Prophecy's Promise (Prophecy of the Edges Book 1) (23 page)

My amnesia had definitely not been from an accident.

And then I was back in Kirta’s home. For a moment, I lay on the ground and struggled to piece all these new images with what I already knew. The rest were my own memories. Nazarie had always told me that she had fetched me from something bad, but she never went into the details. Was saving my life what cost her becoming Lead Initiate?

I now understood. That’s what Kael and Jorias were talking about outside my cell that first night. They had wanted Nazarie to kill all of us, but she saved me. She took pity on me. But that didn’t take away what she had done. She killed my sister and my mother. She left my father worse than dead.

Nazarie saved me and raised me as her own, but why? Was Nazarie the one that Jaysen had warned me about? Had I been blind to other things that might have tipped me off?

“I saw it all,” Rcanian breathed.

“It was a joint seeing of the past,” Kirta confirmed. “As the block moved aside, Rcanian witnessed everything that you did.”

I wiped my tear-streaked face and took in a deep breath. “But I don’t understand. Sara was the Promise?”

“She would have been,” Rcanian explained. “Sara was Hailey’s sister, the original Promise. Hailey had been the Counter. Sara had not yet taken on the Prophecy and the Promise had come to fruition when Nazarie killed her. Nazarie unknowingly turned Hailey into the Promise and herself into the Counter.”

“That makes no sense,” I bristled.

Kirta shrugged. “The Prophecy had to be fulfilled by your bloodline. You could still be the Counter if you wish. Your daughter will then be the Promise. And it will continue. Hopping through your line until someone takes a stand.”

“Daughter?” I breathed.

“It’s what I have Foretold,” Kirta responded.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe or not, those are your choices,” Kirta shrugged.  “There is no fate. You choose it. But the Guardians do their best to tip the future in the way they see fit.”

“But you are saying that if life had turned out differently, I’d be trying to save the Edges rather than destroy them.  I’d be working with Nazarie and the Knights?”

“Yes,” Kirta nodded.  “I know it’s quite a lot to absorb.”

“A dozen years’ worth of memories?  Yeah, you could say that is a lot. And you are telling me that if events had happened differently my convictions would be exactly the opposite?” 

“We are all creatures formed by our experiences,” Bahlym said.

While I was not convinced in their version of fate or not-fate or whatever this all meant, the book held the answers, or at least clues to the answers. “Adara needs to finish teaching me how to read this book.”

“My husband, Yammin, is a priest and is very learned in the ancient text,” Desha said. “He would be honored to help teach the Promise. You should stay with us.”

“The Promise who could have been the Counter,” I said.

“We brought gold with us. We are happy to stay in an inn,” Bahlym offered.

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Desha said, her tone cautious.

“And I think being around the girls will be good for you, young one,” Kirta smiled, deflecting the obvious insinuation that, while we were welcome in the city, our liberties only went so far.

“Yes, my daughters, Embe and Namje, will adore having such interesting visitors,” Desha declared as she began collecting the dishes we’d dirtied during our lunch. Adara and Bahlym hung back, watching us tidy. I knew the type; we got them at the Keep from time to time. Neither of them had been without a valet or lady’s maid since they outgrew their nanny. I wondered if either of them had dressed by themselves before. I grabbed my dish, stacking Adara’s and Bahlym’s on top. Catching Adara’s gaze, I tilted my head and motioned to the cups. Her eyes widened in shock and confusion. In the Mitanni, Adara and Bahlym were not the affluent heirs to a fortune. There would be no army of servants to attend to their every whim.

This is going to be a rude awakening.

“You two are not accustomed to the daily tasks of life,” Rcanian said bluntly, his nose curled up in disgust. “Desha, are you sure you want them in your household? These two are tremendously spoiled. This is going to be a
rude awakening
.”

In anger, I spun around. “What did you say? Did you read my thoughts? Is that something you can do?”

