Glasswrights' Apprentice (28 page)

“Mair -” She turned to the Leader of the Touched troop, ignoring the stupefied
Rabe.

“Watch yer step, Rai. Ye canna see where th' serpent suns 'imself on th' rocks. 'N' dinna ferget th' Core's words. She said they would mean life 'r death fer ye.”

Before Rani could respond, the pilgrim crowd surged around her, and firm hands grasped her shoulders, submerging her in the black-robed throng. Rani tossed her head in protest, but when she managed to twist around to find Mair, the girl had melted away into the crowd. Rabe was nowhere to be seen.

“Stop your fighting, you little fool!” The voice hissed into Rani's ear, and she whirled to face cruel eyes that glittered in an aging face.

“Guild -” she started to exclaim.

“Shut your mouth!” Guildmistress Salina seized her arm with iron talons, and Rani swallowed her outraged cry of pain. The old woman's claw dragged Rani into the group of pilgrims, but the apprentice did not begin to recite the Pilgrims' Processional until she felt the master glazier's fingers pinch her arm to the bone.

“Hail, Defender of the Faith. Guide this Pilgrim in the steps of Jair, first Pilgrim and greatest. Guide this Pilgrim's feet and heart in the ways of the great God …” Rani trailed off, not certain which of the gods was being prayed to at this point in the spectacle. Ile, the god of the moon. At Salina's silent urging, Rani continued to recite, mechanically inserting the god of the sun, the god of the stars, the god of the clouds. She trembled as she passed beneath the hooded gaze of one of Jair's Watchers.

When the apprentice could restrain her curiosity no longer, she whispered, “Did Larindolian send you? How did you escape the King's dungeons?”

Salina merely tightened her grip on Rani's arm, raising her voice to chant the Processional a little louder. Rani decided not to press the matter; she knew the answer to her first question, at least. Guildmistress Salina was there in costume; she must be the messenger that Larindolian had promised. Guildmistress Salina was doing the Brotherhood's bidding, and Rani had better follow suit if she wished to see Bardo.

Suddenly, Rani thought of the words Mair had just brought her from the Core. The doe ran faster than the buck, but did not get tangled by antlers. Salina had risen high in the Brotherhood's hierarchy - higher than how many men? - but she was still free to move about in the outside world, to drag Rani through the marketplace. The guildmistress might have lost her guildhall and all her apprentices and journeymen, but she had escaped Shanoranvilli's bloody vengeance. She had managed to free herself from the deadly thicket of Prince Tuvashanoran's untimely assassination.

The thought sent a chill through Rani, centering in the ache of her bandaged arm beneath her black robes. Mair's warning had to be about Salina. The guildmistress had been instrumental in all that had gone wrong - she had snared Rani in the Prince's murder, in the burning of her parents' home, even in the power struggle between Mair and Rabe. Salina might as well have held Rani's hand as the apprentice executed Dalarati. Remembering her flight from the cathedral compound the night she had embalmed Tuvashanoran, Rani recalled the rage in Salina's agate eyes, the blunt fury behind her snake-chased mask. Salina had been there for everything that had happened; she had caused it all to fall apart. And through it all, Salina remained free to roam the City.

Rani did not have a chance to act on her new certainty, for the pilgrims were finally finishing their listing of the thousand gods. Salina drew Rani through the streets with the other worshipers, dragging her from the marketplace and the sheltering arm of the martyred Tuvashanoran's statue. What should Rani do? She was bonded to Mair like a sister; the Touched girl had brought her a warning, taking a stand against Rabe, against one of her own, to deliver it. And yet, Larindolian had promised to send a messenger, to send Salina. Larindolian had promised to reunite Rani with her true sibling, with Bardo. Whom should Rani believe? Whom should she trust?

The streets cleared for the pilgrims as they made their way from the merchant's quarter toward the cathedral. Citizens lined the narrow way, tossing tokens toward the pilgrims. Rani caught a few of the tin coins, medallions stamped with the insignia of various gods, and her fingers scrabbled over boiled sweets that were molded in the shape of religious trinkets - birds for Fairn, little ladders for Roan. In past years, Rani had been the one who had thrown the riches; she had been the one who had looked on in envy at the pilgrims who made their way to the cathedral.

