Chapter II
Revelations
In which a priest gives evil tidings
“Is that even possible?” Edana asked, turning from the persimmon tree to stare at Bessa.
In the winter garden of Aletheia’s temple they awaited the Restorites. Going to the Restorer’s temple was not an option; Bessa rejected the idea the moment it came to her. Yet all the same, Selàna should be with them when they spoke to the priests. However—Bessa and her friends were now famous in the city…and Selàna was infamous.
Selàna would be mobbed. Ripped limb from limb, or met with any punishment a vengeful sorcerer would deal out. Hard would be the hearts of those whose children were threatened by the monsters allied with Zephyra; a threat which brooked no forgiveness.
But the walls of the temple were sacrosanct, and superstition ensured even the impious honored the sanctuary of a temple. The Elamisi were pious. Selàna should be safe.
For now.
A basket hung from Edana’s arm. After breakfast she asked of the priests permission to glean from the garden. Provisions, she said, for their journey. Fravak, the high priest, immediately granted them the run of the garden, and promised them access to the larder besides. This prompted all of them to begin preparations. The task gave them something to hold the tension at bay, if nothing else.
Silent and attentive, Alia listened to Bessa’s plan as she filled her own basket with shallots, pomegranates, and carrots. Her expression gave nothing away, though Bessa studied her for signs of her reaction. Of all of them, Alia would be most justified to slay Selàna where she stood. But Alia made no move to come near the young woman, leaving Selàna untroubled as she drew water from the well.
The well held plain drinking water, not the water of the sacred spring that had restored Selàna to her memories…and her humanity. Selàna’s hands were steady as she drew the bucket up from the deep. She never met anyone’s eyes. Instead she focused intently on whatever task she was assigned, and seemed careful to stay out of everyone’s way.
Bessa’s gaze now alighted on Edana. How could this work? Edana was predisposed to be gentle with Selàna, for Edana loved Selàna’s mother, a friend and benefactor who had assuaged Edana’s grief over the loss of her own family.
But for Alia, Selàna was an enemy who had done monstrous evil against Alia’s own family, the daughters of the goddess Alia served so faithfully.
No. That enemy had been Zephyra. Once Zephyra drank from Aletheia’s spring, she and her wickedness perished, allowing Selàna to be resurrected. Selàna, who had been only a girl when she’d been twisted to a horrible purpose. Here she was anew, but now obliged to bear the weight of all she had done as Zephyra. How could anyone live with that guilt?
Bessa frowned. Six months left to do what must be done.
“Let’s not rule out anything,” Bessa insisted, addressing Edana. “If it’s not possible to turn Selàna’s powers, at least your priests have ensured she can’t use them. But you heard what the dryad said. Selàna must be useful, and there’s no reason to think her powers have nothing to do with why we need her.”
“Aunt Nalini,” Alia said woodenly. She came over to the patch were Bessa was gathering green and white stalks. Leeks, or so Edana named them when she explained they would impart a delicate, sweet onion flavor to soups. Never having seen the strange vegetables before, Bessa took Edana at her word.
“Of course; I mean no disrepect. Yes, your aunt. Selàna has the key to the haoma, and the haoma can cure any evil. What am I missing?”
Alia paused. For a moment, she looked very young, possibly Bessa’s age. But experience taught Bessa not to trust the appearance of youth in a Ta-Setian. Lady Nensela was thousands of years old, and by her face no one would put her age above twenty-five. That is, if one did not stare directly into her eyes.
But where the seer had been remote and reserved, Alia burned with a cold fire that made her terrifying. How long would that fire burn? Long enough to see the stars shift in the firmament? What was it like to have an enemy who had all of eternity to wreak havoc upon the world?
At least the gods blessed the mortals with allies who had all of eternity to fight back: Alia exuded a protective nature; the huntress would allow nothing to harm them.
“I couldn’t tell you what you’re missing,” Alia replied, with no trace of levity or sarcasm. “I am not a Restorite. Do not get too attached to this plan of yours. I do not believe the Erebossan queen would make it so easy.”
Bessa spread her arms, inadvertently waving the leeks she held in her hand. A dusting of snow fell off the plants, landing near her feet.
“Easy? Only now could it be easy! Edana and I personally battled three out of five eidolons and a king of Erebossa to get here. And you had to fight how many lesser infernals to get here? And we all of us had to rid this city of manticores and lamia and rabisu, only for you to face a scorpion man, and a soul thief—what is this ‘easy’ you speak of? I pray to the gods I never know what you would consider difficult.”
Alia’s wintry smile was so quick Bessa almost missed it.