“You think I’m spoiled?” Adara gasped.

“No,” I said without looking away from Rcanian and his mind reading. “I thought that it’s going to be a rude awakening and then he said those exact words.”

“
I
think you’re spoiled,” Rcanian reiterated.

“I don’t care what
you
think.” Adara glared at him.

“He didn’t read your thoughts, child,” Kirta told me gently, responding to my accusation. “He experienced half your life. He’s liable to have picked up a few of your idioms and perhaps mannerisms.”

“What?” Rcanian and I said in unison and then recoiled equally in horror, unwittingly mirroring each other’s actions. “Stop it!” We both spoke at once, identical amounts of anger in our voices. Rcanian knew every memory, every childhood hope and dream. I’d been robbed of them my whole life, and now he had full access to them.

Kirta chuckled at us. “Don’t worry. It won’t stay as fresh for him. You both are who you were, but also somewhat more.”

Desha’s house was only a few doors down from Kirta’s, and Rcanian said that his was nearby, too. Apparently, this was the part of town where the members of the upper castes lived, but it didn’t look much different from the other areas we’d seen earlier.

Yammin, Desha’s husband, greeted us when we came through the door. He was taller than I’d expected for a priest. He wore his pale blond hair in dozens of tiny braids, in a similar fashion to Desha’s hair. “I was hoping that you’d come to our home,” he told us, bowing slightly.

Like everything I’d encountered thus far in the Mitanni, Desha’s home was alight with bright colors. The walls were painted alternating stripes of turquoise and fuchsia. Even the furniture was brightly painted, no two pieces the same color.

“Girls, come meet our guests,” Desha called out. One child, about nine, peeked at us from around the corner. A multitude of frizzy copper braids draped down the side of her face, curtaining her light green eyes.

“Namje, come over here and say hello,” Desha urged. “Where’s your sister?”

“Embe is hiding upstairs in the loft. She won’t come out.”

Desha raked a hand through her braids and sighed. “Why not?”

The girl emerged, still eyeing me suspiciously. She was tall like her father. “She’s afraid that the Empirites will eat her,” Namje announced.

“Eat her?” Adara asked in shock. At her words, Namje squealed and disappeared behind the corner again.

Bahlym smiled wryly. “We have a similar story about the Mitanni.”

“Are you sure it’s okay if we stay here?” I asked Desha. “I don’t want to scare your children.”

Desha’s face betrayed her concern, but short of dragging the child into the room, which would only exacerbate her fear, there was nothing to be done. “This is the only place,” Desha said, glancing apprehensively to the ceiling as if she was trying to see through it and to the loft above. She shook her head, but then set to work, clearing off a space at the light green table. Yammin, Adara, and I gathered around it to begin the task of teaching me a new language.

We studied for hours. Guardians! I’d missed this. Feeling my mind expand as new thoughts took root. Feeling my tongue stumble over new words, then repeating them over and over until they became part of me. Part of who I am. Yammin decided to save the more in-depth vocabulary for later, suggesting that we start with verbs. The language held over a dozen conjugations of past tense, which I found ironic for an ancient language.

Bahlym disappeared, following Desha and trying to help as best he could, presumably attempting to counteract Rcanian’s accusation that he would be a poor houseguest. They brought us dinner and lit candles once the sun disappeared. Namje came and joined us for a while, scribbling on a piece of paper with paint. Upon occasion Namje, not even looking up from her drawing would correct a conjugation or pronunciation. So, it seemed I had three teachers for the night.

“I like your hair. Do you think I could braid my hair like that?” I asked the girl as her father and Adara reviewed my written conjugations for half a dozen action verbs.

She looked up at me with far too much derision on her face than she had a right to at her young age. “You are not a priest. You may not wear prayers upon your head.”

“Ah, yes, I am not a priest,” I confirmed. “I’m a Warrior and a Scholar.”

“That’s not very impressive. All Mitanni are warriors,” Namje informed me, returning to her coloring.

