Schisms

by V. A. Jeffrey

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Celebrations had gone on far longer than any one had anticipated after the royal wedding. The city was drunk on wild abandon, of the pleasures of food and flesh. It was in this state that Ilim had come back and he did not hold back. He took his position at the gate of the temple and preached denunciations against the excesses of the priesthood and their hypocrisy with a voice like that of a demi-god, frightening - and angering - many. There were times when people perceived that his whole countenance glowed with white fury. This drew crowds, especially some who were awaiting prophecy. It also drew the curious who thought he might perform some wondrous trick.

  It also drew the ire of the royal court and the Golden Temple and the priests sought to have him killed.

  King Khalit found it all amusing - as Ilim had not yet turned his attention upon him - and let the prophet be, busying himself with every pleasure he could find or create. It was now seven months after the wedding but to the king and queen life was blissful and full of frivolity. They traveled to watch the camel races on the western outskirts of the city, setting up great pavilions for the court to stay at the games which was extended for weeks. There were chariot races and horse races at the arena and much gaming that went on in those races of which the king won and lost great amounts of gold and silver, wild revelries at night which extended to the streets, from noble to commoner. Part of this revelry was encouraged because of the new temple being built to Elyshe and Nimnet, at the request of the queen and her father. They encouraged the people to enjoy themselves as the queens of the night, it was said, would be well pleased by it. Cedar from the forests of the south of Hybron, strong Hybronian iron from the north, red stone and great amounts of silver were imported to Jhis and the temple building began in earnest after the first week of the wedding celebrations and was still in progress. Queen Taliat was now seven months pregnant and her father's counselors and fortune-tellers had all assured the king that she was carrying a son. They had shown him many signs and even the queen herself was preparing for the son to be born, having her body painted with the symbols of her house to aid in good fortune for the birth. All this swayed the king's heart toward her even more.

  “Rejoice my love and do not hold back your hand from doing anything you desire for you shall have a strong and worthy son!” She said to him in the night when he came to visit her.

  And when the king was away she and her servants studied the lay of the palace and the movements of everyone in it.

  “So much freedom the former queen must have had. To come and go as one pleases. So wonderful for a woman.”

  “He will not allow it for Your Greatness. She has made it difficult.” Said the maidservant as she slowly painted another falcon on the center of her swollen belly. Her hands, feet, legs, arms and back were covered in painted symbols and family names. A mute maidservant polished the queen's bronze and silver mirrors, filled her many perfume flasks of alabaster with myrrh, frankincense and other oils and perfumes and ground the kohl and brilliantly colored dye powders for the queen's ivory and stone cosmetic palettes. A faint shifting noise was heard in the lidded basket that sat on a stone table by the bed. Vala stiffened slightly, switching her tail sharply while watching the basket carefully.

  “What shall we do about Salayma, mistress?” The servant woman giggled, an unnerving, high-pitched sound.

  “Ah, Salayma. I had almost forgotten her. Did she not have a daughter for the king?” She said softly.

  “She did. Or so I hear.”

  “I have heard that she would boast even to the face of the former queen. How unbecoming. I shall invite her to dine with me tonight, Setimet. Use the red paint there, mixed with the venom.” The queen pointed to a red stone palette on the bed. “Salayma. Yes. I have a plan, Setimet.”

  “You do, Your greatness?” Asked Setimet eagerly.

  “Yes. She will not understand her sudden and mysterious powers over me after supper.” The queen smiled slyly. Vala made a concerned mewl, looking up at her.

  “Do not worry over the basket, my beloved Vala. I will attend to it, later, when the time is right. Besides Setimet, it is Diti that I actually want to speak to.” The maidservant giggled.

  “He has been in there for some time, mistress. Perhaps the Lady Diti would like a visit.” The queen's gaze was cool and unblinking. Setimet finished painting.

  “Her heart is with her people. Yet, she has changed a thing and now that I have taken her place, I find it is not to my liking. My father would have it so, kept in dim and luxurious rooms with no windows to the outside world, as if I were still unmarried and not a queen.”

  “It is too bad this thing has been done. She is like an old hen who cannot lay eggs. She should die!”

  “Shh! Your tongue is loose, Setimet. Would you like to be like Yadua over there?” She pointed to the sullen, mute maid- servant who did not even look up but continued on with her tasks.

  “Oh no, no. . .” Cried Setimet.

  “Be quiet. We must tread carefully with Lady Diti. She is no small matter.” She said, stroking Vala'a sleek black fur. “Is it, Vala?” Vala purred and the queen laughed, low and throaty. Then she set the cat aside. Vala padded to her pallet of pillows under the bed. The queen gestured to the little table.

