Chapter 27

Zaidna

The Empire of Judath

Bakavoth Palace

Sorai struggled to keep up as Tashau pulled her into the palace foyer, where a trio of waiting wardens, dressed in different-colored uniforms, proceeded to shepherd them down a cavernous hall. The palace was empty, save for a handful of servants, but they and the décor moved by in a blur as she was swept past them.

Finally, the three accompanying wardens—the high chief wardens of Judath, Chalei, and Xeshun, Sorai realized—parted a pair of red curtains at the end of the hall and motioned for them to enter. She felt the smooth silk of the curtains brush lightly against her cheek, then found herself standing just yards away from Naltena, who was painted upon the vast stained glass window that encompassed the atrium’s far wall.

Naltena’s serene visage had always been a comfort to Sorai, but this time there was something overwhelming about the light that shone through the jewel-toned panels. Sorai’s eyes flitted up to Naltena’s forehead, where three circular dots stood in a row. She would never forget that crest again. How many times had the cultist made her stare at the same tattoo on his forehead, proclaiming himself to be the Dread God?

“Sorai!” Ravad stepped into her line of sight, breaking her connection with Naltena. He hugged her fiercely, lifting her right off the floor, and the pressure against her skin caused her scars to burn.

“Go easy on her,” Tashau admonished from behind Ravad’s shoulder, which was squishing Sorai’s face. “She still hasn’t fully recovered.”

“Ah yes. Sorry, Tash!” Ravad set Sorai to her feet and steadied her when she stumbled over her now woefully tangled skirts. “I’m just relieved that you’re safe! How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” In truth, the trip had greatly fatigued her. The ache in her bones was almost constant, and her doctors were still unsure what had caused her seizures. Thankfully, they had all arrived at the summit without further incident, and everything would be better now that they were no longer on the move. Perhaps even her appetite would return with some rest.

Ravad opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Angxa, the emperor of Xeshun, who cleared his throat loudly. “Need I remind you that all of these pleasantries should have happened days ago, Ravad?” Angxa’s voice easily pierced the heavy green brocade of his veils. “We are all grateful that Emperor Tashau and his wife are safe and have arrived, however late. But now we must unseal the chamber and complete the blessing. My people will need to get indoors and out of the sunlight if they are to survive the summit.”

Sorai looked to the floor. Angxa was right to rush them. Ordinarily on the first day of the summit, the lesser nobles were made to wait outside of the palace for only an hour or two while the blessing was performed, and only in the morning, when the sun was not too high and the heat not so oppressive. Today, the engstaxi nobles had been stuck outside since breakfast, probably to the detriment of their health.

“Apologies, Angxa.” Ravad smiled thinly before joining Tashau and Angxa in front of the entrance of Naltena’s Chamber. The hinged, silver-plated doors were sealed by a broad sheet of molded gold—some sort of engstaxi lock mechanism. Spiraling out from the lock, were thousands of interconnecting glyphs, most of which were too small for Sorai to make out, much less read.

It was hard not to notice how tall Tashau was compared to the other two emperors, even though they all wore the same style of black dalmatic over their formal robes. On the twenty-odd occasions Sorai had waited in this same atrium and watched Tashau perform these rites, he had physically changed very little. In contrast, the emperors of the other continents came and went, aging and dying as the years progressed, especially the relatively short-lived engstaxis.

Something settled on Sorai’s shoulder, and she nearly leapt from her skin. Shetsi, the empress of Xeshun, retracted her gloved hand. She must have been hiding behind the high chief wardens, who had moved off to stand with the emperors.

“Sorai, hello,” Shetsi murmured. “I’m sorry I startled you.” Her face was covered by many layers of veils, and her eyes were framed by dark-lensed spectacles.

Sorai half smiled. “Oh no, it’s fine. It’s good to see you again.”

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Shetsi continued. “When Angxa told me what happened in Chalei, I couldn’t stop—” She cut herself short as Angxa made an irritated noise. She bowed her head and jerked her hand toward the others. “They’re starting. I—” She hesitated and then hissed, “We will need to talk—when they’ve finished.”

Sorai watched as Shetsi slipped away, a little surprised by the urgency in her voice, but put it aside as Tashau, Ravad, and Angxa raised their now free hands and worked their patterns, each producing a small globe of colored light. They faced each other, bringing their hands together, and the blue, red, and green patterns they held swirled and condensed, blending into a glowing white orb. It hovered above Tashau’s outstretched palm as Ravad and Angxa pulled their hands away. Tashau raised the globe up to the locking mechanism.

A surge of cold rushed through Sorai. She rubbed at her chest, attempting to ease the sudden ache, but stopped when she began to see those awful strings of silver again, flowing from the temples of Tashau and Ravad like loose silk and even weaving their way through Angxa’s hood. Not now, Sorai told herself, gritting her teeth.

