Chapter 25

Zaidna

The Empire of Judath

The Temple of Marin

Kirin knew that touching the globe of shadow would hurt her, but she could not stop herself from reaching for it. She cried out as the inevitable sting sent her convulsing, helpless body crashing to the ground. The shadow maker loomed above her, his eyes as black and all-consuming as the shadow he had created. “You’ll come with me, won’t you?” he asked, the same cruel smile stretching across his jaw.

“Pay attention!” Someone gripped Kirin’s shoulder and shook her so hard that her eyes felt like a pair of marbles rattling in a tin. She sat upright, expecting to come face to face with the shadow maker, but instead was met by the motes of dust that always floated passively in the lamplight of Batem’s dry, musty study.

As Batem’s fingers slid from her shoulder, she looked around wildly to see her classmates staring at her. She scrubbed the still-wet drool from her cheek and attempted to straighten her smudged pattern diagrams. How could she have been dreaming here? She had never fallen asleep during a lecture before, no matter how bored she had ever been.

Behind her, Batem clasped his hands together and slowly padded away, resuming his lecture as he went. “And that is why sons of high houses are best suited for support roles and front line combat. The same talent of seeing and weaving primal matter also gives them a severe disadvantage in long range combat because their vision is obscured by the high density of primal matter they can see. At a distance, such densely packed primal matter is like a fog on a rainy day. This makes such sons best suited to weaving patterns up close, which is why the most valued surgeons are usually . . . .”

Batem’s voice began to fade in Kirin’s ears. Every time she blinked, her eyelids felt heavy like stone blocks. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to rest her eyes—just for a minute or two.

“. . . Examining bone requires looking deep into the configuration of . . . therefore, physicians typically . . . .”

No! She would not fall asleep again! Batem would be testing on this—she just knew it—and even if he weren’t, she had to look fresh and be completely alert for Javan. She had promised to meet him right after this lecture. They were going to talk about the other day—about that wonderful, awful kiss. She had even gone to the trouble of applying eye makeup and wearing her best silk wrap just to impress him; she didn’t want him to change his mind about her.

“Kirin!” Batem’s bark electrified Kirin’s limbs, causing her to claw frantically at the air in front of her. At least now she was awake. “I asked you a question!”

Shit.

Batem shook his head and threw up his knobby hands. “I asked how deep a son of the third house might see into a gaseous configuration as opposed to one that is solid.”

Kirin stared numbly at the embroidered toes of Batem’s slippers, her mind churning to regain its balance. “Right, gas. Well, it’s—to me it’s the same as looking at something solid.”

Batem eyed her for a moment. “This . . . may be where your house does you a disservice. To you it might appear the same density, but to others it is not. Gasses roll and move, allowing a clear view deep into a configuration for sons and daughters of even low houses. It is much easier for most people to manipulate primal matter in the air than it is to reconfigure solid objects.”

Kirin didn’t reply except to nod her head. Her eyes were stinging. How could she be so dumb?

Batem resumed his lecture once more, and Kirin, amidst self-flagellations, heard little of it. She only noticed that class had ended when she saw the sandaled feet of her classmates filing past her.

Free at last, Kirin grabbed her satchel and made for the door, but was stopped by Batem’s outstretched arm.

“You stay,” he said quietly. “I need to have a word with you in private.”

Kirin bowed her head and waited in dread as the others left one after another. When she and Batem were finally alone, he shut the study doors and directed her to sit at his desk. She did as she was told, kneeling upon a flat, satin-lined cushion, and stared glumly down at the desk’s marble writing surface, where squiggly lines of red and purple spread like veins under stretched skin.

“You don’t seem like yourself, Kirin,” Batem said after he had seated himself across from her. There was a shrill scrape of ceramic and a swirl of liquid as he poured himself something to drink. “Your marks in your other classes have never been stellar, but you’ve always squeaked by. And you used to do so well in my class. I know it’s normal for you to get carried away in thought, but I cannot ignore you falling asleep during a lecture. You’re not overstressed, are you?”

This was all her father’s fault, forcing her to return to class; she knew she could only hide her fatigue from the priests for so long.

“If you’re worried about the high priests, you needn’t be. I know it isn’t the sleeping sickness that’s doing this to you. I heard you whimpering in your sleep, which means you’re still dreaming. What are you dreaming about?”