  “Bring me the basket.”

  Tenan slept lightly that night. A soothing breeze bathed his damp skin with the blessed breath of the queens of the night sky. He had not thought he would spend so much time here but it was time to go back home. He wanted to die on his own soil in Egium. He had decided some weeks ago that he would stop taking Lady Sawda's potions. He was bone tired and ready to pass on and join the gods but he still had a few last preparations for his tomb to oversee. But he could not sleep. The thin voluminous curtains at the windows billowed and flew open like wide, delicate wings. The first eye of the moons looked on, high in the sky, casting shadows in the room. He lifted himself up with great effort and reached for the small silver goblet on the stand by his bed. He poured a bit of water from the ewer and drank. It was refreshingly cool and he was glad of it, considering how hot the last few days had been, even this far into fall. An unusually hot year. he thought. But the nights were gradually becoming chillier. His daughter, married to the king and pregnant, his family now had the throne in their grasp. A barbarian on the throne. He sniffed. It was no small matter to allow her to marry, after all he could not say no and he hated the thought of his daughter even being touched by the heathen but the throne was at stake. There was wisdom in it. Though they hated each other, his brother would take over family power when he died. Unless the king said otherwise. His brother was still far superior to any savage. The family name itself would go on and Strabians would eventually rule Hybron as they had ruled Egi.Tenan laughed to himself. Egi has won out after all. He would have a letter sent to his brother as soon as he arrived home. He would leave later this week but there needed to be family influence here in Jhis. The more, the better. He sipped water, dreaming on the glories of times past of Egium and the famed Night Markets. He looked down at his arm. In the moonlight he could still see the wounds made by the knife to draw blood for the painting ritual. All precautions had to be taken to protect this child. A woman was but a vessel, some better than others but all in the service of creating heirs. The counselors had told him she had done well in producing what looked to be a healthy son by their portents. If she hadn't he would have found a way to have her strangled for shaming him.

  Immersed in thought he did not notice the small shadow that crept slowly into his room. Vala's shining eyes were the only thing visible in the darkness away from the moonlit windows. She slipped under the bed. After her, it came, sliding across the floor just has silently as she, long and dark, it's tongue slipping in and out, sensing the air around it and picking up the scent of its target. She crept close to Tenan's feet to mark where the target sat. It stared at Vala and stopped. And then it suddenly glided across the floor with frightening swiftness, reared
up and made the deadly strike. Tenan cried out but the venom worked nearly as fast as his sudden, shocked cry, which was cut off as his body began to stiffen and turn white. He dropped the goblet and fell over into the bed, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on land. After some moments he finally drew his last struggling breaths as the venom worked quickly, spreading through his body with deadly efficiency with each exhalation. Vala slipped from the room. The serpent, its jeweled colors dulled in the dimness of night, followed lazily behind.

  Rhajit enjoyed himself at the Victor's House. The food was the best that could be found in the city besides the palace and he was allowed to heal and relax for as long as was needed until he was strong enough for the battles in the arena. The organs of the lions had long been delivered and he fed upon it, gaining strength every day to the amazement of the other warriors. He had gained the esteem and respect of most of them when he was challenged by several and quickly dispatched them. Everyone wanted to meet him and he had his pick of nearly any woman in the city, of which he gladly took. But Rhajit had business. He was practically a prisoner as he was not allowed to leave the city since he was the city's top victor, to his dismay. He “belonged to the palace” and now existed for the king's pleasure, as he was told by one of the house guards. Other than that, he had command of the house, money, the best trainers, invitations to train for the chariot teams, everything a man could want. He also found that he had a way to achieve his ends through this ascent in status. He had befriended a guard who knew a few people and a few things in the bowels of the city. Day after day, week after week they would talk and Rhajit would invite him to eat with him. It was one afternoon after a massage that he approached the matter fully. He was eating roasted figs and lamb and invited the guard to eat with him, as usual. He poured a rich, spicy olive oil over the meat, anointing it and poured the guard wine and they talked and laughed of gaming, childhood mishaps, troubles and fights. Soon Rhajit came to what he actually wanted to know.

  “Do you know anything about a man named Teman? He is one of the priests of the Golden Temple.”

  “What about him?”

  “I need to find this man. As you know, long ago I left my family to come to the city. They have since moved away and I do not know where they are. He used to be an old family friend. He may have some news or know where they are.”

  “An old friend, eh? I have no idea who this man is.” Rhajit reached into a large satchel by the table and set several gold coins in front of him.

