The Obsidian Temple (25 page)

“We need to get Ava to the infirmary,” Anchee said.

“The healers are tending the wounded,” Sari said. “We are fetching a stretcher. I will post a guard on her in the infirmary.”

“That's not necessary,” Sulis protested. “She helped us. She isn't the enemy.”

Grandmother put a hand on Sulis's shoulder. “We don't know what damage the dark energy might have done,” she said. “We don't know what it will awaken in Ava's body.”

Sulis shook her head stubbornly. “I'll stay with her,” she said. “So she won't be frightened when she wakes up.”

Sari looked her up and down. “Good. You look like you need to be in the infirmary. The healers can watch you as well.”

Sulis scooped up the sleeping Nuisance and stepped away as a stretcher arrived. Clay was looking around the temple, his face thoughtful.

“What is it?” Sulis asked.

“I was supposed to die,” Clay said. “All the visions showed it. Ava and I were alone. I protected her until she was rescued, but I did not live. Not in any vision.”

Ashraf grinned. “The visions didn't count on Sulis's stubbornness then.”

Sulis slugged him in the shoulder as Clay gave a delighted laugh.

“No, they did not. And it shows me there is more hope for our future than I ever believed.”

“TAKE THE CHI
LDREN,”
Alannah whispered to Kadar after Severin was gone. “Take them to the Children's Home. Elida will meet you there.”

“What about you?” Kadar asked.

“I will hold the soldiers until you have gone.” She shook her head. “It is good you knocked out the Templar. Voras would have come, called by his Templar's distress if you had not. But the Templar will wake, and I can't hold against him, so you must flee.”

Alannah's body was tense, and she closed her eyes, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Kadar shook away his shock, rousing himself. Farrah's blood was on his hands, and he helplessly wiped his hand on his pants before turning to the pale, shocked children who still lived. He gathered the crying children, trying not to look at the still bodies on the floor as he herded them up the stairs. He kept his emotions in, not allowing his pain to bubble out as they stumbled down the street toward the Temple. Elida met them halfway, with the Mother Superior and several of Ivanha's maidens in tow. The maidens gathered the children to them as Elida greeted Kadar.

“Go home, Kadar,” Elida ordered, sweeping by him. “I'll go to Alannah and deal with the Templar and the mess he created.”

Kadar walked through the darkened streets. ­People moved out of his path when they saw his bloodstained clothes and the lines of anger around his mouth. He walked directly to his uncle's house rather than the merchant hall, not wanting to answer the questions of his uncle and cousin.

Kadar entered the house and leaned against a wall, sliding down it. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his head on them. Images of Farrah raced through his mind, and he gave way to grief.

He pictured her as he saw her first: blond hair, startling blue eyes glancing curiously at him over a pitcher of mead at the table. More images: the determined jut to her chin as they spoke of the Forsaken, the beautiful softness of her body when they made love. Her soft gaze as she cradled Datura, humming as their little girl cooed with delight. Kadar let the tears come.

He didn't lift his head until he felt a strong arm around his shoulders. He looked up into Uncle Tarik's sympathetic face.

“What happened Kadar?” Uncle Tarik asked. “Dono came running, said you were covered with blood and wouldn't answer when he called to you. Are you injured?”

“I'm not hurt. But Farrah is dead. Soldiers found her and the Forsaken. She was killed defending the children she'd kidnapped.” Kadar told him. “Severin took her body and escaped with the rest of the Forsaken.”

“So she became a martyr,” Uncle Tarik said, shaking his head.

Kadar nodded and tried to pull himself together. Uncle Tarik helped him to his feet, and he realized that his robe and sleeves were still wet with Farrah's blood. He felt Uncle Tarik's eyes on the stains.

“It was a hard death,” Kadar said, his voice cracking. “I didn't agree with what she choose to do, but she didn't deserve to die like that.” He bowed his head as tears came again. He choked out what he saw of the attack, stopping with the maidens taking the remaining children.

Uncle Tarik pulled him close, letting him cry himself out on his shoulder. Kadar heard boot steps and pulled back as Simon returned from the sales hall, not wanting his cousin and Sanuri to see him.

“Go get cleaned up,” Uncle Tarik said. “We'll decide what you need to do, later, after you've rested.”

“The Counselors might come by,” Kadar said.

Uncle Tarik nodded. “I'll fetch you if they do. With the mess they're cleaning up, and the rites for the Tribune, I doubt they'll be by.”

Kadar paused at the stairs, feeling eyes on him. Sanuri stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her eyes wide as she took in the blood on his clothing.