Kirin wheezed a little, her lips and nose growing hot. How could she keep her nightmares secret if she was whimpering in her sleep? He probably already knew what was going on and was just waiting for her to tell him. “I’m so exhausted!” She covered her mouth with her hand as she began to cry, even more humiliated than before.

“Oh, there, there, Kirin!” Batem cooed. “There’s no need for tears!” He reached for the small kettle he always kept on his desk and picked up another cup, which he filled with green-colored tea. “Here, you drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”

Kirin took it from him with trembling hands. The glazed cup was hot to the touch, the liquid inside now steaming, though it hadn’t been when he poured it. Batem must have used ormé to warm the tea without her noticing. It was a little surprising; she had never seen him work a pattern before. She always just assumed that he couldn’t work ormé, since he taught patterns exclusively by diagrams rather than by example.

“Now, tell me what you’re dreaming,” Batem pressed pleasantly. He held his own tea to his lips and downed it in one go.

Kirin wiped her eyes dry and saw all of that carefully applied eye makeup smear off on the back of her fist. Oh, how could she begin to explain? She hadn’t slept the night before, having been too anxious about meeting with Javan to do more than doze, and the night before that she had only slept an hour or two. Her nightmares were beginning to cause her physical pain, not unlike Anji’s or Tirbeth’s. She dreaded sleep now. “Do I have to tell you?”

“If you want help. Now, drink your tea and tell me all about it.”

Kirin lifted her cup and choked on the vile, bitter liquid as it slid down her throat. Ketas root! What was Batem doing drinking such a strong stimulant? She set the cup down and gripped her stomach. If Anji were any indicator, she would be feeling quite alert before long, but she’d also end up jittery and irritable as well. “I’ve been having nightmares,” she finally whispered as she knuckled at her eyes again.

Batem laughed. “That’s preposterous!”

“No. It’s the same nightmare every night. I’m in the Goddess Forest, and there’s a man who comes out of the parting, and he can create shadow with ormé!”

“Shadow!” Batem dropped his empty cup to the desk.

“He offers a ball of shadow to me, and even though I know I shouldn’t, I always reach out for it. It’s so painful when I touch it, and then he keeps asking me to go with him.”

Batem parted his lips but didn’t speak.

“I knew you’d shun me!” Kirin’s chin began to quiver involuntarily.

Batem’s eyes opened in surprise. “Oh no, Kirin. Rest assured I would never shun you, not even for this. But it is a serious matter. Candidates like you aren’t supposed to have nightmares. Tell me, what does this man look like?”

“I don’t know; he keeps changing! He looks one way in my nightmare, but in every other nightmare I’ve elucidated he’s—”

“Elucidated?” Batem demanded, his eyes narrowing.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“I . . . know how to elucidate dreams,” Kirin admitted.

“How long have you known how to do that?” Batem muttered, almost spitting. “Elucidation requires a great focus in the third degree. Were you studying this before you projected for me? If so, why were your projections so—”

“No!” Kirin interrupted. “That day, when we went up to see the Nassé—she taught me.”

Batem sat back a little. Kirin was relieved that he wasn’t scolding her more, but she couldn’t tell from his expression whether he was angry, shocked, or enchanted. It might have been all three. “And for what purpose would she do that?” he asked finally.

This, Kirin knew, she could not reveal. The thought of Xinthi’s fury directed at her was more awful than she could bear. “I don’t know,” she lied. “Anyway, it isn’t important! I’m in trouble, Batem. I’m scared that I’m sick in the head! I’ve tried and tried to make the nightmares stop. I’ve done everything but get an elucidation myself, but I can’t—not without everyone finding out.”

Batem reached out and took her cup from her tight grip. “No, dear, I doubt that you’re mad; you’re a candidate, after all! But tell me more about this man who makes shadows. Surely, he isn’t that frightening—unpleasant, perhaps, but not so bad that he is nightmarish. Perhaps you are just frustrated by the recurrence of this dream without being able to find its meaning, so it seems like a nightmare to you. Naltena would never—”

“I don’t know what Naltena would or wouldn’t do! Neither do you or any of the other priests!” Kirin straightened herself up on her heels. “Everywhere I turn there are all of these inconsistencies in our doctrine! You tell me one thing, my father tells me another—everybody has something different to say about how we dream, but I’m still having nightmares! My mother was a candidate, and she had them, too! For all I know everybody has them! But it doesn’t matter because now that you know, the high priests will find out. I’ll be barred from seminary!”