  “Perhaps you know someone who can find out?” The man grabbed the coins and looked at Rhajit with a knowing grin.

  “I may be able to make inquiries as to who he is. What do you need?”

  “Where he resides, when he comes and goes from the temple. Be discreet. I do not want questions coming back to me.”

  “Huh. Friend, you say?” The guardian asked dryly. Rhajit grinned.

  “As long as I am here, there is more gold and silver, should I need more information. Do you foresee any problems?” Rhajit asked, sucking the fat off his fingers. The man smiled, showing a huge gap from teeth broken in a fight long ago.

  “As long as there is gold, no problem at all.”

  . . .

  The last one finally arrived. It was midnight but he called for tea service anyway. They would be here for some time.

  “The streets are rife with rabble. Whores everywhere! When will it end? And since when does Bakku call for us to meet?” Complained one of the nobles, a young man. The high priest, Silam Tybbl-Awat, gave him a disdainful look.

  “Bakku is the king's messenger. If he has something to say I am sure it is important.” Said one of the older noblemen.

  “Do you come from a mud village that you should be astonished at the normal comings and goings in the city? So long as it does not affect what we do here why be concerned about what is in the street?” Said Silam. He ignored the snipe at Bakku. They were meeting in his father's home, one of the foremost nobles of the land. His father was once one of the ruling officials, one of the Kushimen, before the tyrant invaded the city and made himself king. They would never forgive King Khalit for this but they also feared him. And secretly looked for a way to bring about his downfall.

  Bakku had called for the meeting. Months after the horror of the arena, nerves were still frayed to the very edge and tempers often flared at the temple. They needed to do something to ensure their own security. It was twice now he survived a death sentence under this tyrant and it was time to act before a third incident presented itself. And there was a way out.

  Finally, all of the most important ones of the temple and the community had gathered, thirteen priests, including the high priest and a few of the most important noblemen. Tea was set out on the table by a servant. Bowls of water were set for washing, which they all did, religiously.

  “So,” began Silam, “Bakku. What shall we do?” Bakku rose. Everyone gathered was still visibly shaken.

  “I have a message from the queen. Her father is dead. He died last night. Now listen to me carefully. The queen is ready to support us in our cause if we support her. The chief princes and officials of the court are low men like the tyrant himself and they support him. However, this support for the king is not strong among the men who came with the queen. She seeks allies in Hybron. We here, who have been robbed by this heathen on the throne and the queen also wish to see the proper order of things restored to the land. And a proper nobleman upon the throne.”

  “What of her uncle?” Asked one of the priests.

  “What of him?”

  “Won't he try to exert influence with the king now that her father is dead?”

  “It is a possibility. . .”

  “Rather, it is an eventuality.” Interjected Silam.

  “Not if we put our full support behind the queen and the Egians at court. Besides, he is intolerant to any people or religion not born of Egi. We have only an enemy in him. It is through her that we can gain control. Both we and she can take care of any trouble from him if we support her. She will need our help and we will need hers to rid the land of the tyrant. Besides, we have our own militia to deal with Teraht, should he decide to rouse himself and come to Hybron.”

  “And there are ways for a man to meet his end on the road.” Said Shishak. This sent a wave of frank and relieved murmurs among the old men and oldest priests among them but some shot him dark looks.

  “With the Egian warriors who came with the queen's house and the Hatchet Men, we have our own power base!” Said the young nobleman with excitement in his voice, banging the table with his fist.

  “But is it strong enough to contend with the king's army? Or the queen's uncle and his army? The Hatchet Men are cutthroats and criminals, not a military force. If we move against him without surety of success it will be fatal for us and our families!” Said a priest named Zarhaz.

  “It is still not enough. We need another lever. Something else is in the way that needs to be moved.” Said Silam.

  “What?”

  “The king.”

  “That simple is it? Just move the king. And what will move the king? Can you move him?” Argued Zarhaz.

  “He is easily moved enough.” Said Shishak.

  “Pah! That from a man who was nearly torn apart by lions in the arena, per the king's whim! We all were nearly finished because of your stupidity, Shishak!” Spat one of the priests, an elderly man named Garu.

  “I see you had no issue with more coppers for the temple when we all went in to the king for that!” Countered Shishak.

  “So what? You went too far and without our consent! We ought to have you and Teman removed from the council!” Shouted Zarhaz.

  “Those two ought to be whipped!” Shouted another priest. Shishak turned dark with anger which only angered the others more. Emotions were running high again.

  “Men, brothers! Calm yourselves, please! What matters now is that we are still alive and that next time,” he stared pointedly at Shishak, �
�none of us will act without the consent with everyone on the council.” He reached out his hand toward Shishak.