“It all went wrong,” she whispered. “It all went wrong.”

“IT ALL WENT
wrong,” the Templar told the Crone. He was leaning against the doorway to the cellar. The Crone had fled up the stairs after seeing the bodies of her children lying so still on the packed dirt floor. Her heart beat painfully in her chest as she listened to the Templar's excuses. He held a hand to his head, a bruise beginning to form on his temple. “The Forsaken began slaughtering the children when they heard us coming. There was nothing we could do.”

“Liar,” the Crone hissed. The Counselors had left already, Elida supporting an exhausted Alannah back to their house. The only living ­people who remained in the house were her and the Templar. “The Counselor told me your soldiers were killing the children. The Forsaken were dying trying to protect them. From you.”

“I gave no such orders,” the Templar said. “I don't know what happened. I was attacked from behind and knocked out. My soldiers must have thought the children were Forsaken.”

The Crone shook her head, furious. “Unarmed children?”

“I told them to kill all the Forsaken,” the Templar replied. “Unfortunately, the children were dressed like the outcasts.”

“What were you doing there?” The Crone demanded. “Ivanha said to ransom the children, to give the kidnappers what they wanted. Not to attack them.” And kill my children, she didn't add. Her heart bled. So many little bodies, still on the floor. Children she'd read to, she'd nurtured, insensibly cut down.

The Templar's
feli
pressed against him, and he stiffened suddenly. The Crone took a step back as his eyes widened and turned red. Voras, possessing the Templar, turned his gaze on the Crone.

“Ivanha, attend,” he snarled.

The Crone braced herself as her
feli
bumped his head under her hand. At that contact, Ivanha flooded into her, taking over control of her body. The Crone felt herself pushed to the corner of her mind, and almost lost her connection to her body as Ivanha turned her attention to Voras.

“You were a bad boy,” Ivanha purred, and the Crone felt her waves of anger beat at the thread the Crone held on to. “These were my children, under my protection. You will make concessions for what I have lost.”

Voras snorted. “A load of brats. The humans will replace them before the decade ends.”

“My brats!” Ivanha shrieked. “I promised my Voice.”

“Shut up and listen,” Voras snarled. “This is nothing, a few human lives. I've found the secret of the desert.”

The Crone felt Ivanha's rage dissolving into curiosity. “The desert? Your man down there saw something?”

“He found our essence,” Voras said. “He found our missing power, where it is trapped.”

Ivanha waved dismissively at him. “Your man was dreaming. Or he heard wrong. We are missing nothing.”

“Then why do we have to use the
feli
?” Voras asked, grabbing the Crone's shoulders. “Our independence was chained, frozen by a spell into the mortal bodies we took, and we never knew how. I tell you, I saw them. I was able to take over my man, to see through his eyes and control him. We have greater powers, trapped in statues, chained by physical form as well as a powerful shield.”

The Crone felt Ivanha's sudden understanding, then her surge of desire to regain her autonomy. “You saw this? Where?” she breathed.

“Where our last defeat was. They've built a temple in the middle of the waste. We need to go there, reclaim it. Then we can destroy the One.”

The Crone listened in horror. The One was an annoyance, a frustration with the limitations she put on the deities. But she was also their mother and father. This was like hearing someone plot to murder his own parents. She felt despair as Ivanha's elation rushed through her body.

“Our own temples again,” Ivanha said. “Our own will, ruling the ­people. But how do we reclaim it? Is your man still there?”

Voras snarled in frustration, the Templar's handsome face twisted with anger. “He was killed. I was close to my powers, close to regaining what I had. They were powerful, the Guardians. One of them was the desert pledge. I knew she was a spy. “

Ivanha snarled in frustration. “They are alerted, then. They know you've found their secret. It will be impossible to slip a second person in.”

Voras shook her once. “We don't need a second person. We need to go in and reclaim what was ours. This is it, Ivanha. This is what we've been building toward. We will mobilize our troops. We will go to war with the desert and reclaim what they've stolen from us!”

The Crone was sickened as Ivanha flooded her mind with images of the last war, with human bodies strewn over great battlefields. “But the troops will die in the desert,” Ivanha said. “Only the merchants know the routes.”

“They will give the routes to us when we have their families,” Voras said. “We will put down this Forsaken uprising, using the murderers of the children to sway ­people against them. We will show that the desert merchants helped the Forsaken. The ­people will support us when we arrest the merchants for collusion.”

