by Neal Jones
Generith stood for another minute or two at his food dispenser, and he finally settled on a bowl of plok soup and a slice of seasoned toast. As he ate, he continued to mull over the messenger's words, but no immediate solution appeared to him. Was he meant to resign his parish here in Osth and go with the Emissary to Lar'A'Tol? It had been Aliira's choice to make Osth the final destination of her tour, and if Generith was meant to leave with her tomorrow evening, then he would have to get his affairs in order tonight. But the more he thought about it, the more the shil'ra believed that that wasn't the Varashok's true intentions. He didn't feel led by Their spirit in that direction.
What form of protection could the Emissary possibly need that wasn't already provided for her?
Tah'Mor finished his soup and ambled to the reclamator where he disposed of the dishes, and then refilled his teacup. He settled himself in his easy chair by the south window and picked up the book he had been reading the same night the messenger had appeared to him in the garden courtyard. It was a rather thick tome, borrowed from the personal library of a shil'ra in the Kunack Province who was an old friend of Tah'Mor's. But Generith found himself unable to focus on the words. His mind kept wandering to the events of tomorrow, and he finally acknowledged to himself that he was simply too excited and too anxious about tomorrow's service to focus on reading.
So he turned to the window in time to watch the last rays of sun fade from a darkening horizon. Beyond the glass he could hear the voices of those encamped in the lot next to the church. They were singing a hymn of praise, and Tah'Mor bowed his head to pray, but, after a few moments, he nodded off to sleep instead.
( 6 )
Namid found an empty corner of the encampment to lay his bedroll, and he shared some soup and bread with a family of six that had journeyed to Osth from the Rodet Colony. Others in the camp who had finished supper had begun to sing, and soon Namid was joining in as well. He didn't know the words to this particular hymn, but he was able to fake it well enough to fool those around him.
As the night deepened and the hour grew late, many retired to their beds or huddled around their heating units to share stories of their faith. Namid excused himself from the family whose supper he had shared and tucked himself into his bedroll. His last thought before sleep overtook him was to make sure that his gun was safely holstered out of sight beneath his left arm.
Tomorrow would come the reckoning.
( 7 )
High above Osth, the Lorzach orbited homeworld, and Messani sat at the window in the quarters that she and Aliira had called home for the last five weeks. But now they were truly home, and Messani was too excited and too anxious to sleep. She had come to this window more than two hours earlier, after tossing and turning in her bed for over an hour and finally giving up the battle. In the last few weeks she had discovered a sense of calm that came with watching the stars – or the view of whatever planet the Lorzach happened to be parked above – but tonight the view of her homeworld wasn't calming her.
She couldn't stop thinking and worrying about the future.
For most of this tour Messani and Aliira had kept so busy that neither of them had had much time to themselves, and Messani had little time to think about what would happen when the tour was over. But now that they had arrived at their final destination, her troubled mind would not let her rest. Messani had known that Aliira's rebirth would change both their lives forever, but she hadn't been prepared for just how great that change would be. Literally overnight, she and her daughter had become galactic celebrities, for it wasn't just Aliira that now captivated the attention of nearly seven billion religious faithful, but Messani as well was subjected to the same questions over and over:
Who are you? Where did you come from? Have you always lived in Osth? Tell us about your husband. Was Aliira your only child? What's it like being the mother of the Emissary? Will you still live in Osth, or are you going to go live with your daughter in Lar'A'Tol?
That last question troubled Messani the most. Osth was her home. Even though it wasn't where she had been born and raised, it was where she and Faero had settled twenty years ago to raise their family, and because of the town's small size she had come to know almost everyone as well as they knew her. She couldn't imagine leaving it for someplace as large and as foreign as Lar'A'Tol. And even if she did choose to go with her daughter, what would her role be once they arrived? Messani wasn't even sure what Aliira's role would be in the church there, but it was safe to assume that she would play some part in the weekly services as well as special occasions such as nameday and Pak'Ti'Faar ceremonies.
But as for herself, Messani had no idea what a future in Lar'A'Tol would hold for her. It was ironic. Six weeks ago she had been praying to the Varashok, desperate for an answer to her future and to her financial troubles, and now she had more than she knew what to do with. If she lived with her daughter in the domed tower behind the church, all of their basic necessities such as food and clothing would be provided for them by the Conclave, as well as gifts received from the congregation. One of the Lorzach's cargo bays was already filled with gifts that Aliira had graciously accepted from hundreds of thousands of the believers that she had met during the tour. Bolts of rich cloth, baskets of food from fresh harvests, jewelry, money, homespun robes – it was more wealth than Messani had ever dreamed of in her whole life. Not only that, but their apartments would be as lavishly furnished as what was now resting in the ship's cargo hold. She'd also overheard the Tal'Shil'Ra tell Aliira that, as the Emissary, she would be allowed servants to attend her if she required them.
All of it was almost too much for Messani to bear, and she sighed softly as she closed her eyes and leaned against the bulkhead. She wanted, more than anything, to simply rest; to be away from the prying eyes and the persistent questions of the press. She was tired of smiling all the time, of repeating the same answers over and over, of being rushed from one celebratory dinner to the next, of wearing thick, formal robes that itched and were uncomfortably heavy.
