Fire Sanctuary

by Katharine Eliska Kimbriel

  “My people,” he whispered in a silvery voice, revealing the extent of his physical illness in his trembling upraised arms, “I have sinned greatly these many days, in my fear and the need of us all. Instead of punishing you for my crimes and striking me dead, Mendülay has most richly blessed us. For many years, in many forms, the prophecies of Naitun have puzzled me. Now dream takes flesh and walks our mother planet. I praise the Holy One that I have lived to see this!” Baakche faced Ronüviel again and, in a move startling almost everyone, knelt before her. “Thank you for bringing me peace. I am forgiven.” His last words visibly shocked her as his actions had not, but Roe kept her composure. Though her gentle touch was for Baakche, her gaze was on Genuar. He was struggling with something within.

  Teloa was conscious of the whispers of the crowd growing louder; of excitement, tension. The grip Braan had on her hand was bone-crushing. He was watching several chieftains. They looked bewildered, torn between prophecy staring them in the face and their desire to retain autonomous control over their clans. They turned to Genuar for help. The gathering was ready to follow Baakche’s lead, Tay had no doubt, but they looked to Genuar for their daily law and order. Only Baakche ignored them—he had made his peace.

  Braan rose to his feet. Genuar desired protection for his people, yet feared absorption by the cities. Braan could prevent the latter, at least during his own lifetime. Tay was sure he intended to educate his heirs along the same vein.

  Did Genuar believe that?

  The Cied was composed once more, and his piercing gaze was only for Braan. One word either way and a riot broke out. On his decision their lives depended. He came to warn Braan, yet he did not stop the fight. He wanted help from an equal. Will he accept a sovereign, even in name only? Pride or the safety of the ciedär and its people ... Genuar walked around the fire, and stopped within a meter of Braan.

  Teloa thought she would scream. Say something! Yes, no, talk, anything!

  He did not speak. Genuar made the slight formal bow of the guaard to royalty, accompanied by a barely raised eyebrow. Braan replied with the upswept arm of greeting and honor. Pandemonium broke out. The chieftains were nearly trampled by the crowd in its effort to see the infant twins. The guaard locked into a barricade, keeping them from pressing too close but allowing them to look. Teloa could see Liel being lifted up into the litter to protect her from the crush, and then she reached to hug Braan from the back.

  “It’s all right? Is it?” she asked, raising her voice to be heard through the commotion.

  He swung an arm around her and in reply pulled her close a second. Then he turned to Genuar, who stood as firm as a rock among the swirling waves of people. “Why?” A quizzical smile bloomed across Braan’s face. “Why take the chance?”

  “Because,” Genuar started, a laugh brightening his dark face, “I am curious.” At their puzzled looks he went on. “The story begins, Braan Atare, and I want to see what you do next. It will have to be impressive to top this!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  LIFE SHELTER

  TWOHUNDRED EIGHTYDAY, VESPERS

  The healers made Odelle as comfortable as possible, gave her a tranquilizer, and then left her in peace. There was nothing else to be done. Shinar told her she was going to the common ward, beyond the beads, and would be back in a moment. Did she want a priestess? No? Soon, then. Shinar promised to return.

  Odelle did not pay attention; the painkillers and relaxant were soothing her harassed and convoluted mind. Now to sleep. It was over. A healthy child but a mock sini ... What had Elana said? “Her jaw is like Tinyan’s. She will be a strong leader, Odelle. Know it.” Sweet Mendülay, what next? The drugs lulled her. Her husband had taken it stoically, with words of concern and comfort. “The next you will nurse yourself.” Yes, Corymb would be so angry.

  “Bitch!” It was a hiss, an intake of breath. Odelle’s eyes shot open. She recoiled more from the tone than the word. “Do you understand? Do you know what you have done?”