The Crone protested in the back of her mind. It was the Templar who had killed the children. The Crone felt her thread to her body slip even more, as weakness and depression set in. Ivanha did not seem to notice.

“Yes,” Ivanha said, stepping back and breaking Voras's hold on her shoulders. “I will support this. You will build dissent first and give me time to pick a stronger Voice before we take action. What about Parasu and Aryn?”

“They will not be told,” Voras said. “If we regain our powers, we can subordinate them, make them lesser deities.”

“Oh, yes,” Ivanha agreed. Visions swam through the Crone's head. Ivanha building huge temples, dedicated only to her. Sacrifices made to her. Aryn serving her. The Crone felt ill, and her grasp slid more. The idea of a quiet retirement to a mountain retreat seemed like just a dream now. Everything would be torn down in her deity's quest for idolization.

The Crone wondered how she would feel watching the goddess she adored destroy the things she loved, even if she no longer served as Ivanha's Voice. It was beyond bearing. The Crone considered the darkness she'd resisted since becoming Ivanha's Voice. All she had to do was let go.

The Crone felt her body's eyebrows raise in surprise as Ivanha realized her Crone was letting go of the thread connecting her to her body. She saw Ivanha reaching out a hand as she drifted away into darkness. All she had to do was grasp it, and Ivanha would bring her back.

The Crone turned away from the hand, turned away from Ivanha. She felt her body slump toward the floor. Then the darkness claimed her, and she knew no more.

 

Chapter 22

KADAR WOKE TO
someone's shaking him. He grumbled and tried to push the person away. It felt like he'd tossed and turned all night before finally falling asleep.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed, sitting up and nursing a scratched hand. He glared at Amber, who purred and kneaded his lap. Sanuri stood by his bed looking at him with wide eyes. In the dawnlight, she was even paler than usual.

“We must go,” she whispered. “He knows about us. He will come. We must go now.” Her eyes became distant, and she started mumbling. “How could she give up, pick new voice, war with desert, don't tell the other deities, don't tell . . .”

Kadar glared at her and the cat, trying to get the fog out of his brain. He felt a tugging on his mind, one that became insistent when Amber settled on his lap. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind.

Kadar.
Alannah's voice sounded relieved.
Thank goodness I could reach you. The Vrishni I'm using wasn't certain she could. We cannot come to you in the morning. The Crone has died, and it is all chaos here.

Kadar sent a burst of confusion to her.

She was very old, Kadar.
Alannah said.
The children's death was too much for her heart. The Templar said she collapsed when she saw the bodies.

Will the Templar be punished for trying to kill Ivanha's children?

He felt Alannah's sigh.
The Templar denies giving the order to kill the children. He claims that I saw wrong, and the soldiers were trying to protect the children from the Forsaken. I am young and new. Elida believes me, but not many others do.

Kadar snarled his anger, and Sanuri backed away.
What can we do?

Nothing,
Alannah said.
The Forsaken are gone. The Temple is in turmoil, with the Tribune's and the Crone's deaths. Voras cannot act against the Forsaken who left—­the soldiers are required here. Elida says we must let this blow over.

Sanuri says we must leave,
Kadar sent.

Now he felt Alannah's confusion.

She says he knows, he will come for us. I think she means Voras somehow knows she is here. How?

There was a pause, and Kadar waited impatiently.

I've just consulted Elida. We will investigate. Have you heard anything from Sulis, in the desert?

No,
Kadar said.
I haven't had time to contact Sulis. Should I take Sanuri to the desert?

There was another pause. Then Alannah came back.

Elida says yes. If Sanuri is that certain, you should go, and soon. We have messages we need to get to Lasha and Dani at the southern way station, where the Temple has an outpost. Will you take them and report back to us? We will give you a Counselor's pass, which will allow you to leave without suspicion.

Kadar thought a moment. His reason for staying in the city was gone. His daughter was on the road to his home, and he wanted his family by his side. Uncle Tarik had found some promising workers among the Southern families who remained, so Kadar was not needed in the salesroom. It was time to move on.

Yes. I will start packing immediately,
he told Alannah.

I will send a Vrishni with the messages. Safe passage,
Alannah said, regret in her voice.
Take care of Sanuri, Kadar. My place is here for now. I will come when I can.

Kadar packed quickly. They'd need two beasts for riding and a pack mule. His horse was rested, and there was a small, gentle pony in the stables he could use for Sanuri, with a deep saddle that his cousins had learned to ride on. They could resupply at the Southern outpost. Amber gave a little murp, and he considered her. He'd need to rig some sort of box or platform. He didn't think she could be left behind, as much as he'd like to.

