Chapter VI
A Strange New Quest
In which they come to a fork in their path forward
Night fell swiftly, and with it came the final preparations for their journey. The temple keepers allowed them the use of a small winter garden, kept warm as a fresh summer day. A long table held refreshments, and a small round table offered place settings for them to dine in style. Summer plants artfully arranged in the garden offered up several ingredients they would need for elixirs and unguents.
Citrus trees, each in carved planter boxes lined the east and west sides of the garden. Down the center, a long, raised garden bed formed a boulevard. Its sinuously curving wall of enameled brick housed roses, starting with sunbright yellow roses at the beginning, ornate pink roses in the center, and swan-white roses at the end. Every so often benches lined the walls, hugging the curves.
On one bench, beneath the yellow roses, sat five satchels with their flaps open. Bessa added one more satchel to the group, then she turned and saw Tregarde and Sheridan setting down a crate of supplies they’d bought from supply shops in town. Last came Alia into the garden, bearing a small box in her hands. Only Selàna remained empty-handed, and she sat apart from the group on the bench nearest the showy pink roses.
While Alia and Selàna laid unquiet spirits to rest in the shadow queen’s lair, Bessa had gone with Edana to retrieve their goods from the inn where they originally stayed when coming to Elamis. After, they had visited an outfitter’s store, and filled each of the satchels with goods they’d obtained there.
“All right, let’s get to it,” Tregarde said, clapping his hands. “I said we need to travel in secrecy. And it’s not just because we don’t want to be tracked by arcana. Do you know the potential routes between Elamis and the high king’s winter palace?”
In her hand Bessa held a checklist, against which she inspected the contents of each satchel. The tone of Tregarde’s voice made her suspect unwelcome news was forthcoming, and thus she sat down on an empty spot beside the last satchel.
“Is there something we should know about them?” she asked.
“None of the roads or towns have an aerie—a temple aerie, not a gryphon aerie. I checked carefully, and between here and there we won’t be within miles of any temple to the Huntress,” he answered promptly. He bent down over the crate and started rooting about for something inside.
“The problem with that is …?”
Tregarde held up a copper cannister. On the front, someone had affixed a label that said ash manna crystals in Pelasgian. “I’ll need to conserve my power. I can do great things when I can make regular offerings and such to the Huntress. Or when I can draw upon the power of the temple where the devout worship and make offerings and prayers. But the further I get from a temple, the less power I have to draw upon. The fewer altars where I can make sacrifices and offerings. Forget hecatombs, it’s hard to make any offering at all when you’re on the run. Understand me? When we get to the high king we’re sure to see an aerie again. But we have to get to the high king.”
A constraint Bessa never accounted for. Up until now, every sorcerer she dealt with was either garrisoned at a fortress — which always had shrines and temples, and the requisite sacrificial beasts — or were members of the Star Dragons operating within cities, where a shrine or temple could be found. It never occurred to her a sorcerer may not be able to work magic when he wished to. Add to this the Interceptor cutting off their access to the guardian spirits, and they would be acutely vulnerable during a perilous encounter.
“So what do we do?” she asked.
Tregarde shook the cannister in his hands. “We work smarter. I’m going to dissolve some of these ash manna crystals and make a coating for weapons. We encounter an arsh’atûm, you’ll all be fixed to defend yourselves.”
Sheridan pulled out a pouch, and emptied it into his palm. Out fell five gemstones. Two were yellow-green and glowed with a cat’s eye sheen. One appeared to be gold-veined lapis lazuli, and two were a brilliant sky blue.
“Peridots, lapis, and aquamarine gems?” Bessa asked.
“Not at all, but you make it easier to explain what they are. Grandfather taught me about this kind of gem. He called them deceiver stones. They can look like any genuine gems, but they’re not. When you grind them to powder and put them in food or drinks, you can play tricks with people’s minds. Make them forget things, make them do things.” The young man held one gem pinched between his thumb and index fingers. He frowned at it, examining it with a critical eye.
“Umm. Do we want to do that?”