  She stared blankly at him. How had the Dielaan entered the life shelter? Was he waiting for Shinar to leave? He was so furious he was white, his lips compressed, his teeth clenched. “It is life. Mendülay has de—”

  “Mendülay be damned!” Odelle blanched at the blasphemy. “You destroyed it! The greatest action of your life and you have shattered everything!” Corymb raged on, heedless of discretion. “All my plans, ruined, and—”

  “We do not stand on one child. Elana said so. The tribe will vote to keep you, I am sure, and there are ways to increase the chance of a boy, though they usually do not try them until—”

  “Foolish twit of a child! To rule Nuala, the line must be clean! How can you bear the next to reign if you bear sinis? You chose that insipid idiot—we will find you a better! We have been clean for generations; it is his fault! A distant Dielaan relative would be better. I will check the genealogy. Do you realize that I must remove the Atare myself? I cannot give him time to entrench himself.“ This was no longer to her. He was pacing, muttering.

  “Our line has no healers—” Her voice shook.

  “Do not speak to me of healers! The planet is balanced at the point of civil war, and you speak of healers! I have plans for the healers. They are too close to sinis—”

  “You are the one who divides us. If Justinian and High Priest Arrez did not keep the peace—”

  The look on his face stopped her in mid-gasp. “I shall file the order immediately. If anyone asks, the family synod agreed on removing his house status. Keep him at your peril, but he shall not father any more Dielaans!”

  “It was a temple marriage—”

  “What is done can be undone! If you fight this—” He stepped toward her, his face set. “You remember the last time you crossed my wishes, do you not?” The last was so soft, so gentle, she barely heard it. They faced one another, Odelle terrified and shocked out of her trance, Corymb blazing in his determination, the pulse at his throat visibly throbbing.

  “Seri Corymb, the serae is tired.” Saved. The interruption was so welcome Odelle felt faint. The guaard’s mild speech did not disguise his warrior’s posture. It was Shinar’s newly-acquired guardian—she must have heard Corymb and gone for help. “No visitors except her husband are permitted, and that includes all family.” Corymb locked gazes with the man, and then whirled and stamped out of the ward.

  Shinar immediately rushed from behind the guaard to Odelle. “That ... horrible man!” she burst out. “Whatever he said, Odelle, do not pay any attention to him, he is—he is a mad one!”

  “He is ...” Odelle whispered, her gaze darting toward Shinar like a frightened bird’s.

  Puzzled, Shinar continued hurriedly. “I have brought 3AVs, Odelle, about the Serae Lyn of Seedar, who bore a mock sini as her firstborn son and a healer next, the healer Arunn. And of—Odelle, will you listen? The delivery was normal, the baby is fine! And the odds are in the millions—billions—against non-sini parents having more than one sini child. You and your husband will have children you can raise in your own home—”

  “Who in Tolis will raise the heir of Dielaan?” Odelle’s voice still shook, her lips now thin with mockery.

  “You are the friend of the Ragäree, who is the best-loved of the house of Atare and the personal friend of the ministers. I have already asked Kalith to speak via 3AV to them, to insure privacy. They will make sure she is received as the daughter of Odelle, not the heir of Dielaan. Feel better?” Shinar’s words were as soothing as she could make them. What else could be said? Her son was with her—Odelle’s daughter would be sent north with the next ship. “I grieve with you, friend,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “But Mendülay has a plan, and we are not consulted. Have faith.”

  “She is my firstborn,” Odelle replied brokenly. “The line rightfully goes through her. The old tyrant will dominate her life, too, unless she has no brother, and it ends....” Her mind seemed to drift, and Shinar reached for her, gripping her chin, turning her head
.

  “Odelle?”

  Odelle moved quickly, for all the drugs were affecting her, seizing Shinar’s hand. “Do something for me. Remember, her name is Valleri. Will you remember? Valleri.”

  Shinar stroked back her dark curls. “You can tell your eldest when she comes, Odelle. They usually take the mother’s preference.”

  “Please, it is my wish, upon the child’s life I wish it!”

  Her oath visibly startled Shinar. “The word freedom as a name?” Odelle had turned away. “A good idea. A name charms its owner, protects her. If you like I will go tell your eldest now. I can leave the shelter; you are the only one here.” The girl nodded. “Do you want me to hook up the viewer?”

  “No! No, I want rest ... peace.”

  “Of course.” Shinar tucked the light blanket around her. “Sleep.” She started for the private exit.

  “Shinar?”

  “Yes, Odelle?”

  “Thank you. For all things.” The young healer smiled, feeling an ease to the tension in the room. Odelle smiled back. Shinar left the room.