“Running away?” Uncle Tarik asked from the doorway, surprising Kadar.

He spun to face his uncle. “Sanuri says we have to leave,” Kadar said, gesturing to the girl, who sat in the corner mumbling to herself. “Alannah contacted me and agreed. I'm to deliver messages for the Counselors to the southern way station before going home.”

His heart leapt with relief and joy as he thought of Shpeth.

Uncle Tarik sighed heavily. “I'll see what supplies we have. They've been heavily plundered the past ­couple of weeks. I'll send Simon out for what we don't have. How are you going to get the girl out?”

“The Counselors are giving me a pass. I think the boys' pony has at least one more long ride left in her,” Kadar said. “We can retire her when she gets home. I'll use the travel saddle, strapping Sanuri on if she can't stay upright, and take a mule for supplies.” He paused.

“You'll want at least two supply mules,” Uncle Tarik said. “Luckily, Aaron took wagons and was able to leave many of the pack mules. Don't look at me like that. The girl isn't used to hard travel the way you are. You'll need to set up a shelter and make certain she doesn't go hungry.”

Kadar was grateful his uncle was taking his flight well. He started to say as much, but stopped when he saw the sadness in his uncle's face. “Come with us, Uncle. Get out while the Northerners are still confused, and you can leave easily. Join Aunt Raella. We can hire ­people to keep the merchant hall running.”

Uncle Tarik shook his head. “We all have parts to play, Kadar,” he said sadly. “This is where my part plays out. Until I get other orders from your grandmother, I stay in Illian. Besides, like the boys said, it's my home now, more than Shpeth. I'll make my stand here.”

SULIS WOKE IN
the infirmary to find Ashraf sitting in a chair beside her bed. She could tell it was late night, but his eyes were open, and he was staring bleakly off into the distance. She reached out and took his hand, and he looked over at her and smiled.

“What is it?” Sulis asked softly, not wanting to disturb Ava in the next bed. He frowned. She sat up and scooted over so he could sit in the bed close to her. “What has upset you?”

“It won't work,” Ashraf said softly, in her ear.

“What won't work?” Sulis asked, puzzled.

“Us against the deities,” Ashraf said. “We were outmatched by one deity. One. There are four. If Ava hadn't used that dark energy, I think he would have beaten us. Beaten us with just Voras's will and a handful of
geased
warriors. We can't hope to win against four, not even adding two more guardians.”

“But, the prophecy . . .” Sulis whispered back.

“It must be wrong, Sulis,” Ashraf said. “Or misinterpreted. We lost twenty warriors just trying to hold Raen so we could kill him. And we almost lost Ava. Holding four deities still, while we dance around them and fight their armies—­it simply won't happen.”

Sulis thought about her training the past half year, about the dances she'd learned, and knew he was right. There wasn't enough energy in the Obsidian Temple to hold the deities.

“But what will we do?” Sulis asked. “Do you think the other Chosen realize?”

“I don't know. The prophecy is all they know of the deities. This was their first real encounter with the greater powers of the deities. I don't know if we can convince them that if we go directly against the deities, we will lose.”

Sulis stared helplessly at him, her mind churning. She flinched as Ava awoke, screaming for Farrah and her mother. Sulis squeezed Ashraf's hand apologetically, and he kissed her softly before pushing her toward Ava. Sulis put her worries aside and crawled into bed with Ava, holding her while she cried. When Sulis looked up, Ashraf had gone. All Sulis could do was hold Ava and be there when she woke from her nightmares.

Clay came to her in the morning as she sat in Ava's bed, Ava curled up beside her.

“The Crone is dead,” he said softly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping girl. “We don't know what happened. The One has warned the Weaver. She will be coming to meet us soon.”

“Is Kadar bringing her?” Sulis asked. She'd kept her mind open the entire night while she held Ava, but Kadar had not tried to speak to her. Once she'd gotten over her own fright, she'd been terrified that he'd been hurt at the same time Farrah was killed. Her twin bond, her connection to him, was steady, so she'd decided not to waste time with worry.

“According to my visions, yes. And two of the Guardians. I believe he will contact you. Have him meet us at the desert supply station at the edge of the Sands rather than Shpeth.”

Sulis thought of Datura, traveling to Shpeth. “He won't like that,” she warned. “He'll want to go to his daughter if Farrah is dead.”

Clay shook his head. “He can travel on once the Weaver and Guardians are with us.”

