and Palou sat on the bed beside Ava. Djinn nudged Sulis in the side, and she glared down at him.

“Where were you when I needed you?” she asked accusingly.

“He didn't want to get between you and his mate,” Palou said mildly. He shook Ava's shoulder, and she woke. Sulis helped her sit up.

There were leaves and twigs in her hair, and her cheeks bore long scratches from briars.

“She's definitely been out in the woods,” Sulis murmured.

Master Tull entered the room, glanced at them, and knelt by the bed.

“Ava, where were you, child?” she asked. “We've been looking all night.” She glanced at Palou. “Healer Rana is on her way. How did she get back in here without anyone seeing her?”

Palou spread his hands and shook his head.

“I'm fine,” Ava said. Sulis was surprised by the hardness in her voice. “I didn't want to be seen, so I wasn't.”

Healer Rana entered the room and paused as Ava continued.

“I had to get away,” Ava said. “I felt the earth, and it guided me.”

Master Tull looked over at the healer, who raised her eyebrows.

“She is a Loom,” Rana said cryptically.

“What does that mean?” Sulis asked.

“Looms have strong earth energy,” Rana said. “Our histories speak of their being able to blend with their surroundings in need, similar to the sand magic the Bedu tribes have.

Tull went to the doorway.

“Everyone clear out, except the Chosen. Emergency is over. Tion, gather your warriors and get some breakfast before you retire. The healer can handle it now.”

Djinn bumped Ava's hand, and her face relaxed. She patted him on the head. She looked around at the room, and her face became tense.

“Ava, why did you run away from us?” Sulis asked.

“I saw them,” Ava said. “I saw the men, from Illian.”

“Men from Illian,” Master Tull said, puzzled. She looked over at Anchee. “There are no men from Illian in our training ground.”

“They were here,” Ava wailed. “there were two of them, like before. I couldn't let them grab me. I can't survive that again.”

“They're gone now,” Sulis said, holding her. “We're here. We'll protect you.” Ava buried her head in Sulis's shoulder, and Sulis pulled some twigs out of Ava's hair, combing it with her fingers as she tried to comfort the sobbing girl. She saw that Rana was in a whispered conference with Anchee.

The healer nodded once at something he said, then came over and knelt beside the bed. She gently turned Ava's chin forward and peered in her eyes.

“Ava, have you seen those men here before?” she asked. Ava shook her head. “Do you remember how you came back here?”

“I was lost,” Ava whispered. “But I could feel where everyone was, and I came back. But it was hard because I had to hide from the men, too, and I just wanted to sleep. I'm so tired.”

“I don't think she's concussed, but I'd say she needs some rest,” Rana told Master Tull. “And to take a ­couple of days off from the intense schedule she's been on.”

“Should she go to the healer's hall?” Tull asked.

“Shouldn't be necessary.” Rana shook her head. “Though I want her to come to the healers for lessons. We can help her if the bad memories are coming back.”

Master Tull frowned and looked like she was going to ask what the healer meant, but Rana shook her head. She stood, and she and Sulis helped Ava into a nightrobe and tucked her into the sheets.

Tull and Rana left Sulis alone with the girl, and Sulis could hear Anchee making whispered explanations. Sulis stared at Ava.

Ava's face crumpled. “I want my mother,” she sobbed softly. “I want Farrah to come. I'm so alone.”

Sulis felt a nudge at her arm, and she moved aside as the mother
feli
dropped a kit onto Ava's lap, then jumped in bed with her and curled around the girl. Sulis looked around to find that Djinn had already settled in with the other kits.

Ava hugged the kitten and curled around it, facing away from Sulis. Sulis realized as the two snuggled that it was the kitten without the spots, the one so much like Djinn.

Sulis sighed and hoped this was a sign that the One knew about Ava's problems and was giving her what she needed. Because Sulis hadn't the faintest idea what was going on in their youngest Chosen's brain or how to fix it.