  Odelle carefully raised herself, swinging her legs over the bed’s edge. She sat there, oblivious to pain, looking through the dividing beads into the common ward. A surgical table stood near the sealer drawers, where Shinar had left it, unlocked. The steel and laser scalpel tips were in labeled containers; Shinar had been putting them away.

  She stood and stepped toward the shimmering wooden curtain.

  MT. AMURA

  TWOHUNDRED EIGHTYTWODAY, PRIME

  Over the swirling sands to the east, a pale salmon dawn was brightening. It was steady light, without any specific source. The priest pulled his white wool poncho tighter around his body.

  Since lauds he had been sitting there, looking out on the scrub slopes and barren rock of the Sonoma Mountain’s ciedär face. The guaard had come to him in the deadness of the dark, saying the words he had waited too many days to hear: “Travelers from the desert—they will be here by dawn.” Arrez rose from his bed, seized his robe and poncho, and followed her. The questions that needed answering had no answers yet.

  Word had spread like a thunderhead, just as swift and devastating. Arrez had spoken briefly to Kalith, and the guaard now watched the pass behind them, Jaacav and her seconds below at road’s end. At the grotto the crowd gathered, hoping for any word that could be interpreted as favorable. Beside him stood a pale Kavan, his family’s emissary. In the grotto two hours distant Kalith fretted, Arrez knew, waiting to hear whether friends or enemies approached—praying to be able to give up the chain of office.

  Kee burst over the broken peaks in the distance, and Kavan turned his head to avoid the glare. He could see Arrez sitting below him, eyes squinting, poncho wavering in the thin breeze, looking like a giant bird of prey. Kavan’s gaze traveled back to the foothills below, and in the dazzling light he could see the leaders, barely a kilometer distant, a huge pack train behind them. As the star rose higher, the illusion of black figures against white sand vanished, and he began to pick out tribal patterns.

  “Eleven, twelve ... Do you think every tribe sent an ambassador?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Then he made it? She made it?”

  “Possibly.”

  Kavan sat down behind the priest, his irritation apparent. “What do you mean?” he scowled. “Surely if they intended to fight us—”

  “The banner they carry is white—a truce flag. They may come to parley or to challenge. And since they carry the mark of passage, even if they throw your brother’s body down before us, we cannot retaliate. Be patient.”

  After another period of silence, Kavan exclaimed, “The nix! Roe’s nix is returning.” Arrez did not answer, refusing to hope, wanting only an end to waiting and prayer. He watched several of Jaac’s subordinates ride out to the leading group, to be met by a messenger in Cied robes. The approaching convoy did not slow its pace. Then the guaard bolted back to where Jaacav was, motionless on her black hazelle. The ensuing conversation was brief and widely heard, for a warrior started up the hill on foot toward them.

  “My seri! He comes, the Atare comes! Ragäree, Ragarr, and heirs are with him, as is the Serae Liel. And he found the planter! The Dragoche himself approaches!”

  “Will they help us?” Kavan interrupted.

  “They bring planters and seed from all the tribes!”

  oOo

  Now he could relax. Arrez stood slowly and turned to leave. “Thank you. Come, Kavan. It is not proper that we should be sitting like oads on a stone when Atare and Dragoche come to call. Did you tell them we are in mourning?” Arrez added, glancing back at the guaard.

  “I do not think it was mentioned,” the guaard replied.

  “It should be done—see that your commander hears my words.” Arrez topped the rise and stepped onto the road. “They must come up by pairs, Kavan; it will take them until tierce. We have some time to ourselves.”

  oOo

  When the travelers finally reached the grotto, escorted by several dozen warriors, a multitude greeted them. Lyte had decided to remain close to the Atares, planting himself within arm’s reach of Kalith and Kavan. The crowd filled the half-circle before the arch, packed the bowl of the garedoc, overflowed down the western road, and hung from the cliffs, all to catch a glimpse of the Cied. Arrez and Kavan had agreed while riding back that they would announce the house of Atare had returned intact and that the planter Teloa was found. Of their guests, only general mention would be made—”Cied are with them.” Arrez wanted no disgruntled Amurans trying for Genuar’s—or Braan’s—life.