  “The seal, Shishak.” Shishak reluctantly took the forged seal out of a fold in his robe and handed it to him.

  “Next time I shall be more wise in who I allow to have such a precious thing.” He said coldly and then he put the forged signet ring away in a small wooden box and continued. “Change is in the air. Can you not feel it? I have spoken with many wise men. Things will change in our favor.” Said Bakku.

  “What do you mean, Bakku? Have you some knowledge we do not?” Asked another priest.

  “It is not just for desert madmen to get to know the times and the seasons. Many wise men of the temple of Hec I have spoken with. They have seen the death of the king in battle, a tower in Gamina. They see a change of power but have not spoken with anyone on the matter outside of their temple, besides me. These visions are in our favor. All we must do is bide our time and wait for an opportunity. We need not do anything yet. “The snake shall strike down the lion while he rears his mighty head.” As the priests of Hec say.” Said Bakku. At this many eager voices rose with questions.

  “The death of the king. Are you sure?” Asked the high priest.

  “It has been seen by the high priest of Hec himself.”

  “What mean you? Since when does a man of our community consult with fortune-tellers and sorcerers?” Zarhaz spat.

  “Since I have an interest in keeping my family name, lands and position intact. You would do well to do the same, Zarhaz.” Said Bakku.

  “Yes, I agree with this. All we must do is wait.” Said another nobleman.

  “The snake. You mean this new woman of his?” Asked Silam, who seemed to be thinking the matter over seriously.

  “The same.” Said Bakku. “She is our key. She will help us rid ourselves of the tyrant. And there are others in the land who would support a plan to remove him from the throne. We have allies in different places but she is our key ally.”

  “Aich! A woman! Could not her father or uncles do the same for us?” Said the nobleman in disdain.

  “They are not here. She is here and women are malleable.”

  “A puppet? How delightful.” Said Silam. Some of the priests looked doubtful and Zarhaz looked downright unhappy.

  “I do not like this. If she is the so-called snake to do this, perhaps she is not so malleable as you suppose?” He said. Silam waved his hand in dismissal of Zarhaz's protest.

  “Prophecies contain obscure sayings and figures of speech, Zarhaz. Could your thoughts be any more concrete? So Bakku, how long must we wait for this vision?” He asked.

  “Not long. There will come a time for us to act. It will be obvious when it comes. No need to act before thinking and before it is necessary, like some have.” He gave Shishak another withering stare. Shishak was angry and shamed but remained silent. The high-priest cleared his throat.

  “It would seem the way forward is easier than we thought. Signs and portents and seasons have always been heeded by our people. We have been saved from death by God Himself. Let us wait upon Him for the sign. Bakku has found allies all around. It is wise to listen to the signs and portents of all wise men. How do we know what will or will not benefit us if we do not consider all sides? Let us listen to his voice. I perceive that Bakku is speaking wisdom on this matter. This woman will be the key to eventually bringing the city-states back to the land.”

  “A queen in a city-state? How can this be?” Asked young nobleman.

  “I see no reason why there cannot be a figure-head queen.” Said Garu.

  “We will have to contend with her family, eventually.” Said another nobleman.

  “A wall is built, one stone at a time, my brother. We will lift that stone when we get to it.” Said Silam.

  “The lord high-priest is wise like his father. Let us listen to his voice, brothers.” Said one of the older noblemen and finally there seemed to be some consensus forming around Bakku's plans to back the queen.

  “And also, let us listen to Bakku. I trust he knows the way out and forward for our purpose, being a friend of the queen.” Said Garu and then he took a sip of tea. He motioned for Bakku to continue.

  “Just smile and bow as before, my brothers. It will be only a matter of weeks and the king will die.” Said Bakku. This gained their sudden and rapt attention. Bakku grinned. “Only a matter of weeks. . .”

  The matter was birthed that very night. It was Rhajit who would unwittingly give the Ainash priesthood their chance. The guard at the Victor's House had various ties to rogues, good-for-nothing men, the arena and underground brotherhoods. He had eventually learned from a source who knew a man that worked at the arena Teman's movements; when Teman went into the temple and when he left to go home and all his other movements. Shishak, he found out, was not as easy to get to. Yet. One villain at a time. he thought. He had Teman followed for weeks until the night when he was ready to act. It was the twelfth day of the month of Aiphaz and the yearly harvest festival was coming in three weeks. The city was unusually busy and Rhajit saw this as his time to see about his business. Teman was often spied coming through the Southern Quarter on certain nights, on the whispered information from his guard. He slipped out under cloak and made his way toward the temple and waited patiently in the shadows. It was before Night Prayers and he was told that Teman had taken to leaving before the call to Night Prayers on the fifth night of the week – to visit the house of a woman named Seena. Rhajit, along with some fellow toughs came to see Seena one night and made it clear to her that he had business with Teman and that she would go along. He paid her handsomely to go along with his plan the following week. She saw that it was the one who had defeated the two lions in the arena and her demeanor changed from fear and suspicion to coyness.

