The Lilith Trilogy Box Set

by Kim ten Tusscher

  “I should have known. You arrived in Merzia at the same time that the news of his death reached me,” he said, wrapped up in his own thoughts. But then he turned to Lilith: “What do you have to do with his death?”

  Lilith shook her head in despair. She didn’t know how to respond. “I’m not responsible for that,” she finally said. At the same time she was cursing herself. Why had she lost control?

  “But who is?” the sorcerer continued.

  Lilith’s thoughts were all over the place. How could she get herself out of this predicament? “My master,” she answered truthfully when she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “I want to hear a name.”

  “I don’t know. Please, believe me. I don’t know his name,” she whispered. Pull yourself together! But she couldn’t.

  “All right, I believe you. What else can you tell me?”

  “Not much, he wants to convert the world to his religion.”

  “Merzia as well,” Ferhdessar mumbled with a tone of concern.

  Lilith was trembling. It was hard to keep upright. Ferhdessar’s grip immediately grew tighter. He guided her to a chair. She didn’t sit down but gratefully grabbed hold of the backrest.

  “Were you serving a pontifex, Lilith?”

  She shook her head in denial. Her throat clamped shut. She didn’t want to tell him anything, but now that he had discovered so much already, she couldn’t stop answering his questions.

  Ferhdessar was talking to himself, “Indeed, that wouldn’t make sense, seeing that she believes in Jakob. It’s becoming more and more likely that the rumours about the prophet are true.” He looked at her again. “Is there really nothing more you can tell me? Surely there must be something.”

  Lilith had closed her eyes and was concentrating on her breathing in an attempt to calm down. To her astonishment the sorcerer said, “I think we’re going to have to leave it at that, for now. But I’ll definitely return to this subject, Lilith. You’re the only one who can tell me everything about this prophet. It’s important that I know more about him.”

  He pushed her out the door. She fell back against it in an attempt to stay on her feet. Using the wall for support, she made her way through the corridors, but Lilith had no idea where to go. Her fingertips alternately brushed along the texture of the tapestries and the smoothness of the plastered walls. People were looking at her, but nobody made an attempt to help her.

  Suddenly Ghalatea grabbed hold of her. “What happened?”

  For a brief moment, Lilith was tempted to tell the Ancilla Princeps the full story, but then she changed her mind. If she did so now, the sorcerer would have won. She had already told him too much.

  Ghalatea eyed her inquisitively. Then Lilith fell into her arms. “Help me, please.” It had dawned on her that there was another reason not to tell Ghalatea what had happened. If she told the truth, she would lose her. And then she would be all alone again.

  6

  Ghalatea had awoken with a knot in her stomach, and now it was being pulled even tighter as she entered the king’s room. It was dark inside. A single lamp on the far side of the room spread a yellow light that only barely reached the figure sitting hunched up in the chair. Yvar had buried his face in his hands and nothing suggested that he had noticed the Ancilla Princeps entering his room.

  Today was the anniversary of his wife’s death.

  Ghalatea turned around and chased the maidservants out of the room before they had so much as crossed the threshold. After she had softly closed the door, she walked up to the king. He was wearing a pair of leather trousers and a white shirt, but he hadn’t bothered with the buttons. Ghalatea kneeled at his feet.

  “Lord…”

  In response, Yvar put his hand on her shoulder. When she looked up, her eyes met his smiling face. She was surprised.

  “It has been twenty years since Caliste died, but at the same time it feels as if we got married yesterday.”

  “It was a wonderful day.”

  “It certainly was. In my memories she always looks the way she looked then.”

  “I’m sure that’s how lady Caliste would have wanted you to remember her. She was always so strong, even when death drew near.”

  Yvar’s expression turned grave and he averted his head. The weak light emphasized his features. Deep creases ran from his nose to the corners of his mouth and he had his eyes half-closed.

  “Alas, very shortly after our wedding she fell ill and she suffered such a long time.” Yvar turned his head back to Ghalatea and gave her a penetrating gaze as he grabbed hold of her hands. His thumbs caressed her fingers. “I’m grateful for what you did for us back then.”