  The spectacle waiting at the city’s entrance was as colorful as the one riding through the pass. Arrez had donned the summer robes of state, white syluan with embroidered green on stole, cuffs and hem. The twins were both brilliant in syluan joqurs and long-sleeved tunics, Kal’s emerald with a yellow cape, Kavan’s deep violet with white, embroidery rich on both outfits. The representatives of the houses, synod and guilds were no less splendid in their finery. Only the black arm bands marred the occasion.

  Lyte looked out of the corner of his eye at Shinar. She was very pale, dark smudges hollowing her eyes, but otherwise she was bearing up well. It was she who had found Odelle’s still warm body, blood splashed over bed and floor. The girl had been ignorant of technique but thorough, to the shock and horror of the city. Suicide was considered a dignified end for the terminally ill but not for one with so much life ahead. Family pressure and shame was the suspected reason, though the Dielaan council issued an epistle stating that Odelle had had mental problems for some time. Shinar’s answer to that had been brief, bitter, and unrepeatable.

  Corymb himself stood among them, but not the same Corymb. He was shrunken, closed, and almost unaware of the gathering near him. For the first time Lyte saw him using a cane, though he had been told that Corymb had walked with a slight limp for decades. Corymb’s presence made the twins visibly nervous. What if he had a pact with these Cied to harm Braan? Noah stood beside Kavan, seal in hand, ready to step to his ruler’s side the moment he reined up. Shinar pointedly ignored the Dielaan; Lyte suspected that only her new visibility kept her from spitting at him when he passed.

  Braan Atare and Teloa were the first up the rise, followed by Ronüviel’s huge, shaggy nix. Guaard came forward to take their hazelles, Braan helping the woman off the animal. The nix stood silent, its wedge-shaped head turned to survey the gathering, its polished, curved horns glittering in the growing light. Ronüviel’s guaard took the children from her and pulled down a small ladder to aid her descent from the litter on the nix’s back. The beast was herded through the scattering crowd to make room for Liel and Moran, who were next in line. Warriors of the watch kept a chain of bodies between the new arrivals and the Nuamurans, and few objected to this precaution.

  Beside Lyte, Kalith stirred. The young man walked toward his older brother, a guaard on either side of him. He had removed the chain of office and held it in his hands. T
he guaard Noah knelt first, presenting Braan’s seal to him, which he immediately slipped on his finger. Then Kal dropped to one knee and offered him the chain.

  “In a hurry to get rid of it, are you?” Lyte heard Braan say. Kal answered softly, and his elder laughed. Braan took the chain from him and put it on over the desert robe, looking as regal through dust as any monarch could. He nodded across the bowl to Arrez, then raked the group of house leaders behind Kal with his glance.

  Baakche and Genuar had walked through the departing hazelles to Braan. They placed themselves carefully, to be able to greet all the elders and be part of Braan’s words to the gathering, yet to avoid offending any who had questions about their presence. Stepping to Teloa, Kal managed a broad smile, which she gently, shyly returned. The High Atare now faced the delegations of elders, led by Corymb and his Seedar counterpart.

  What happened next was swift and unexpected. Braan caught one good look at Corymb’s face and saw that something was terribly wrong. Odelle’s death? Then he saw the knife flash.

  A blow from the side knocked Braan to the ground, and Moran continued right through the small group, his foot slashing out to catch Corymb in the knee. Noah had seized the Dielaan’s right wrist even as he buckled. But the man had carried two blades, hoping to be doubly lucky.

  Genuar was not fast enough to cut off Baakche’s action.

  Baakche leapt between Corymb and Braan, desert reflexes responding one more time, and he took the short, delicate stitto blade in the chest as Corymb was dragged flailing to the ground.

  The Cied leapt around their leaders, expertly pinning Corymb to the rocks. One whipped out a cat knife, but Genuar spoke swiftly in Ciedärlien Nualan, and the warrior froze. The Dragoche clan leader was not looking at his fallen ruler or the would-be assassin but at the warriors and a healer, on the fringe of the crowd, working their way to the exit where the hazelles had walked on through. The warriors carried a sealed container between them, its lid glass with a two-way breath hatch. And Genuar knew what a sini box looked like.