Meet The Hierarch

Jaida and Harrence returned to the cabin after dark. Harrence was so drained he was dragging his feet, so it was good his bulwark met them just outside the little wood and gave him her shoulder. Jaida walked ahead of them, emptied of everything except whatever light had brought her lost son into focus. She needed to put her arms around her children, hold close the little lives she had, and sleep. She was annoyed when they arrived at the cabin to find a picket of appalons and a throng of people on the grounds. A dozen newcomers had shown up, three disciples and their bulwarks, to feast on the monster.

The disciples were mostly young, barely adults, but they welcomed Harrence more like an equal than a senior. They made room for him in their little circle and pressed a polished red stone into one hand and a mug of ale into the other. There were many women mixed in with the bulwarks and two among the disciples, chatting easily and joking with the men. Emil was overstimulated and ran from one small knot of conversation to the next, asking random questions. Each of his targets would humor him for a few minutes, then slyly say something fascinating about another person. That sent him off from one group to the other until he had bothered almost everyone.

Jaida was appalled. Armed women mixed with men, and there was no high seat to show who was senior. The distinction between disciples and bulwarks was clear only because the former wore holy symbols pinned to their chests. Nobody showed much deference to anyone else, so it was impossible to determine their relative importance. Jaida's addition to the party was unannounced, and none of the men made an effort to take charge of her or introduce her to the room. Her son was running wild, and Vivian wasn't doing anything about it.

Vivian finally appeared behind her, holding Leah, who had her face buried into her neck. This was more people than the girl had ever seen at one time.

"There is a social order here," Vivian assured her. "The disciples are effectively the same rank, but there's mutual respect for their relative talents and accomplishments. It isn't quite the free-for-all you think it is. The senior disciple is Mahzad, the one with olive skin and strong nails. He's young, but he's been with Nexus the longest. The young woman next to him started her training in Enclave but switched to Nexus last year. The older woman is Iris, a veteran Enclave healer who defected over the summer. The others defer to her in matters of healing, but she's otherwise their junior.

"Our Harrence, it turns out, is the most junior of them all. His powers awakened over the summer, though nobody will discuss the particulars. I think there's some tragedy in that story. All they know about you is your name, that you have two children and a companion, and Harrence is to see us safely into the hands of His Holiness. They're curious, but they won't pry too hard if you deflect their questions. They assume you're an important informant. Come, I'll introduce you."

Jaida did the minimum, and let herself be pulled around by Vivian. She wasn't sure where she could stand or what she was supposed to say, but her 'companion' found her way through the new culture with grace. A cheer went up when the fire pit was dug out, the huge elk was lifted, and the carving began. They did not eat with their hands like animals, as Jaida feared they would, but used bowls and utensils in a civilized manner. Cooked grain and vegetables were served with the meat. For a little while, the forest was quiet while hungry fighters ate their fill. Jaida took to her pallet soon after, her exhausted children in her arms, and slept more peacefully than she had in months.

Jaida slept late and woke to someone counting to the sound of wood striking wood. "One two three four five." Tak tak tak tak tak. Her son was nowhere to be seen, but her daughter was in Iris's lap, the former Enclave healer, getting bounced and giggling while Vivian and a few of the male bulwarks prepared breakfast for eighteen people. There were sounds outside of people moving around, folding tents, breaking camp as Zaid used to call it. Jaida noticed her things had been packed, probably by Vivian. Everyone was preparing to leave.

Her blood froze. Leah was sitting in the lap of an Enclave healer. It didn't matter if she looked like somebody's kindly grandmother. The church killed shifter children, and Jaida could lose another one if she didn't separate the two immediately. She tried not to run as she went to fetch her little girl from the dangerous old woman.

"Come here, Leah. Let Mommy hug you!" She plucked her red-haired daughter from her dangerous bouncy ride and squeezed her tight. "Let's not bother the disciples."

"She's no bother at all," said Iris with her eyes crinkled kindly. Then, she saw the fear in Jaida. "Ah, I understand. We heard about Kashmar's policy. Unforgivable. What they did was," she shivered. "Nexus would never condone harming children. Never. Especially not shifter children. It's a strength that should be nourished." Her eyes wandered meaningfully toward Vivian and back again. The grandmotherly smile was back. "Emil is a lively lad. You should go see what he's doing."