  Ghalatea had trouble concealing her uneasiness and pulled her hands free. “Let me help you get dressed,” she said and started buttoning up his shirt. Next, she walked to the wardrobe and got out a purple overcoat. She held it up behind Yvar, so he could put his arms through the sleeves.

  They shared their grief in silence. Caliste had been a beautiful woman and Yvar had loved her greatly. She had been his true love.

  Ghalatea had also loved the queen very much. She had found it very hard to take that such a strong and young woman like the queen had fallen so ill. With Yvar’s knowledge, she had gone out at night to call in healeresses, but they hadn’t been able to help Caliste. So many years after her death, time still hadn’t healed all wounds. The king, undoubtedly, felt the same way.

  Ghalatea wished she could hold the man standing in front of her in her arms, like she had done so many times when he was just a boy. Instead, she stroked his shoulders with her hands. It was meant to be comforting, but could also be interpreted as an innocent touch of a servant smoothing down his clothes. It would be inappropriate to go any further.

  She went to stand in front of the king and crossed the coat fronts before tightening a belt around his waist. Then she looked up at him.

  “Please be seated, lord, so I can help you with your boots.”

  She put the soft-leather boots on his feet and laced them up. While she walked to the wardrobe to get his cape, the king got back up. Ghalatea was draping the green fabric around his shoulders when somebody knocked on the door.

  “Enter!” Yvar called.

  The head of his Guard entered the room. “Your Guard is ready to take you to the temple, lord,” Harald said. He held his hands to his heart and bowed his head slightly.

  The king put on a golden headband before he walked towards him. He held his head high and his strides were powerful. His emotions were safely tucked away.

  A tear ran along Ghalatea’s face, but she immediately regained her composure. She rearranged her veil and wiped the tear away in one and the same motion. Then she hurried to join up with the group.

  In the porch of the chapel they were joined by the priest and his altar boys, and they entered the main hall in procession. All those present rose when the king and his retinue walked along the middle aisle to the statue of the Goddess on the far side of the chapel. The bells that invited the people to join the service were still tolling.

  This temple was devoted to Gaia. Not all Gods occupied equally significant roles in the faith of the Merzians, but the Goddess of Life and Death was very important. Therefore, Her shrine was the biggest in all of Nadesh. Every piece of this temple was decorated with colourful paintings. Contrary to the other temples, the main hall wasn’t screened off from the gallery by walls. The demarcation was formed by a row of columns, behind which hundreds of people were gathered who wanted to attend the mass as well.

  To Ghalatea, Gaia was the most beautiful of all the Gods. Her statue was breathtaking. Her facial expression seemed to change every second; sometimes She looked happy, then again comforting. The next moment, Her expression would be sad as if She was mourning the dead.

  Gaia was holding an hourglass in Her left hand, and two flowers, one blooming and one withered, in Her other hand. The pedestal underneath Gaia’s feet was always strewn with flowers o
f the worshippers. Today, vases had even been placed next to the statue. Yvar put his offering in the only vase that was still empty. He arranged the flowers as he murmured a prayer.

  Ghalatea stood still for a minute as well. She laid a purple rose among the other flowers. It had been Caliste’s favourite flower. After that, she hurried to the pews on the left side of the altar. She found herself a seat in the back row.

  When the priest had said the first prayer, everybody sat down. The man held a welcoming speech in which he mentioned the queen. Ghalatea had her head bowed, but peeked through her eyelashes at the king in the front row. Outwardly, he didn’t show any signs of being overwhelmed.

  Then the priest invoked the Goddess in a melodious tone, “Gaia, give us guidance in our lives!”

  Everyone in the temple replied to the priest’s words, “Gaia, have mercy upon us.”

  “Gaia, stand by us when death draws near!”

  Again, everybody replied, “Gaia, have mercy upon us.”