Now, Rani's enjoyment of the spectacle was diluted as she tried to decipher what the Brotherhood planned for her. Salina maintained a vise-like grasp on her shoulder, making her arm throb under its tight bandage. She longed to duck out of the parade, to return to the dark quiet of her room beneath the eaves in her parents' house, to wait for Bardo to climb upstairs after a long day working in the shop.

Bardo. That was why she was here. That was why she permitted Salina's bony hand to guide her into place among the pilgrims. At one point, Rani would have darted forward, exploiting an opening in the throng, jockeying for position toward the front of the crowd of pilgrims as she had on the day of Tuvashanoran's Presentation. Now, though, Salina restrained her, reining in her enthusiasm with the pursed lips of a child's dried-up old nurse. What good was a festival, if one did not show full passion for the Thousand Gods?

Rani did not have the opportunity to argue her theological point. Instead, she found herself at the front of the cathedral, looking up at the stone steps, at a corridor formed by the hooded Jair's Watchers. At the end of the slightly ominous path, a priest held a flaming torch in one hand and a ewer of water in the other.

Each pilgrim who climbed the gauntlet of Watchers bowed his head to receive a blessing at the portal. The priest, in turn, lowered his flaming brand toward every worshiper, moving the crackling fire in the intricate pattern of a five-pointed star. The religious symbol was reminiscent of Jair's journey from the casteless Touched, through the four castes. The priest then sprinkled a few drops of water from his ewer in the hands of each pilgrim, washing away their worldly cares that each might enter the cathedral receptive to the demands of First God Ait and all the Thousand Gods.

The priest did something else, though, something far more important. As each pilgrim
stepped over the cathedral threshold, the priest greeted him formally: “Welcome to the house of the
Thousand Gods. Welcome in the name of Gaid.” “Welcome in the name of Set.” “Welcome in the name of
Lart.”

One by one, each of the pilgrims was greeted on behalf of a particular god. Rani felt the excitement mounting as she climbed the steps. The Watchers channeled the pilgrims, keeping them orderly despite the rising thrill.

Salina had pulled Rani back into the crowd, bridling her enthusiasm, even when one kindly pilgrim recognized the eagerness in the apprentice's soul and held back a few other travelers so that she could spring up a step or two. Rani wanted to make sure that she would be permitted in the cathedral; she wanted to observe the ritual of Jair's feast day, as if it were a cleansing rite.

After all, the cathedral was where this entire adventure had begun. Perhaps if she could worm her way back inside the stone walls, she might light a candle to the benevolent gods, find a way back to the quiet life she had known. She would gladly forfeit her status as an apprentice, if she could return to the peaceful calm of a merchant's life, settle into her easy role as her parents' daughter, as Bardo's sister. In the fervor of her sudden religious passion, Rani managed to ignore the fact that she would never again act as her parents' daughter; she would never again see her mother or father in all her living days.

The priest continued to greet pilgrims. In the name of Lene, god of humility. In the name of Sorn. In the name of Dain.

Rani wriggled, knowing that the priest was reaching the final decade of the gods. She twisted beneath Salina's grip, launching angry daggers from her eyes. The guildmistress' face was set in concentration as if she listened to some distant counting. “Please!” Rani exclaimed, barely remembering not to name the guildmistress, and Salina finally released her shoulder, just as the priest intoned, “Welcome to the House of the Thousand Gods. Welcome in the name of Tarn.”

Tarn. The god of death. Rani was too late - the thousandth god was named, and she was
not among the counting. Rani turned to snarl at the guildmistress. “There! I hope you're happy! You
kept me from the cathedral! You kept me from the windows! You -” Rani choked on all the accusations
she wanted to hurl at the guildmistress, all the bitter complaints about her lost family and
friends, the life she would have enjoyed as an apprentice and a journeyman and a master.

Salina ignored the outburst, thrusting a tight roll of parchment into Rani's hands before fading back beyond Jair's Watchers, into the crowd of other black-robed pilgrims. “There now!” exclaimed the priest, and Rani turned on him with a gasp of fury, unable to channel her rage solely at the disappearing woman who had kept her from her prize. “Calm down, little pilgrim. You must straighten your robes, now, and quiet your heart. You are the First Pilgrim of the new year.”

