The Silver Lake (67 page)

“Estavia’s temple is on alert,” he said truthfully, “standing ready to send strength to our God should She need to do battle with the spirits of the wild lands or any other being that threatens the safety of our city. As we were last year and every year before that since Kaptin Haldin’s time,” he added.

“Do you anticipate any such attack, Sayin?” the Western Trisect representative asked anxiously.

Kemal gave a gesture of studied indifference. “We anticipate an
attempt,”
he said, stressing the final word. “But,” he shot a grin in the direction of Bey Adrian, “with Havo and Estavia’s appetites being what they are, we don’t anticipate an attempt coming to anything more than a midnight snack. Do you?”

The representative gave a relieved laugh. “No, Sayin.”

“Good.”

The Assembly broke up quickly after that. Niami left at once as did the three Trisect representatives. After huddling together for a moment, Aurad and Neclan followed, supporting Usara’s proxy-bey by one elbow each. Bey Adrian gave Kemal a jaunty salute, then headed off as well, the dozen junior priests in tow, their arms already laden with last-minute supplies. Standing a moment, staring down at the wide, mahogany table, Kemal swallowed the dregs of his cold tea, then handed the cup to the server and took his own leave, feeling just as unsettled as when he’d arrived. As he made his way through the still-bustling marketplace, the rising wind sent a splash of rain across his cheek and, with an involuntary glance at the darkening sky, he quickened his pace.

Across the courtyard, Bey Neclan watched him go with a thoughtful frown on her thin face, before making for the tree-lined avenue that led to Oristo-Sarayi.

The temple was bustling with barely controlled chaos when she arrived. Handing her damp cloak to a junior priest, she strode down the wide, marble entrance hall, taking note of the many preparations already in full swing. Priests and servers rushed here and there, their arms laden with food and linens, all driven by the loud, booming voice of Chamberlain Kadar. An untrained observer might believe they’d never be ready for the glut of people who were already beginning to crowd into the public rooms, but Oristo’s temple had opened its doors to the needs of Anavatan’s citizens every Havo’s Dance since the founding of the city itself. They’d be ready.

Pausing before the ten-foot-high ruddy-brown statue of Oristo which dominated the entrance, N into its polished mahogany eyes. There was feeling in the temple this year, an air of unc sion that made her want to snap at everyone The God was unsettled and that put everyo

Behind her, the Head Launderer storm main dining room, his face a dangerous bur

“If you yell at me one more time, Kadar, y in the northern strait with a bag over you shouted. ”Creases, my arse,“ he snarled as toward the lower level staircase.

Neclan raised an eyebrow at the statue.

Everyone.

Her delinkos met her at the door to her pri

“Chamberlain Tanay’s waiting in the c Sayin,” he said respectfully. “You were to m sembly?”

“Right.” Neclan huffed a breath of air nose in annoyance. The late start at the Cit her entire schedule back by at least a half a God alone knew how she was going to ma fore dusk.

“Shall I bring tea or will you take an e Sayin?” he continued.

“You will bring a large carafe of raki,” she “And three glasses.”

“Three, Sayin?”

“Yes, I imagine Kadar will want to see m my business with Tanay is complete.”

He chuckled at the resigned note of wea voice.

“Yes, Sayin.”

Tanay was deep in discussion with the Chief Gardener over the state of the temple ferns when Neclan entered the large glass conservatory. Noting the sour expression on her superior’s face, one comer of her mouth quirked upward as she disentangled herself from the long, trailing fronds.

“I take it things didn’t go well at Assembly?” she asked, as a server bustled in with the raki and a tray of confectionaries.

“Things went as they generally go at Assembly,” Neclan sniffed. “With dissembling and political nonsense.” Seating herself on a low divan, she rubbed irritably at her fingers, before stretching them toward the lit mangel in the center of the room.

“Here, let me.” Tanay came forward to take the older woman’s hands in hers. Rubbing them gently, she examined the red, swollen knuckles with a frown. “They look sore today,” she noted.

“Don’t fuss. It’s just the damp, it makes them ache.”

“Are you using the cream that Rakeed brought for you?”

“Yes,
Abia
.”

“Good.” Taking her own place beside her, Tanay poured them each a glass of raki. The two women sat in companionable silence for a moment until the deep lines about Neclan’s eyes and mouth relaxed a little.

“Oristo is disturbed about Havo’s Dance this year,” Neclan said at last.

“Freyiz’s prophecy?”

“No doubt. It’s become clear over the months that your two charges are involved, and the Hearth God doesn’t like it when delon are put in danger by adult concerns.”

“The Hearth God’s not the only one,” Tanay agreed darkly.

“Brayazi
politely
declined my offer of a place for them here until after Havo’s Dance,” Neclan continued. “So we’ll have to extend the God’s protection to them in their absence. You gave the young one, Spar, the beads you dreamed of?”

Tanay nodded. “I don’t know how much protection they’ll be able to convey, but yes, he has one, Brax the other.”

“Good. Well, then, that’s all we can do.” Glancing up, she spotted Kadar standing by the conservatory door arguing with the Temple Chef. “And now...” she said, the lines returning to her face, “I have battles of my own to mediate and you should get back before the rain begins in earnest.”

“Yes, Sayin.” Bowing, Tanay took her leave, shaking an admonishing finger at Kadar as she passed.

Above the city, the sun began its downward trek toward dusk and the First Night of Havo’s Dance behind a mask of heavy storm clouds. In Anavatan’s harbors the ships and fishing boats were already battened down, their cargo safely stowed away, and their crews sequestered in the many inns and taverns along the wharves. In the marketplaces which still teemed with people, Oristo’s abayos-priests fanned out, cajoling and bullying everyone who was still on the streets into heading for an early refuge, offering their already crowded halls to whomever needed them while Ystazia’s people brought every tent, stall, table, and cart set up around their temples and camis that could be moved indoors.

The vast and sweeping public rooms and theaters of Ystazia-Sarayi quickly came to resemble a covered market on a high festival day with jugglers, musicians, dancers, and puppeteers all setting up shop as quickly as the relocated potters, jewelers, scribes, and many who might have gone home chose to spend the night right there. Others made their way to Havo-Sarayi in the hopes of joining in the revelry and cadging a free meal.

At Usara-Sarayi the physicians quietly laid out bandages and counted their remaining medicinals while at Estavia-Sarayi, the Battle God’s warriors honed their weapons, and tucked between the Healer God’s and the Hearth God’s temples, Incasa-Sarayi exuded an air of deep stillness and uninviting solitude, its gates already closed.

Seated on a soft woolen cushion in the center of the God of Prophecy’s most private meditation tower, Freyiz tasted the combination of excitement and anxiety emanating from the five other main temples with a neutral expression as she cast her farseeing prophetic gaze westward across the city, noting the areas of strength and weakness with equal objectivity. When First Oracle Bessic approached, she gestured him forward without turning her head.

“Niami has returned, Sayin,” he said respectfully despite his position. “The city is prepared.”

“And the temple-seers?” “Are waiting for nightfall.”

She nodded. “I’ll rest until then. Call me when everything is in readiness for the High Seeking. You will lead it, of course; I’m here only in a purely advisory position.”