Batem stammered at first, then declared, “There’s no need to shout. I have always kept your confidences. Now, relax, and tell me about the shadow maker and all the other symbols. Together we can resolve them.”

“See? You’re doing it again! First you tell me I can’t have nightmares, now you tell me I can be cured if I just tell you the symbols. Which is it? Am I supposed to have nightmares or not? Is it normal or not?”

Batem stared at her, speechless.

Kirin set her elbows on the desk and cradled her head in her hands. “I don’t want to do this anymore. What’s the point of rising to become the Nassé or even a priestess if I don’t know what’s true and what isn’t? Even if it’s really natural to have nightmares, how can I possibly dream on behalf of others if I’m too afraid to see the symbols?”

“What are you saying?”

“If nightmares are normal and the clergy isn’t willing to admit it, I don’t want to be shunned for something that isn’t my fault. I thought about attending seminary just for the education and not making any vows when I’m done, but now I don’t even want to finish my schooling. I just can’t hide the nightmares anymore.”

“But you can’t quit!” Batem uttered firmly. “Your father is the high chief warden—an elected position that he won and deserves—but he is no noble. What would become of you if he dies or is forced to retire tomorrow? Your home will go to the next high chief and you’ll be out on the streets. If your father has any savings, how long would that last you? Would you be able to pay for an apprenticeship elsewhere? Your high house makes you suitable for one thing, which is studying here in the temple, which you get to do for free. You are even in line to be the next Nassé, which would give you the power to guide the course of our entire world. Would you throw that all away?”

Kirin rubbed at her chest; her heart was racing, but she couldn’t tell if it was the ketas root or not. Maybe Batem was right and one of these days, if she worked hard enough, she could become Nassé. But as she imagined herself in Xinthi’s place, unloved and alone in the Chamber of Dreaming, she didn’t want that sterile existence. Love wasn’t the whirlwind of emotion she had been expecting, but it was still warm and soft and satiating, even if it was confusing. “I don’t care about that anymore! I want to be with Javan!”

“Javan?” Batem sputtered. He looked scandalized.

“Yes,” Kirin continued stiffly. “He’s a boy I’ve been seeing.”

“You would forfeit a life of enlightenment, communing with the goddess, for a boy?”

“He’s the western prince.”

The air wheezed from Batem’s mouth in a steady hiss, until he seemed to sag like wet linen.

Kirin wanted to leave before he thought of anything else to say, but she didn’t want to just get up without being properly dismissed. So she sat and resisted the urge to gnaw her fingers to nubs.

Finally, Batem drew breath. “The western prince, you say?” His lips were thin and his eyes narrowed into careful, unblinking slits. “I believe . . . yes, yes I remember him. He was in the chapel the day you projected for me.”

Kirin nodded.

“And the nightmares . . . .” He rubbed at his jowls. “They must have started after that day. You weren’t receiving any failing marks before then. At least not in this class.”

Kirin kept her mouth shut.

“So, they only started after you began thinking about this boy.”

“No, Batem,” Kirin finally piped up. “I didn’t even talk to him until weeks later. You’ve got this all—”

“That’s what I thought!” Batem smiled slowly at her. “Kirin, I believe that I know the identity of the man who makes shadow in your nightmare.”

Kirin stiffened. “Who?”

He stretched out his hands, as though offering up a gift. “The man who makes shadows,” he explained, “is the Dread God Anoth.”

Kirin’s insides knotted at Batem’s ludicrous explanation. She had suspected that he might suggest Javan was fully to blame, but the Dread God? She slammed her hands down on her bent knees. “That isn’t true! Y-you—you said yourself that Anoth is dead! Everybody knows Naltena killed him!”

“And you are correct; Anoth is indeed dead,” Batem murmured. “But the taint of Anoth lives on in the form of sin. This nightmare is a message from Naltena warning you that you are doing something to become like Anoth.”

“No, I don’t believe it!” Kirin cried.

