Emily, inside an Impotuan fortification
I woke up to the sound of voices arguing on the other side of the door. One sounded like Healer Arma. The other voice was a woman, maybe the one from last night. My head still hurt and my stomach was still sour. It was obvious that I had gotten concussed. This would complicate trying to get out of here.
The voices were annoying me. I couldn’t make out the words but the noise bothered me. The door banged open and a silverhair woman older and taller than Arma strode in. Her face was angular and she had a nose like a hatchet. Her eyes were a pretty cobalt blue but that was her only good feature. The rest of her was all hard edges.
“Gods, what is that smell?” she made a face of disgust and glared at the healer.
“She can’t keep anything down,” Arma remarked, pointing to something on the floor. “She and I both had a long night last night. It’s a fight trying to keep her hydrated.”
“If mother did not desire this Coyn’s presence, I’d kill it here and now and be done with it,” Lady Arkaline snarled.
“If you put her on an eagle right now, she would vomit all the way to Kipgapshergar, assuming she lived. Someone handled her badly because this is not a minor injury.”
“Revolting,” Lady Arkaline stated, holding her hand over her nose. “Can’t you make it get better faster?”
“Coyn don’t heal any faster than Cosm, my lady.”
“Be happy the Foskans don’t know about this base or we would be forced to travel,” she turned on her heel and stomped out. She wasn’t what I’d call a cheerful personality, though her sour attitude could be due to taking a beating at the hands of Imstay and Aylem.
“Did your forces fail to capture a crystal?” I asked once I was sure Lady Arkaline was far enough that she would not hear me.
“You know about that? Well, other than you, we have failed to capture any of the things we were sent to find,” Arma sat back down. “How are you feeling?”
“As bad as last night except I can’t get my eyes to focus.”
“Now, I don't like the sound of that," her hand landed on my head to probe the injury. "Well, it could be better, but it could be a lot worse. The danger here is swelling inside the skull. You have some localized edema but nothing that requires draining. "I'll need to check you once or twice a bell to make sure that doesn't change. If the pain becomes worse or you develop new symptoms, you must tell me immediately," she ordered.
“What happens if the Foskans find this place and attack?” I wondered. Could Aylem find me if I had Ud’s shirt on? Maybe I should find a way to take it off.
“Lady Arkaline would probably kill you so the Foskans couldn’t recapture you,” Arma frowned. “She’s the kind of person who would destroy a thing so her enemies couldn’t have it.”
“That's not too bad," I considered. "It can't be as bad as the first time a Cosm killed me, and if I was lucky, I might duck being brought back to life again."
Arma stood up in horror, “please tell me you are telling stories. How can anyone live twice? And why would you want to die?”
Poor healer. I probably shouldn't have said what I did. That's one of the goofy things about concussions: the nasty bumps on the head can degrade your judgment, much like getting drunk can. I certainly wasn't watching my mouth, that was for sure.
"It really happened, Priestess Arma," I felt amused. "The Queen killed me. It was an accident, but I was dead regardless. That was the first time I met the gods outside my dreams at night. About half the gods came to talk to me. Then Mugash brought me back to life. If I had known it was going to be so painful, I might have chosen to stay dead. The recovery from being dead has also taken almost a year. Yes, if I had known then what I know now, I think I would have stayed dead.”
“But you are the prophet,” Arma protested, eyes wide. “The gods talk to you. You bring their words to the people. How can you think of not following their commands for you?”
Cosm were so unimaginative. “Priestess, they never asked me if I wanted to be their tool. Were I to follow my own heart, I believe I would live with the Sea Coyn in Inkalim in the cold season and open up a shop selling metal tools and glassware. In the growing season, I would spend my time in the mountains of the Vanishing River Valley and mine crystals and iron ore. I wouldn’t mind meeting a nice young man and raising a family with him.