“When do we leave?” Sulis asked, glancing down at Ava.

“In two days,” Clay said.

“Will Ava be up to traveling?” Sulis protested.

Clay nodded. “Physically, she will be able.”

Sulis hesitated, then spoke her thoughts.

“Clay, we won't be able to tame the deities on our own,” she said. “The training, it isn't enough. The Obsidian Temple is dead space—­there is no life to draw energy from. The deities are too powerful.”

Clay frowned. “Have faith in the prophecy,” he told her. “The One knows what is needed.”

Sulis felt frustration rise. “That isn't enough,” she said, her voice rising. Ava stirred beside her.

“Hush! Don't disturb Ava,” Clay said, his voice angry. “Be ready for the journey. We will speak more on this later.”

Sulis stared as he turned and walked away from her. She looked down at Ava, their Loom, their foundation that seemed to be crumbling. She could only hope that the Weaver would be the steadying presence that would bring them all together to make a powerful whole.

BY THE TIME
Kadar had packed Sanuri's meager belongings and came downstairs, Simon had brought the mules up from the caravan's stables. They silently saddled Kadar's horse and the pony and settled the packs on the mules. Uncle Tarik even added a few extras Kadar might not have thought to pack.

Kadar looked up from fastening straps as a tall, green-­cloaked Vrishni entered the courtyard. He started to hail the woman, and she threw back her hood to reveal she was Alannah. Yaslin stalked in after, making the pony roll her eyes and stomp nervously.

“Not much of a disguise, if that was your intention,” Kadar said dryly.

“The illusion wasn't meant for you,” Alannah said, “Others see a hunched old woman. No one sees Yaslin unless she wants them to.”

“I thought you couldn't get away,” Kadar said, ushering her into the house to get Yaslin out of the stables.

Alannah shook her head. “We need a favor of you. In turn, I'm to conceal Sanuri as she leaves Illian. She was right; the Templar is looking for the Weaver. He knows of the prophecy, and his soldiers have been ordered to detain any Northerner leaving with a Southern guide.”

“What do you need?” Kadar asked. Sanuri shyly appeared around the corner and Alannah held out her arms. Sanuri rushed into them, and Alannah cuddled her.

“I need to contact Tori. The Vrishni currently at the Temple aren't strong enough, and I don't want this message passed through many ­people.”

Kadar sat cross-­legged in front of Alannah, Sanuri leaning against him. Alannah put her cool hands on either side of his temple.

Kadar?
Tori's mind voice was surprised.

It's Alannah. I needed a strong send, from someone I could trust.

What's going on down there?
Tori asked.
All the reports have been bad. The Forsaken rebelling, the Tribune dying, and now the Crone. No one knows where to turn.

Turn to the One,
Alannah admonished.
It is time. Gather those most faithful.

Kadar felt Tori's curses more than heard them.

Just when life was finally bearable again,
Tori said, her voice a sigh.
War comes.

Can we count on you?
Alannah asked.

Of course. Are the twins in on it?
Tori asked.

No. I'll need you to initiate them.

Fine. And Kadar is one of us?
Tori asked.
I can reach you through him?

No,
Alannah said.
He is returning to the desert. You'll need to pass messages through the Vrishni. Soon you will be able to reach Sulis through him. I think their twin bond and Sulis's
feli
will give us the power we need.

Kadar heard a smile in Tori's voice.
Ah, the ultimate troublemaker. I look forward to adding her to the meld again. Stay safe, Alannah.

You as well, Tori.

Alannah removed her hands from Kadar's temples. A dozen questions sprang to his lips, but Alannah shook her head.

“I can't answer you, Kadar,” she said. “But know it is not just the desert ­people who are rallying for the One. Your ­people will not be alone when war comes to the desert.”

Uncle Tarik ducked his head in. “Everything's ready, Kadar.”

The good-­byes were brief. Kadar helped Sanuri on the pony Simon held, putting Amber in a small leather box behind the girl's saddle. Sanuri seemed off balance, so he strapped her legs so she would not fall off. Simon gave his old mare one last pat and whispered in her ear before stepping back and exchanging a nod with Kadar. Kadar mounted his own horse. Alannah walked serenely at the pony's head. It was a slow procession, but no one seemed to see them as they moved through the streets. The guards at the southern gates of Illian were busy investigating a wagon and did not turn as Kadar's procession walked past. Kadar's shoulders tingled as he waited for a shout of discovery that never came. When they were past the confines of the city and out of view of the burned-­out shanties, Alannah stopped them.