Without a Front (38 page)

CHAPTER 59
Backstage

 

“What did you think, Micah?”
Tal was gulping down an enormous flask of water. Between the speech and the question-and-answer session, she had been talking for nearly two hanticks and her throat was beyond dry. But this was it; she was done. Now all they had to do was wait for the crowd to disperse before making their own departure. In the meantime, she and Micah were resting in a small prep room behind the auditorium's stage.

“I think you should send that little girl a token of your appreciation. Maybe a new transport.”

“Wasn't she something? She reminded me of Jaros with all that attitude. And then she gave me the perfect opening. Damn, I enjoyed that.”

“And I enjoyed seeing Darzen Fosta slink out of the auditorium with her battle flag dragging behind her.”

Tal abruptly set down her water. “So that
was
her. I thought it might be when I saw two people stand up at once, but I couldn't see with the lights in my eyes. When did she leave?”

“Right after you publicly humiliated her.”

“Oh, Fahla.” Tal laughed. “She must really hate me now. She probably knew we were ready for her in Whitesun and chose Whitemoon for a sneak attack. Well, I'm sorry I have to fight this dirty, but she's dragged me through the dirt already.”

“I don't see any need for apology. There were demonstrators in Blacksun and Redmoon. That's well beyond dirt. Whether Darzen envisioned this or not, she set off a chain reaction.”

“I know. I have to admit, I never thought it would go as far as people chanting in the streets. Aldirk was right.”

“Are you going to tell him that?”

“Are you joking?”

Micah snorted.

They passed some time in companionable silence, with Tal idly twirling her water flask and staring at nothing in particular.

“Do you think there's any possibility she was here to talk to me?” she asked at last.

“Not a chance,” Micah said firmly. “If she wanted to talk to you she wouldn't be trying to jack in on a question-and-answer session on a worldwide broadcast.”

Tal nodded. “Salomen was right, too. I really didn't want her to be.”

“Right about what?”

“She said Darzen didn't leave because I lied by omission. She left because she didn't want the person I truly am—because I would have been too much of a challenge for her. She liked the idea of me as an ordinary warrior.”

“It's possible. Not everyone is ready for a challenge like you. Salomen being a notable exception.” Micah reached out for his own water flask.

“Lancer Tal, we're ready to depart when you are.”

Tal tapped her earcuff. “Thank you, Gehrain. We're coming out now.” She stood up. “Ready for temple?”

“The question is, are you? Do you remember which door to enter?”

Tal pretended confusion. “Is there more than one?”

Micah opened the prep room door, checked the hallway, and turned back to Tal. “Just watch me and don't do anything I don't do.”

“If I restricted my activities to the things you do, Salomen would have a very boring future in front of her.” Tal walked out with a grin, waiting for his response.

“Someday Fahla is going to deliver a healthy dose of humility to your front door, and I'll be there to see it,” he called after her. She raised her hand behind her in a rude gesture, and he chuckled as he followed her down the hall.

CHAPTER 60
Flames in the temple

 

Tal craned her neck to
see the top of the temple dome, marveling at the beauty of its construction. The temples in Alsea's greatest cities had been built long ago, before modern technology had made such things easier. She couldn't imagine the builders hauling these stones in carts, cutting them by hand, and laying them in place with nothing more than their eyes and crude measuring tools to establish the angles. And yet these domes were so perfect, the stones matching with such precision, that a small machined sphere released near the top would roll straight down, neither bouncing nor deviating from its course.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Micah asked.

“It is. And a perfect evening to set it off, too.” She gazed beyond the dome to the spectacular sunset turning the clouds into crimson fire. To the east, the vast bay had already gone dark, its silver sheen vanishing when the sun dipped below the horizon. Blacksun Temple was impressive, but the temple at Whitemoon was widely revered as the most spectacular in the world. Standing on a hill at the center of the city, it commanded a view that left many visitors breathless. This was a location and a building to inspire wonder, and Tal was not immune.

“Now remember: enter the front archway and exit at the rear. To do otherwise is to insult Fahla.”

“Micah, I do know a little about temples. Are you going to be this annoying all evening?”

“Just trying to save you from embarrassing yourself.”

“More likely you're trying to save yourself from being tainted by my lack of piety.”

“That too.”

They walked down the gravel path and up the steps to the high, arched entry. Tal stopped just inside, admiring the space and the fine carvings. The few Alseans in the temple glanced toward her and just as quickly looked away again. Here in Fahla's sacred place, even the Lancer was just another worshipper.