  Ghalatea whispered the sentences and let the words sink in. As always, they had a calming effect on her. A few years after she had arrived in Nadesh, she had joined this religious community. She had heard others speak about the Gods and had gone to a few services before she had decided to let herself be initiated. It had been her own choice, nobody had tried to force her like Margal’s followers had. Even though Ghalatea bore the signs of that faith, she had never set foot in their temples. The ritual that should have drawn her in, had driven her away.

  Margal had been the first God she had ever learned about. Her own people, the Kel Cornu, didn’t believe in any Gods. To them, life wasn’t set in stone. After all, they had come into this world without any help of the Gods; it had been the sorcerers who had given the shapeshifters their abilities. The Kel Cornu only believed in one thing: themselves. The rest of the world was hardly of any interest to them.

  There was a brief hush before the choir started to sing. They sung Caliste’s favourite song. The queen had quite often sung it herself. Clear as a bell at first, but breathy and with a rasp in her voice towards the end of her life. Ghalatea looked at Yvar again. His head was bowed and his hands were clenching the arms of the chair. She was sitting too far away to be able to do anything.

  Ferhdessar was sitting next to the king, but he was looking straight ahead. A maternal anger welled up in the Ancilla Princeps. The sorcerer was sitting close enough to do something; he could whisper something comforting or put a hand on Yvar’s hand, but he didn’t do anything. She didn’t understand how the sorcerer could be so heartless.

  The choir had stopped singing and now the priest’s voice filled the chapel on its own. He sung the verses in a clear voice. It looked as if Yvar shivered briefly, but Ghalatea wasn’t sure she had seen it right. Maybe her observations were clouded by her own emotions. She bowed her head. At moments like these she was glad she wore a veil, at least now nobody could see that she couldn’t hold back her tears any longer.

  When the priest said another prayer, Ghalatea’s thoughts went out to the king. She prayed for him, but just before the prayer came to an end she asked the Goddess to look after Lilith as well.

  After the final song everybody rose. Ghalatea followed the king to a staircase leading down to the crypt, which housed the tombs of the royal family. On the far side of the vault there was a statue in commemoration of Thibauld, the first king of this bloodline. A family tree was painted on the wall behind him. Not all the old kings and queens were buried here, but in this way they were all remembered in the same place.

  Yvar walked to his parents’ twin tomb and kneeled before it. Next to them lay his elder brother. Yvar also whispered a few words to him. Then he looked at Caliste’s tomb. The likeness of the bas-relief on the stone lid was striking. The queen looked peaceful and almost happy. Her clothes had been painted, but her face and hands were bare stone.

  Ghalatea kept a close eye on the king as he walked towards the tomb. Yvar put his left hand on the stone pillow next to Caliste’s cheek and let his gaze slide over the sculpture. Then he bent forwards and whispered something. His forehead briefly touched hers before he walked on. He stroked his wife’s stone hand in passing. At moments like these, the king was unable to hide his grief, or at least, to hide it from Ghalatea. Tears welled up in her eyes again.

  The procession made its way back to the king’s chambers. A group of maidservants came walking towards them, but before they were close enough to see her swollen eyes, Ghalatea said, “You’re not needed.”

  She was the only one who followed the king into his room. Yvar lit the candles, but as soon as he had done that, he turned around and looked at her. She knew he couldn’t fail to notice that she was still crying. The king walked up to her. Ashamed, she averted her eyes.

  “Thank you for crying for her, Ghalatea,” he whispered as he wiped away her tears. “I couldn’t cry today, not in front of everyone.”

  Once again, Ghalatea felt the need to hold him in her arms and whisper to him that it was all right to cry, just like she had done when he was a little boy. Instead, she clenched her fists and smiled at him.

  Yvar took off his cape, and Ghalatea caught the garment before it could fall on the floor.

  “Is there anything I can get you, lord?” she asked after she had put the cape away.

  Yvar had walked over to the bookcase but turned around again. “No, thank you, Ghalatea. You’ve done enough for me.”