Tashau stepped forward and rolled the globe of light from his fingers, somehow forcing it into the doors’ lock mechanism. The gears clicked rapidly as the pattern’s glow spread out from the center of the lock and into the doors, diffusing through the glyphs like ink through water. The clicking ceased and the lock popped apart, unsealing Naltena’s Chamber. The emperors turned to receive their respective kadas from the bowing wardens, after which Tashau pushed the doors open.

Sorai shielded her face and looked away, overwhelmed by the silver light that spilled out from the chamber entrance. She couldn’t remember it being this bright before. She forced herself to move forward, feeling for and finding Tashau’s sleeve, and allowed herself to be led into the chamber.

Gradually, the intense glare of the sun beaming down from the circular skylight lessened, and the room was once again as she remembered it. The alabaster walls of the vast chamber were no longer unbearably bright, and the large, silver throne no longer glared down at her from the dais so harshly.

Sorai automatically let go of Tashau’s sleeve and backed away from him as he moved to stand in formation with Ravad and Angxa before the throne. In part, it was the throne that made the air itself always seem alive with Naltena’s lingering presence, even after nine hundred years. It was where Naltena once presided in the flesh, where she had selected the very first emperors and presented them with their kadas. The most sacred, foundational elements of their religion had been revealed while Naltena sat in that throne.

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At the foot of the throne stood a thin, three-pronged stand, crafted to resemble three braids of ivy growing from their golden base, each metal coil bursting with gilded leaves and quartz blossoms. The stand was built to hold the three kadas erect throughout the duration of the summit, as it had during and after Naltena’s personal reign. The goddess never wielded the kadas—refused to even touch them, in fact—but she kept them close as a reminder to the emperors that the kadas belonged to her and her alone, and she could take them back as she pleased.

While held erect in the stand, it was undeniable that the kadas were brothers, each fashioned out of gold and marked with complicated, angular glyphs, but much like their masters, there were marked differences between them. Sorai was very familiar with the kada of Chalei, having seen it every day in her home. She was not familiar with the other kadas, only glimpsing them once every three years. The kada of Judath was set with a perfect, spherical ruby, bright and finely polished. The kada of Xeshun was not so inviting, with the pyramidal emerald at its tip, glaring refracted light at her maliciously.

The emperors knelt, no longer obstructing Sorai’s view of the dais. Now, standing mere feet from the throne, she noticed for the first time that every inch of its frame was covered with glyphs and opal cabochons, aside from the black taffeta on its seat.

“Why aren’t you kneeling with us?” Tashau demanded, reaching up to catch her wrist in a tight grip.

As he attempted to pull her to the floor, she looked down at him and suppressed a scream. His face was just a mask of glowing white points! She wrenched her hand from him, rubbing wildly at her eyes to get rid of the spots, but the points continued to spread down his neck and through his clothes like a noxious cloud. Soon the particles were in the walls and the floor, even in the air she breathed.

Tashau caught Sorai’s arm again and pulled her down to his level, leaning in so close that his breath felt hot in her ear. “Now is not the time,” he whispered in a futile attempt to avoid distracting the others. “Look at me. Calm down.” His expression was fierce.

How could she possibly calm down? The glitter had become a fog of light, obscuring everything from her view except for Tashau’s masked face. “But my eyes—I keep seeing—”

“We’re going to begin the first prayer,” Tashau hissed. “It won’t take long. You’ll manage.”

Sorai reluctantly allowed herself to fall to her knees, and slowly scooted behind Tashau to move into position beside Shetsi, who was already kneeling face down. Sorai similarly prostrated herself, spreading her hands in front of her as her nose touched the floor. Oh Goddess, the backs of her eyelids had become nothing but glitter!

“Great Naltena,” the three emperors intoned in unison, “we come together to celebrate the passage of this three year cycle of peace. We honor our ancestors and beg your . . . .”

Even with her eyes closed, Sorai could still see through to her palms, and through them all the way to the floor. Why was this happening, and why didn’t anyone else notice?

She flinched as her ears were assaulted by a sharp scrape of metal against metal. The wardens, kneeling in a row behind her, were pulling their sabers from their scabbards. In solemn voices, they contributed their portion of the prayer. “We offer up our strength and steel for your blessings, Naltena, for we acknowledge that . . . .”

Sorai was mad; there was no other explanation. This was just another hallucination. That’s why nobody else could see the light that engulfed them. First there were the strings everywhere and now this. She had to make them go away. She had to!

Shetsi nudged Sorai sharply in the arm. Even before Shetsi lowered her veil, Sorai could see the glittered outline of her lips and teeth as they formed a concerned frown. “It’s your turn,” Shetsi mouthed.