A rare smile came to his lips. “Not to those who mean us well, no. Here in the temple we’re protected from the sight of enemy arcana. No scryer can see what we do. Outside the temple, when we’re on the move, we can use this to fuel a type of shield spell. One that conceals our movements.”
“Ahh. That works well with our purposes,” Bessa noted. At the questioning look on his face, she added, “Edana and I came here in Lady Nensela’s carriage. In Urashtu she attached the imperial seal of Rasena Valentis. In Elamis we removed the seal, since the two empires are not at peace. The Star Dragons escorted us here. Suppose now we send the carriage ahead, as a decoy? We’ll put the seal on, and the Star Dragons can take the carriage. They will appear to be in the open, which may keep enemy arcana at a sufficient distance. Enough so they don’t realize we’re not in the carriage. If you use your deceiver stone, our real movements won’t be detected, either.”
The plan sounded agreeable enough to everyone else, but from the corner of her eye Bessa saw Edana tense up. All during their shopping trip she seemed pensive, as if something weighed on her. Before she could ask her to speak aloud her thoughts, Alia approached Bessa and held out the wooden box.
“Put these in the packs you’re making,” Alia said, removing the lid from the box. “One each of these.”
“These” proved to be small phials made of the purest rock crystal Bessa had ever seen. Each phial contained a startling blue liquid she recognized.
“Did this come from Aletheia’s spring?” Bessa asked.
“Guiless Fravak gave these to me. To be used in case of clarity,” Alia confirmed. “Amavand’s palace was riddled with deception. The high king may be surrounded by deceitful agents as well. A drop of this should cut through illusions. A swallow of it will dispel nonsense and lies.” She glanced at Selàna, living proof the latter claim.
Into the packs they went, joining the medical kits and small firestones Edana had placed inside them previously. Satisfied the packs included everything on their list, Bessa began to close the satchels.
As for Edana herself, she also stood apart, her hands clasped behind her back as she leaned against one of the tree planters. But she waited until everyone gathered around the dining table before she finally said,
“For now we have a shield of secrecy around us. What I’d like to know is how Murena knew of us when we didn’t have the shield. Same for the shadow queen. To what extent do the Erebossi know what we’re doing? I do not understand them to be omniscient, but I don’t want to make assumptions.”
Having beaten her to the table, Bessa was already seated. The small feast arrayed before them arrested all of her attention, for the rumble in her belly reminded her she hadn’t eaten in hours. What she took to be a strange golden cake would turn out to be steamed rice whose golden color came thanks to saffron. The had cook fried it in a pot and turned it upside down on a lovely ceramic plate.
Alongside the rice, in a large pot, they found an intriguing mixture: quince stew, which Alia had requested. This Bessa was eager to try, primarily because she remembered the sweet quince the Flame Keepers had given to her and Edana in the viridarium of the Fire Lords. But also because the stew included dried plums, apricots, and lamb. An elegant silver jug held persimmon wine, aged from the previous year’s crop. Alia selected the wine first, and began pouring it into Sheridan’s cup. As she went around the table she said,
“A ghost warned me that Rahqu knows of me. A fellshade named Rihat knew about Murena battling someone in the West. Your battle, I would guess. And gloated about the imminent fall of his enemy. As I recall, you said the ‘enemy’ was your Nensela.”
A small cry drew their attention. Their eyes all swung to Selàna, whose body went rigid in obvious shock.
Seated next to her, Bessa immediately clapped an arm around the other girl’s shoulders. “Your mother still lives. Remember that. She’s still alive.”
Alia paused, holding the pitcher in one hand and Selàna’s cup in the other. “I’m sorry. I forgot Nensela was—is—your mother.”
But Selàna made no response, except to put her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook. Bessa patted her back and made sympathetic noises.
“You don’t understand,” Selàna managed, after taking three shuddering breaths. “A-Amavand—he told me—he told Zephyra—that three she-wolves took down Murena. That they instigated battle against him. You see? The prophecy against Amavand was that three women would destroy him. But Ironwing—but you didn’t come from the West. I didn’t realize—”
“I see,” Alia said quickly. She finished pouring into Selàna’s cup, and set it before her.