Chuckling indulgently at his oldest child, Yammin showed me a new set of root verbs and the studying continued. Embe never emerged from her loft fortress.

I awoke the next morning with the realization that yesterday had been the first day since I fell through Gryshelm’s Edge, that I did not watch Altis through my locket. For a moment, I thought about opening it, seeing where Altis, the father of my baby, was. But instead, I left the room, locket still in my pack.

Adara was already awake, but she was lying on her cot, staring blankly up at the stone ceiling. The three of us had slept in the girls’ room. Since Embe refused to leave the loft, Desha had Namje join her sister, thus freeing up their room for us. When I’d first seen the bed the night before, it struck me how much it resembled the one that I had shared with my sister. It was large enough for Adara and me to share. Bahlym slept on the floor.

“What do you think of Rcanian?” Adara asked, turning on her side to look at me.

I stretched, feeling exceedingly languid. “I’m not particularly impressed that he knows everything about my childhood.”

“I think he’s amazing,” Adara sighed. “It’s so romantic that he is sacrificing his rightful rule. Instead he selflessly serves his people through Foretelling.”

Bahlym threw a pillow at his sister. Apparently, he was awake, too. “You are already betrothed,” he reminded her.

“I’m never going back there,” Adara declared, throwing the blankets over her face as if hiding from the Empire. “Drahwan can find some other bride half his age.” She threw the blankets back and, ignoring her brother’s glare, asked again. “So, what do you think?”

I could hear the cautious sounds of our hosts outside the door as if they were trying to get along with their daily life as quietly as possible. “I think it’s well past time to be awake.” I shooed Bahlym and Adara out of the room then straightened the bedding and folded up the blankets that Bahlym had slept on, trying to return the room to some semblance of organization.

Today was family day—the one day in the week that no one worked. Unfortunately, that meant that my lessons would not be able to resume until the day after, causing me yet another day of idleness. I, untainted by a direct relation to the Empire, was permitted to wander as I pleased, but Adara and Bahlym were told they would require someone to accompany them. Yammin offered his company, but both Adara and Bahlym chose to stay at home. I needed some time to myself. Yammin and I left the house together, but he turned left, so I turned right.

In the area around Desha’s house, children scampered underfoot, but in the areas further out, there were no children to be seen. As I walked by, people would grow silent and watch me, which I did not mind. Their whispers were overpowered by the harsh
caw caws
of birds and the soft chimes of wind blowing through the glass mobiles hanging outside many of the buildings.

But, as my walk continued, I began to have an uncanny sense that someone followed me. And then that someone was joined by others. And then others. Soon, the uncanny sense turned into a definite confirmation. A crowd grew behind me. And they did not look happy. Worse yet, I had no idea where I was, no idea how to get back to Desha’s, and a mob was gathering.

I turned around. A young woman with short fire-red hair marched forward. The others hung back, watching. “Puny bug, your presence defiles the Mitanni.” She spat at my feet. The crowd bellowed their approval. They reminded me of a mob I’d seen my first day in the Empire. Bahlym had been so afraid for Adara. I now understood why.

“I am only here to help,” I said slowly, but the crowd couldn’t hear me through their jeers. Instinctually, I drew the Mist to myself, and just in time. Someone from the crowd hurled a rock. I buffered the impact enough to keep my arm from shattering. Rocks hurled with human hands and Mist pelted the barrier. After all I had survived, I was not going to be stoned to death by an angry mob.

The Mist swarmed to me. Azabin’s anger fueled me. I comprehended the tenuous line upon which I walked. I could blast all these people to smithereens, but I could not manage finesse over Azabin’s power. It came too quickly. It devoured me and craved the life-blood of the angry throng around me.

I dropped the Mist.