“All that you did, we did, without sacrifice,” Alia said. “We were none of us corrupted by Erebossa.” Though she neither looked at nor named Selàna, no one doubted her meaning. “We did no evil on behalf of an infernal. In Lyrcania we have rites of atonement. Do you know them here? Do you know what is required?”
Bessa froze.
Offerings. Sacrifice. Blood.
And she herself believed it: some apologies couldn’t be spoken. They must be done.
Selàna at last raised her head. Before she could speak, the heavy oak doors swung open, and Tregarde and Sheridan strode into the garden. In their wake came men wearing the indigo robes of the Restorer’s high priests. Last came violet-robed Narsai, high priest of the Sower. His robes, edged in silver, augmented his regal air.
The sight of him pleased Bessa; she had not checked for Narsai once she knew he had survived the battle at the shadow gate. The priest walked stiffly, perhaps not yet recovered from the ordeal of that battle. Quickly, Bessa shoved her leeks into her basket and set it at her feet. She tented her fingers and bowed low, homage to the priests.
“Good day to you,” Narsai greeted. He gave them all a benign nod. His glance lingered a moment on Selàna’s bracelets before he turned to Bessa. “You wished to see us?”
“Yes. Thank you for coming, eminent ones.”
Succinctly, she explained Lady Nensela’s vision, and the estimated time left to thwart it. After, she spoke of the fight she and Edana had waged against Murena, and Alia’s fight for the dryads. Finally, she told them of Rahqu, and her goal to reach the haoma. True to her expectations, the Restorites reacted with dismay, and Narsai went pale.
“What do you need from us?” High Priest Javed asked.
“We are strangers in your land,” Bessa pointed out. “Naturally your high king would not permit us to reach the haoma just because we ask it of him. Assuming we could even enter his presence. Selàna—when she was Zephyra—knew to guard against Edana and Alia and me. The infernal queen must have someone in the king’s court who would warn him against us.”
Javed’s eyes brightened. “But she would not have thought to look for us, you mean? As Restorites, we have authority over the simurghs, too. We serve their Master. Perhaps we may be able to lend you that authority. We will consider what aid we might give you.”
Bessa bowed her head. “Thank you.” She caught Selàna’s eye and paused before continuing. How to explain her goal?
Carefully, as it turned out.
As she finished, the priests turned as one to frankly appraise Selàna.
“Make her one of us?” Javed’s tone said it all.
Bessa glanced at Alia, her eyes pleading. The huntress would place duty over vengeance, would she not?
“Aunt Nalini was a dryad,” Alia said patiently. “Her mother, the Eagle Eyed One, gave strict orders. She requires Zeph—Selàna. I wish it were not so, but it is.”
Bessa watched their faces. The priests bore no allegiance to the Huntress. But undoubtedly they would not think of crossing Her, nor one of Her agents.
“Was a dryad? Are the dryads not immortal?” Javed asked. His brow furrowed.
“They are,” Alia replied. “Unless, of course, they are captured and defiled in some unspeakable fashion that makes them long for death.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Selàna flinched, and looked away.
Javed’s breath caught, and Bessa could not blame him. What Alia spoke of was an outright abomination, and Bessa shuddered to think of the divine punishment due to the one who committed it. But that was Zephyra…
“Blessed servants of the Restorer, consider this: the nature of Selàna’s corruption points to her intended purpose. She has to be a Restorite,” Bessa insisted.
Javed stalked over to Selàna. “Did you show any Gift before you were turned? Did you ever heal anything or anyone?”
Uncowed, Selàna straightened, drawing herself to her full height under his withering stare. Lady Nensela’s daughter, Bessa reminded herself.
“Your eminence, I did not. The Gifted commonly show their gifts while they are children, true enough. But Ta-Setians do not age as you do.”
“You are not fully Ta-Setian,” Javed pointed out, fixing his brown eyes on her hazel ones.
“True,” she acknowledged with a shrug. “But I will not age the same as you, either. If the Restorer ever blessed me, I have no proof of it at this time. My mother did not look for me to have any affinity for sorcery; it was not common in her family. My father said it never bred true in his family, either. But the only reason I live now is because the Huntress said I must. If there’s a test, I will take it.”
“The fellshade Rahqu imbued her with power,” Bessa reminded them, pressing her point. “Whether or not Selàna had any before, she has it now. It needs to be turned to your purpose, or else—”
Abruptly, Javed held up a hand. “You have made your case. What you ask, is no casual request we can grant without care.”
“But you’ll consider it?” Bessa asked.
“I will pray over it.”