The implications became clear. Obviously, a spy in Amavand’s service told him of events in Abris on the Night of the Burning Sky. Particularly the events concerning Lady Nensela’s actions.
Encircled in Bessa’s arms, Selàna began to compose herself. After a long pause, she continued. “Amavand was in communication with certain, ah, personnel. The Ellatu, is what he called them.”
“Gagnon!” Edana interrupted. At once she cleared her throat. “Ahem. My apologies. A man in league with the Sleepless Enemies called them the Ellatu as well. ‘Sleepless Enemies’ is how my father’s people refer to the evil spirits that dwell in Erebossa.”
“I see. Evil spirits. All this time he was in league with evil spirits,” Selàna mused, in a low voice they almost couldn’t hear. “Did he know? Oh, gods!” She sat still, eyes wide in obvious shock.
“Bessa and I defeated three of them: Escamilla, Kellis … and Vartanian. An ally took down Lior, and a pegasus prime slew the host of Archelaos. Was he talking to them?” Edana asked.
“Archelaos? Amavand spoke to him in particular,” Selàna replied. “Zephyra thought him nothing more than the governor of Urashtu. What was he really?”
“An eidolon. Someone possessed by a fellshade,” Bessa clarified, accepting her now-full cup from Alia. “What did Amavand talk to him about?”
“The shahanshah. Come the summer, they were supposed to execute a pincer attack. Archelaos was going to lure the high king to Urashtu, because the high king covets that country. That’s what Zephyra understood. And Amavand would attack from behind, with forces the king would not anticipate. On the eve of the night you call the Night of the Burning Sky, Archelaos, um, spoke to Amavand. Via a Sending. He wanted Amavand to rejoice with him, because Archelaos was going to defeat an enemy he called ‘an interfering interloper.’ He insisted that we—Amavand and Zephyra—would have the wind at our backs once this hated she-wolf was dead. ‘She’s been getting in my way for far too long,’ he said.”
“Lady Nensela,” Bessa said. “It could only be her. But how did he know she was at Abris? The fortress where the battle took place?”
“For that matter—Lady Nensela’s conclave was attacked when she met with the other seers in the Library of Kyanopolis. At the time they wondered how the Red Daggers knew to attack them, because they met during the night of the Dead Moon. How did they know to come there?” Edana wondered.
A light came to Selàna’s eyes. “The conclave! Tell me—when did this conclave happen? Was it last year, in the spring?”
“Yes…”
“Oh. Oh. So much makes sense now,” Selàna said. “I will explain.”
However, she waited until everyone filled their soup bowls, broke bread, and Edana said a prayer before she made good on her word.
To start with, she said, the Ellatu were recruited to do Rahqu’s bidding. Zephyra had believed them to be traitors, native to Rasena Valentis, and she took for granted their loyalty to Rahqu.
“Zephyra was devout. That anyone should be loyal to Rahqu was not something she questioned,” Selàna said.
Furthermore, each of the Ellatu—the Five, as Bessa and Edana referred to them—was given a specific mission. Each of them also had specific abilities.
“The one that matters most in this context is Escamilla’s: he could spy on one’s dreams. A dream walker, which is what Zephyra understood him to be. But she was fascinated, because she thought that ability was lost with the Dreaming Trees on Amathis.”
“Zephyra’s understanding was incomplete,” Edana said, lapping up a spoonful of soup. “Escamilla is an alû, a kind of fellshade, not a sorcerer. And—he told me that he spied on my dreams! He said it! The night he attacked Bessa, he told me that he knew to hurt her, because of my nightmares. My own fears.” She lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry, Bessa. At the time I didn’t pay attention to what he said; I didn’t realize I caused—”
Though memory of Escamilla’s torments made Bessa’s blood run cold, she kept her body from shaking. And mastered her voice, so there was no tremor in it when she said, “You didn’t. None of what he did was your fault. If I don’t hold it against you, why should you? Let’s focus on the point: if Escamilla can see people’s dreams, might he have been hunting for people who had specific dreams?”
