They proved to be the opposite of prophetic. The next day Hawk awoke to a guard of green and gold robes, blades not quite bared but hostile enough to send a clear message: the Earth Archon was watching.

The Light Archon set about immediately testing the boundaries of their new watchmen, and those boundaries proved to be damn near adamant. One guard was with Hawk at all times, even when she excused herself to use the latrine. Another followed the Archon of Light around like a puppy, eagerly listening to every word and certainly appealing to the man’s rather visible vanity. The man could no more abuse a potential student than Hawk could slip the burly swordsman she’d been stuck with.

The Archon could order them out of earshot, however, and that motivated them both to have the Hares saddled and ready to ride as soon as possible. But when that was done, their guards took charge of the Hares and moved them to the forefront of the green procession. “As is due your station,” the Archon of Light was told. So the Archon simply grabbed Hawk and pulled her aside for a moment.

“She’ll have us under her nose the entire time. I’m sorry, Hawk. I should have done more to protect you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is, and it began years before you and I ever met.” He sighed. “It’s an old argument, mostly held between the Gods themselves. The others do not like that Nasheth created a fifth Temple, and gave it to their Father, nor that so much wealth and so many bodies are spent on the service of a memory. This has created a division in the worship of Nasheth. Greens support the Light and the Father as well as Mother Nasheth. Golds want to abolish the Temple of Light and bring it back under Nasheth’s purview…and they’ve never been closer to gaining what they want.”

Hawk looked around to make sure no one was near enough to hear them. Their guards were mostly out of earshot. “What’s keeping them from doing it?”

“In all honesty? Nasheth’s love and wish for Her husband to return. She has stronger holdings—more properties, farms and the like—and more soldiers than Her Divine Children. The Temple of Light is small, and we have just enough funds to keep things moving. The Earth Archon and her Gold Robes do not approve of those funds at all. They think we should be self-sufficient, or else, that we should be folded in under her purview.”

“Her face…I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Is that why Archons wear masks?”

He reached out and patted her hand. “That is a simple question with a complicated answer. Am I suffering with the Earth Archon? No. My God is dead. There’s nothing more than the face of an old man behind this mask. But I know the Archon of Fire is nearly always burned—there have been three, since my election, and I know it will not be long until there is a fourth. Water, I have known two Archons. The first one drowned. The current one cannot walk. And air…well, the Airmaster has always favored dreamers. And the current Archon is a dreamer. She sleeps, wakes to eat, and sleeps more. Caught forever in dreams that I pray give her pleasure, seeing as they are her only company.”

“But you don’t think they are pleasant dreams.” Hawk hazarded.

“I am an Archon in service to the Gods. I have seen their generosity. No, Hawk. Our pleasure is never the Gods’ consideration. They are not mindful of us. But perhaps that is a greater gift than they know. If a God were to give you pleasure, that God would expect you to always be in pleasure. I saw that once, in the second Fire Archon. Passion is the domain of Argon. He ‘blessed’ his Archon with unending pleasure. Out of all the Archons who have passed during my service, he was the only one that took his own life.”

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A long pause as he looked around the bustling glut of people around them.

“Her born name was Maritha. I would never have called her ‘good’, but there was a time I would have called that woman ‘friend’. When you look at her, whose hand do you see? Hers? Or the Hands that formed her?”

“I see both,” Hawk said. “And I hold them both accountable.”

***

After the first hour on the road, Hawk had to give up on any attempt at running for it. And it had nothing to do with the Earth Archon’s watchful eye, and everything to do with the growing darkness. Hawk hadn’t realized how bright things were at the Temple until right now, when they were on the road. She kept waiting for sun to rise. There was no sun. The standard-bearers in green and golds added small globes of cold fire to their staves, to make the banners more visible. Huge, tamed suns floated with nets to keep them bound to human sight. She watched as the Earth Archon supervised this, five acolytes together forming the yellowed light-orbs as a fourth and fifth stood to the side, holding more nets for the light.

There was no sun to rise.

And now she didn’t dare ask the Archon for advice or facts on anything. Not if she wanted them all to survive. Their lives both depended on her performance in front of the Earth Archon. Any mistake, any misstep, and she’d have her excuse both to seize Hawk as a prize and to have the Archon of Light removed.

She still insisted on riding near the edge of the parade, where she could interact with people. It was a repeat performance from the day before. The Archon of Light, realizing that she was going to be there no matter what, gave her several dozen yards of silk ribbons in multiple colors and told her to be generous. She found herself trading silk ribbons for breads, dried fruits, and yet more of those candy-shelled cakes that tasted of caramel and almonds.

The delight and hope in the individual’s eyes was what kept her there, because she read very little fear in these passers-by. Devotion and love and joy seemed to make up the entirety of this procession’s wake, for all that it held the most miserable people Hawk had ever encountered. For the public, that misery was invisible. It was, she thought, even possible that they did not know about the fire pits, the burnt offerings, the mad Archon with her terrible, gifted face. The public saw only the shining pavilion, a largesse that could become theirs, should the servants of God choose to stop in their village. And Hawk was as much a part of that lie now as the silks and flowers.

Here, with these people and these ribbons, she could give them something valuable. She could give them hope. She could give them joy. And they’d read her as a part of the God. She’d gotten so sick of that word. It was all she’d heard through this whole little venture. God, God, Gods and more Gods. She’d had it up to here with divinity of all kinds. Why couldn’t it at least be more about the needs of the people than the so-called gifts of the Gods. Then maybe people would be down here with more than cakes and ribbons.

And that’s why no one is down here. Because when you make it about need and not abundance, suddenly a pavilion of green and gold silk seems a bit over the top, doesn’t it? It means a God that cares more for His or Her appearance than they do about the need they demand you praise them for meeting. Wouldn’t that mean a God worth following would be one without a House? So of course it can’t be needs-based. The ego of God must first be appeased.

She gave her ribbons out harshly, and was a bit more selective about what she took from the offered gifts. She was a sucker for the candied cakes, though. She was filling her sack with the third (or possibly fourth) handful of cakes when she heard the first screams.

Her head yanked up, and her Hare responded by lifting its own, and spinning back towards the tail end of the procession. More screams echoed, and this time one of them was a word, Shadow! AYIEEEE! And then, after more breathless screams, Shadowbeast!

And as screams rose from around the procession, Hawk began to smile. It was going to be risky as hell, but this was what she’d been waiting for.

This was her chance to escape.