Had Shetsi spoken her line of the prayer already? Oh no! Sorai’s mind raced to find the words she had practiced a thousand times already. She couldn’t fail at this one simple thing. “A-a-and . . . w-we offer up our love to you, wise Naltena . . . in, uh, gratitude for your guiding hand throughout our dreaming and the dreaming of your messenger, the Nassé . . . . Please bless us with submissive hearts, so that we may, um, continue to receive the gift of your knowledge in our sleep.” When it was over, Sorai drew in a shuddering breath, her tears pooling on the floor, forming a gleaming circle of light.

Ravad stood proxy for his late wife Arja in reciting the last lines of the prayer, but Sorai heard none of it. When the prayer was finished, Sorai stood shakily with the others and wiped her face dry before anybody could see. Behind her, the wardens sheathed their weapons then bowed to the emperors, their participation complete. They moved to take their positions at the entrance of the chamber, where they were to stand as symbolic guards, but Sorai only saw their lighted bodies vanish into the swarming white mists. She rubbed at her eyes frantically, and the glitter blinked once, then twice out of view, only to come back again the next instant. Why was this happening?

Tashau suddenly gripped her shoulder from behind. He leaned close and whispered, “Whatever it is that’s bothering you, ignore it until we’ve finished.”

Sorai sucked in a wet breath. She wanted to look back up at him but couldn’t bear to. He was angry, and probably rightly so.

“Look at me,” Tashau hissed. “Ravad wants to give you the honor of setting Judath’s kada in Arja’s place. Calm down.”

Sorai dared to look at Ravad, who now stood on the dais beside Angxa and Shetsi. For Ravad to ask her to hold the kada of Judath in place of his late wife was a show of supreme respect; and to not do him this favor would be an equally supreme insult.

“Sorai,” Tashau urged more firmly.

Sorai squeezed her eyes shut and gouged her thumbs into them, rubbing hard enough that they hurt. When she looked up again, the glitter gradually faded from view, although the strings from Tashau’s temples continued to flow. “I’m fine,” she sighed, her hands still trembling.

Tashau stared down at her, clearly unconvinced. In the end, he took her arm and led her up the dais.

Angxa began the placement rite by moving to Shetsi and thrusting the kada of Xeshun into her waiting hands. He pressed the thumb of his left hand against the kada’s handle, his eyes narrowing, and the kada’s glyphs flared white.

A sharp string of pain shot through Sorai’s forehead. As Shetsi raised the kada and lowered it into the stand, Sorai’s muscles tightened involuntarily, a hot blaze radiating down her neck, through her chest, and into her arms. This spasm was much worse than her previous ones—it hurt too much to breathe!

The blue and black of Tashau’s robes blocked Sorai’s view, and she knew it was her turn. Tashau lifted the kada of Chalei for her to take, and she forced herself to reach for it with both hands. She gripped it tight, her nails finding the grooves of the glyphs, and suddenly, a strange, cool pleasure tingled across her skin. There was something about the kada—something between the gold and glitter.

Tashau pressed his left thumb to the kada, releasing it into Sorai’s possession at the same time, and the glyphs flickered then lit.

“Ah!” A sharp, blistering heat seared across Sorai’s palms, as if she had put them into an open flame. She threw the kada from her and shrank back as Tashau dove for it but missed. It fell to the dais with a deafening crash, and the pain coursing through her body seemed to mute temporarily as Tashau glared up at her in both shock and fury.

After only a moment of hesitation, Sorai turned and leapt from the dais, fleeing the chamber and into the disorienting light of the atrium, past the surprised wardens, ignoring the furious shouts of her husband as he called for her to return. She ran hard and fast until her lungs heaved with fire and every ensuing passage became just a smear around her.

“Empress!” Someone caught Sorai’s arm, nearly jerking it from its socket. It was her handmaiden, Aila. Sorai had ended up in the palace’s guest wing. “What’s the matter, Empress? Are you unwell? Let me get you undressed and take you to your bed.” Sorai obeyed, albeit shakily, allowing her handmaiden to lead her into the open suite. “Oh my! Let’s wash those hands. They’re so dirty!”

Dirty? Sorai flexed her fingers, cringing at the hot throb that radiated clear up to her elbows. Her fingers were swollen and sticky-wet. “Please get out,” Sorai whimpered.

Aila set down the ewer she had used to fill the basin with water. “I beg your pardon, Empress?”

“Get out!” Sorai screeched. “Get out now!”

Aila gaped in stupefied silence, and then bolted from the room, allowing the doors to slam shut behind her.

Sorai crashed to her knees and raised her quaking hands amidst spasmodic sobs. She didn’t understand—it wasn’t possible! The kada had done this to her. Her palms were burned, and where she had touched the glyphs there was no skin left at all, only bleeding lacerations.

But the blood—it wasn’t normal. It was as black as pitch.