Stop it, she scolded herself. It is not our place to question the will of the Varashok. They have given to you the greatest gift that any Chrisarii could ever hope to receive, and now your task is to learn what to do with this gift to serve Them.
Messani sighed once more and then rose. She knelt before the altar to say her evening prayers, and then started for her bedroom. She ought to know by now that the future would take care of itself, and the Varashok would provide as they saw fit. If it was their will that she live with her daughter in Lar'A'Tol, then they would show her in due time what her path would be when she arrived.
Messani paused on the way to her bedroom and peeked in on Aliira. The girl was curled on her side, sleeping soundly, her expression so utterly peaceful that Messani felt even more foolish for sitting up half the night worrying. The bed was large enough for two, and Messani laid down beside her daughter, curling up next to her the way she used to do when Aliira was very young and often had nightmares. Messani closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of her daughter – skin and soap and just a hint of the huss fields. She smiled as she remembered how much Aliira loved to play in the piles of leaves and stalks that were left in the fields after harvest, and it was that memory that colored her dreams for the rest of the night.
( 8 )
By the time dawn broke over Osth, most of those in the encampment were already up and turning on portable units to cook breakfast. Namid shared some fried oci and cold biscuits with the same family that had given him supper the night before. He joined them on the steps of the church after sunrise, as the street began to fill with more of Generith's congregation as well as outsiders who had come to catch a glimpse of the Emissary. A squad of constables was attempting to keep order, though the excited babble of the crowd was already drowning out most of their instruction. Members of the press corps stood at the edge of the scene, their cameras hovering above the crowd, and just beyond them Namid could see a group of Conclave soldiers standing watch
.
Another two squads of local constabulary arrived on the scene, and they began to herd the throng into some semblance of a line. Namid watched the officers with a keen gaze, taking note of their portable security scanners that they had activated as soon as they arrived. The parishioners around him were too busy chattering to one another to notice, and Namid tensed as one of the officers drew close to him. But after a pause the constable moved on, and Namid relaxed. He casually glanced over his shoulder at the squad of Conclave soldiers, but they hadn't moved from their original position behind the reporters. They appeared to be standing by, awaiting further orders, and Namid wondered if the Emissary was going to be transported directly into the church sanctuary via a transfield, or if there was going to be some kind of presentation outside in front of the building first.
Two hours after sunrise, Shil'Ra Generith opened the doors of the church, and the crowd became silent as they waited for him to speak. By now the throng of believers waiting to enter had swelled to at least two thousand, and more were still coming. A group of men had begun to set up portable com-screens on either side of the entrance, as well as in the nearby encampment.
"Fellow believers, welcome! It gladdens my spirit to see so many of you here today. I wish that my humble sanctuary was large enough to accommodate all of you, but unfortunately, only the first five hundred may enter. For the rest of you, we are setting up monitors that will broadcast the service out here." He paused, folding his hands. "I would like to begin this service with a prayer of thanksgiving." He bowed his head, and everyone in the crowd did the same, including Namid. "Holy Father, Sacred Mother, we come to thee with open hearts and humbled spirits. In the name of your Prophet and Emissary, Aamon Tor’Ahl, we come together for this most joyous occasion. We are blessed to welcome your Emissary into our presence, and we look forward to whatever message you have seen fit to speak through her. Father, grant us wisdom; Mother and Maiden, grant us love and understanding; Holy Warrior, give us courage and strength, and may the Priest always light our paths. May we always walk through this life with Your Spirits at our side, until it is time to join thee in El’Sha’Lor. Nerra Tinnar."
( 9 )
"Nerra Tinnar," Messani echoed. She was standing to one side of the altar, and Aliira was positioned next to Tal'Shil'Ra Kler Erimos at the center of the stage. The doors to the atrium were propped open, and through the outer doors Messani caught a glimpse of the faces of those waiting to enter. There were so many of them, and she clasped her hands in front of her waist to keep them from shaking. She took a deep breath to calm herself and closed her eyes. A church of this size was nothing compared to the cathedral on Straar where the auditorium had held a throng of ten thousand. Yet Messani still suffered from anxiety brought on by old fashioned stage fright, and it was made all the worse this time around because this was her church. She knew almost every face in this congregation, and they knew her. That intensified the vulnerability that she had felt every time she'd had to accompany her daughter on stage for the last five weeks, and Messani took another calming breath.
Just then she felt another hand slip into hers, and Messani looked down to see her daughter smiling up at her. "It's okay, mother. We're home now."
Messani smiled and squeezed Aliira's hand. "Yes, we are," she agreed. And then, as Generith led the congregation into the sanctuary, she repeated it softly to herself once more, "We're home."
( 10 )
The shil'ra ascended to the altar and stood next to Erimos. Conclave guards took up positions at even intervals on either side of the auditorium, while three of Erimos' personal aids escorted the church members to their seats. In the alcove at the rear of the sanctuary, above the crowd, the choir was already in place and had begun to sing an Overture of Blessing. In a matter of minutes everyone was seated, and the choir brought their song to a harmonious close.