"The last thing I want to be is somebody's prophet. It's a crappy job, and I would like to quit and find some other line of work. Ever since this prophet horse pucky started, I've gotten badly hurt by Cosm or abducted by them and kept by them in places I couldn't escape. No, the gods can have their prophet job back, and they can put it where the sun don't shine."
“Are you not afraid the gods will punish you for your blasphemy of them?” the appalled Arma asked, shock written deep on her face.
“Hasn't happened yet, and I doubt it ever will," I said honestly. "They made the mistake of being too exact in their specifications for a prophet. Right here, right now, there is no one else who can do this job. The gods are stuck with me, and unfortunately, I am stuck with them."
“You really mean what you say," she sat back down wearing an expression I couldn't begin to describe. "Tell me everything you can."
“I don’t think that’s possible right now,” I apologized. “I’m sorry, but I think I’m about to be sick to my stomach again.”
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The next two days were more of the same. I gained a lot of respect for Priestess Arma. She had a sincere worshipful attitude toward the gods and an uncomplaining work ethic that would impress even the perfectionist Lisaykos. Then, she washed the clothes I had been living in for the last few days. That got my magic undershirt off my back and washed. I didn’t even quibble when she took me down to the washroom and gave me a decent scrubbing. My desire to be clean outweighed my sense of modesty.
She also slept on the floor so I could have the bed. I told her she should put one of the pillows on the floor, and I would sleep on it like a mattress since all the pillows were as big as I was. She wouldn't hear of it.
In return for her many kindnesses, I told her everything. Her sincerity and reverence for the gods led me to think that Arma would not be silent if I gave her knowledge of the prophecies regarding me, Aylem, and Asgolt. I even contemplated that if she circulated what I imparted, it might make the freeing of the Coyn of Impotu a bit easier.
I almost lost her with Aylem’s revelation from Tiki. She was doing fine with most of the details. She absorbed the bits about the wars, the third age of miracles, Aylem’s queenship, and revelators from every race. She was startled that the four enslaved races would be freed but accepted it. Then I told her that Aylem’s revelation said I would destroy the city of Salicet because Impotu angered Galt. She did not like that at all.
“You can’t!” she protested.
“Do you think I want to?” I snapped. “I don’t want the blood of thousands of people on my hands. Maybe this will help you realize how much I hate this prophet business. But it’s in a revelation, made before I was even born. There’s one thing you must know, Arma, and that’s the gods arrange things such that people like me can’t escape destiny, even if we try.”
“That’s...that’s...” she dropped her head into her hands.
“I don't know when and I don't know how," I felt terrible about it, "I just know that I will someday. If you tell people about it, maybe they will move away and save their lives."
“I can’t even imagine Galt in his aspect as divine anger,” she looked at me with her beautiful teal eyes.
“I have seen Galt in his aspect as wrath. He took the form of a dark grey cloud full of wind and lightning. The lightning was nonstop and killed everyone it struck. Out of the bottom of the cloud were four tornados. It was scary. Galt can be scary.”
“When? When did you see Galt?" she asked eagerly. She had never seen a god, and curiosity burned bright in her.
“Three rotations ago, he manifested between the Shrines of Tiki and Gertzpul, which are only about a wagon-day apart," I explained. "A squad of Impotuan flying cavalry troops attacked the Holy Kamagishi, High Priestess of the Fated Shrine of Galt while she was flying to meet the Blessed Aylem and me. Galt himself appeared to rescue his high priestess."
She was sitting in her chair with her hand over her gaping mouth, eyes wide. I resisted teasing her. She was serious about her reverence of the gods, maybe even more serious than Fassex, and I wasn’t going to ridicule such a heartfelt belief.
"I wish I could have seen all these things," she finally gathered herself. "I often feel like we are taking the wrong road in Impotu at the shrines; but," she bit her lip, "I can also be accused of an improper bias, so perhaps you should not..."