I knew that I did not weave Azabin. He wove me. Azabin ached to escape. He wanted me to be his corporeal implement. I tried to drop it, but another rock struck the ground near my feet and ricocheted to my shin. I collapsed to the ground in pain, and clung to Azabin, grasping for him again, struggling to stay defensive, but the more I tried to control him, the more overwhelmed I felt. Azabin laughed as he smothered me in power. I could feel him, leagues away. If I let go, the crowd would tear me apart, but if I did not...

“What exactly is going on here?” Rcanian’s voice cracked through the air.

I released the Mist and Azabin released me. The shouts of the crowd turned off as if by a switch. Panting, I clung to the ground, trying to regain a sense of who I was.

“We are protecting our ways,” the woman who first spat at me declared.

“By attacking an unarmed pregnant woman?” Rcanian snarled.

“I’d have expected you to cast a stone yourself,” the woman retorted, undeterred. “On the flight back to the city, you promised to bring our concerns before Desha.”

Rcanian stood between the crowd and me, glaring at the woman. “I did, but I was wrong. And so are you.”

“No.” The woman did not back down. “You told me that you Foretold her bind the Mist. You Foretold her Channel The Edges, uncertain if she wielded Azabin or if it wielded her.” There was too much in the look that past between them. The tension was almost palpable. But I could also sense an abyss of emotions between them. Implicitly, I understood. They’d been lovers once, but no more.

“I told
you
, not the whole Guardians -be-damned village!” he bellowed, but then took a deep breath and continued, his voice quieter, but still dagger-sharp. “And the key word there is ‘uncertain.’ The things I have Foretold are not clear yet. Certainly not clear enough to condone murder.” His gaze lingered on her face for a few heartbeats before he turned his attention to the crowd. “You will all return to your families. Now.”

The woman began to protest, but Rcanian put up his hand. “I do not claim the Burden, but I do claim the Sight. Do you challenge me, Vasani?” He leaned toward her, anger and sadness co-mingled in his stare. I did not know if his feeling always bled through so freely or if I simply saw my own mannerisms in him, as Kirta had predicted.

“I do not.” She threw the stone to the ground. It struck with an angry crash. No one said anything else. They left; dispersing like Azabin had moments ago.

Rcanian knelt beside me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lied. I stood up, shaking.

He observed me strangely. “Uninjured, but not fine, I think. You want some company?”

“Not really, but I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

“I’m off to the tavern, if you’d like to join me,” he said, but at my look of confusion—all shops should be closed on Family Day—he clarified. “Barkeeps have friends and families, too, Promise. They are allowed to entertain.”

“I’d really much rather be called Hailey.” I could feel the angry pinpricks of glares from the Mitanni citizens, but with Rcanian by my side, no one challenged me. “Did you really See The Edges trying to wield me? Do you think it’s possible?”

“What does the book say?” he asked, not unkindly, deflecting. We walked in companionable silence for a few blocks.

“I think I can feel Azabin and he can feel me. I’m linked to him,” I admitted. “He has tried to reach out through me already.”

He shrugged. “Desha and my grandmother know what I Foretold. If they aren’t worried, then I am not, either.”

We walked a few more blocks, going down a full flight of steps, below ground level. There were no windows to let in the daylight, but the handful of candles lining the back wall cast an eerie glow upon the whole room.

“Rcanian, you found my errant houseguest!” Yammin called out, raising his glass in welcome. A second man called out a greeting. Both stood in front of a strange elbow-height table.

“I’m Esden. We all sit on the Council together,” said the man I did not know.

“The Empire has a Council, too,” I pointed out. The men shrugged at the comparison.

“I understand that your youngest daughter has barricaded herself in the loft,” Rcanian said to Yammin.

“If I had Empirites sleeping in my house, I’d seek shelter, too.” Esden sat down on a tall chair; his legs hung freely, dangling like a child’s. “I tell you, Promise—”

“Hailey,” I corrected.

“—those people you keep company with…” He shook his head in disdain. “Fattened on the teat of the Empire.”