An enormous glassed opening at the top of the dome lit the temple during the day, but at sunset a band of lights set at the junction of dome and wall were ceremonially lit. In the old days the lights had been torches, rendering the ceremony quite a bit more time-consuming, and the modern lights still mimicked the color and shape of a torch flame. They were lit now, a circle of fire ringing the temple and emphasizing its enormity. A temple had no divisions, seats, or other visual distractions to break up the interior. All of the soaring space was left open to the worshippers, who stood at small, transparent racks, which held clear bowls of oil in ten tiers. Lighting a bowl produced the effect of a flame floating in the air. The racks were scattered throughout the temple, allowing visitors to worship away from others if they wished, since there was no single location where Fahla was thought to receive the prayers of her people. But Tal had always felt that the true heart of a temple was at its center, where a molwyn tree grew beneath the skylight. The only tree on Alsea with a solid black trunk, molwyns were sacred to Fahla and grew in every temple of decent size. The tree in Whitemoon was massive, gnarled, and ancient.

Micah moved to a bowl rack some distance away and slipped his credit chip into the offering box. Silently, the rack retracted its covers. The larger the offering, the more bowls were released.

Tal watched curiously as he picked up the eternal flame at the center of the rack and began lighting bowls. When all ten in the top tier were flaming, he began on the second. Though she knew she should not be staring—an offering to Fahla was between the Goddess and her worshipper—she couldn't turn away as he methodically lit one bowl after another, until the entire rack was alight and one hundred flames danced in the air. He had made a substantial offering indeed.

He replaced the eternal flame and stood still, his lips moving as he spoke a quiet prayer. Abashed at her own rudeness, Tal was about to step forward and leave him to his privacy when he looked up and caught her eye. With slow, deliberate movements, he turned to face her, placed his fists against his chest, and bowed his head.

A lump appeared in her throat. That offering was for her. Micah had lit an entire bowl rack in thanks to Fahla for sending her tyree.

She straightened her spine, brought her fist to her chest with a thump, and returned his salute. It was a breach of tradition that left Micah blinking, but she knew it was the right thing to do. She was not Lancer here; she and Micah were equal in the eyes of Fahla. And he was more deserving of her respect than anyone else on the planet, save one special person.

Then she smiled, realizing that with the precedent he had set, her own hand was forced. She couldn't just light a bowl or two now. If Micah had lit an entire rack in her name, then how could she, the actual recipient of Fahla's gift, offer any less?

It was a good thing she had planned a large offering.

She walked to the bowl rack nearest the molwyn tree, slipped in her credit chip, and gave enough to unlock the whole rack. When it was completely alight, she moved on to the next. Several ticks later, five bowl racks ringing the center of the temple were burning so brightly that the molwyn tree glowed in the light of the flames.

She stepped onto the wooden deck surrounding the tree and walked beneath the branches. At the very center of the temple, she laid her palm on the molwyn's trunk and gazed up at the silvery undersides of the leaves. If she concentrated, she could actually feel the life pulsing beneath her hand.

“I know I don't come here often,” she said quietly. “And I've always thought you understood why. I see you more easily in what you created than I do in these temples, and the only place that feels right to me inside this dome is here. This tree carries your spark. It's closer to you than anything else in this building.” She paused, looking at her hand in puzzlement. Was it her imagination, or was the bark under her palm growing warm? No, it had to be her own body heat. She looked up again.

“I wish there was something I could say to convey how grateful I am. But I don't think I need to. You must know. You've given me my dream, and though I admit to…well, to questioning your choice, I understand now why you made it. Salomen is unique in so many ways. She sees the world through different eyes, and I see differently through her. I always thought what I wanted most was someone to love me for who I really am, but I think…I think she loves me not just for that, but for who she knows I can be. And I want to be that person. I want to be her dream as well. So I guess I'm here not just to thank you, but to ask for your help. Please, help me get this right. I don't know what I'm doing. I trained all my life to be a good Lancer, but there's no training for this. I just…”

She stopped as a vision of Salomen came to mind, her eyes crinkling as she laughed at something. Tal smiled at the image. “Yes. That's what I want. I want to know that she's happy because of me. She's spent her whole life suppressing who she is. She deserves her own happiness. Help me give that to her, please.”

She let her arm drop, absently rubbing her fingers on her palm, then frowned and opened her hand.

The skin was red where it had touched the molwyn.

Rational explanations flitted through her mind: allergy, microsplinters, even the possibility of poison. Any of those should have warned her off touching the tree again, but she couldn't help herself. Her arms lifted almost of their own volition.