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“He was,” Selàna said. “That’s what I was getting at. He told Amavand that a particular seer had dreamed of giants. A relevant dream because she was a seer, and because she was stationed in the Aerie, the Cloudwalk fortress. So he set mercenaries after her.”
From the corner of her eye, Bessa noted Edana studying her, as if she detected the turmoil beneath her calm. However, aloud Edana said, “Red Daggers. That’s who attacked. And we know their leader was working with Murena.”
“Now we understand: A dream-hunting fellshade sifted through dreams, and sent people after the dreamers. Fellshades always seem to find the flesh-and-blood agents they require to operate amongst us. Fah! I helped an astral warrior destroy everyone in the temple of the shadow priests, and you two destroyed the Red Daggers. And Escamilla?” Alia sat back and tented her fingers.
“A demigoddess said we cannot truly destroy a fellshade, only bind them. But Escamilla in particular is in the custody of the Destroyer, so I think we’re safe in that case,” Bessa replied.
Edana added, “Don’t forget Lior was also sent to Yadon the Destroyer. Archelaos and Honoria lost their hosts. Kellis was banished.”
“Those particular generals are off the field of battle, which counts for much. They may have allies and foot soldiers lurking about, but Guileless Fravak told me Aletheia’s temple is shielded from infernally-aligned arcana. ut they may have a multitude of allies and soldiers still lurking about. For now Then we may be safer even after we leave this temple. Perhaps. I have a way to protect our dreams, but I only have the one charm,” Alia said, lifting a fancifully carved bit of wood dangling from a chain around her neck. From what Bessa could tell, it was shaped like a sylph. “We’ll need more. Sheridan, I will require your help.”
“You’ll have it,” he said. As her apprentice, the novice priest was best equipped to assist her. Though he appeared to be studiously focused on dinner, the young man was clearly keeping up with their talk.
Edana cleared her throat. “Ahem. If we will be blind to any infernal arcana, then I would like to propose a plan.” She stood up and went over to a medium-sized pouch she had left with her cloak on a hook by the door of the winter garden. When she turned to face the group, she hesitated.
“Edana?” Bessa asked. Would Edana now reveal why she’d been so quiet and distracted all day?
“Before you and I came to Elamis, I went with Ziri, back to Kyanopolis. It was just to get some silver from my shop, to aid my cover. But I found something else waiting for me when I went to my room at Lady Nensela’s house.” She pulled a square of parchment from the pouch. A letter, which she began to read aloud.
Dear Edana,
Be not alarmed. By now you know that the Seeker alone does not give me prophecy, and it was She who told me to expect to hear from Another. Though I know not with whom I am dealing, I do know that I trust the Seeker. I ask that you trust me. On this sash you will find many coins. They all have this in common: they were minted in nations that no longer exist. But only one of them concerns you: Zanbil.
In Elamis you will find a door to lost places. Through that door you must go. To Zanbil.
Edana stopped there. All eyes were locked on her as she reached into the pouch and pulled out bundle of violet cloth. As she unfurled it, it proved to be a sash which clinked and tinkled with the sound of the many coins dangling from its trim.
Bessa recognized it at once. Lady Nensela wore it the day they had all rode into Kyanopolis together. On that day she had warned Edana to keep her guards about her.
On that day, the Red Daggers attacked Edana’s shop.
And on that day, Lady Nensela taught her the meaning of having faith in one’s friends…
“Zanbil?” Alia’s eyes were wide. “A coin from Zanbil?”
“By the gods, this Lady Nensela is one of those old Ta-Setians, isn’t she?” Tregarde exclaimed. He let out a low whistle. “I hear tell Zanbil fell during the Fourth Cataclysm. About four-hundred and fifty years ago, if I reckon true. Bragging rights go to the one who has anything from there.”