Jaida went outside, pretending not to rush, where she found her son with a little wooden staff in his hand. He was advancing and retreating in time with the count, attacking and blocking. His training partner was a bulwark called Sparrow, quite short and slight but not young. He held up a hand to pause their training.

"Your mother is here, Emil. You should greet her."

Emil stood tall with his staff in one hand and his other palm over his heart, and extended the empty hand toward her, palm up. "Good morning, Mother. Did you sleep well?" Sparrow nodded in approval.

"Good morning to you!" She imitated the Nexus gesture, as she had seen it done the night before. "I slept well. Please, resume your training."

"First position, Emil. Begin." The counted strikes resumed, with occasional corrections from the instructor.

"This is how Calique raise their children." One of the bulwarks had snuck up on her, a woman in green leathers and a white-hilted sword. "Everyone pitching in, all the time. Children learn a little bit of everything until they choose their path." Her vulpine eyes watched with interest. "That's a fine boy you have there. Any garden would be glad to have him."

Jaida looked at Emil and saw he was a fine little boy. He moved well and kept up with Sparrow's counts even as the tempo increased. As soon as his attention started to lag, the bulwark sent him to help with the appalons (after asking her permission) under the hand of a woman who was happy to receive him. He set to brushing the smallest, gentlest appalon and fed it oats out of his hands. The beast reached out with his trunk to grope the boy's face. Emil ewwwed and then laughed, and pushed the insistent appendage away.

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She could imagine her children being safe with these people. She'd never felt that way in Kashmar, not with Taraneh's jealousy hanging over her. Or the fifth-year inspections with their implied threats of death. Or a husband who might die and leave her at the mercy of a Tyrant who could assign her (and her children) to another prince. She breathed deeply to quell the tears of relief. She couldn't get complacent.

They spent part of the day traveling improbably fast on disciple-enhanced appalons whose gaits were smoother than carriages. Marlowe said they were carefully selected and trained to reach such speeds while keeping their riders' comfort. They headed east and slightly north, with Harrence and Marlowe in the lead as scouts, picking out the quickest routes and avoiding hidden hazards. Once past the hills, they found themselves on a great expanse of grassland north of Bodrum and its outlying towns. They passed herds of wild elk and appalon, grazing on browned grass, until they reached the main highway. The wide road cut across the grass to disappear north and south. That was where Phillip the Younger, His Holiness of Nexus, Pasha of all Gardens, would meet them.

The disciples prepared for his arrival by constructing a rest stop out of stone. They raised a circular shrine with a domed roof, an arched audience chamber, a paved area for the train, and a penned-in area for animals with water and feed troughs. They were quite carried away. By the time His Holiness's train was spotted in the distance, they had somehow colored the shrine's dome a brilliant blue.

Jaida had seen what men might do to prepare a place for her husband, the fearful desire to impress or, at the very least, not fall short. This industriousness went beyond fear or respect. Jaida wasn't sure she had a name for it.

The huge gurantor and its train of two cars pulled into the rest area and slowed to a stop at the designated place. As soon as the car's door opened and their Hierarch stepped down, the disciples and bulwarks put their palms together before them and bowed. "We meet in the light," they said as one. They stood in their fighting groups, each disciple with their followers. They didn't bow low by Kashmari standards, or get on their knees and put their heads on the ground like a Tyrant would have demanded. But, the bows were extravagant next to the spare greetings of that morning.

"Let's walk as brothers," the Hierarch responded. He was as princely as any young man of the Hadith line, in pure white robes over scarlet battle armor, a sword at his hip, and his brindle hair flowing free to his shoulders, shined to an impossible glow. Deadly intelligence swam behind his green eyes. As he took in the buildings and the preparations they made for his arrival, even though a tent would have sufficed, his face lit up in gratitude. The air around them grew brighter, banishing the early winter chill. Sparks of silver hung suspended. They were standing in a field of stars.

Jaida was caught in a communion between bulwarks, disciples, and their Hierarch. Unfamiliar emotions made her head swim. These people loved their Hierarch too much for words, so they shared their raw feelings. They felt his weariness. They knew his losses. Phillip's gratitude and love ignited them. These were his People.

There was more, so much more, but she couldn't parse it. It was too much. Her heart was close to breaking from joy, while her legs shook under the weight of all the world. When the crush of emotions vanished, it left her dizzy. Jaida was falling.

"Easy," said a man's voice. Capable hands caught her and kept her upright. "It'll pass in a minute."