The First Pilgrim. Of course Rani knew of the honor; she certainly would have remembered it, if she had not been so busy trying to beat Salina's game. The First Pilgrim was honored among all Pilgrims, chosen to act out the greatest of Jair's accomplishments in the coming year. Whereas all other pilgrims came from their own caste and made their journey according to their station in life, only the First Pilgrim completed Jair's story. Only the First Pilgrim was brought into the castle, to sit beside the king as a beloved member of his family. For an entire year, the First Pilgrim became one of the royal household.

Rani suddenly understood the calculation behind Salina's cruel hands. The old woman had set a high goal for her, the most noble of goals in a City attuned to the worship of the Thousand Gods. Rani turned back to the guildmistress to offer up her thanks. Too late, though - Salina was nowhere to be seen; she had melted into the crowd of black-robed worshipers as neatly as if she had never existed. Like the doe in the Core's warning, the guildmistress had avoided entanglement in the current thicket of events.

Rani swallowed hard and turned back to the priest, affecting the humility she thought a pilgrim should express. “Please, sir. I fear that I am not the proper person for this great honor.”

“You are the first of the new counting of the Thousand Gods. Step forward and claim your rights - and obligations - as First Pilgrim.”

As a young girl, Rani had played with Varna in the street outside their families'
shops, donning black rags and processing down the “nave” of the paved road. Once, Rani had even
convinced Bardo to play the role of the High Priest, standing on the threshold of the Trader shop,
greeting the First Pilgrim with all the gravity of the holiest day of the year.

Nevertheless, games were one thing, and reality a completely different beast. Rani balked at stepping over the threshold, hesitated at entering the cathedral and approaching the altar where Tuvashanoran had met his death. The priest at the door seemed pleased with her humility. “Very good, First Pilgrim. You recognize the seriousness of the course you take. Where are your parents? They shall look on as you assume the honor of First Pilgrim.”

Rani's voice trembled. “My parents have crossed the Heavenly Gates.”

“What! How did you make the pilgrims' journey, alone and unattended?”

Rani thought quickly. “My father died when I was merely a babe, I never knew him. My mother started out on our pilgrimage at my side, but she fell ill far from the City. We were taken in by a hospice honoring the great god Zake and tended by the chirurgeons dedicated to his holy name. My mother was several weeks dying.”

“And how did you come to the City?”

“My mother would not deny my father's dying wish. He wanted to see me on the cathedral steps. She entrusted me to the care of other pilgrims who passed the hospice.”

“And their names?”

“Farna, sir. Farna and her husband Hardu.”

“And where are they?”

“We were separated during the Procession, back in the marketplace. I think they are already in the cathedral - Farna is uncommonly short and wanted to be certain she could see the ceremony. I had to come this last way alone, but I had the Thousand Gods as my companions.”

Rani's brave resignation affected the priest deeply. He made a holy sign, in gratitude to the pilgrims who had helped Rani along her troubled way. “You are a noble pilgrim, and an honor to all the worshipers gathered here today. Come now, let us not keep the Defender of the Faith waiting.”

Defender of the Faith! For just an instant, Rani raised her head, hope written clearly on her face. Defender of the Faith - maybe there had been some terrible mistake! Maybe Tuvashanoran still lived, and all of the running about, all of the hiding and scraping and horrible deeds had been a frightening error.

As Rani stepped into the incense-shrouded cathedral, though, she immediately recognized her mistake. Of course Tuvashanoran was dead. Shanoranvilli, King of Morenia, was still the Defender of the Faith, still bowed beneath the weight of the title he had hoped to pass on, before his young, brave son was cut down on the cathedral altar. King Shanoranvilli, who had ordered all of Rani's family murdered in his dungeons.…

And now that old king stood on the dais, a look of annoyance beginning to creep across his craggy features as he fingered the J's of the chain of office looped around his neck. In fact, most of the people in the cathedral looked at Rani with open hostility. They had all hoped for the honor of being the First Pilgrim; they had all completed months of pilgrimage to be in this place at this time. Rani decided not to dwell on what they would say if they knew that she had not taken one step on the long Pilgrims' Road, had not even completed the Path of the Gods here in the City, the humblest journey a Pilgrim could take and still rightfully bear the title.