“But you should,” Batem urged. “Anoth was once good. He was kind to women and children—a righteous judge of men. He was well-loved, perhaps more than Naltena, and all evidence points to him having loved us once, too. But he went astray. He squandered all of that goodness to see his own goals and ambitions fulfilled.”

Kirin didn’t know what to say in response. Naltena herself wrote of Anoth’s goodness and downfall because of pride. Certainly, Batem or the priests could be mistaken sometimes, but Naltena’s teachings were still infallible, weren’t they?

“The moment you saw the western prince in the chapel, you gave in to temptation and sullied yourself. Even the act of lust for a boy can make your psyche unclean by attracting his thoughts to yours! Now every day you become more and more like Anoth.”

“But I’ve never heard of that before!” Kirin cried. How could only lust make her unclean? It wasn’t as if she were some dalanai who didn’t take Naltena’s teachings on chastity seriously. She was still a virgin, and there was no possible way that Javan’s thoughts could touch hers from just a kiss.

“It’s in all the texts, if you would but look hard enough for it! You have these nightmares because this boy is leading you astray.”

“No! You’re wrong!” Kirin argued. “I don’t have to listen to this!” And yet, as she met Batem’s unyielding gaze, she felt her conviction beginning to waver. She had already elucidated nightmares when she shouldn’t have. She’d stepped foot inside of the most forbidden of places—the Goddess Forest—at Javan’s lead. What if she was a sinner?

“Am I wrong?” Batem asked kindly. “I’ve heard the high priests speak of your mother’s talents—talents you inherited. She was once in your position, but did she not abandon her candidacy to marry your father? Was the cause of her nightmares not a psyche sullied by sin?” Kirin felt like she had been kicked in the head. But as much as the thought hurt that her mother might have committed the same sins, the evidence was still there.

If sin was the cause of not only Kirin’s nightmares but her mother’s as well, could it also be true of the others? Why would Anji, Tirbeth, and even the Nassé dream of the Dread God? Kirin gripped her head with a trembling hand, the effects of the ketas root making her sweat. She knew nothing of Anji or Tirbeth’s sins, but the Nassé was another matter. Xinthi seemed so wrapped up in secrets that it was almost guaranteed that she was up to something sinister, even if she meant well.

“I have worked too hard for you not to be Nassé,” Batem declared with frightening authority. “Even now, the high priests have been called to an emergency meeting from across the globe. Everyone in the clergy knows that the Nassé has displeased the sun emperor somehow, and he is pushing to see her mantle stripped. This is your chance, Kirin!”

“Why do you care so much that I become Nassé?” Kirin bellowed. “What about what I want?”

“I care only about what the goddess wants, as should you! It is the ultimate act of selfishness to ignore Naltena’s will. I never used to think you selfish. But here you are, beset by nightmares that you refuse to listen to.”

Kirin dropped her head again, tears streaking toward the tip of her nose.

“The choice is yours,” Batem continued. “Maybe you’ll be happy for a time wasting your life away as a vessel for a nobleman’s seed. But when you’re finished being bred like a poji, you must die. You will go to the Mother Star, you will see Naltena’s face, but she does not accept those who do not master themselves or live according to her will. She will thrust you to the void, and you’ll live for an eternity on the outside looking in. You will have damned yourself and done it all for a boy!”

Kirin was sick to her stomach and knew it wasn’t the ketas root this time. What if that had been her mother’s fate? “I . . . I just don’t want to be lonely!”

“Is it better to be lonesome in this life or the next?” Batem whispered gently.

Kirin began to weep in earnest. It just couldn’t be true. But it had to be true if it was what Naltena herself taught! Why, why, why would Naltena want her to be unhappy?

“It isn’t the end of the world, is it?” Batem reached across the desk and patted her on the shoulder. “You finally have the remedy for your nightmares. They’ll stop on their own if you keep from temptation.”

Kirin refused to look up, but suddenly Batem’s hand gripped her jaw and forced her to meet his gaze. For an instant his stare was dreadful, but then his lips stretched into a wide, comforting smile.

“Now, no more tears!” he chimed. “You’ll stop thinking about that boy, won’t you? You’ll stay the course?”

Kirin’s insides shrieked in rebellion. This was wrong! Wrong! But in the end, she could only bring herself to nod obediently.