 

Chapter 15

THE CRONE WAS
the first to the hastily called morning meeting of the Voices. She was glad because it gave her time to sit, arrange herself, compose her thoughts.

After reports started pouring in about the fires and the killing of the Forsaken, the Crone had knelt most of the night at Ivanha's altar, keeping her
feli
close, waiting for word from Ivanha. The answer, when it came, was more of a feeling than direct communication, but at least, after months of silence, it was something.

Ivanha and the rest of the deities had been blocked from using the
feli
to communicate with their Voices by the One except in dire situations. It was punishment for their handling of the pledge class last spring. She was glad to have an emergency, so she could once again direct matters in Illian. Ivanha was not disturbed by the actions of the Templar. She felt disgust toward the Forsaken and approval for the new Templar.

The Crone wished she could agree. The scouts she sent out described families cut down running from the fires. Children smothered and dead by smoke where the fires hadn't roasted them. Ivanha was supposed to be the protector of women and children, but when the Crone hinted at that, she got a flash of anger and the feeling that the Forsaken were not women and children of Ivanha.

The Crone sighed and rested her head on her hand, leaning on the table. Her request to train a replacement had been rejected as well, and Ivanha had sent warm feelings of approval and love to the Crone to encourage her. But the Crone was tired and feeling older by the day. What had been an enviable position in peace was an exhausting one in times of unrest. The Crone was doubting her deity at a time when she needed to believe in Ivanha wholeheartedly.

The door opened. The Crone sat upright, her face serene as the Tribune entered, with the young pledge, Jonas, following at his heels. The Crone was relieved that though the Tribune had the new Voice with him, there were no
feli
in sight. The Herald strode in after them, looking angry and frustrated.

The apprentice Voice helped the frail Tribune to his seat, then took a chair against the wall behind the Tribune. His bright eyes darted around the room, taking in everything, and the Crone was reminded just how much energy a youngster in his twenties had. She idly wondered what he thought of these old sticks he was suddenly stuck dealing with and smiled slightly.

“I don't see anything amusing about this situation,” the Herald snapped.

The Crone sobered and lifted an eyebrow. “Nor do I,” she said dryly.

“Then what are you smiling about?”

The Crone nodded toward the new Voice. “Just thinking what a lot of crotchety old sticks we must seem to Parasu's Voice in training.”

The Herald stared at her a moment, then barked a surprised laugh. Jonas blushed as they looked at him. He cleared his throat.

“I see decades of accumulated knowledge,” Jonas said respectfully. “I aspire to learn quickly and represent Parasu to the best of my ability.”

The Crone nodded in approval at his diplomacy as the Herald grinned at the boy. Before either could respond, the door opened, and the Templar strode in. He brought in the scent of soot and sweat and wore a rumpled tunic.

“Let's make this quick,” he said abruptly, standing by his chair. “I have to get back out and supervise the cleanup.”

“The mass burials, you mean,” the Herald said bluntly. “Of the ­people your men murdered.”

He shot her a contemptuous look. “They were Forsaken, not towns­people, and we did not start this fight,” he corrected. “My soldiers were trying to contain it. I didn't see Aryn's ­people helping in the aftermath. It was the Southern healers who came in, not yours.”

The Herald sputtered. “We were overwhelmed at the healing halls with towns­people overcome by smoke and Forsaken carrying their wounded. We sent healers as soon as we had some free.”

“Your soldiers butchered women and children who were just fleeing the flames,” the Crone said. “How can you justify that?”

The Templar glared at her. “And is Ivanha concerned about these Forsaken children, like you are?” he asked. The Crone looked away, and he laughed. “I didn't think so.”

He finally sat and looked at them seriously. “Unfortunately, my men were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the Forsaken. After the previous day's attacks and death of our soldier, they might have used more force than absolutely required. I will begin an investigation.”

“More force than required?” The Herald was incredulous. “They killed unarmed ­people who were merely running away.”