But Selàna was transfixed. She rose from her chair and went over to Edana. Silently, she locked eyes with her, and in response Edana proffered her the sash. Selàna took it. Reverently, she fingered the coins.
“Mama wore this often. Before I would go to bed at night, she would tell me stories about places she had been. People she once knew … she told me she had been to a floating city. I thought it was the most wondrous thing in the world. Mama knew, and has seen, so many wonders.” Selàna brought the sash up to her nose, and inhaled.
Silence descended.
Bessa swallowed hard as Narsai’s warning echoed in her mind: What is sure is that Abominations such as Selàna are not permitted to exist in our world.
Must Selàna die? Such a cruel fate, for an innocent child who had been stolen from her family. Twisted, corrupted, into becoming as evil as Zephyra had been.
When Selàna had returned with Alia from visiting Rahqu’s temple, she had looked so shaken. Then she became withdrawn, her eyes haunted. And she had shied away from her own reflection when they passed through the mirror mosaic in the Great Hall of the temple. Whatever the women had seen in Rahqu’s temple, Selàna would not speak of it.
The dead are at peace, was all Alia herself would tell them.
But the living were not.
“I’ve never heard of Zanbil,” Sheridan spoke up. The taciturn priest was not one for idle words, but Bessa latched on to his implied question.
“I thought it was a fable myself,” she said. “A city floating in the clouds. But I didn’t know it was real.”
Selàna fingered the coins on her mother’s sash. One by one, until she came to a particular coin. In the light of the glowlights overhead, the silvery white coin shimmered with the colors of the rainbow. No coin of any realm was struck with so precious a metal in this age.
“Moonbow steel. Mama told me Zanbil was so fabulously wealthy that they minted their coins with moonbow steel. You could only enter Zanbil if you had something of comparable value to just one coin. Not jewels or baubles, nothing so common as those would do. But Mama gave up a bottle of wine from Amathis. Oh, where is that coin?” Faster she flicked through the coins dangling from the belt, until she found one thin piece.
Fascinated, Bessa came over to see it. Like Zanbil, Amathis was also lost to legend. Rather than a round coin, Amathis had used an electrum dodecagon—twelve-edged circle. On one side a sailing ship, and on the other side a portrait bust of a king. The doomed kingdom had been a mighty sea power, until they provoked the wrath of the Sea Lord by neglecting to make offerings to Him.
However, Sheridan was focused on another matter. “When you say Zanbil fell, do you mean it was conquered? Or that it literally fell out of the sky?”
“The latter,” Alia replied. “I know of this place. My own mother and my aunts spoke of it. I think we should go there.”
“To what end? What was in Zanbil? Wouldn’t all of it be destroyed, in ruins?” Sheridan asked.
“More to the point, how would it help? Edana, does Lady Nensela’s letter say more?” Bessa asked.
Edana cleared her throat and resumed reading.
> I know it seems a strange idea. Even I don’t know what to expect there now. But I do believe that only a god or a goddess can give a prophecy, and thus I obey. As I said, what there is now of Zanbil is not known to me. But what was—of that I shall write to you, to be of service in your hour of need.
>
> In Zanbil there lived sorcerers famed for their knowledge of spellcraft. Tekmagi they also boasted, and formidable ones at that—the machines they created had no peer. The sphinx animachina that guard my estate came from there.
>
> So great were their animachina that Zanbellians made no use of flesh and blood slaves. All work was done by animachina, or by enchanted objects. Imagine a plow moving on its own, or a broom sweeping the floor by itself. Such was mundane, to a household in Zanbil.
>
> You will wonder: how did the city float? That, too, was a focus of my inquiries. And therefore comes the reason I think you may want to go there: Moonbow steel can be alloyed. Not with the precious metals relatively common to us, such as gold and silver. But with dragonsteel. With star metal—that which falls to us from the stars themselves. Combining these elements with a potent spell yields the asmani stone. Heaven stone. This stone, and yet another spell kept the city afloat.