Generith allowed for a few moments of silence after the overture was finished, and then once again welcomed everyone to the special service.
"My fellow believers, it was only a few weeks ago that we all witnessed here in this very sanctuary the fulfillment of a prophecy that was made over three thousand years ago. One of our own, a child of Osth, was chosen to be the vessel for the spirit of Aamon Tor'Ahl." He turned to Aliira and Messani. "Welcome home, Emissary. We are blessed to have you here."
The girl beamed as she nodded respectfully to Generith and then to the congregation.
The shil'ra turned to Erimos. "Tal'Shil'Ra, it is an honor as well to have you grace our humble sanctuary with your presence. Would you lead us in the Prayer of Communion?"
Erimos nodded and stepped forward. The audience bowed their heads and waited for him to begin. Halfway through the incantation, Namid opened his eyes but kept his head bowed. He was in the third row, to the right of the central aisle, and the Emissary was less than thirty feet from him. He was in the middle of the row, and one glance to either side told him that the Conclave guards would never reach him in time. He closed his eyes and put a hand inside his coat to feel the butt of his weapon.
He would wait until the end of the prayer.
( 11 )
Shil'Ra Generith raised his head and opened his eyes just as Erimos was concluding his prayer, a habit that Tah'Mor had adopted during his years as a student in seminary school. While decorum and religious tradition dictated that one keep one's head bowed and eyes closed through the entire prayer, Generith had always felt an odd desire to look up during the closing. When he was a student he had done this to catch a glimpse of other students who were also being rebellious, but during his years as a shil'ra he had done it to see which members of his congregation were being respectful.
As he glanced quickly across the packed sanctuary he was violently startled by something in the third row on the left side. Erimos was uttering the final words of the prayer, and Generith blinked quickly, certain that he was hallucinating.
When he was a boy, Tah'Mor had once asked his father about an antique book that he kept up on a high shelf in his study. It was a large tome, bound in leather, and in it was drawings and paintings of religious mythology. Tah'Mor's father had allowed the young boy to look through it, though he warned his son that some of the pictures could be frightening. He was right. One image in particular had so badly terrified Tah'Mor that he couldn't sleep for many nights, and his mother scolded his father for allowing him to look at such disturbing material.
The image that had frightened the young boy was a scene from the Book of K'Faat, the last book of The Holy Covenant. The artist had drawn the River of Fire that ran through Cho'Vok'Lor, and rising from that fire were hideous demons of shadow and blood and horns, grotesque monsters with many eyes and many teeth. Until he was almost ten years old, Tah'Mor had been certain that those demons were going to catch him in his sleep and devour him.
Now, looking out across his congregation, just as Erimos uttered, "Nerra Tinnar", Generith saw the face of one of those demons, and it was rising from the throng, stretching out a withered and malformed hand full of bleeding claws. For just an instant Tah’Mor was too paralyzed to move, and then he blinked, and the demon was gone.
The prayer was finished. All heads were raising, and all eyes were opening.
One man was rising and stretching forth his hand.
Before he was consciously aware of it, Generith was already in motion, and he shoved Aliira into her mother, all three of them collapsing in a heap.
As he fell, Tah'Mor felt two sharp stings – one in his neck and the other in his cheek. There was an explosion of sharp, searing pain, and then the world around him gave way to darkness and the clamor of voices and the smell of blood.
And then everything went suddenly, blessedly silent, and the pain ceased.
( 11 )
As the tal'shil'ra was closing his prayer, Messani was thinking about the celebratory meal that was going to be held after the service. She'd been too nervous to eat much for breakfast, and now her stomach was rumbling. She scolded
herself for allowing her thoughts to stray, and just as she brought them back to the prayer, Erimos was solemnly uttering, "Nerra Tinnar".
Messani raised her head and opened her eyes.
Chaos erupted.
Before she could even begin to process what was happening, Messani found herself on the floor, a sharp pain in her elbow, and Aliira was on top of her, struggling. There was shouting from the Conclave guards and from the audience, and there was too many voices to make out the words. Some were screaming, and, somewhere in the midst of it all, a young child was bawling.
Messani's face was pressed to the threadbare carpet, and her cheek was starting to throb. Her only thought was for Aliira, and Messani almost panicked, but then several hands were suddenly lifting her swiftly, and a voice above her was demanding an emergency transfield activation.
"Aliira!" Messani cried, looking over her shoulder. She caught a glimpse of the bedlam in the congregation – people scrambling for the doors, soldiers trying to stop them and maintain order, other soldiers clustered in one of the rows close to the front. More wailing, more shouting, and someone crying.
Just then she was yanked through a transfield, and then quickly herded out of the room and into a corridor. "Wait!" Messani commanded to the soldier escorting her, but he paid her no attention. She glanced over her shoulder and was relieved to see that Aliira was right behind her. Another pair of guards was escorting Erimos from the transport room.
"Mother!" Aliira's hand shot out, and Messani twisted around to grab it while trying to keep up with her guard.
The three of them were ushered into a room at the end of the corridor, and the guards immediately turned and walked out. The door was sealed, and Messani quickly embraced her daughter, gripping her fiercely.