“They encountered a mass of ­people who were disobeying the law and did not listen when the soldiers ordered them to stop,” the Templar corrected. “One lone swordsman on foot or even on horseback can be pulled down and killed by an angry mob. Because of the riot, the soldiers believed Forsaken were the ones who set the fires and were then attacking them. It was an unfortunate accident. As I said, I will investigate and will conduct more training on riot control. That's all we can do at this point.”

“What about the men who started the fires?” the Tribune asked. “They must be arrested so they can be brought to justice.”

The Templar's jaw set. “We do not have enough evidence to charge anyone.”

“Not enough evidence!” the Herald shouted, pounding her hand on the table. “There were hundreds of witnesses. Even I have names, first-­circle names, of the men involved, names that victims gave to my healers.”

“All you have are Forsaken witnesses.” The Templar waved his hand dismissively. “Their word cannot be used to arrest citizens. No towns­people have come forward as witnesses.”

The Crone looked over at the Tribune, who nodded gravely. “It is true. You must find credible witnesses, and the Forsaken cannot be considered such.”

“I don't have time,” the Templar said, rising again. “I have a city on the edge of civil war and I have to be out there directing my men. The best possible outcome would be for the Forsaken to return to work and let this all pass over. If you have the time, maybe you can talk to your pet Forsaken and convince them to come back to work for you. Until then, I'll be too busy for these conferences.”

He swept out, leaving the other three staring furiously in his wake.

“It didn't take long for him to become as much of a prick as his predecessor,” the Herald growled. The Crone nodded in agreement.

The Tribune held up his hand. “Herald, please,” he nodded toward Jonas, who was missing nothing.

The Herald snorted. “He'll have to learn sometime,” she said. “Better he learn now than be shocked later when you're not there to guide him. How do we go forward?”

Jonas leaned forward. “Might I suggest some of Parasu's scholars go to the scene and interview witnesses? Perhaps they will know of towns­people who saw the crime and will testify.”

The Tribune nodded. “A good thought. Since both Aryn and Ivanha have found our scholars useless in the kitchens and stables and sent them back”—­he sent an ironic gaze to the two women—­“this would better utilize their talents.”

“I'll have my healers advise the Forsaken to return to their work,” the Herald said. “If we can get things to cool down, we can work compromises. I have created plans for the Forsaken review. I'll have a courier deliver it to Parasu's temple when I've reviewed it one more time. Nothing good can happen if the anger and violence keep escalating.”

The Crone shook her head. “Ivanha wants nothing to do with any of this,” she told the other two. “She has no interest in even the children of the Forsaken. But if your healers need help, I have some younger maidens who could help with distilling and cleaning. I will welcome back any Forsaken who wish to serve the Temple again, but I don't think anything I could do will make them come back. It might inflame them more.”

The Herald looked surprised a moment. Then she leaned forward. “To be honest, Aryn isn't as interested in the Forsaken as I'd like, either,” she said confidentially. “She knows many have been wrongly thrown into the Forsaken caste, though. She is more angry about the loss of followers than the health of those who have been already been removed from her following. I'm more appalled than she is.”

The Tribune nodded, then glanced back at his new Voice in training. “Note that, Jonas. The deities are created in the shape of humans, but they do not have the same feelings we do and so are not often moved to pity and compassion. They save their compassion for the followers who show them the most loyalty and ser­vice.”

“Noted,” Jonas said mildly.

He seemed a different sort of person than the Crone would expect Parasu to choose, especially compared to the Voice who served now. There was more active thoughtfulness behind those eyes, less dry remoteness. The Crone shook her head. Perhaps they'd all been more thoughtful, less dogmatic, when they'd been taken by their deities.