  That next fifth night he donned her veils while she lit a bar of incense, a few candles and strewed the petals of kata flowers in a path toward the bed. Rhajit sat himself on her bed behind the hangings, waiting. Sure enough came Teman, covered in a black, hooded cloak, a few hours later to his nightly affair with Seena.

  “Seena.” Teman called. The door was unlocked and Rhajit heard Teman's footsteps padding toward the bedroom. Rhajit unsheathed a long knife as Teman took off his robe and grappled at his tunic. Seena smiled and disrobed. A noisy stirring came up behind the scribe. The bed hangings flew back with a sharp whip of breeze against her back. When Teman looked up, Rhajit was upon him. Teman gasped and cried out.

  “Whore! Deceiver!” Rhajit knocked the woman to the side and bore down on the scribe. Teman tried to run, now naked as the night but Rhajit pinned him to the ground on his belly. He wrapped a powerful arm around the man's head and with the knife in his left hand cut his throat. He got up and looked at the twitching body.

  “What did you expect from a harlot?” He said with scorn. He glowered at the woman. “You did not see anything here.” The woman nodded, a sly look crept across her face. He threw the bed hangings over the body and rolled it up. She gathered a robe and threw it over herself and sat in a nearby chair, watching him.

  “If anyone comes asking, what am I to say?” She asked.

  “He is a priest. Why would anyone come asking?” She laughed.

  “Many priests have come in and out of here.” Rhajit glared at her.

  “Tell them he did not come in to you this week. That he never made it here.”

  “Are you not Rhajit the Ram? The one who killed two lions?” He did not answer her, heaving the dead weight over his back.

  “Come and see me anytime, love.” She said.

  “Just keep your mouth shut or I will have business with you as well.” He disappeared with the body down a dark alley. Besides the faint, scattered sounds of people inside readying for bed there were only the noises of small scavengers skulking the streets. Rhajit was growing tired under Teman's dead weight. He finally found what looked like an abandoned stall. He threw the body in the stall. Finding a long stick he tor
e a piece from the hanging around the body and wrapped it around the end, went to a lone, guttering torch ensconced on a wall on an old building nearby and lit the rag. He lit the hanging wrapped around the body and then threw the stick inside the stall, setting it on fire, then slipped off into the night.

  The fire spread from that stall to half of the Southern Quarter. Later, many older people would remember that when they woke and saw the fires it seemed as if the eternal fires had engulfed the city, finally, in divine anger over the evil in Jhis. It seemed that the whole world had descended into the pit. Others said the dark fires of the Unnamed One had rushed from a crack in the earth from the eternal fires and cast everyone into his realm. Either way, it was a nightmare that no one forgot and that many did not even live to see because they died in their sleep, unaware or died burning, struggling to get out of their houses, trapped by the fires. It was as if Hec's brother opened up his forge and pitched coals into the city to smelt it. The smoke ascended to the sky for nights and days afterward and in the morning much of the Southern Quarter was destroyed and hundreds of people dead. The Southern Quarter comprised much of the people who worshiped Hec and when they found that their great temple of marble and majestic columns was burned down the cry arose that the priests of Airend-Ur were behind it for Lady Diti's public mourning was still called to remembrance. And yet, the Ainash priesthood's Golden Temple, their grand temple still stood, “protected by the Hatchet Men!”, it was said. Just days afterward there were numerous clashes between the worshipers of Hec and the worshipers of Airend-Ur and fights so vicious that the death toll went from seven hundred from the fires to one thousand five-hundred dead. The king called for Hard Law, as in seven days so many people had died. Anyone caught on the streets after dark who was not on city or royal business was executed.

  The priests of the Golden Temple, through Bakku, seized upon this incident to go to the queen with a solution. As they put it, there was the problem of the desert women. “We are innocent of this wickedness! A curse this was! It is the witches,” they said, “who sit in their tower in Gamina committing many sorts of evils, speaking black treacheries, inciting the people to call down evil upon their queen and wreaking havoc on the entire kingdom, who must not be endured any longer if the kingdom is to survive.”