"What was that?" she wheezed. "How can you stand it?"

"Just breathe, you're doing fine." The foreign emotions faded into memory as her own feelings regained control. It wasn't unlike waking from a dream.

"You were caught in a powerful Benediction without truly sharing the same emotions. I think they caught him off-guard with this little heartfelt display, and Phillip's control slipped. His Holiness is growing so fast right now, I'm surprised it doesn't happen all the time."

"That was him slipping? Where are my children?"

She looked around, alarmed, but found them petting the penned-up appalons a good distance away, watched over by smiling bulwarks. One of them held their hands near Leah while she stood on the lowest rail of the fence and bounced up and down shouting, "Appy-lon! Appy-lon!" while patting a dusty orange creature.

The strange disciple made sure Jaida could stand on her own, then cautiously released her. Singing floated over them from the church, where everyone else had gone. "My name is Darius."

"Jaida. And those are Emil and Leah."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm sorry you got caught up in that. He destroyed Enclave yesterday. They've been trying to kill us for months, so emotions are running high."

"I don't believe I've come to any real harm," she said cautiously, "aside from a few tears. What do you mean, 'he destroyed Enclave'?"

"He pulled down the walls, crushed Bahram's dome, punished the First Families, even destroyed their origin. You wouldn't know what that is, but it means no more practitioners from Enclave. They're powerless now."

"They killed my Donis," she told him. "They killed dozens of Kashmari for being shifters."

"That's awful," he shook his head in dismay. "They killed children in Dace, too, because they could have been practitioners but weren't from the right bloodlines. I think we'll never know half the terrible things they've done. The world is better off without them."

They walked together for a little while, around the rest stop, letting the chill wind revive her. As they came around to the animal pen, Darius pulled a green packet from a pocket: chopped date with nuts and coconut, pressed into tiny bricks, then wrapped in leaves. He took one and held the rest out to her. "These are common in the gardens. Try it. Take some for Emil and Leah, too."

The man casually offered her food from his hand and did it with so little fanfare that it nearly wasn't scandalous. But he was handsome and gave every indication so far of being kind. She hadn't had such an overture since before she was married. Far from home, where no one who cared would see, she dared to take four of the little treats.

Jaida's audience with Hierarch Phillip was brief, just one of many meetings he held within a few hours. First, he expressed his relief at seeing her alive and well. Second, he apologized for sweeping her into his emotional moment, for which she promptly forgave him. He had, after all, destroyed their common enemy. Then he tried to give her money, which she refused until he insisted it wasn't payment for services but rather remuneration for costs imposed by the war. Then he asked a question.

"How do we get the Princes of Kashmar to abandon their claim over the desert?"

"Your Holiness," she replied, "you would have better luck convincing them to stop being princes. It doesn't matter how impossible the claim is. The promise of a unified Kravikas is as foundational to the Tyrany of Hadith as the three great Founding Works."

"Isn't there anyone reasonable among the princes?"

Jaida gave the young Hierarch a wry smile. "Reasonable is not a well-received word among the princes. Prime Minister Gobert is the only upper prince willing to think differently about important matters, but even he can't go against the weight of history."

Phillip looked disappointed, but not in a way that would condone shooting messengers. "I thought as much, but I had to check. On another topic: If you don't have any immediate plans, I hope you will ride with us to Sand Castle. Doyenne Anisca wants to thank you personally for your assistance. She's a good person to know."

"It will be my pleasure to meet with her."

"I'm so glad. She'll be happy when I tell her the news," he said with such a brilliant smile that she had to believe him. "Since you'll be with us for a little while, please accept this gift." A bulwark handed her a paper book, Twin Cultures: Nexus and Calique. "As a visitor in a strange land, you might find it useful."

After she made her exit, Jaida found Vivian and asked the obvious question. "Who is Doyenne Anisca?"

"Anisca is who I report to. The person we've been spying for. She's the only one in Nexus who knew who you were, other than Harrence and Marlowe."

"So she's your mistress."

"Oh no," laughed Vivian. "I'm just on loan to her. Anisca is my mistress's daughter. My mistress is Diana Odemira, the Dowager Queen of Lavradio, and the current king's mother. I am her humble lady-in-waiting."

Vivian curtsied in a style Jaida didn't recognize, but it was beautifully executed.

Jaida couldn't talk for several seconds. Then, all she could do was laugh.