  She curtsied to him. Even before she stood upright again, he said, “I admire your ability to comfort people and put them at ease. That was the reason why I chose you to be my Ancilla Princeps. Please, don’t ever feel ashamed about being such a caring person, not even if you’re being held accountable for it.”

  Ghalatea wasn’t sure how to respond, so she curtsied once more.

  “I’ll remember that, lord. Thank you.”

  As she left the room, Ferhdessar entered.

  He waited until the door was closed and then said, “Five men have arrived and they want to speak to you.” Yvar wanted to wave Ferhdessar away, but the sorcerer continued, “They’re here about the prisoner.”

  “Lilith?”

  Ferhdessar nodded.

  “Have you explained to them that I have other things on my mind today?”

  “Not in so many words, but I gave them to understand that you weren’t seeing anyone today. They say it’s extremely important. They want to buy off her debt, so they can take her with them.”

  Yvar looked up in surprise.

  Ferhdessar had been amazed as well. The men had seemed eager to find the prisoner and take her with them. He had only spoken with them briefly, but the conversation had aroused his curiosity.

  “Maybe they can answer our questions,” he suggested, and the king agreed to see them.

  Ferhdessar led the king to the hall where he had left the five Purified men. At the recommendation of the sorcerer, Yvar was accompanied by twenty members of the Royal Guard. In view of the information that Lilith had come up with the day before, it was smart to give the outside world the impression that Merzia was very powerful.

  The five strangers bowed deeply when the king entered. Harald gave some instructions, and the soldiers lined up along the walls. They unsheathed their swords a few inches. Ferhdessar followed the king to the throne and stood next to him. Only now, did the men look up again.

  It didn’t escape Ferhdessar’s notice that their leader’s eyes darted back and forth nervously. The man, however, almost immediately regained his composure. He made another deep bow.

  “I would like to thank you very much for receiving us, lord Yvar. I apologize for showing up unannounced and at such an inopportune time. My name is Seraph.” He subsequently introduced the others. “We’re looking for the woman who destroyed our lives. Her trail has led us to Nadesh. Her name is Lilith, but that might not mean anything to you. She’s small and skinny, has dark hair and a pinched face.”

  “What has this woman done that caused
you to go looking for her?” the king asked.

  “Even though her small stature might lead one to believe otherwise, there is a very powerful side to her. She destroyed our city, and not many people escaped her wrath. Therefore, I no longer have a family.”

  Seraph bowed his head and fell silent for a moment.

  “We have to find her to get even,” he added, looking up again. “I’m sure you’ll understand my need to avenge the death of my wife and children.” His voice wavered, but he quickly regained his composure. Seraph gestured at the others and said that they had all lost loved ones too.

  Yvar gave a sympathetic nod and was genuinely interested when he asked what had happened exactly.

  “She came in the middle of the night and spread fire everywhere, so it wasn’t long before the entire city was ablaze. Awakened by the fire, we fled outside with our children tucked under our arms. But Lilith snatched them away and murdered them. She threw the babies into the fire, and the mothers jumped in after them, trying to save their children. It was all in vain, the only thing they found in that heat, was death.”

  Yvar raised his eyebrows. “And she did all of this on her own?”

  “That’s what’s so misleading about her. No one suspects what’s hidden inside her.”

  “She tells us a totally different story,” Ferhdessar interfered. “The prisoner says she serves a master. Probably a sorcerer.”

  He looked hard at Seraph, who lowered his eyes. He opened his mouth, closed it and briefly glanced at the man he had called Nander. It was as if he was looking for help. Then he said, “If that’s the case, then she’s hiding her true self from you.”

  “Do you live in Peschi’s city?”

  Seraph raised his eyebrows. Then he nodded. “Lilith has killed our lord.”

  Ferhdessar knew that some of the Purified people were Margal’s most fanatical followers. But it still baffled him.

  Seraph continued, “I’ll never forget the night that Lilith showed up. It’s like a festering on my heart. The pain grows with each passing day and there’s only one way to deliver myself from this agony. Lilith will have to pay.” Seraph’s voice became more and more agitated. “She took away everything we had. Everything that mattered.”