They rose, and the Crone took her leave, while the others stayed to discuss the panel the Herald was forming. As she walked back to her temple, the Crone thought about her own changing nature. This past year's separation from her deity had let her revert a bit back to her younger self. When the deity took over her Voice, she left a part of that inhumanness behind, so the Voice could rule the Temple without too many emotions getting in the way. The Crone felt as though she were becoming more human with every day's relief from hosting her deity. And she found she wanted to stay human, not to feel that cruel detachment anymore. The Crone wondered if it would be bearable to have her deity sharing her body and mind now that she'd known that period without her.

“
T
HE
H
ERALD CAME
into the neighborhood trying to convince Forsaken to come back,” Farrah told Kadar. “We've convinced ­people to hold out, not return. Luckily, the Forsaken know who their real enemy is. Severin's helped a lot with that—­pointing out how the soldiers wouldn't let us bury our own dead and buried them in a mass grave. That killed any chance of cooperation from us.”

Cleanup still continued in the Forsaken district. Kadar visited Farrah daily since the Forsaken were still on curfew and brought needed medical supplies and fresh produce. He'd worked a schedule out between Nabil, himself, and his cousins to deliver and collect the laundry to keep her in business.

The shanties were completely gone. The soldiers and city guard had cleared away all the burned wood and canvas, so all that remained was a blackened field. A fence had been erected at the edge of the field, a reminder that the Forsaken were not permitted to leave the city that hated them so much. The survivors from the shanties found homes with other Forsaken in the city, crowding the buildings.

Kadar learned that the city Forsaken had their own prejudices against the shanty Forsaken, and distrust between the two groups made for even tenser living arrangements. Farrah matched ­people to homes the best she could, but even with the unusually frequent rains, the main well was running low on water, and fights sprang up often.

A rare hard rain had come the evening after the massacre and washed much of the soot and blood out of the streets. Now rain was coming every other day, soaking the dry city but keeping temperatures down. The towns­people saw it as a sign that the One was washing away the blood of the innocents who were harmed and forgiving the soldiers. The Forsaken saw it as a sign the One was supporting them and giving them fresh, life-­giving water. Both sides were so firmly entrenched, Kadar didn't see how any compromise could be reached.

“Are you certain that's for the best?” Kadar cautioned, speculating out loud. “Maybe the Temple would be more willing to make a deal if they saw some sort of cooperation?”

Farrah turned on him, furious. “And how have they compromised?” she asked Kadar. “By murdering us? By not allowing us to properly mourn the ­people they murdered?”

Kadar raised his hands in a ward off. “I'm just thinking out loud, Farrah,” he said. “If a few returned to their work, the curfew and restrictions might let up. Once the soldiers relax, we can think about easing the crowding by sneaking some of our more vulnerable ­people out. That would give us more time for the deities to come to agreement; it would also stop fighting among Forsaken and preserve the food.”

Farrah snorted. “I've already thought of a way to get ­people out without compromising, and Severin is gathering what we need as I speak,” she told him. “The worse thing we can do now is look weak.”

Kadar grimaced. Everything Kadar mentioned was met with scorn, as though he were suggesting they all slit their own throats. Farrah and Severin were feeding each other's anger to the point where anything moderate was considered traitorous.

“Please tell me it doesn't involve taunting soldiers,” Kadar said wearily. “We've already seen how that tactic backfired.”

“Did it?” Farrah asked. “I would say it backfired on the soldiers. The Forsaken are more determined than ever to win our freedom because of their violence.”

Kadar was horrified. “You can't say the loss of hundreds of lives was a good thing!”

Farrah paused and looked off into the distance. She shook her head. “It is done now, good or bad. Our captors have shown us what they are capable of. It is time for us to show them we cannot be crushed. We cannot be held down, and our brothers and sisters have not died without purpose. The blood that has been shed makes us stronger, not weaker, and binds us into a whole.”

Kadar realized she wasn't talking to him. She was rehearsing what she would say to the Forsaken to keep them motivated.

“Excuse me,” he broke in. “I'm not one of your followers. Stow your propaganda and talk to me. What are you planning?”