“Stop before you begin, young lady,” I told this thirty-something healer. “The gods care more for their shrines than anything else, but they care little for the kingdoms the Cosm have made except for the support those kingdoms give to the shrines for their holy work. So tell me of this bias."
“My mother was the high priestess of Mugash,” she began in a quiet voice. "Nine years ago, when the Empire and the Shrines sat down to plan the campaign to gain the crystal from the White Shrine of Landa in Yant, my mother formed a block of like-minded high priestesses to protest this course of action, arguing that we should try diplomacy again. If the old Emperor were still alive, she may have succeeded.
"The emperor died ten years ago, and his second daughter murdered her way to the throne, as is often the case with our rulers. The Empress was all for the appropriation of crystal from the White Shrine. Impotu was founded 25 centuries ago by those who were opposed to the ruinous policies of Yasknapa of Yantes, who would have banned the making of secondary crystals by the primary crystals in the shrines. This was why Impotu existed, the Empress argued. Because Foskos refused refused to make the secondary charm gems we requested, then we would take what we were entitled to.” She paused there and looked troubled.
“What happened to your mother?” I asked, sensing that this is where she was headed.
"My mother was deposed from her position, which I don't think can be done once the crystal in the mother shrine at Suapsepso accepts you in the ordination ceremony. She was taken to the palace in Salicet, and no one has seen her since. She has to be alive because a healer's life is sacred but no one knows her fate. When the new high priestess was inducted, the crystal in the newly built Shrine of Mugash did not acknowledge her."
“Acknowledgement? You mean the crystal lights up, and the light is absorbed into the person being inducted, yes?"
“Yes, exactly. You seen this yourself in Foskos?”
“Yes, I was privileged to see the induction of a friend of mine as a priestess of Mugash. It was amazing to watch since I had never seen it happen before.”
“They let Coyn into the Well of Mugash in Foskos?” she was astounded.
“No, they let me into the ceremony because, I’m, well, you know.” I sighed. “It’s not easy living at a shrine, always surrounded by silverhairs who forget what the reality of life is like for every single Coyn in the kingdom excluding myself. But I never forget. I would not have attended if my friend had not come and pleaded with me in person. It was difficult for me, but I don’t regret seeing Kayseo become a priestess.”
“I can hear the affection in your voice,” she smiled at me. “You care for her.”
“So, back to you," I got back on topic. "Have any of the people inducted as priestesses of Mugash experienced the acknowledgment phenomenon since your mother was deposed?"
"Not one," she said. "It has caused trouble for the shrine, and many people will not accept any of the younger healers, saying they aren't true priestesses."
"Can they heal?" I asked.
"Yes, but I have heard that no talents have appeared since then."
“What a muddle. Did the replacement crystal at the new shrine acknowledge priestesses before your mother was deposed?”
"Yes, myself included," Arma grimaced. "Since that time, I have not been back to Suapsepso or Salicet. I have received non-stop assignments to the worst possible posts in Impotu, like the mines, the royal grain plantations, the army camps for the invasion of Jutu, and this place, all of 40 or so wagon-days from the Shrine of Mugash in Suapsepso. I am now too old to find someone to marry and raise a family, as is the duty of every silverhair. So yes, I admit I have a bias.”
I looked at this miserable healer in permanent unfair exile at the edges of her country, and out of my mouth came the words: “so, come home with me.”
“What?” She looked like she was examining me for the signs of sudden lunacy.
"Come home with me. I'm serious. I have no intention of being dragged off to Impotu. I have projects in the making to make the freeing of the enslaved Foskan Coyn as smooth as possible, and I don't want them to be sidetracked."
"Great One," she gave me an incredulous look squared, "how will little tiny you escape from all the silverhairs in this fort? It's not like you can jump off an eagle in flight and fly away."
"Actually, that's what I was thinking, the moment I was over the river or a deep ravine," I smiled innocently. "Just because I have no magic doesn't mean I don't have friends who can make magic tools. Good fish face, Arma."