>
> But with another kind of spell, so the said the sages to me, you can make a Gate stone. A portal to distant lands. To distant worlds, though I did not believe this at the time.
>
> One thing more: I said once that I cannot read the words on the Karnassus Gate. Or any other Gate, for that matter. But I know what they say, because a Zanbellian sage recorded their meaning, when first a master builder of Athyr-ai created the spell. The group of tekmagi who founded Zanbil came from Athyr-ai. Gatecraft is recorded in the lore scrolls of Zanbil’s sages. One of their number translated the Gatespell to me. There was no harm in it, he believed, for I am no sorceress. Nor do I possess an asmani gemstone.
>
> Long I have believed the giants are coming through a Gate that once was known, and now is not. Wherever it might be, the people of Zanbil will know.
>
> Be warned, Edana: I lack certainty on why I am commanded to send you to Zanbil. But know that whatever the gods—your god or mine, or one unknown to either of us—whatever is meant for you and our friends, you will take with you my hope that we avert the evil the giants bring with them. I pray for your success.
>
> May we meet again,
>
> Nensela of Ta-Seti
Edana’s breath caught at the end.
Bessa whistled. Gate stones? Heaven stones? Such remarkable ingenuity the Zanbellians possessed! Something stirred in her, thoughts of what she might do with a Gate stone. Somehow she must obtain one for Silura. No one had made any more Gates since the Fourth Cataclysm, when the Tartessian Gate and the Pelasgian Gate were destroyed. Silura had never achieved the construction of a Gate, but if Bessa provided a Gate stone she might usher in a golden age for her homeland. This would fulfill her obligation — instilled by Grandmother — to bring prestige to her nation, derided as a backwater by others in the empire. Trade, cultural exchanges, what glorious paths she would open for her people!
Well and good … but the desire burning in her heart now was to find smaller stones for a in-home portals. With three stones she could connect her future home with Grandmother’s vineyard, and her mother’s family. Undoubtedly Lysander would want a fourth, to connect his family’s estate to their future household, so she must allow for the possibility. But absolutely she must have a fifth stone, to connect Edana’s future home to hers, so they would never be parted again.
“Do you understand what this means?” Bessa’s voice rose with excitement. “In his manuals, my father mentioned studying the Gates. He was certain their construction is beyond any power we have now. Everyone who spoke of Papa described him as having the breath of the gods in him, because he was so masterful an artifex. And yet he thought Gates were beyond his abilities. Now it all becomes clear. And if we go to Zanbil, we may learn how to make Gates, and this time we can make sure the knowledge is not lost.”
Sheridan pushed back his now-empty bowl of stew, and folded his arms over his chest. “Alright, I understand why she might tell us to go to this fabled city. But I notice the letter doesn’t say how to get back from there. And we know we have an immediate threat here, with the high king. We know how to get to him. We know he has the key to the simurghs, which Rahqu is after. It doesn’t sound urgent to go to Zanbil. Should we not tackle this threat first, and then go to Zanbil?”
Alia cocked her head at him. “Sound urgent? But a god commanded it. To you, why would that not rank higher on the priority list?”
Sheridan paused. Bessa eyed him, curious. The huntress had a point: gods did not send mortals on random, arbitrary missions. That one should give a mission now, let alone at all, should weigh heavily on their priority lists.
Finally the acolyte huntsman answered, “Look, I will take this Nensela’s word for it that a god gave her this command. A god she does not know. To give to Edana. However—this is not the command of the Huntress. Surely it would have been passed to you, if so, Ironwing. But that’s just it. You were given no such command. Your oath revolves around protecting your grove, and it looks to me that protecting the simurghs is an extension of that. Since the queen abyssal wants to reach the haoma, anyway. That’s exactly the kind of threat that you, and I—and Tregarde—are meant to deal with.”
“The youth’s got a point,” Tregarde said.
Indeed. Bessa shifted her weight on her feet, uneasy. Divine guidance had not come to Alia, except what her aunt Nalini had told them regarding Zephyra: Return her to her purpose. Or at least, turn her from the purpose of destroying the dryads. But Lady Nensela had been given the command by a god, to tell Edana to go to Zanbil.