The wood felt cool, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Then she stopped breathing altogether as warmth surged through her palms.

“Holy shek,” she whispered. Pulling back was ineffective; her hands seemed fused to the wood. Strangely, she felt no fear and instead watched with fascination as the heat in her hands increased exponentially. They were burning now, so hot that she should have been on her knees from the agony, but there was no pain at all. The burning increased even more, and Tal's jaw dropped as her hands began to glow red. It was as if they were on fire from the inside, lighting up her veins…and for just a piptick she could see her own bones.

She blinked. It was all gone. The tree was cool; her hands looked like they did every day. She stepped back and held them in front of her eyes, checking for any sign of what had just happened. Other than a pronounced trembling, they were perfectly normal. Looking around, she saw that the flames in her bowls were burning well below the level of the rim. But that made no sense; they had been full when she lit them.

For some time she stood there, trying to make sense of what had just happened. That Fahla had given her a direct message, she had no doubt. But what did it mean? No matter how she examined it, she came no closer to a solution. The only thing she knew for sure was that it was about Salomen.

She looked at the tree one last time before shaking her head and turning toward the exit. Micah was waiting.

“About time,” he said as she walked up. “If I'd known you had that much to say to Fahla, I would have brought something to eat.”

“Micah, how long have we been here?”

He looked at her oddly. “Almost a hantick. Why?”

She walked past him without answering. A hantick. She would have said it was perhaps a quarter of that.

Micah caught up with her at the bottom of the steps, and they strode down the gravel path in silence. When it joined the larger path circling the temple, he asked, “Did something happen?”

She nodded.

“Did she…did she speak to you?”

“No.”

“Well then, what happened?”

She shook her head. “I'm not sure. But…I think she gave me a sign.”

“A sign! What was it?”

They walked all the way back to the inner gate of the temple grounds before she answered him. “I don't know how to interpret it,” she said slowly. “But my hands…they burned where they touched the molwyn tree. Except it didn't burn; it was just hot. They were glowing, Micah. So hot that I could see right through to the bone. And then it stopped and the bark was cool again. I thought the whole thing had lasted maybe a few ticks, but when I looked at my oil bowls, they were burned down too far for it to have been that short a time. I have no idea what that was.”

“Nor do I. But there is no doubt that she was telling you something.” His voice was hushed with awe.

She stopped. “You believe me?”

“Of course. Why would I not?”

“Because I hardly believe it myself.”

He smiled. “That's because you've never believed in anything you couldn't define. Fahla is beyond definition.”

“Now that I believe.” She resumed their walk. “Has anything like that ever happened to you?”

“Once, though my experience wasn't quite so spectacular. I must say, Fahla certainly favors you. You walk in her temple once every few cycles and she gives you a sign. It must have been those five bowl racks—that was quite a sight.”

“Can you tell me about your sign?” She felt his instant discomfort and added, “No, that's personal. Forget I asked.”

“No. I asked you; I cannot repay your confidence with silence.”

“Micah—” She stopped when he held up a hand, and they walked several steps before he spoke again.

“My experience happened many cycles ago,” he said quietly, “when I was a much younger man. I went to the Redmoon Temple for help during a particularly difficult time. I was having some personal issues and could see no way out without losing two of the most important people in my life. And while I stood there in front of my bowls, Fahla sent me a vision. She showed me that loss was unavoidable; that it was nothing I could control, but that through loss I could gain. It was many cycles before I truly understood that vision. Perhaps you will simply have to wait before her sign becomes clear to you.”

“It seems to be a lesson she teaches often,” Tal said. “I lost the first woman I ever loved, but through that loss I gained so much more. My experience with Ekatya changed me in ways that left me open for Salomen. I think it had to happen that way.”

He nodded. “I've certainly railed at Fahla as much as the next Alsean, but beneath it I have always understood that her job is only to give us the tools we need. It's our responsibility to pick up those tools and make something with them.”

They had arrived at the enormous archway that marked the entrance to the temple grounds. A small transport waited to take them back to Whitemoon Base, where they would board her long-distance transport and leave the southern continent behind. Tal turned to look back one last time. Sonalia was well above the horizon now and nearly full, its light adding to the natural glow of the temple dome in a blaze of white that could be seen for tens of lengths.

“Such a beautiful place,” she said. “I can think of only one thing that could add to this scene.”

“What's that?”

“A red moon.”

Micah nodded. “Perhaps we should return then, when the moon is red.”

“Perhaps we should. And perhaps I'll bring someone with me.” She turned away with regret. “Micah?”

“Hm?”

“Let's go home.”