I understood the tone as an insult, but I did not understand the reference. Both Adara and Bahlym were quite slim. “I have very little interest in sitting here and listening to people who have never met my friends belittle them.”

“You’re right,” Esden acknowledged. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t leave.”

“You enjoy coddling yourself in your righteous indignation over wrongs committed centuries ago, but times are changing.” I climbed onto one of the tall chairs.

Yammin’s tone changed from joking to philosophical. “We are judging all the cultures of the world based upon the one we share the Slice with. Who is to say that the others won’t be better?”

“Or worse,” Esden pointed out, pouring a small glass of clear liquid. “Too bad you can’t have any. Once the child comes and you can drink again, you are in for a real treat. This is the best Berry Brandy in the entire Mitanni realm.”

“You say that because you made it,” Yammin told him, dryly.

Esden ignored the comment. “Did Rcanian tell you that he has seen Foretold of the Promise? Of you?”

“So I’ve heard,” I responded.

Esden leaned closer to me, trying to draw me in. “He’s not told anyone outside of this room.”

“He’s spoken of some events that he has Foretold,” I said, recalling the angry mob.

“He’s seen the Mist bound, and he’s seen you do it,” Esden continued, undeterred.

“I didn’t say that I Foretold
her
do it,” Rcanian corrected him. “It is far from that clear or that simple.”

Esden continued his story, using the same tone that Meena used to tell ghost stories to Lexie. Ominous, yet jesting. “How can anyone bind the Mist? Can you bind sounds? It’s not something to bind.”

“Doesn’t the Empire do that?” I asked.

“They Channel it. What Rcanian Foretold you do was the opposite.”

“But I also Foretold the Promise release it,” Rcanian said, glaring at Esden.

“What did Kirta think of what you Foretold?” I asked Rcanian.

Yammin spoke up. “He’s not told her yet. Until he understands what he Foretold, he isn’t supposed to speak of it. When he blabbed about you Channeling The Edges, Kirta about had a conniption fit.”

“And she was right to be so angry. That crowd might have killed you because I hadn’t kept what I Foretold to myself while it was unclear.”

“Doesn’t sound like you are very good at keeping them to yourself. I’ve known you for a day and I’ve already heard of three times you have Foretold.” I enumerated them on my fingers. “One: Desha will refuse to relinquish control. Two: I’m going to Channel The Edges—and that one almost cost me my life. And now three: I’m going to bind the Mist. “

“I’m sure what I Foretold about Desha,” Rcanian responded, sounding despondent. He stared into his empty glass. “Of those three, it’s the only one I can’t imagine, but it’s the one I am the most sure of.”

“Why can’t you imagine it?” I asked.

“Because I can’t imagine being in a situation worth losing my ability to Foretell,” he sighed. “Regardless, the priests would never attempt to usurp control. That would be blasphemy.”

“Anyone who thinks that the Mitanni are not going to change is lying to themselves,” said Esden.

“What’s wrong with change?” I asked.

“Change isn’t bad,” Yammin said. “It isn’t.” He repeated as his friends gaped at him. “Change isn’t going to cause us to lose our power or our community. We are strong enough in our convictions to survive it.”

“You’d test our strength?” Esden challenged.

Yammin shook his head. “It’s not a test.”

“But it is,” Esden countered. “There is no way for us to be this involved and remain separated from the world. We are now a primary player. It will change everything.”

“I don’t think that our way of life requires us to sequester ourselves away from the rest of the world. We fully interacted before the Empire Aggressions,” Yammin said.

Esden poured himself another shot of Berry Brandy and downed it, slamming down the tiny cup as he swallowed. “Some believe that’s the whole of our strength. But not you. You never have.” He leaned in close, almost threateningly, to Yammin.

“I don’t think this will be solved on a Family Day,” Rcanian said, pushing away from the table and stepping in front of the two men. “It’s getting closer to dinner time. We’d probably all best be heading toward our homes.”