Edana, she who devoutly worshipped the Sower, and acknowledged no other as a deity. No henotheist, she…but she did trust in Lady Nensela. On which side would she land, on the line between delaying a trip to Zanbil, and accompanying Alia to the high king of Anshan?
“So you’re going to split up, then?” Selàna asked. She had angled her neck to read Edana’s letter.
Inwardly, Bessa noted that not one word in the precious parchment even hinted Selàna’s mother knew of her, or thought of her. Every morsel of affection was for Edana, for the sake of their friendship. To Bessa this simply meant Lady Nensela did not foresee Edana meeting Selàna. But would Selàna take it hard?
Edana closed her eyes and rocked on the balls of her feet. Softly, she exhaled, but made no other sound. Having no words of wisdom to untangle the threads pulling at Edana, Bessa decided silence was her best course. The thought of splitting up made a pit in her stomach. In so short a time she had come to count on the protection of the servants of the Huntress.
“Splitting apart may be necessary, if these tasks must be done concurrently,” Alia replied.
“Is it a good idea, though, to separate? Strength in numbers.” Selàna sounded nervous.
Rahqu’s hand reached for her, after all. Would the shadow queen lightly tolerate the defection of her chosen vessel? More to the point, Edana’s prayer saved Selàna from the shadow hand; incentive enough for Selàna to remain with her. But only Selàna—as Zephyra—could get them right of entry before the high king.
“All I know is what we’re assigned to do,” Sheridan insisted.
Tregarde said, “But are these goals mutually exclusive?”
“What we lack is time,” Bessa admitted. “Six months until the summer solstice. If you fly to the high king, there’s no worry about roads and mountain passes being closed off because of snow. Winter is here. Back home, winter closes off the seas.”
“And we don’t know where Zanbil is,” Sheridan reminded them.
Edana opened her eyes. “But we know we are in Elamis. Somewhere here is a door to lost places.” She turned to Selàna. “The portal in the park that takes people to the citadel—is that the only place it can take people? Can it go to other locations?”
Selàna shook her head. “Not from what Zephyra knew.”
“But nevertheless, a door is here. I can see the value in going to Zanbil, because it may tell us where the giants are. Perhaps even how to do undo the Gate they might come through. That is worth something, in itself,” Edana said.
“‘May.’ ‘Perhaps,’” Sheridan noted. “And if you are trapped there?”
With a flick of her wrist Edana straightened the parchment in her hands. Yet she kept her eyes on Sheridan as she folded it, precisely, into a neat square. “I do not dabble with foreign gods. But when I stand before the Sower, what defense can I make to Him, if I refuse Lady Nensela’s command? You see, until recently she only received prophecies from the Seeker, but I know the Sower also gives prophecies, to His own people at least. A voice unknown to Lady Nensela gave her a prophecy; how do I know it was not the Sower’s voice?”
Her answer evidently caught Sheridan off guard, for his mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then,
“I was not aware of this. About the Sower, I mean. Not that it matters, what I know of Him. I only know the precepts and ways of the Huntress. And I know my own oaths, and I don’t see a way to make the Zanbil mission fit into the duty to protect the simurghs.”
Edana shrugged and tucked the letter back into her satchel. “What the Sower asks me to do, I will do. Your quest and mine may diverge. Talking and debate will get us nowhere. I will seek my priests, come the dawn. And you?”
Bessa’s lips curved. Sheridan was a priest in training, and Alia was a full-fledged priestess of the Huntress, so of course they would perform whatever rituals to Her that would yield up Her counsel.
Sheridan’s head bobbed. “I will consult the Huntress.”
Now Alia rose from her chair. “We have much to sleep on. So sleep well, all of you.”
Through the glass walls of the winter garden, the stars twinkled down at them. Dawn would be long in the coming. Too long, whispered a small voice in the back of Bessa’s mind.
Too long indeed.