----------------------------------------
Narsai did not leave with the Restorites. Instead he remained in the garden with the group and assisted them in their gleaning. They stopped at sunset, and Selàna excused herself then to speak to Fravak, high priest of Aletheia.
As soon as she cleared the threshold, Narsai turned to the group. “I must speak with you. Let us go inside. There is a room set aside for us.”
Narsai led them through a labyrinth of corridors, until they came at last to a hall that terminated in double doors.
The doors opened onto a small ‘contemplation room,’ where devotees of Aletheia cloistered themselves for private meditation. For the sake of privacy its out-of-the-way location hindered anyone intent on eavesdropping. So also did the small window high above, too high for anyone on the grounds outside to listen in. The window let in moonlight and air, and admitted no spies.
Flickering candlelight revealed the meal someone had set up for them. Roasted chicken, spiced with silphium, much like the Anshani chicken Lady Nensela served when Bessa first met her. Along with a novelty—quince soup. Fascinated, Bessa eyed it, and privately decided it would be the first dish she would taste.
In the meantime, Sheridan served Alia, and Edana served Narsai, each according to the etiquette concerning the priests of their respective gods. Tregarde and Bessa waited until the priests were served, then they moved to serve Sheridan and Edana in turn, for no other reason than simple friendship.
They ate in silence, but didn’t linger over the meal. Narsai seemed to sense their restlessness, for he wasted little time with preamble.
“I speak to you now in confidence. What I say may be of no comfort to you, but it must be said, and you must choose.”
“You have our attention, eminent one,” Edana answered.
“The one you now call Selàna is restored to knowledge of the truth. This I do believe. I believe the waters of Aletheia worked as they ought. But even so, I do not believe this is all you must do concerning her. She is a vessel, and she does carry the taint of the infernal Erebossi. But she is not beyond redeeming.”
Edana, who sat to his right, leaned forward now and caught his gaze. “The Scrolls of Truth speak of many people who did evil, and who were only forsaken when they chose to reject the Sower utterly. But in those cases, they knowingly chose their paths. Selàna’s was forced on her. What can there be for her to do?”
“Her innocence may be all that saves her. She did not choose then. She must choose now.”
“Eminent One,” Bessa began. “I’ve spoken to Selàna; there is no question she’s devastated by what happened to her. And by what she did as Zephyra. And you saw her in the garden. Do you truly think she would choose Ra—the fellshade?”
Narsai held her gaze. “Oh, my child, the matter is not so simple. This has happened before. Oh, not the giants, I’ve never heard of them before you came. Before the Scouring, when some sorcerers made themselves into vessels, as Selàna was made. And some, like Selàna, were forced. But what they all had in common was this: having an infernal Erebossan in them made them one with Erebossa. Less and less were they human. Their thoughts and ways were that of Erebossa, and they did things that only beings of the netherworld can do. Monstrous things. Great things. But the more they did, the more like their ‘progenitor’ they became.”
Narsai’s gaze softened, tinged with pity as he faced Bessa. In the courtyard he had listened in silence to her plan, not interjecting even once. To have him look at her as he did now, Bessa knew he lacked faith, and for no idle reason.
“The cuffs you gave Selàna keep her from using the fellshade queen’s powers. Whatever taint is in her won’t be strengthened any more. So surely she is safe from that particular threat,” Bessa ventured.
“And when the servants of her former mistress come for her?” Narsai said softly.
From her place opposite Narsai at the end of the table, Alia had observed their exchange with folded arms and narrowed eyes. Now she straightened in her seat and spoke. Candlelight bestowed an eerie beauty upon her, as though she were incarnated with the spirit of the Huntress.
“I will slay them,” she declared. “And if not me, then an astral. I’ve summoned them before.” She turned to Sheridan, who was sitting to her right. “Remember how you asked why we should ever invite an astral into our world? The Huntress guards our world, and She works through us, and we are allowed to call for aid to do what She would have us do. The abyssal queen is as much Her enemy as ours.”
Narsai’s eyebrows lifted, and his lips curved. “You brought a celestial being into this world? Such a feat places you amongst the paragons of faith. That a celestial came when you asked moves me to have greater faith in this endeavor. Selàna will be hunted, by beings within this world, and beings without. For so long lies have cocooned her, and it may be that she has no instinct to do what is right, only to do the opposite of what she has always done. Or to fall back on what’s worked before.”
“Her power. Which you negated,” Bessa insistently reminded him.
“But not her power to choose to go willingly, as a sacrifice, should it come to that. I have watched Selàna. She is haunted, and guilt ridden, and I daresay she despises herself. Do you disagree?”
The firelight in Narsai’s green eyes gave them a mystical aspect, as though he might see beyond human vision. The gaze he turned on her penetrated to her inward heart.
Bessa swallowed hard. Memories of her assault on Selàna came flooding back. Selàna claimed she understood why Bessa had attacked her, she had also said she deserved far worse than what Bessa gave to her.
“She might sacrifice herself,” Bessa conceded. “She might think her life is worth so little, that it’s better to die saving us. She might think she deserves eternal torment in the Abyssal Serpent.”
“Mmm. The Abyssal Serpent is her due … or rather, Zephyra’s,” Alia said. “You are better than I, Narsai: you believe Selàna is herself again.”
“If only I did have the virtue you ascribe to me, priestess. But if Zephyra attacked the Sower’s servants the way she attacked the servants of the Huntress and the Restorer, I’m quite certain I would struggle as you have.”
Alia’s chuckle did not reach her eyes. “Do not let me wiggle out. Keeping my anger and hatred is unworthy of me, and makes me unfit for my task. Well. As you have bound the girl to this world with your power, I will bind her in another way: I will forgive her. It is my priestly duty. And a human one. I will ask for her word that she will not surrender.”
“Do not make that contract too tight,” Narsai warned. “She must not go over to her former mistress; that possibility must be avoided at all costs. But that doesn’t mean her life can be preserved. Do you know what became of the previous vessels?”
The gaze he turned on Edana was gentle. Yet all the same she gasped, then clamped her hand around her mouth.
Bessa’s heart sank further, to the bottom of the Abyss itself, for all she felt. “What? What? Is this something from your Scrolls of Truth?”
“The Abominations,” Edana whispered. “That’s what we called them, isn’t it?”
Narsai nodded. Edana sat back in her chair, her eyes unseeing.
Gently he asked, “Will it be you who does it? You, who seem to love this child?”
Edana’s lips thinned and her eyes hardened. Memories of their childhood bubbled up in Bessa’s mind. When they were children, Edana’s current expression signaled she had entered a cold, seething rage. However, as a woman Edana remained calm, her palms flat on the table.
“Selàna,” Edana said, with every bit of cool deference she could muster, “is the daughter of a good friend, who was kind to me when I needed kindness. Who took me in when I was lost. Who was a mother to me when I lost my mother. And you ask if I will do this?”
“Should it be one who hates her?” Narsai gestured at Alia.
Edana bowed her head, her eyelashes fluttering.
Tregarde cleared his throat. “Eminent One, for those of us who aren’t conversant in your religion…what are the Abominations? I get the feeling that’s one of those red-letter words lorekeepers used to write in scrolls.”
“Indeed,” Narsai agreed. He reached for a jug of wine, and poured a measure into Edana’s cup. He slid the cup closer to her. “Exactly so,” he continued. “The events leading up to the Scouring happened over the course of generations. Sorcerers did their best to weaken the boundary between this world and Erebossa. You told me, huntress, of the ichor these new enemies have taken. That is one method. Did you know the ichor does not leave their bodies? It can be, how shall I put it? Passed on.”
At this they exclaimed, except for Edana, who snatched up her cup of wine and drank it down without stopping. She didn’t look at them, setting down her cup with a slight yet audible thump. Narsai patted her hand, and to Bessa’s surprise, Edana did not flinch.
Edana’s breaths were shallow when she finally spoke. “Few who take the ichor can have children. They’re physically tainted, as well as spiritually. But the few who did have children after that taint always begat monstrous beings. Think of the lamia. But those who are only spiritually tainted, people like Selàna—they can pass on the taint to human children. Selàna can pass on the taint to her children. And they to their children. The Scrolls say they are Abominations. And in the Scrolls it says—it says the khrestai, the dryads, and the sea dragons hunted every last one of them. Cleansing them from the world.”
“My mother mentioned something like that, when she told me of her youth. But neither she nor the Keeper bid me to do a Scouring. Nor did the khrestai counselor bound to my mother’s grove.”
It was Edana’s turn to laugh mirthlessly. “Oh no? Perhaps they trust that you or one of us will kill Selàna. I suppose it should be me. Either way I am guilty; it is no virtue for me to sit by and watch one of you do it. I could at least look Lady Nensela in the eye and tell her it was I who took her child from her. Selàna is doomed either way. I don’t suppose your mother or counselor will be gentle when they kill her?”
Bessa listened, panic arising in her with every word they said. “I don’t understand. If Selàna is dedicated to the Restorer, that would cleanse her taint, wouldn’t it? Surely—”
“There is no precedent,” Narsai cut in, without heat. “We cannot say surely. What is sure is that Abominations such as Selàna are not permitted to exist in our world.”